LITERARY NOTICES.

THE BEAUTIES OF SACRED LITERATURE. Edited by THOMAS WYATT, A. M., author of 'The Sacred Tableaux,' etc. pp. 220. Boston and Cambridge: JAMES MUNROE AND COMPANY.

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WE cannot conscientiously affirm that we very greatly affect the style of the eight engravings which make up the illustrations' of this well-printed volume. There is something black, dim, or smirchy about mezzotint engravings, which in our judgment takes away half the force and sentiment of the best painting. Many of these illustrations are good of their kind,' but their 'kind' is not good. The contents of the work, which seem to have required little of what might strictly be termed editing,' consist of extracts from printed discourses by several American divines of repute, with other published sketches, essays, poetry, etc., from eminent and non-eminent American authors. BRYANT's Thanatopsis' is converted into Consolation for Mortality,' and is so replete with errors, in words and in punctuation, as hardly to be recognisable. Lest we be thought too severe in this charge, let us indicate a few of the blunders referred to. The author of Thanatopsis' wrote:

Here it limps, short of a foot,' with a new word interpolated:

'Yet not to thy earthly resting-place
Shalt thou retire,' etc.

The corrections,' however, in these cases may be a part of the editing' to which we have referred. The Barean desert' is a new reading; 'yes' for ' yet,' in the fourth line of the fortieth page is another; the last 'by' in the eleventh line of the same page, is a third; while the punctuation throughout is as bad as bad can be. We are sorry to be obliged to speak thus of a work which, in its externals of paper, typography and binding, reflects credit upon the well-known house whence the volume proceeds; and which contains several pieces of sacred erudition that serve to elucidate many remarkable incidents in the Bible. With all its imperfections on its head,' the work is still worthy of commendation to the Christian public.

POEMS BY JOHN G. WHITTIER. Illustrated by H. BILLINGS. In one volume. pp. 384. Boston: BENJAMIN B. MUSSEY AND COMPANY.

A MOST Welcome visitor to the sanctum was this large and beautiful volume of an old friend and correspondent, whom we have personally seen and heard from through the public press quite too infrequently in the last three or four years. WHITTIER is a true poet. He is never without vigor and warmth; his imagination is seldom vague and never extravagant; while his command of striking and mellifluous language is one of his most remarkable characteristics. The contents of the book before us are embraced in four divisions: the first consists of 'Poems' proper, The Bridal of Pennacook' and 'Mogg Megone;' the second, of ten 'Legendary' sketches; the third, 'Voices of Freedom,' comprises between thirty and forty 'lays of humanity,' the most of them being upon the subject of slavery and its collateral themes; and about an equal number of Miscellaneous' lyrics. Mr. WHITTIER introduces his volume with this modest and felicitous' Proem:'

'I LOVE the old melodious lays
Which softly melt the ages through,

The songs of SPENSER'S golden days,
Arcadian SIDNEY's silvery phrase,

Sprinkling our noon of time with freshest morning dew,

'Yet vainly in my quiet hours

To breathe their marvellous notes I try;

I feel them, as the leaves and flowers

In silence feel the dewy showers,

And drink with glad still lips the blessing of the sky.

The rigor of a frozen clime,

The harshness of an untaught ear,

The jarring words of one whose rhyme

Beat often Labor's hurried time,

Or Duty's rugged march through storm and strife, are here.

Of mystic beauty, dreamy grace,

No rounded art the lack supplies;

Unskilled the subtle lines to trace,

Or softer shades of Nature's face,

Į view her common forms with unanointed eyes,

'Nor mine the seer-like power to show

The secrets of the heart and mind;

To drop the plummet-line below
Our common world of joy and wo,

A more intense despair or brighter hope to find.

'Yet here at least an earnest sense

Of human right and weal is shown;

A hate of tyranny intense,

And hearty in its vehemence,

As if my brother's pain and sorrow were my own.

'Oh, Freedom! if to me belong

Nor mighty MILTON's gift divine,

Nor MARVEL's wit and graceful song,

Still with a love as deep and strong

As theirs, I lay, like them, my best gifts on thy shrine !'

