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Mr. Everett. We see here, for instance, the | We trust that American writers, who may Art of Government, by Louis Bonaparte, in five volumes viz. Artillery, Infantry, Cayalry, Police, and Clergy.

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Here we take our leave of these spirited volumes. Our extracts show, that while they are too personal and gossipping to suit a scrupulous taste, they are marked by a charming naïveté and a genial spirit which will place them among the most readable

From the Evening Post.

hereafter be called upon to write for English Reviews, will not suffer their manuscripts or opinions to be emasculated by the editors. It is selling labor and liberty too cheap to allow the without such ingredients, be regarded a just infusion of so much poison into what would, criticism or a perfect work.

This is certainly a very narrow and absurd appeal to the national prejudices of our literay men, and one quite unworthy of the lit erary profession. The Westminster Review asks Mr. Whipple, or any one else, to write them an article about Mr. Webster, of a prescribed length, and for a prescribed price per page. Mr. Whipple accepts the offer, writes

AMERICAN WRITERS FOR ENGLISH RE- the article, and pockets the fee.

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VIEWS.

He is not in any way responsible for tho article when it is published, or for any part

THE last Westminster Review, just repub-of it; his connection with it can never be lished by Scott & Co., contains an article on Webster, from the pen of Mr. Whipple, of Boston, as is said. The editor, however, appears to have taken some liberties with the MS., as we judge from the following paragraph in the Express of this morning, which appears to have been written by authority.

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known, with the consent of the editors, and is never likely to be revealed except by himself. He has no longer any property in the article; no more than the grocer has in the pound of tea which he has sold, or the tailor in the coat which he meets in the streets on the backs of his customers.

On the other hand, the Review is responsiIn the last number of the Westminster Re-ble for the article; its critical judgment is at view, we are assured that the elaborate article stake; the consistency of its principles and on Daniel Webster is from an American, and a the authority of its opinions are to be mainBostonian. It is an able review of the whole of tained; it asks no person to take any perthe public life and opinions of Daniel Webster; but the article, we are told, is so interpolated with sonal responsibility for what he writes for its the views of the British editor, as in some meascolumns, and it pays a high price for the ure to destroy the intent and meaning of the exclusive privilege of using the labor of its contributors for its own advantage.

Thus most all that was offensively said by Theodore Parker, in his sermon or address on Mr. Webster, is added to the main review of Mr. Webster's character and opinions. The British editor seemed to think that it was necessary to add something by way of drawback, to the good opinions of the gentleman selected by himself in Boston to write a proper review of Mr. Everett's volumes on Daniel Webster's life and character. Thus we are told in Mr. Parker's words, that

"His learning was narrow in its range, and not very nice in its accuracy. His reach in history and literature was very small for a great man seventy years of age, always associating with able men. To science he seems to have paid scarce any attention at all. It is a short radius that measures the arc of his historic realm. A few Latin authors whom he loved to quote, made up his meagre classic store. He was not a scholar, and it is idle to claim great scholarship for

Happily, scholars, like doctors, differ in opinion as to what is really the true understanding. We think that the published works of Mr. Webster answer the opinions of Mr. Parker, who can see nothing above, or below, or around his own dark spectacles, and who seems to think. there is no heaven or earth, but that which comes within the orbit of his own narrow vision.

In the present instance the editors thought that Mr. Parker had presented some important phases of Mr. Webster's intellectual character which had been overlooked by Mr. Whipple, and they did what they had a perfect right to do what every editor feels at liberty to do with a paid contribution; they altered it in a way to make it more adequate y reflect their own opinions. It is not worth while to talk of American writers " selling their labor and liberty too cheap," when they are paid for their labor all they ask, and are at liberty to write what they please. It would be a sacrifice of liberty indeed, against which the Express would be the first to protest, if it were compelled to publish the communications of its paid contributors without the editorial privilege of making them correspond with and reflect its own opinions.

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From Poems by Elizabeth Barnett.
COWPER'S GRAVE.

