"To wander to and fro all day, and see

The cataracts from all points of view; to stand
Upon the edge of the great horse-shoe fall,
Marking the hurried waters gathering strength
As they approached the verge, yet seeming, too,
To pause before it shot into the gulf

Below;

Watching the river, as, stirred by no visible cause,
-it heaved and eddied and awoke

The echoes, being troubled yet far down
Beneath the surface, by its giant leap.
To have Niagara before me,

Lighted by the sun, and by the moon, and
In the day's decline, and gray, as evening
Slowly fell upon it; to look upon

It every day, and wake up in the night,
And hear its ceaceless voice," &c.

It will be seen that we have arranged the lines in conformity with the rules of English blank verse. In his visit to the penitentiary near Philadelphia, he conjures up in one of the cells an ideal prisoner, (a sorry imitation of Sterne's "Captive,”) and pictures the horrors of solitary confinement, in the same monotonous jingle. This is puerile, and highly reprehensible in an author of Mr. Dickens' reputation. During his passage down to New York, he converts the prison on Blackwell's Island into a madhouse, that he may make the lunatics "fling up their caps, and roar in sympathy with the headlong engine and the driving tide!" These are poetical licenses, and of course we intend no impeachment of Mr. Dickens' veracity.

After he

The book is a hurried compilation. A want of system prevails throughout, and every page bears upon it the impress of carelessness and haste. A dash is at times the only preparation the reader has for a sudden change in the narrative. has accompanied the author safely home to England, he is unexpectedly transported back again to America, in a chapter on slavery; and at the very conclusion of the book, he is startled by a silly anecdote, which, if not omitted altogether, should at least appear in a more appropriate place. We are sorry, both for Mr. Dickens' sake and our own, that he ever visited this country for our own sake, because we had already pictured to our imagination the author of those admirable conceptions, which so lately have been the delight and wonder of the literary world; and with this fanciful portrait we were quite content: it needed no confirmation, (not to say that it was dissipated,) by an acquaintance with the original. We are sorry for Mr.

Dickens' sake, because we are satisfied that he has acquired no additional fame, either at home or abroad, by the publication of his "American Notes."

GUARDIAN ANGELS.

"Tis sweet to think, an Angel band,
From the unknown, the spirit land,
With watchful care our steps attend,
And every hour our lives defend.

They come, with morning's purple light,
Nor leave when fall the shades of night;
But hovering still on noiseless wing,
A spell of gladness o'er us fling.

In sleep, they come, with dreams of bliss,
Too pure for such a world as this:
And bring that land of beauty nigh,
Ne'er seen except with Fancy's eye.

Or if a lonely watch we keep,
Nor woo the soft embrace of sleep,
They guide with a divine control,

The midnight musings of the soul.

When sorely pressed with toil and strife,

Upon the battle-field of life;

They, sweetly whispering in our ear,
Proclaim the hour of triumph near.

If, lured by pleasure's siren song,

We tread the path that thousands throng,
They tell us, thus, of danger nigh—
"The soul that sinneth, it shall die."

In hours of anguish and despair,

When earthly friends neglect our prayer;

In soft, celestial tones we hear
Words, that our drooping spirits cheer.

When memories of other years,
Call from their fount affection's tears;
They tell us, "weep not for the past-
We've joys for thee, that always last."

LITERARY NOTICES.

THE LOWELL Offering and MAGAZINE: Lowell, Mass.

We have just received the October and November numbers of this periodical, edited by our fair country women, as above mentioned. We have not been in the habit, heretofore, of noticing publications of this kind, but have deemed the present a proper occasion in which to dispense with the customary rule. The style and character of the work strike us as peculiarly fine. The articles in general are neatly and tastefully executed-two in particular, "The Task of Death," and "The Portrait Gallery, No 1," are deserving of the highest consideration. Here and there, indeed, we notice faults such as might be expected in a periodical to which years have not lent the advantage of experience some inaccuracies of thought and expression-with an occasional deviation from the strict rules of propriety and elegance, in style and composition. These, however, we can charitably excuse for why?

"A little nonsense, now and then,

Is relished by the wisest men."

On the whole, we take leave of the Offering, heartily bidding the ladies God speed, in their endeavors to elevate the character of their country women, not doubting that the Magazine which they edit, will be a credit to the institution with which it is connected, as it will add another star to our galaxy of literary fame. R.

THE DARTMOUTH: Hanover, N. H.

THE November number of this College periodical has just reached us, containing, as usual, some very excellent articles. We think we see in this number a decided improvement over the former. Not to specify-Longfellow, Sheridan, Demosthenes, are decided hits. Success to you, Dartmouth! R.

EPILEGOMENA.