No one can mark the deep love of right and scorn of wrong which pervade the pages before us, without feeling the truth expressed in the sixth of the foregoing stanzas. As an evidence of the fervor with which Mr. WHITTIER advocates the demolition of abuses against nature and humanity, we would cite his Prisoner for Debt.' It would not have been amiss, we think, to have stated in a note the fact

upon which it is founded; namely, that before the law authorising imprisonment for debt had been abolished in Massachusetts, a revolutionary pensioner was confined in Charlestown jail for a debt of fourteen dollars, and that on the Fourth of July he was seen waving a handkerchief from the bars of his cell in honor of the day. We well remember the record of this incident in the newspapers of the time:

Thanks to Humanity, the law was put down; nor can we doubt that the above spirited poem was more potent to that consummation than the speeches of a hundred legislators to the same end. We should be glad to quote at greater length from the beautiful volume under notice, but our limits forbid. We have to content ourselves with recommending it cordially to our readers, as containing that which will afford them exalted pleasure, and make them, if they are Americans, proud of the author as their countryman. The illustrations are exceedingly good, and reflect credit not only upon the artist, but upon the liberality and enterprise of the publishers. The portrait of the author is excellent. The Quaker-bard, as we gaze at his face, seems to say, as of yore, Well, friend L- how dost thou like my productions?' 'We have said; and are willing to have our 'judgment set aside,' if any of our readers shall disagree with us.

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ESSAYS AND REVIEWS BY EDWIN P. WHIPPLE. In two volumes. New-York: D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. Philadelphia: GEORGE S. APPLETON.

THESE Volumes contain the impressions conveyed to the mind of the author by the perusal of certain works of British and American authors; which impressions, in the shape of what is termed 'reviews,' have been from time to time given to the public through the North-American' and other indigenous quarterly or monthly publications. In the first volume among other matters, are notices of MACAULEY; of nine of our more prominent American poets; of a full dozen of the best English bards of the nineteenth century; with individual estimates of the genius of BYRON, WORDSWORTH, SYDNEY SMITH, DANIEL WEBSTER, TALFOURD, JAMES, etc. Among the attractive articles of the second volume is a paper upon the Old English Dramatists,' twelve of the chief of whom are served up after the manner of a true appreciator and with the skill of a felicitous commentator; a paper upon SOUTH's Sermons; another discussing the merits of modern British critics; with articles upon SHAKSPEARE's critics, COLERIDGE, SHERIDAN, PRESCOTT, and essays on the Romance of Rascality,''The Croakers of Society and Literature,' etc. Of many of these, and of some other papers now republished in these volumes, we have spoken at large on their original appearance. The entire work is worthy of careful perusal and preservation.

ROMANCE OF YACHTING. Voyage the First. By JOSEPH C. HART, Author of 'Miriam Coffin,' etc. New-York: HARPER AND BROTHERS.

MR. HART tells us in his preface that the present volume has been written mainly with a view to call the attention of yachters to the several phenomena ordinarily occurring at sea and on ship-board: among the incidental subjects treated of in the work, however, are these: The precedence claimed for the Puritans in the introduction here of freedom, religion, and civilization;' the misrepresentations of Spanish female character, and the character of the Spanish people generally; the original cause of the invasion of Spain by the Moors, in modern times supposed to be attributable to the violence done to the daughter of JULIAN; and the position generally assigned to SHAKSPEARE as a superior literary genius. The arrogance and wantonness of British writers in regard to this country, are by no means forgotten among the other incidental matters. Now let us premise that our author writes naturally and with ease; that he describes with a clear pencil what he sees in the air, on the ocean, and the earth; that he properly rebukes the Yankee' division proper of this republic for an unfounded pretension to all the original freedom, religion, and civilization of the land; that he visits Cadiz, the life and general attractions of which, outside and inside of the walls, he pleasantly sets forth; and that among other things, he tells the reader, (and on this point he should be authority,) how to navigate a yacht across the Atlantic or elsewhere. Here it will be seen, is matériel for a very pleasant book, and as such we commend it to the reader. But what shall we say of our author's ideas concerning SHAKSPEARE ?- SHAKSPEARE, of whom Dr. JOHNSON said so eloquently, 'Time, which is continually washing away the dissoluble fabrics of other authors, passes without injury by the adamant of his works? According to Mr. HART, SHAKS

PEARE was no great Shakes,' after all. He was quite a small intellect — of no great account, any way; after his death, say a hundred years, the plays which bear his name were found among the lumber of a theatrical 'property'-room, were attributed to him, and thereafterward published as his own! Rowe and BETTERTON were the doer and abetter of this trick! 'Shall we go on? - no!' Rather let us continue to think SHAKSPEARE a clever man, who has written' some good pieces,' and our friend the author of the volume before us a clever fellow,' (in both senses of the term,) who has written one foolish one.

THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND. By W. M. THACKERAY, Author of Vanity Fair, or Pen and Pencil Sketches of English Society,' etc. New-York: HARPER AND BROTHERS.

THIS is another of those life-like sketches of Anglo-Irish character, and English 'medium' society in general, for which THACKERAY is becoming so deservedly preeminent. It would be a difficult matter, we cannot help thinking, for any other writer in England, DICKENS perhaps excepted, to take an old diamond brooch, the property of an ancient aunt, surrounded by thirteen locks of hair, belonging to a baker's dozen of sisters of her deceased husband, and around it to weave a story of kindred interest with the one before us. The old lady was very much attached to the hero, Mr. SAMUEL TITMARSH; she made him drink tea and play cribbage with her until he was tired half to death, when she was wont to relieve his fatigue with some infernal sour black currant wine.' which she called Rosolio;' and all this was undergone by him with fortitude, because she had promised that he should ultimately become heir to the HOGGARTY property.' Let us here record a little disappointment of his :

'WELL, I thought after all this obsequiousness on my part, and my aunt's repeated promises, that the old lady would at least make me a present of a score of guineas (of which she had a power in the drawer); and so convinced was I that some such present was intended for me, that a young lady by the name of Miss MARY SMITH, with whom I had conversed on the subject, actually netted me a little green silk purse, which she gave me (behind HICK's hay-rick, as you turn to the right up Churchyard-lane) - - which she gave me, I say, wrapped up in a bit of silver paper. There was something in the purse, too, if the truth must be known. First, there was a thick curl of the glossiest, blackest hair you ever saw in your life, and next, there was threepence; that is to say, the half of a silver sixpence, hanging by a little necklace of blue ribbon. Ah, but I knew where the other half of the sixpence was, and envied that happy bit of

silver !

Next day I was obliged, of course, to devote to Mrs. HOGGARTY. My aunt was excessively gracious; and by way of a treat brought out a couple of bottles of the black currant, of which she made me drink the greater part. At night, when all the ladies assembled at her party had gone off with their pattens and their maids, Mrs. HOGGARTY, who had made a signal to me to stay, first blew out three of the wax candles in the drawing room, and taking the fourth in her hand, went and unlocked her escritoir.

'I can tell you my heart beat, though I pretended to look quite unconcerned.

"SAM, my dear,' said she, as she was fumbling with her keys, take another glass of Rosolio (that was the name by which she baptized the cursed beverage), it will do you good.' I took it, and you might have seen my hand tremble as the bottle went click, click, against the glass. By the time I had swallowed it, the old lady had finished her operations at the bureau, and was coming towards me, the wax candle bobbing in one hand, and a large parcel in the other. 'Now's the time, thought I.

"SAMUEL, my dear nephew,' said she, 'your first name you received from your sainted uncle, my blessed husband; and of all my nephews and nieces, you are the one whose conduct in life has most pleased me.'

'When you consider that my aunt herself was one of seven married sisters, that all the HOG. GARTIES were married in Ireland and mothers of numerous children, I must say that the compliment my aunt paid me was a very handsome one.

"Dear aunt,' says I, in a slow, agitated voice, 'I have often heard you say there were seventy-three of us in all, and, believe me, I do think your high opinion of me very complimentary indeed; I'm unworthy of it - indeed I am.'

"SAMUEL,' continued she, 'I promised you a present, and here it is. I first thought of giv ing you money; but you are a regular lad, and do n't want it. You are above money, dear SAMUEL. I give you what I value most in life-the p-, the po-, the po. ortrait of my