scenery of the inland.
Our road now led over broad plains, through occasional belts of timber. The grass was almost entirely burned up, and dry, gravelly arroyos, in and out of which we went with a plunge and a scramble, marked the courses of the winter streams. The air was as warm and balmy as May, and fragrant with the aroma of a species of gnaphalium, which made it delicious to inhale. Not a cloud was to be seen in the sky, and the high, sparsely-wooded mountains on either hand showed softened and indistinct through a blue haze. The character of the scenery was entirely new to me. The splendid valley, untenanted except by a few solitary rancheros living many miles apart, seemed to be some deserted location of ancient civilization and culture. The wooded slopes of the mountains are lawns, planted by Nature with a taste to which Art could add no charm. The trees have nothing of the wild growth of our forests; they are compact, picturesque, and grouped in every variety of graceful outline. The hills were covered to the summit with fields of wild oats, coloring them, as far as the eye could reach, with tawny gold, against which the dark, glossy green of the oak and cypress showed with peculiar effect. As we advanced further, these natural harvests extended over the plain, mixed with vast beds of wild mustard, eight feet in height, under which a thick crop of grass had sprung up, furnishing sustenance to the thousands of cattle, roaming every where unherded. The only cultivation I saw was a small field of maize, green and with good ears.
Mr. Taylor occasionally indulges in a touch of natural transcendentalism, as in his comparison between the Palm and the Pine, with which we take our leave of his fascinating volumes:
I jogged steadily onward from sunrise till blazing noon, when, having accomplished about half the journey, I stopped under a palm-tree and let my horse crop a little grass, while I refreshed myself with the pine-apple. Not far off there was a single ranche, called Piedra Gorda—a forlorn-looking place where one can not remain long without being tortured by the sand-flies. Beyond it, there is a natural dome of rock, twice the size of St. Peter's, capping an isolated mountain. The broad intervals of meadow between the wastes of sand were covered with groves of the beautiful fan-palm, lifting their tufted tops against the pale violet of the distant mountains. In lightness, grace, and exquisite symmetry, the Palm is a perfect type of the rare and sensuous expression of Beauty in the South. The first sight of the tree had nearly charmed me into disloyalty to my native Pine; but when the wind blew, and I heard the sharp, dry, metallic rustle of its leaves, I retained the old allegiance. The truest interpreter of Beauty is in the voice, and no tree has a voice like the Pine, modulated to a rythmic accord with the subtlest flow of Fancy, touched with a human sympathy for the expression of Hope and Love and Sorrow, and sounding in an awful undertone, to the darkest excess of Passion.
Standish the Puritan. A Tale of the American Resolution. By Edward Grayson, Esq. 12mo, pp. 320. New York: Harper and Brothers.
A novel by a sharp-eyed Manhattaner, illustrating some of the more salient aspects of New York society at the period of the revolutionary war, and combining many of the quaint traditions of that day in a narrative of very considerable interest and power. The author wields a satirical pen of more than common vigor, and in his descriptions of the state of traffic and the legal profession at the time of his story, presents a series of piquant revelations which, if founded on personal history, would cause many "a galled jade to wince," if revivified at the present day. His style does not exhibit a very practiced hand in descriptive composition, nor is it distinguished for its dramatic power; but it abounds in touches of humor and pathos, which would have had still greater effect if not so freely blended with moral disquisitions, in which the author seems to take a certain mischievous delight. In spite of these drawbacks, his book is lively and readable, entitling the author to a comfortable place among the writers of American fiction, and if he will guard against the faults we have alluded to, his future efforts may give him a more eminent, rank than he will be likely to gain from the production before us.
Talbot and Vernon. A Novel. 12mo, pp 513. New York: Baker and Scribner.
The plot of this story turns on a point of circumstantial evidence, by which the hero escapes the ruin of his reputation and prospects, when arraigned as a criminal on a charge of forgery. The details are managed with a good deal of skill, developing the course of affairs in such a gradual manner, that the interest of the reader never sleeps, until the final winding-up of the narrative. Familiar with the routine of courts of law, betraying no slight acquaintance with the springs of human action, and master of a bold and vigorous style of expression, the author has attained a degree of success in the execution of his plan, which gives a promising augury of future eminence. In the progress of the story, the scene shifts from one of the western cities of the United States to the camp of General Taylor on the plains of Mexico. Many stirring scenes of military life are introduced with excellent effect, as well as several graphic descriptions of Mexican scenery and manners. The battle of Buena Vista forms the subject of a powerful episode, and is depicted with a life-like energy. We presume the author is more conversant with the bustle of a camp than with the tranquil retirements of literature, although his work betrays no want of the taste and cultivation produced by the influence of the best books. But he shows a knowledge of the world, a familiarity with the scenes and topics of every day life, which no scholastic training can give, and which he has turned to admirable account in the composition of this volume.
Fashions for Early Summer.