Ir is a place where poets crowned
May feel the heart's decaying-
It is a place where happy saints

May weep amid their praying-
Yet let the grief and humbleness,
As low as silence, languish ;
Earth surely now may give her calm
To whom she gave her anguish.
O poets! from a maniac's tongue

Was poured the deathless singing!
O Christians at your cross of hope
A hopeless hand was clinging!
O men this man in brotherhood,
Your weary paths beguiling,
Groaned inly while he taught you peace,
And died while ye were smiling!
And now, what time ye all may read
Through dimming tears his story-
How discord on the music fell,

And darkness on the glory

And how, when one by one, sweet sounds
And wandering lights departed,
He wore no less a loving face,

Because so broken-hearted

He shall be strong to sanctify
The poet's high vocation,

And bowed the meekest Christian down
In meeker adoration :

Nor ever shall he be in praise,
By wise or good forsaken;
Named softly, as the household name
Of one whom God hath taken !
With sadness that is calm, not gloom,

I learn to think upon him;
With meekness that is gratefulness,

On God whose heaven hath won him
Who suffered once the madness-cloud,
Toward His love to blind him;
But gently led the blind along

Where breath and bird could find him; And wrought within his shattered brain, Such quick poetic senses,

As hills have language for, and stars,
Harmonious influences!

The pulse of dew upon the grass,
His own did calmly number;
And silent shadow from the trees
Fell o'er him like a slumber.

The very world, by God's constraint,
From falschood's chill removing,
Its women and its men became

Beside him, true and loving!

And timid hares were drawn from woods
To share his home caresses,
Uplooking to his human eyes

With sylvan tendernesses.
But while, in blindness he remained
Unconscious of the guiding,
And things provided came without
The sweet sense of providing,
He testified this solemn truth,
Though frenzy desolated-
Nor man, nor nature satisfy,
When only God created!

Like a sick child that knoweth not
His mother while she blesses,
And droppeth on his burning brow
The coolness of her kisses;
That turns his fevered eyes around-

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'My mother! where's my mother?" And if such tender words and looks

Could come from any other!
The fever gone, with leaps of heart
He sees her bending o'er him;
Her face all pale from watchful love,
The unweary love she bore him!
Thus, woke the poet from the dream
His life's long fever gave him,
Beneath these deep pathetic eyes

Which closed in death, to save him!
Thus! oh, not thus! no type of earth
Could image that awaking,
Wherein he scarcely heard the chant
Of seraphs, round him breaking-
Or felt the new immortal throb
Of soul from body parted,

But felt those eyes alone, and knew
"My Saviour! not deserted!”
Deserted! who hath dreamt that when
The cross in darkness rested,
Upon the Victim's hidden face

No love was manifested?

What frantic hands outstretched have e'er
The atoning drops averted

What tears have washed them from, the soul-
That one should be deserted?
Deserted! God could separate

From his own essence rather:
And Adam's sins have swept between
The righteous Son and Father
Yea! once, Immanuel's orphaned cry,
His universe hath shaken
It went up single, echoless,

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My God, I am forsaken!"

It went up from the Holy's lips

Amid his lost creation,

That of the lost, no son should use

Those words of desolation;

That earth's worst frenzies, marring hope,
Should mar not hope's fruition;
And I, on Cowper's grave, should see
His rapture, in a vision !

SONNET.

BY W. M. ANDERSON.

Оn, could we rest a little!

On the cope

Of present Time we stand but for a breath,
While the dark backward fadeth far beneath.
We summon up the Past:-
:-ere we can hope
To think old thoughts, we change; and idly grope
Among dim memories, stirring dust of death.

-I see wild visions;-now, a withered heath
Where a strange plover cries; and now, a slope,
And a wan moon that silvers the dank reeds,
And white sails like white faces on the sea,
And a dull ebbing tide that waves the weeds;
While music of dead voices, dear to me,

I hear forever ringing in mine ears:

Dear God let me but weep,-for I am sick with tears.

From Eliza Cook's Journal.
APSLEY HOUSE.

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some advantage. The far-famed CorreggioChrist on the Mount of Olives - is visible, but that is all. Such a gem should be seen APSLEY HOUSE was built about 1785-6, by close and with a good light. At present it is Henry Bathurst Baron Apsley, Earl Ba- protected by a glass, placed at a distance by thurst, and lord high chancellor, the son a barrier, and all but hidden by a bad light. of Pope's friend: The visitor enters by one barricaded ento the great staircase; then through the whole trance in Piccadilly, passes through the whole of the rooms till he emerges from the late duke's modest bedroom (on the ground floor) into the little garden at the back of the house, and so once more into the courtyard in Piccadilly.

