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Though the larger works of Richter have not been translated in this country, and are, perhaps, not very generally read here, yet his name is as familiar to us as that of almost any writer of his nation. As his writings abound in aphorisms and striking comparisons, we often meet with detached passages from them, so that it would seem as if "thoughts from Jean Paul," or "reflections from Richter," were among the most common resources of those who have columns to fill out, or morals to illustrate.

To those who know Richter only in this way, as well as those who, from a more thorough acquaintance with his works, have learned to value him more, this new biography will be a most acceptable present. It contains his autobiography, which, however, reaches only to his thirteenth year, and a connected narrative of his life, drawn from all the best sources, with copious extracts from his correspondence, and a critical examination of most of his more important works. His life, although marked by none of those events which are called great in the history of the world, is still deeply interesting. He was born in very straitened circumstances, and his situation became still more trying when, by the death of his father, his family were deprived of his small salary, which was their only means of support. We follow him with deep interest while, with a noble courage, and a cheerful heart, he struggles on until he becomes known to the world, and the product of his own writings, helped out at last by a small pension from government, puts him at ease.

Richter was a great admirer of the fair sex, and was in a most remarkable degree the favorite of women. One of his female correspondents tells him "not to smile," and that "the tone that his mind gave without words was sweeter than the sounds of the harmonicon." The impression he made on the minds of women, placed him more than once in circumstances of some embarrassment; but while he treated with the greatest kindness and respect, the fair unfortunates whose love he could not return, he conducted himself uniformly in the purest and most unblameable manner, and contrived at last to make a very sensible and judicious choice of a wife, which is more than men of great genius always do. His married life was a perfectly quiet and happy one.

NOTICES.

There are copious extracts from his correspondence, which are extremely pleasant, and allow us to learn his story from his own words. The style of the narrative is good, and the translations are faithful and graceful. The Appendix contains some notices of the domestic life of Richter's friends, Wieland and Herder, and translations of some of his writings. The book is beautifully printed, and report names as the author a lady of high literary acquirements, to whom the public are certainly greatly indebted for this very interesting biography.

SON.

JOHNSONIANA; OR, SUPPLEMENT TO BOSWELL: BEING ANECDOTES AND SAYINGS OF DR. JOHNCollected from various sources, edited by J. Wilson Croker. Philadelphia: Carey and Hart's Reprint. 1842.

The world will allow that the subject of the great English moralist is now pretty thoroughly done up. Boswell did his work, it was thought, not slightingly, but this supplement must be allowed to sweep clean after him. It collects anecdotes and sayings of Dr. Johnson, from the private journals, most of which, however, have long since been made public, at least the parts relating to the great Lexicographer, of a vast number of persons. Mrs. Piozzi, Sir John Hawkins, Miss Reynolds, her brother Sir Joshua, Hannah More, Madam D'Arblay, &c., &c., have been drawn upon to make up this volume. The gems are numbered, and amount to more than seven hundred. To these anecdotes and sayings are added critical remarks by Dr. Drake, a miscellaneous collection of anecdotes, opinions, and remarks upon Johnson from a great variety of writers, among others, Lord Byron, Sir Walter Scott, and Sir James Mackintosh. Then follow some jeux d'esprit on Johnson's biographers, and the whole concludes with a brief memoir of Boswell by Edmond Malone, extracts from Boswell's letters, and his tour in Corsica.

It is said of a celebrated clergyman of the last century, who prided himself somewhat upon the admirable manner in which he read the lesson of the day in church, that having finished it, he closed the bible with an air that seemed plainly to say, "I defy any body to read that chapter better." Mr. Croker must have had something of this feeling, one would think, and having corrected his last proof, must have ejaculated his defiance to any body to hunt up a saying of Johnson, good or bad, which had not now been published to the world.

The book, however, is an amusing one, and though there are not many anecdotes which most people who have lived thirty or forty years have not had an opportunity to laugh or weep at before, yet some of them are new, and some of them had been forgotten, and one never gets tired of the poor old Doctor, let his best friends do what they will. We quote one or two of the sayings :

656. Miss Johnson, one of Sir Joshua's nieces, (afterwards Mrs. Deane,) was dining one day at her uncle's, with Dr. Johnson and a large party; the conversation happening to turn on music, John, son spoke very contemptuously of that art, and added," that no man of talent, or whose mind was capable of better things, ever would or could devote his time and attention to so idle and frivolous a pursuit." The young lady, who was very fond of music, whispered her neighbor, "I wonder what Dr. Johnson thinks of King David?" Johnson overheard her, and with great good humor and complacency said, "Madam, I thank you; I stand rebuked before you, and promise that, on one subject, at least, you shall never hear me talk nonsense again."

On another occasion he was not quite so goodhumored.