ONCE more, Classmates, after having allowed so long a time to elapse, we take our pen in hand, to indite a few words in respect to our Magazine. Five numbers have already been issued, and we have advanced far enough in our course, to take a retrospective, as well as prospective view of our situation and circumstances. When we commenced the publication of this periodical, we did it with fear and tremblingdiffidence in respect to our own abilities, and apprehension in regard to the future. By the smiles of Providence, however, aided by our own industry, we have been enabled thus far to prosecute our enterprise, with what success, gentlemen, we leave you to determine. For the remainder, we shall endeavor to do our best, to equal the expectations of those who have honored us with their confidence, and befriended us with their kindness-a kindness, indeed, which we shall never forget.

In freta dum fluvii current, dum montibus umbræ
Lustrabunt convexa-polus dum sidera pascet.

Senior Year! Is it possible, Classmates, that we have arrived at this period-that we have advanced thus far on our College course? The halcyon days of our youththe bright anticipations of our Freshman and Sophomore sojourn―the gay, gorgeous pencilings of fancy in the future-have they come to this? It is even so, Classmates ! We might be inclined, indeed, to be merry on the occasion, to congratulate ourselves on our present condition, but the occasion itself will not admit of it. Serious thoughts become us rather-reflections on ourselves, and our past history-we who are so soon to step forth on the arena of life! How short a time, comparatively, does it seem, since we first entered these walls-this retreat of science and learning-and exchanged the glad voice of greeting with each other, and with friends not yet forgotten! Merry voices then rung out upon the air-the careless, hearty laugh of childhood-amid the sports of the play ground-the full gush of youthful feeling and passion, that would not be restrained! Buoyant spirits there were among ussouls of reckless daring, ready to confront danger of every kind-alas! "vaulting ambition did o'erleap itself," and they disappeared from among us-forcibly! Some linger with us still-and some

"Their graves are severed far and wide

By mount, and stream, and sea."

Blessings on those who remain! What though the joyousness of Freshman existence has been exchanged for the sober, staid gravity of Senior life, hearts never change, and the warm gush of feeling still flows responsive to the kindred flow of sentiment. Classmate! the spell which binds heart to heart! a link in the chain which unites kindred spirits-may the "last link" never be broken!

But we are moralizing. We will cut short the stream of our meditations, therefore, by a brief notice of the

"INAMORATI."

This distinguished association met according to appointment, the other evening. But what they did-what resolutions they passed, where they met, or in what manner, we are alike ignorant. Ichabod, the scribe, who was to preserve the minutes of the meeting, being, as was supposed, somewhat fuddled, forgot to hand them over for publication; of course we are left in the dark as to their proceedings. Judging from circumstances, however, and from the fact, that previous to the time of the meeting, there was

observed to be considerable commotion among the members-indeed, one individual was seen slily wending his way along a corner of a certain College-doubtless "on hospitable thoughts intent,"--and still more from the innumerable number of oysters, &c. that were seen outside the window, on the succeeding morning, giving evidence of something more than an intellectual repast. Alas! alas ! how transient are the deeds of men the marble itself may crumble into ruin-the most durable structures cannot preserve the records of great deeds-the pen of the historian can scarce save them from mortality;-by the way, there is a deeper meaning in Scott than is generally supposed-and the master of human nature felt that he would have left his sketch imperfect, had he not introduced one figure, Old Mortality;-all we know of the matter is, that they met !!! "Sic transit gloria mundi."

Our Devil has just arrived from the press for our communication; we close, therefore, with the following

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

"Sir Philip Sidney," is under consideration.

"Stanzas"-" Poetry and Physical Science"-unavoidably postponed to the next

number.

"Claims of Music"-" Stanzas to Louise"- are respectfully declined. "The Charade" is dispensed with. It is a rare specimen, however.

some extracts:

"But its name a still brighter enrollment can brag;
"Tis inscribed on three stars of our national flag."

"My second, though crowned with a halo of honor,
No lady invokes the bright halo upon her."

Here follow

The author of "Lines on Tobacco," is informed that we es-chew the article altogether. The "Vow of Jeptha" hath a milk and water sweetness. It might, perhaps, pass for very indifferent prose.

"I think of thee," reminds us of our own love-lorn ditties, on the soft side of a potato patch-" long time ago."

"T." is declined.

Speaking of the Devil, we have just received a communication, written in cabalistic characters, which, we have no doubt, is from the distinguished personage himself— particularly as the flame of our candle burnt blue at the time, and a strong smell of brimstone was left behind in the apartment. It is as follows:

The Editors of the Yale Literary will confer an everlasting obligation on the undersigned, by giving their correspondents a hint to write plainer, hereafter. I can't always decipher quail tracks'specially in sposhy weather-and of course sometimes run afoul of a snag. The Editors are not to consider this a hint for themselves-oh, no!--they are privileged characters, and can write as bad as they know how the more illegible the better-as they can judge, from my success with their's, how the chirography of their correspondents should be.

Yours to command,

THE DEVIL.

On hand, two or three sets of back numbers.

Communications for the next number, must be handed in immediately.