vices we have met to commemorate-and in that voice of admiration and gratitude which has since burst with one accord, from the twelve millions of freemen who people these states, there is a moral sublimity which overwhelms the mind and hushes all its powers into silent amazement.' If it were possible to give a sketch of their characters in a single sentence, Mr Wirt has here produced one of Jefferson and Adams. 'Jefferson and Adams were great men by nature. Not great and eccentric minds "shot madly from their spheres" to affright the world and scatter pestilence in their course, but minds in whose strong and steady light, restrained within their proper orbits by the happy poise of their characters, come to cheer and gladden a world that had been buried for ages in political night.' A volume would scarcely have conveyed more of their true characters, or a more vivid impression of their history. We conclude our notice of this production, with the author's beautiful description of Monticello, in which all will recognize the felicitous pen of the Old Bachelor. The Mansion House at Monticello was built and furnished in the days of his prosperity. In its dimensions, its architecture, its arrangements, and ornaments, it is such an one as became the character and fortune of the man. It stands upon an elliptic plain, formed by cutting down the apex of a mountain; and, on the West, stretching away to the North and the South, it commands a view of the Blue Ridge for a hundred and fifty miles, and brings under the eye one of the boldest and most beautiful horizons in the world: while on the East, it presents an extent of prospect, bounded only by the spherical form of the earth, in which nature seems to sleep in eternal repose, as if to form one of her finest contrasts with the rolling grandeur on the West. In the wide prospect, and scattered to the North and South, are several detached mountains, which contribute to animate and diversify this enchanting landscape: and among them, to the South, Willis's Mountain, which is so interestingly depicted in his Notes. From this summit, the Philosopher was wont to enjoy that spectacle, among the sublimest of Nature's operations, the looming of the distant mountains; and to watch the motions of the planets, and the greater revolution of the celestial sphere. From this summit, too, the patriot could look down, with uninterrupted vision, upon the wide expanse of the world around, for which he considered himself born; and upward to the open and vaulted Heavens which he seemed to approach, as if to keep him continually in mind of his high responsibility. It is indeed a prospect in which you see and feel, at once, that nothing mean or little could live. It is a scene fit to nourish those great and high-souled principles which formed the elements of his character, and was a most noble and appropriate post, for such a sentinel, over the rights and liberties of man. 'Approaching the house on the East, the visiter instinctively paused, to cast around one thrilling glance at this magnificent panorama: and then passed to the vestibule, where, if he had not been previously informed, he would immediately perceive that he was entering the house of no common man. In the spacious and lofty hall which opens before him, he marks no tawdry and unmeaning ornaments: but before, on the right, on the left, all around, the eye is struck and gratified with objects of science and taste, so classed and arranged as to produce their finest effect. On one side, specimens of sculpture set out, in such order, as to exhibit at a coup d'œil, the historical progress of that art; from the first rude attempts of the aborigines of our country, up to that exquisite and finished bust of the great patriot himself, from the master hand of Caracci. On the other side, the visiter sees displayed a vast collection of specimens of Indian art, their paintings, weapons, ornaments, and manufactures; on another, an array of the fossil productions of our country, mineral and animal; the polished remains of those colossal monsters that once trod our forests, and are no more; and a variegated display of the branching honors of those "monarchs of the waste," that still people the wilds of the American Continent. 'From this hall he was ushered into a noble saloon, from which the glorious landscape of the West again burst upon his view; and which, within, is hung thick around with the finest productions of the pencil-historical paintings of the most striking subjects from all countries, and all ages; the portraits of distinguished men and patriots, both of Europe and America, and medallions and engravings in endless profusion. 'While the visiter was yet lost in the contemplation of these treasures of the arts and sciences, he was startled by the approach of a strong and sprightly step, and turning with instinctive reverence to the door of entrance, he was met by the tall, and animated, and stately figure of the patriot himself-his countenance beaming with intelligence and benignity, and his outstretched hand, with its strong and cordial pressure, confirming the courteous welcome of his lips. And then came that charm of manner and conversation that passes all description-so cheerful-so unassuming -so free, and easy, and frank, and kind, and gay-that even the young, and overawed, and embarrassed visiter at once forgot his fears, and felt himself by the side of an old and familiar friend. There was no effort, no ambition in the conversation of the philosopher. It was as simple and unpretending as nature itself. And while in this easy manner he was pouring out instruction, like light from an inexhaustible solar fountain, he seemed continually to be asking, instead of giving information. The visiter felt himself lifted by the contact, into a new and nobler region of thought, and became surprised at his own buoyancy and vigor. He could not, indeed, help being astounded, now and then, at those transcendant leaps of the mind, which he saw made without the slightest exertion, and the ease with which this wonderful man played with subjects which he had been in the habit of considering among the argumenta crucis of the intellect. And then there seemed to be no end to his knowledge. He was a thorough master of every subject that was touched. From the details of the humblest mechanic art, up to the highest summit of science, he was perfectly at his ease, and, every where at home. There seemed to be no longer any terra incognita of the human understanding for, what the visiter had thought so, he now found reduced to a familiar garden walk; and all this carried off so lightly, so playfully, so gracefully, so engagingly, that he won every heart that approached him, as certainly as he astonished every mind. 