ject. Mr. Meek's report may be taken up hereafter, in connection with the scheme of education contained in the bill which follows it. He is a well known and able gentleman, whom we are glad to see once more in position in the councils of his country.

The Scholar and the Gentleman" is the title of an Address, by W.C. Moragne, Esq., delivered before the young inen at Greenwood, Abbeville District. Mr. Moragne, whom we already know as a thoughtfal and spirited writer, adopts the right standard from which to indicate the true aims to his youthful auditory. He shows himself well read, and very able to bring his reading to bear upon the practical demands of society.

The Mercantile Library Association," of New York, shows by its last report a highly prosperons progress. A large and daily growing library, and frequent courses of lectures, which yield regular increase to the funds, afford proofs of social advancement in taste and education, which are of the most encouraging complexion. The library of this institution, which is a new one, already contains over forty thousand volumes.

* Female Medical Education," is the text of a Lecture by Jos. S. Longshore, M. D., of Philadelphia, in which he urges the practical importance of training women in medical knowledge; but the theme is one scarcely within our province.

No doubt woman may be made eminently useful in the arts of healing. She is the natural nurse, and there are some departments in which she would seem to be the natural physician ;--but whether there does not need a good physical and social training first, of a masculine sort, to precede the mere education of the medical schools, is a subject which none of the writers seem to consider. To make a woman a surgeon, you must not merely teach surgery and anatomy--you must give her a preliminary physical and moral training-so that her nerve, on trying occasions, may not be wanting-her strength-her calm of mood, the admirably based and balanced judgment.

d Year with the Turks ; sketches of travel in the European

aná Asiatic dominions of the Sultan. By WARRINGTON W. SMYTH, M. A. Redfield: New-York. 1854.—The social character, condition and resources of the Turks, all more or less illustrated in this little volume, are matters of present interest and inquiry, in view of the great struggle pending between that people and the power of the Czar. The reader will find much in the narrative of Mr. Smyth, which is unaffected and seems quite truthful, to help him in the formation of a judgment. Life in Turkey, as all readers sufficiently well know already, is not a rosecoloured prospect. The civilization of the Turks will not be a power in

the contest for their independence. But civilization is not necessary

for the defence of a people, though it might contribute wonderfully towards it. The worst feature in the affairs of the Turks, is their ill-compacted government, and the want of homogeneousness among the people.

The Russian Shores of the Black Sea, in the Autumn of 1852 ; with a voyage down the Volga, and a tour through the country of the Cossacks. By LAWRENCE OLIPHANT. Redfield: New-York. 1854.-The author writes with the evident prejudices of an Englishman; but, making due allowances for his Bullism, the reader will find his volume full of the most interesting information, in respect to the habits, manners, customs and condition of the Russian people and the vast country which they inhabit; and which their several races sufficiently diversify. The volume is one of details The writer is a close observer, if not a profound thinker; and his facts are valuable, even if his philosophies are wanting. At this juncture his work will be found higbly useful and instructive. The present American edition is from the third English.

Melbourne, und the Chincha Islands ; with sketches of Lima, and a voyage round the world. By GEORGE W. Peck. New-York: Charles Scribner. 1854.--To those tired of home, who desire to escape to the antipodes, Mr. Peck will prove a pleasant companion. IIe is lively and communicative, has no reserves, and will tell you as freely what he thinks, as of what he sees. Under his escort, you will be able to appreciate the condition and prospects of the new and growing capital city of Melbourne ; and learn something of a region where the gold grows as plentifully as in California. At Melbourne, too, Mr. Peck had the good fortune to meet with Mr. Micawber—or a person very much like him—whom he found editing a newspaper. He reports Mr. Micawber as quite unchanged in character, and precisely the person described by Dickens. After showing up Melbourne, our traveller conducts you to the coast of Peru, and makes you familiar with sights of Coolies, and smells of Guano. You will return with him home, rounding Cape Horn, and will arrive in good health, and cheery condition, with an adequate knowledge of ship and sea in all weathers. Mr. Peck is a lively narrator and describer, and


say, “if we go to Melbourne and the Chincha Islands again—which Heaven forbid-let Peck gather up his traps and go along with us."

An Art Student in Munich. By Anna Mary Howit. Boston : Ticknor, Reed & Fields. 1854.---The book of an enthusiast in art, a

lady well educated and of excellent natural powers, whose descriptions of the chief works of art in Germany, if high wrought, and seemingly extravagant, are yet, in all other respects, in good taste; marked by delicacy, feeling, and a just appreciation of essentials. The volume presents a series of studies in art; while the descriptions of ordinary life, manners and customs of the people, sports, recreations, tastes, enliven and vary the sketches, so as to prevent all monotony. The reader may here obtain a knowledge of some of the best works of leading German artists-word pictures supplying the places of originals, and, if not compensating for their absence, at least affording some idea of what they are. To

persons of taste and education, this volume of Miss Howitt, whom we take to be a daughter of William and Mary, the wellknown authors, will be found grateful and instructive reading.