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Who plants like Bathurst, or who builds like Boyle? It was for some time the residence of the duke's elder brother, the late Marquis Wellesley, and was purchased by the great Duke in the year 1820. The house, originally of rod brick, as Mr. Cunningham tells us in his Handbook, was faced with Bath stone in 1828, The house is left very much as we rememwhen the Piccadilly portico and the gallery ber to have seen it in the duke's lifetime. to the west or Hyde Park side were added by We recollect, however, a very large and imthe Messrs. Wyatt. Much of the house is, pressive collection of marble busts on the however, of Bathurst's building, and exhibits waiting-room table, grouped together withthroughout tokens of want of skill and taste out much order, but striking and tasteful in the original builder, and the more modern notwithstanding, very few of which are now tokens of alterations that have not very skil- to be seen. There were two of the "Duke," fully supplied or concealed the original de- one of "Pitt," and busts of "George III.,' fects. The portico is a portico to let-fit the "Duke of York," the "Emperor Alexonly for London sparrows. The site, how-ander," and "Sir Walter Scott" the Soott ever, is the finest in London-commanding by Chantrey. Now the busts are fewer in the great west-end entrance into London, and number, and differently arranged. On one the gates of the best known parks. A for- side of the door leading from this room to eigner called it, happily enough, No. 1, Lon- the principal staircase is Steele's bust of don; and when the duke was alive and in" the Duke," and on the other Chantrey's Apsley House, many have been heard to regard him not only as constable of the Tower, but as constable of London, with his castle actually seated at its double gates. The house, indeed, stood at one time a kind of siege; and the iron blinds-bullet proof, it is said were put up by the duke during the ferment of the Reform Bill, when his windows were broken by a London mob. What the great man saw and what he lived to see! How far less universal would the feeling have been about him in 1832, had he died then instead of in 1852.

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Castlereagh." In a corner is Nollekens' characteristic bust of "Pitt," and in a place of honor is a reduced copy of Rauch's noble statue of "Blucher." Above, are views of Lisbon and other places in Portugal and in Spain, too high to be seen to advantage.

From the hall the visitor passes to the principal staircase, a circular one, lighted, us we have said, from above, and through yellow glass. Here, bathed in saffron color, stands Canova's colossal statue in marble of " Napoleon," holding a bronze figure of Viotory in his right hand. This to our thinking we are speaking architectur- is Canova's greatest work, for it is manly and ally-the house has little to recommend antique-looking, not meretricious and modit. The staircase, lighted by a dome filled ern-was presented to the duke by the allied with yellow glass, is unnecessarily dark. sovereigns. It was executed, however, if we The light in the Piccadilly drawing-rooms is mistake not, for Napoleon himself. The seriously lessened by the useless portico to staircase opens on the "Piccadilly Drawingwhich we have already referred. The great room :" a small, well-proportioned room, congallery, in which the annual Waterloo Ban-taining a few fine and interesting pictures quet took place-though a fine room occu- ancient and modern. Among the former is a pying the whole length of the Hyde Park side of the house, and the best room in the house is lighted at present only from the top; the windows towards the park-its only side lights-being filled within by mirrors and without by iron blinds. Our previous impression of this room was materially lowered by our late visit. The present duke would, we think, do well to remove the temporary mirrors in the windows for he would then restore the light, and enable his visitors to see the pictures in the gallery to

fine Caravaggio-The Card Players; halflengths, fine in expression, and marvellous in point of color, and light and shade. Beneath it, but not too well seen on account of the barrier, is a small good Brouwer-A Smok ing Party. Over the fireplace is a small fulllength-perhaps by Vandermeulen-of the great Duke of Marlborough, on Horseback. The modern pictures are, Wilkie's Chelsea Pensioner - a commission to Wilkie from the duke; Burnet's Greenwich Pensioners, bought by the duke from the artist; and Lanseer's

