Brown vs. Kirkham.—We have received from Mr. Goold Brown a rejoinder to the article of Mr. Kirkham, published in our last number. We are reluctant to extend this controversy, in which we fear a great proportion of our readers take little if any interest; and having just now, moreover, but narrow space, we are compelled to decline the publication of the article in question. It is proper to say, however, that Mr. Brown denies that Kirkham's works have ever ascribed to Rush, Murray, and Walker, the contradictory passages quoted against himself; and that if they had so ascribed them, the ascription would have been untrue; that the brackets, the removal of which was so vehemently complained of, would neither abate the error alleged, nor make Kirkham's version of the text good grammar; and that he never in his life spoke in favor of the grammar of his antagonist. With this 'curtailed abbreviation compressing the particulars' of a syllabus, we take our leave of the matter, trusting that each lingual belligerent will hereafter revolve in his own cycle of declensions, conjugations, syntaxes and prosodies.
Our Portrait of Diedrich Knickerbocker.—'Why,' says an esteemed foreign correspondent, 'have you, in the frontispiece of your cover, represented the venerable and benevolent author of the right veritable 'History of New-York' with such a rigid and austere expression of countenance? Surely, the painter or engraver has belied his character. I have had his counterfeit presentment for many years in my mind's eye; and whenever I look at yours, I think, with Charles Lamb, 'Alas! what is my book of his countenance good for, which I have read so long, and thought I understood its contents, when there comes your heart-breaking errata,' to rob me of my beau ideal?' To all this we answer, in the usual Yankee manner, by asking our friend, if he does not remember, that when Diedrich Knickerbocker was writing his renowned work, at the Columbian Hotel, his literary labors were often interrupted by his landlady coming into his room, and 'putting his papers to rights,' in such wise that it took him a week to find them again? Think of these untimely intrusions, while the melancholy historian was writing as follows: 'Grievous and very much to be commiserated is the task of the feeling historian who writes the history of his native land. * * * I cannot look back on the happier days of our city, which I now describe, without a sad dejection of the spirits. With a faltering hand do I withdraw the curtain of oblivion, that veils the modest merits of our venerable ancestors, and as their figures rise to my mental vision, humble myself before the mighty shades. Such are my feelings when I revisit the family mansions of the Knickerbockers, and spend a lonely hour in the chamber where hang the portraits of my forefathers, shrouded in dust, like the forms they represent. With pious reverence do I gaze on the countenances of those renowned burghers, who have preceded me in the steady march of existence; whose sober and temperate blood now meanders through my veins, flowing slower and slower in its feeble conduits, until its currents shall soon be stopped for ever! These, say I to myself, are but frail memorials of the mighty men who nourished in the days of the patriarchs; but who, alas! have long since mouldered in that tomb, toward which my footsteps are insensibly and irresistibly hastening! As I pace the darkened chamber, and lose myself in melancholy musings, the shadowy images around me almost seem to steal once more into existence—their countenances to assume the animation of life—their eyes to pursue me in every movement! Carried away by the delusions of fancy, I almost imagine myself surrounded by the shades of the departed, and holding sweet converse with the worthies of antiquity! Ah, hapless Diedrich! born in a degenerate age, abandoned to the buffetings of fortune—a stranger and a weary pilgrim in thy native land—blest with no weeping wife, nor family of helpless children; but doomed to wander neglected through these crowded streets, and elbowed by foreign upstarts from those fair abodes, where once thine ancestors held sovereign empire!' Now we have it from the best authority, that while these melting sentences were not yet dry upon the paper before the historian, his pestilent landlady bustled into his apartment, and after an uneasy stay of a minute or two, began to indulge in oblique allusions to 'her little bill' for board, and finally observed, that 'she thought it high time somebody had a sight of somebody's money!' It is at the moment of this inopportune dun, that our sketch is taken; and who could look benign under such circumstances? Is our friend answered?
LITERARY RECORD.