Hosmer's Poems.---Two very prettily printed volumes of poetry, by W. C. Hosmer, from the press of Redfield, illustrated with a finely engraved portrait of the author. Mr. Hosmer has been known to us as a poetical contributor to the magazines for many a year. His verse is smooth, spirited and fanciful. He loves to reanimate the old traditions of the North and West, and to weave bright fancies with the wild flowers of his native forests. These constitute his chief materials. In his longer poem, he is chiefly imitative of Scott, in his border romances ; not servilely so, but sometimes a little too much so for his independence; at other times, he goes forward singing fearlessly his own notes, and they are such as lead us to wish that he had suffered his muse to take her own road more freely in all respects. We might find good cause for sharp criticism, here and there, in these pages, but we prefer to let the reader criticize for himself. We give him, accordingly, a couple of fair samples, from among the shorter pieces of these volumes, which are commended to us equally by their spirit, and the Southern character of their subjects :


Three cheers for the Pine, the Royal Pine,

Throned high on the hill's green brow;
While ranks of trees, in the rushing breeze,

Below like vassals bow;
When the hue of wine, at day's decline

Bepaints the solemn west,
A golden crown on his brow falls down,

Though the vale in gloom is drest.

With a heated brow, beneath his bough

The red man oft hath lain,
Worn out with toil, while his antler'd spoil

On the velvet moss lay slain;
And beneath his shade the Seneca maid

Hath warbled her wood-land lay,
While braiding flowers, and counting the hours

That kept her chief away.


When winter reigns, and the river chains

With fetters chill and white,
In the cold thin air, with branches bare,

The tall oak pains the sight;
But, on the hill thy banner still

Flings out defiance high,
Though no tint of green in the glen is seen,

And the blast comes growling by.

Long life to the Pine, the voiceful Pine,

Who mourneth for the past,
When the morning breeze sweeps his emerald keys,

Or the fitful midnight blast;
My thoughts, when I hear, in moonlight clear,

His surge-like anthem rise,
Are of seers of eld who, on hill-tops, held

Communion with the skies.

Three cheers for the Pine, the Royal Pine!

Though lord of a region grim,
The tempest loud, and the eagle proud,

Are friends who talk with him.
May he lift liis head, by well-springs fed,

In sunshine and in shower,
And his plumage green by the bard be seen

While the gray old hills up-tuwer.



Where Pablo to the broad St. John

His dark and briny tribute pays, The wild deer leads her dappled fawn

Of graceful limb and timid gaze; Rich sunshine falls on wave and land,

The gull is screaming overhead, And on a beach of whitened sand

Lie wreathy shells with lips of red.

The jessamine hangs golden flowers

On ancient oaks in moss arrayed,
And proudly the palmetto towers,

While mock-birds warble in the shade ;
Mounds, built by mortal haud, are near,

Green from the summit to the base,
Where, buried with the bow and spear,

Rest tribes forgetful of the chase.

Cassada, nigh the ocean shore,

Is now a ruin wild and lone,
And on her battlements no more

Is banner waved or trumpet blown;
Those doughty cavaliers are gone

Who hurled defiance there to France,
While the bright waters of St. John

Reflected flash of sword and lance.

But when the light of dying day

Falls on the crumbling wrecks of time,
And the wan features of decay

Wear softened beauty like the clime,
My fancy summons from the shroud

The knights of old Castile again,
And charging thousands shout aloud-

** St. Jago strikes to-day for Spain !"

When mystic voices, on the breeze

That fans the ruling deep, sweep by,
The spirits of the Yemassees,

Who ruled this land of yore, seem nigh;
For mournful marks, around where stood

Their palm-roofed lodges, yet are seen,
And in the shadows of the wood

Their monumental mounds are green.

Tempest and Sunshine. (Appleton's.)--A domestic history of Kontucky, showing the sort of life in that region, from the pen of Mrs. Mary J. Holmes, a new candidate for the favour of novel readers. No great deal can be said for this story. It is a rough performance, showing some talent, but little art. The heroine of the book is a beauty in person, but with a beast's soul. She is the fiend of the story; and, with neither genius, nor dexterity, nor plausibility, imposes upon every body —all other parties, very accommodatingly, showing themselves simpletops, only, it would seem, to facilitate her scheming—her schemes being of the shallowest character, though, of course, she lies without scruple, and is a forger; but, being in high life, her offences must not be allowed

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