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Van Amburgh in the Den with Lions and Ti-lence after the single Correggio are the exgers—a subject suggested to the painter by amples of Velasquez-chiefly portraits, but the duke himself. how fine! something between Vandyke and From the "Piccadilly Drawing-room," the Rembrandt. The best specimen, however, visitor passes to the " Drawing-room, -a which the duke possessed of this great Spanlarge apartment, deriving its chief light from ish master is not a portrait, but a common Piccadilly. Here the eye is at first arrested subject, The Water Seller, treated uncom chiefly by four large copies by Bonnemaison, monly and yet properly. The duke, unlike after Raphael; copies of more than average Marshal Soult, had no Murillos. After the merit, but not of sufficient importance to specimens of Velasquez we would place a detain the eye already in expectation of see- fine half-length of a female holding a wreath, ing an original Correggio. The ladies are by Titian. Two small examples of Claude detained here by two Sevres vases presented at the Piccadilly end seemed promising, but to the duke by Louis XVIII.; country gen- we were not able to get near enough to speak tlemen by The Melton Hunt, by Mr. Grant, decisively of their merits. Specimens of the Royal Academician; and historical stu- Teniers and Jan Steen are both numerous dents by a small full-length of Napoleon and good in this room; and there is a small studying the map of Europe-by Hoppner's Adrian Ostade, which would ornament a fine three-quarter portrait of Mr. Pitt (bought better collection than the duke pretended to at Christie's some eighteen months ago by possess. The duke, it should be rememthe duke) by a clever head of Marshal bered, did not profess dilettanteism or seek Soult and by a characteristic likeness of to be thought a collector. The pictures at the duke's old favorite friend, the late Mr. Apsley House are either chance acquisitions Arbuthnot. The great hero, it will be seen, abroad, commissions to artists, or portraits was somewhat universal in his love for art, and of Napoleon, of his own officers, his own fama little whimsical in the way in which he ily and friends. In this room, at_the_north hangs La Madonna del Pesce by Grant's Mellon end, is a marble bust of Pauline Bonaparte, Hunt and Landseer's Highland Whiskey Still. by Canova- a present to the duke from the From the Drawing-room" the visitor en- artist, as appears by the inscription on its ters "the Picture-gallery," the principal back. apartment in the house. In this room the From the gallery, the visitor now enters the annual banquet on the 18th of June was back of the building, with its windows lookheld :the duke occupying the centre of the ing northward, past the statue of Achilles, room, with his back to the park, and his face and up Park Lane. Here are two rooms to the fireplace, - over which is hung a large the "Small Drawing-room" and the "Striped and fair contemporary copy of the Wind- Drawing-room" both filled with portraits sor Charles I. on horseback. Here are seen of all sizes. Here is Wilkie's full length of the king of Sweden's present of two fine William IV. (his much finer full-length of vases of Swedish porphyry, standing mod- George IV. in his Highland dress is not estly at the side; while in the centre are two shown); four full lengths by Lawrence, of noble candelabras of Russian porphyry-a the Marquis Wellesley, Marquis of Anglepresent from the Emperor Nicholas. The walls sea, Lord Beresford, and Lord Lynedoch; (before we speak of the pictures, for we must Beechey's three-quarter portrait of Nelson, write for upholsterers and milliners now and inferior to the portraits of the same hero by then) are hung with yellow- the ceiling is Abbott and Hoppner; two good portraits, richly ornamented and gilt-and the furni- head-size, by Hoppner, of the late Lord Cowture throughout is yellow. The picturesley and Lady Charlotte Greville; and a threethe true decorations of the room -are not quarter portrait of the duke's sister as a seen, as we have said, to advantage, though gypsy, with a child on her back, by, if wo hung with judgment as far as size and gen- remember rightly, either Owen or Hoppner. eral harmony are concerned. In this room is We were too far off on this occasion to prothe "Jew's-eye" of the collection, the little nounce with greater precision on the subject. Correggio, Christ on the Mount of Olives - The other attractions of these two back rooms the most celebrated specimen of the master are, Gambardella's hard-painted portrait of in this country. It is on panel; and a copy, the present "Duchess of Wellington," and a thought to be the original till the duke's pic- large picture, by Sir William Allan, of the ture appeared, is now in the National Gal- Battle of Waterloo, with Napoleon in the lery. This exquisite work of art, in which foreground, bought from the painter by the the light, as in the Notte, proceeds from the duke himself, with this remark, that it was Saviour, was captured in Spain, in the car-"good, very good-not too much smoke.' riage of Joseph Bonaparte · -restored by the captor to Ferdinand II.-but, with others, under like circumstances, again presented to the duke by that sovereign. Next in excel

