There is a pretty thought in the following lines—written on one of the blank leaves of a book sent to a friend in England.
| As he who sails afar on southern seas, Catches rich odor on the evening breeze, Turns to the shore whence comes the perfumed air, And knows, though all unseen, some flower is there— Thus when o'er ocean's wave these pages greet Thine eye, with many a line from minstrel sweet, Think of Virginia's clime far off and fair, And know, though all unseen, a friend is there.—Imogene. |
The editorial criticisms are many, and in the right vein. They are caustic but just. The Review of Mr. Fay's novel Norman Leslie, is amusing and will be read, though we think some passages in it are in bad taste. The author is flayed, or to use a term more congenial with his taste, and with the Reviewer's article—blistered.
Halley's Comet—1760. By Miss E. Draper. This poem gives a good account of the great ones of our planet, at the last visit of the messenger of the spheres. The versification too is easy, and the contrasts striking. The same pen has written before, and ought to write again.
From the Washington Telegraph.
The Southern Literary Messenger.—In glancing our eyes over the numerous papers which are daily laid before us, in quest of matter appropriate to our own, they frequently light on notices of this periodical. To such things our peculiar avocations do not often afford us time to attend. We have only indulged our curiosity so far as to see that they are all commendatory; and we have laid aside the papers with nothing more than a passing sense of pleasure at praises which indirectly redound to the honor of the honored home of our fathers. Of late, such notices have so frequently engaged our attention, that we at last determined, for once, to play the truant, and give an attentive perusal to the next number. We have just laid down that for December, 1835, after experiencing a pleasure in the perusal, for which we feel inclined to make such poor return as we can.
In our judgment this number deserves all the praise that has been bestowed upon the work; and this remark we particularly apply to certain "continued" articles, of which we are constrained to judge by the specimens here given. We speak of the "Tripoline Sketches," and "Lionel Granby." If the preceding parts of these works are of equal merit with those before us, they have not been praised too highly. We are sorry that we cannot exactly include the "Mexican Journal" in the same category. It is well enough.
The Address of Mr. Lucian Minor before the Institute of Education of Hampden Sidney College, is a paper of very great merit. We confess that we have not full faith in the efficacy of Mr. M.'s panacea for the distempers of the State; partly because we are afraid the patient cannot be got to take enough of it to do him good; and partly because we are not sure it would not meet with somewhat in his stomach of what medical men call "incompatible substances," which might neutralise or decompose it, or turn it to poison. But we leave these things to the political doctors; and are content to record our praise and thanks for the strong sense and manly frankness displayed by Mr. M. in calling boldly on the people to secure and deserve the blessings of freedom by qualifying themselves for self-government.
The literary notices in this number are highly piquant and amusing. We do not agree with the reviewer in condemning every thing under the name of a "Review," to which that name, in its strictest sense, does not properly apply. He who under this name gives an essay on the subject of the article professed to be reviewed, does not break faith with the public, because, for more than thirty years, the word has been understood to include such essays. Now he who gives a good essay, gives a good thing; and when he does this, still keeping within the spirit and meaning of his engagement, we have no right, nor mind to complain.