'Mr Jefferson was wont to remark, that he never left the conversation of Dr Franklin without carrying away with him something new and useful. How often, and how truly, has the same remark been made of him. Nor is this wonderful, when we reflect, that, that mind of matchless vigor and versatility had been, all his life, intensely engaged in conversing with the illustrious dead, or following the march of science in every land, or bearing away, on its own steady and powerful wing, into new and unexplored regions of thought. 'Shall I follow him to the table of his elegant hospitality, and show him to you in the bosom of his enchanting family? Alas! those attic days are gone; that sparkling eye is quenched; that voice of pure and delicate affection, which ran with such brilliancy and effect through the whole compass of colloquial music, now bright with wit, now melting with tenderness, is hushed forever in the grave! But let me leave a theme on which friendship and gratitude have, I fear, already been tempted to linger too long.' The only exceptionable part of this performance is the paragraph in conclusion, and that might well have been omitted. It appears that Mr Jefferson, in the retirement of the closet, and while reflecting on his proud career, in some moment of pardonable vanity, wrote his own epitaph. He speaks of himself as Author of the Declaration of Independence, of the Statutes of Virginia, for Religious freedom, and Father of the University of Virginia.' This epitaph should have been held sacred as the grave-should have been kept secret as the inmost workings of the soul; yet the orator has drawn it forth from a private memorandum, as a brief and modest summary of his services. We are sorry that the judicious can neither sanction the epitaph, nor the propriety of its publication to the world. This volume of eulogies will, as a whole, form a valuable addition to the literature of the country, although there are some pages unworthy of a place in it. Not a few of our writers are in the habit of indulging a pomp and extravagance of expression neither befitting the subject, nor creditable to themselves. Some of them also are quite figurative in matter of fact, and others most barren and meagre in the field of invention. Mr Cushing asserts that there is no age exempt from the inevitable doom which falls undistinguishing upon the early bloom of beauty, and the brow blanched by the snows of seventy winters.' And this plain truth he might have repeated in a word, and avoided such laboured alliteration. Gen. Smith commences by saying 'I have been selected by the constituted authorities to perform a duty this day.' This is somewhat mechanical and common place, and looks as if the orator were some freemason appointed to lay a corner stone. There is a solemn grandeur in Mr Sprague's beginning, which harmonizes much more with our feelings. 'It is good for us to be here. We are assembled to pay our tribute of respect to the memory of distinguished benefactors; to indulge in recollections of exalted virtues and resplendent talents devoted to the service of our country and of mankind. Adams and Jefferson 6 are no more!' Mr Knapp, who as a ready writer and biographer is of high merit, has added nothing to his fame by his eulogy. In productions of this character, his style is altogether too diffuse and metaphorical, while his besetting sin is exaggeration. He is more fond of promising what he shall not attempt to perform, than of going about what he should do at once. He wants the power of concentration, and will leave, at any moment, the field of reason and speculation, to run after a flower or to hunt down a simile. His imaginings are rich but they are exuberant,-they die away with the sweetness of his voice, and we are diverted from the subject in the contemplation of the orator. We have scarcely known a more unfortunate introduction than his to the young gentlemen of Boston:' 'I come,' said he, at your request, not with a basket of sweet scented flowers to deck the bier of virgin loveliness fallen with a broken heart; nor to raise loud lamentations over the youthful warrior sleeping in his shroud, &c.' Had he set down those gentlemen as love-sick ninnies, or addressed a corps of young exquisites with only stay and buckram to hold body and soul together, instead of a discerning and enlightened audience, he could scarcely have paid a poorer compliment to their understandings. It seems to us that Mr Felix Grundy might well have trembled' at the magnitude of the task before him. Alluding to the crisis of the revolution, he says, 'but what is the prize to be contended for? Liberty: a pearl beyond all price; therefore, trusting in the God of battles, and in the stout and determined hearts, and the untrembling nerves of honest freemen, the Congress resolved to be free or die! Their trust was not in vain, God was with them! Yes, my friends, he was on our side,' &c. In reviewing this collection of eulogies, we were struck with the omission of that pronounced by Professor Everett ; undoubtedly one of the most splendid performances to which the occasion gave rise. Should a future edition be published, we trust it will have a place in the volume; which, as it is, deserves to be commended for the excellence of its design, and the neatness of its typographical execution. No event, we believe, will come more calculated to excite public feeling, or to prompt the tongue of eloquence than this, and every memento of it should be hallowed in the recollections of our countrymen. 7. TO My cup has been a bitter one-yet time cannot erase And rose upon my visions like a star upon the deep. That voice-methought I heard that voice—although the lips were mute- I caught the gleam of sunny hair and listen'd to the fall Thou art a pleasant memory preserv'd 'mid worldly wrong, Thy days like summer rivers run, and summer friends are thine, The cloudy Past his golden hopes has turn'd to sick despair, To sad and broken whiteness soon thy kindling cheek shall wane, REVIEW. Yorktown: a Historical Romance. In two volumes. Boston, Wells & Lilly. 12mo. Perhaps the present literary age is not more remarkable for any peculiar excellence, than that of its historical novels. Discarding the absurd and ridiculous fictions of chivalry, together with the monstrous and revolting machinery of the romances of a later period, the writers of our own time have endeavoured |