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A full-length portrait of "Napoleon" in the
Small Drawing-room" would, if we remem-
ber rightly, well repay a closer inspection.
From the "6. Striped Drawing-room" the

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visitor descends by a back-staircase into the
rooms immediately below the Picture-gallery.
Hore is the China-room," not rich in
Delft, or China, or Chelsea, or Dresden ware,
but boasting a most elegant and exquisite blue
and gold service, that many a lady will linger
over with eyes of admiration. Here, too, is
Stothard's Wellington Shield," in gold, pre-
sented to the duke in 1822 by the merchants
and bankers of London; and here is the sil-
ver Plateau presented by the regent of Por-
tugal. A few good busts in bronze crown
the cases containing these elegant and costly
gifts.

the rooms in which the great duke lived and slept, much, if not precisely, as they are now. The sitting-room and bedroom might certainly be kept intact; and if thus kept, with what interest will they continue to be looked on by millions yet to be born! Abbotsford is kept unchanged, and thousands flock to see the romance in stone and lime raised by the Ariosto of the north. The bedroom of Byron at Newstead is preserved just as Byron left it,-with colored prints of Harrow School and Trinity College, Cambridge, hanging on its wall as they were placed there by the poet himself. What would Englishmen subscribe From this little El Dorado of handsome to restore New Place, at Stratford, as Shakthings the visitor passes first to the "Secre- speare left it on the 23d of April, 1616? Who tary's Room,' then to the "Duke's Pri- would not "call up" Pope's villa if he could? vate Room," and, lastly, to the "Duke's Nothing remains of Nelson's house at MerBedroom;"- all three on the ground-floor, ton. The choice contents of Strawberry facing the garden that skirts Park Lane and Hill- those true illustrations of Walpole's the public footway through Hyde Park from writings-were scattered under the ruthless the duke's house to Chesterfield Gate. These hammer of George Robins. The vigorous three rooms open on one another, and the ar- exertions of a few men have saved Shakrangements in all three are in every respect speare's birthplace from being sawn into snuff the same as when they were last used by the boxes, knife-handles and tobacco-stoppers. illustrious duke. Will not, then, the present Duke of Wellington preserve to us his father's study and his father's bedroom?

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The Secretary's Room" wears the appearance of a room belonging to a man of business, and a methodical man, who is secretary to a great man. The duke's own room is just what one expected the duke's room to be like:-lined with bookcases; filled with red-covered despatch-boxes; having a redmorocco reading-chair; a second chair; desk to stand and write at; a glass screen to keep the cold away and not conceal the books and papers behind it; tables covered with papers, and a few portraits. The portraits here are fewer in number than we had imagined. Here are two engravings of the duke himself, framed, and leaning against a sofa one when young, the other when old (D'Orsay's is the old portrait); a small drawing of the Countess of Jersey, by Cosway; a fulllength over the fireplace, with on one side of it a medallion of the present Duchess of Wellington, and on the other a corresponding medallion of Jenny Lind.

A narrow passage to the east leads to the
"Duke's Bedroom,". a small, shapeless,
ill-lighted room, with a rather common, ma-
hogany, young person's bedstead, surmounted
by a tent-like curtain of green silk. Neither
feather-bed nor eider-down pillow gave repose
to the victor of Waterloo and the writer of
the Despatches. This illustrious and rich
man was almost as humble in his wants in
this way as Charles XII. of Sweden. The
iron duke,

What though his eightieth year was by,
was content with a mattrass and a bolster.
The present Duke of Wellington-the future
owner of Apsley House-will, we trust, keep

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On his rough heart they lie;
But Man, proud Man, frowns these away,
When he groans with fiery sigh.

Man! like the Sea, even while you moan,
Glass back the eternal stars,

Let the heavens lie against your heart
Through all its coil and cares,

And Hope's mild halcyons yet shall come
To charm away its jars.

Man!-when this Earth's dull cares assail,

Cling not to Earth the more;

Nor, groaning, let your mournful thoughts
Turn the theme o'er and o'er.
Immortal are yon lights that cheer-
Mortal all you deplore!

the

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