655. The late Mr. Crauford, of Hyde Park corner, being engaged to dinner where Dr. Johnson was to be, resolved to pay his court to him; and having heard that he preferred Donne's Satires to Pope's version of them, said, "Do you know, Dr. Johnson, that I like Dr. Donne's original satires better than Pope's?" Johnson said, "Well, sir, I can't help that."

ROMANTIC BIOGRAPHY OF THE AGE OF ELIZABETH or Sketches of Life from the By-ways of History. By the Benedictine Brethren of Glendalough. Edited by Wm. C. Taylor, LL. D.,

&c.

Two vols. Lea & Blanchard's Reprint, 1842. Boston: W. D. Ticknor.

This book is not what one would take it for, who found it lying upon his table, lettered, "Biography of the age of Queen Elizabeth," and who opened it, calling to mind the rich vein for biographical writing that age affords. The title page, however, with its leading word "Romantic," and its machinery of apocryphal " Benedictine brethren," begins to prepare us for something else than serious biography, and the reading any three pages in the book, throws at once a damper over our spirits, by showing us that it is written by a punster.

Looked at as another volume like those again and again published under the title of "Romance of History," this work, being measured by a lower standard, may claim a higher position. The author (for the "Benedictine brethren " are explained away in the first pages of the preface, and the whole book is, in fact, from one pen,) lays open his plan, divulges the characteristic levity of his principles of judgment, and gives a sample of his historical style, in the following short passage from the introduction ;

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"We have endeavored to extend to the literature of fact some of the gaieties which are more usually associated with the literature of fiction, without abandoning the "gravities" which necessarily belong to diligent research, and minute accuracy of statement. Let it not be said that we thus derogate from the dignity of History; when the ancient classical authors selected a goddess to preside over this department of knowledge, everybody knows that in their choice there was always a-muse-meant. Still less should we be blamed for sometimes interrupting the frown of indignation or the tear of sympathy with allusions calculated to raise a smile; the springs of mirth and of grief are placed close to each other in the geography of the human mind; men frequently laugh until they cry, and sometimes, reversing the process, weep until they smile at their over excess of sorrow," &c.

Notwithstanding this flippant style, which pervades the book, we doubt not it may be found interesting with those who wish to be amused while they study. It is more a novel than a history, in manner and intent; but containing notices, probably not incorrect, of Margaret of Valois; Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester; La Mothe Fenelon ; Calvin; Loyola, and the order he founded; and many others of the same stamp and time; it can hardly fail to be interesting.

CRITICAL AND MISCELLANEOUS ESSAYS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT, collected by himself. 3 vols. Philadelphia: Carey & Hart. 1841 (?)

We are glad to see that among the reprints of the "Miscellanies" of modern writers, of late so fashionable, those of Walter Scott have not been passed over by our American publishers. We have now all his works collected; and this last addition will not be, to most readers, the least interesting. We have not space even to enumerate the titles of the leading articles, but among the most curious will be found Scott's reviews of his own novels, written while he was still maintaining his incognito with regard to them.

The collection forms three octavo volumes, printed in a style more than usually creditable to the Philadelphia press, on handsome paper.

HUMAN LIFE, OR PRACTICAL ETHICS. Translated from the German of De Wette, by Samuel Osgood. In two volumes, (Vols. XII. and XIII. Ripley's Library of Foreign Literature.) Boston: James Munroe & Co.

These volumes contain a translation of a series of lectures on Practical Ethics, delivered at Basle almost twenty years since, by De Wette, prefaced by a course on general or theoretical ethics, abridged and thrown into the form of an introduction by the translator. The work of translation has been well, and even elegantly performed; and the importance of the subject, with the highly philosophical tone with which it is treated, cannot fail to

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BOSTON

MISCELLANY.

THE COMMENCEMENT VISION.

A BOSTON LEGEND, BY MRS. E. ROCKWELL.

SOME Seventy years ago, a happy party were seated around the breakfast table in a house in Boston, situated on the main street, that street which has since borne the names of Washington, Orange, Newbury, Marlborough, Cornhill, Union and Middle Street, and stretched its winding length along from the Fortification Gates to Winnisimmet Ferry, but which now in its whole extent glories in the name of the father of our country. The party consisted of Mr. Welsted, the father of the family, his sons and daughters, to the number of half a dozen, and his aged mother, who had just returned from the south, where she had been for many years residing with her only daughter, who had some months since been removed from her by death. Her orphan daughter, the heiress of a large property at the south, had recently accompanied her grandmother to the home of her youth, to join the family of Mr. Welsted, her only remaining son, with whom she proposed to pass the remnant of a long and somewhat chequered life.

"You were up early, this morning, Imogen," said Sophy Welsted to her southern cousin. "After your long and fatiguing journey, and with the indolent habits with which grandmother charged you last night, it was rather more than I expected."