The Quarterlies.—We have before us the last North-American, American Quarterly, and New-York Reviews, and should be gratified to afford our readers a taste of their several contents; but the tyranny of space forbids other than a brief reference to some of their more prominent papers. The 'New-York' has an admirable article upon the writings of Jean Paul Richter, and a laughable and well-reasoned satire upon 'Dietetic Charlatanry,' or the 'Modern Ethics of Eating.' In some of the short critical notices, there is less research, and more flippancy, or mere ipse dixit, than might reasonably have been expected from such a quarter. The number is a good one, natheless, although inferior to its predecessor. Miss Martineau's 'Society in America,' Lockhart's Life of Scott, the Military Academy at West Point, and the poems of Grenville Mellen, are among the reviews of the American Quarterly, which is a large as well as very able number. In the North-American, that philosopher in petticoats, Miss Martineau, is most happily served up. The irony is keen but smooth, and the spirit mild, though unflinching. Gallantry has nothing to do with such a subject. The 'Palmyra Letters' are reviewed with discrimination, and high but just praise. Of the existence of 'Miriam, a Dramatic Poem,' we are here for the first time informed; but the production can scarcely remain long unknown to the American public. We may refer more in detail to these able American periodicals, in a subsequent number.
Animal Magnetism.—But for the fact that Col. Stone's Letter on Animal Magnetism, containing an account of a remarkable interview between the author and Miss Loraina Brackett, of Providence, (R. I.,) while in a state of somnambulism, is the theme of conversation and newspaper comment, in every section of the country, we should be tempted to occupy three or four of these pages with the extraordinary facts therein narrated. As it is, we shall simply run the risk of being the first to apprize some half dozen American, and an hundred or two foreign readers, that the work records, in easy and exciting detail, an imaginary visit of Miss Brackett to this city, while in a state of somnambulism, portions of which she describes with astonishing accuracy; that she accompanies the author to his own house, where she describes, with wonderful minuteness, localities, furniture, pictures, etc.—and all this, without ever having been in New-York in her life, or hearing or knowing any thing in relation to the scenes and objects visible to her mind's eye! We are not believers in animal magnetism—oh, no! Yet we are not exactly skeptics, either. A 'state of betweenity' aptly expresses our situation in regard to these strange matters.
A New Theory or Animal Magnetism.—Since the above was placed in type, Messrs. Wiley and Putnam have issued a coarsish volume, of some two hundred and twenty pages, entitled, 'Exposition of a New Theory of Animal Magnetism, with a Key to its Mysteries: Demonstrated by Experiments with the most celebrated Somnambulists in America;' together with 'Strictures' upon the Letter noticed above. By C. F. Durant. At the present writing hereof, we have but time and room to say, that so far as we have advanced in the work, Mr. Durant seems to be probing the whole matter quite thoroughly, and to have recorded his proceedings in a style of laughable mock-irony, though in language generally not a little careless, and sometimes—shade of Priscian!—sadly ungrammatical; the result, doubtless, of hasty publication.
Pickwick.—Mr. James Turney, Jr., 55 Gold-street, is publishing in numbers, as they appear in England, the Pickwick Papers, with copies of Cruikshank's spirited illustrations. Some of the engravings are cleverly executed, while others are miserable enough. The numbers, however, are very cheaply afforded, and meet with a wide and rapid sale; the exceeding small coterie of anti-Pickwickians—who have no conception of the burlesque or humorous, and care little for a hearty laugh, that most innocent of diuretics—to the contrary notwithstanding. A southern critic has gravely attempted to show that the old twaddler, Pickwick, does not act and converse as such a man should! He reminds us of the systematic tailor at Laputa, who took Gulliver's altitude by a quadrant, and then with rule and compasses described the dimensions and outlines of his whole body, all which he entered upon paper, and in due time brought back his clothes ill made, having mistaken a figure in the calculation. The idea of subjecting 'Pickvick' and 'Samivel Veller' to a regular standard of criticism!