"Why, dear Sophy," replied Imogen, "you set before me, in such glowing colors, the labors of your Commencement day, and threatened me with such an early visit from

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the barber, that I felt obliged to put forth all my strength on the occasion, and actually took my watch to the window to find out the hour, just as the first ray of light dawned upon the sky. But as I saw your opposite neighbor seated at her window in full costume, I thought I was not too early, and proceeded to the duties of my toilet."

The old lady gave a little start, but immediately recovering her usual dignified composure, she turned to her son, and asked who lived in the house opposite to them now?

Mr. Welsted replied, that the house was now uninhabited. "It was formerly occupied, as you know, by Mr. Grant, but after the death of his wife and daughter he returned to England, and after having several times changed tenants, the lower room of the house was converted into a shop, and the upper rooms have been made use of for ware rooms, or depositories of lumber."

"It was at the opposite window, uncle, that I saw the lady this morning, in the early light of the dawn, but when I afterwards returned and took another glance just before I came down, she was not to be seen."

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story now," was the cry at once of more than one youthful voice.

But grandmother shook her head, and told them this was not the time for such a tale, and black Dinah coming in at the same moment to announce the barber, who was in readiness to arrange the coiffure of the young ladies, the party in the breakfast room broke up, but not until Madam Welsted had promised to take an early opportunity to gratify the curiosity she had excited.

Commencement day at Cambridge is still a season of excitement in the neighborhood of Boston, but it is far from being so general a holiday as it was at the date of our story, and as it continued to be for many years after. A sort of public fair was then held on the common in Cambridge; booths were erected, and Commencement day, with the one preceding and following it, was a noisy and merry day there. Those who took little or no interest in the literary performances of the season, gathered in from the metropolis and the neighboring towns, to see the company and the sport, while the gay and the fashionable, in their most showy costume, crowded the meeting house to listen to the youthful orators.

Mr. Welsted's family were particularly interested in this particular Commencement. His eldest son, Arthur, was today to bear away the highest honors of the university. His friends and classmates were the friends of his sisters, and the day had long been looked forward to with the most intense interest.

The business of the toilet is never a thing to be despatched in a moment; but at that day it was a more serious affair than it is now. Those immense edifices, into which the locks of our grandmothers were erected, crowned with blond, and feathers, and flowers; that crape cushion, under the weight of which, Harriet Byron won the heart of the " man of men," were not the work of a moment. Legends have come down to us of ladies who sate erect all the night previous to Commencement, that they might not disturb their head-dress, which they had been compelled to arrange on the day preceding.

But to obviate this difficulty, the young ladies of Mr. Welsted's family had weeks before engaged one of the few professional men who at that time performed the high duty of lady's hairdresser in our good old city, and now at an early hour, he was at their service, and aided by their own ingenuity, and the readiness of the goodnatured Dinah, the important business of the headwork was all completed in season, the young ladies were all fitly arranged, had received the approving glance of their grandmother, and were ready to take their seats in the cumbrous family carriage, when it drove up to the door.

There were then no bridges to shorten the ride from Boston to Cambridge, and the party was obliged to cross the ferry at the north part of the city, and take their way through Charlestown to the college. But the longest ride comes to an end at last, and the party on their way to Cambridge that day, was so joyous and happy, that it was any thing but tiresome; and in due time they reached the seat of the muses, and were so fortunate as to succeed in obtaining front seats in the gallery of the church, which was then fresh and new, but which has since fallen into decay, and been replaced by a more modern and a larger edifice.

But small as it might have been, compared with the more modern building, how glorious did it appear when filled with the beauty and fashion of the day. The ladies, dressed in those splendid brocades and satins, of which a solitary specimen is now and then drawn from the trunk of some venerable aunt or grandmother, to the amazement and astonishment of the present generation, made indeed an imposing figure. If there were not as many as now crowd the seats of the church, the ample hoop lent its aid to spread out their beauties, and every nook and corner was filled.

And then the graduating class; the number was perhaps not so large, but each youth was the centre of hope and anxiety to his own little circle, and when Imogen saw her cousin Arthur, the last of all, come forward, his scholars black gown not half concealing his rich white satin under dress, and blue velvet coat, while the rich point lace ruffles appeared at his bosom and hung over his faultless hand, she, at least, would not have admitted, that another such specimen of manly beauty would ever be seen upon the earth.

Imogen was not publicly engaged to her cousin Arthur; but he had spent the last winter's vacation at her father's plantation, at the south; it had been lengthened at both ends, on account of his somewhat delicate health; and they had come to understand each other pretty well; and while Imogen was thinking she had never seen Arthur look so gloriously, she was wondering whether he thought as much as she did of his last winter's visit, and looked round with some apprehension upon the fair circle of Boston damsels, to see if there were any whose charms might have driven these reminiscences from his mind. But the glance of his eye, and the pressure of his hand, at the end of the performance, put the fair Imogen pretty well at ease, and after enjoying the Commencement feast, which was prepared in one of the college buildings, they all returned to town.

When Imogen arose the next morning, she looked over to the opposite house, where

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