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the revolution, we have met with none of higher and more sustained interest, than those of this volume; and whether we consider them merely in the light of fine models of epistolary writing, or as indispensable materials to more ample, accurate and philosophic views of the interior movements of the machinery of the revolution, they are acceptable and valuable presents to the community. Scarcely an event of any interest occurred in the revolution, scarcely a question in relation to it was agitated, at home or abroad, but what is here discussed with the frank and careless ease of the epistolary style; and we would hope, that none of our virtuous, instructed, and well principled youthful aspirants would thus be introduced to the closet and the privacy of such men, as Warren, the two Adams, Dana, Marshall, Franklin, La Fayette, Madison, Jefferson and Washington, without an expansion of heart favorable to the interest of these letters.

In the course of his correspondence, there is a great amount of matter brought to view, of direct bearing upon the west; and the volume presents a fair compend of the various and contradictory estimates of the interests, value and importance of the country, and the propriety or want of justice and policy of the western people, at the time of the discussion of the Spanish claims, and the right to the navigation of the Mississippi. It is very eviden, that Mr. Lee, with all his prophetic keenness of foresight, had but very confused and inadequate ideas of the physical value of this country, and the destiny, which was so rapidly preparing for it. The probability of comfort and enjoyment, which he weighs, when settling the question, after the war, whether he should fix his domicil in Virginia, Old England or Kentucky, is by no means among the least interesting parts of the book. Indeed, the fragments of his western journal are of such freshness and interest, that they naturally excite regret, that only so small a part of the journal has been preserved. An epistle, received by Mr. Lee at Fort Pitt, from a member of the assembly of Pennsylvania, who was chief messenger of the expedition, evinces, that great men formerly, as at present, were sometimes wrought out of very indifferent timber. Were it not for the air of good faith, in which it is given, we should have taken it for one of the broadest efforts of our friend, Joseph Strickland. Our only regret in leaving this very interesting book, which is also beautifully printed, is, that we have so little space to devote to it.

Address of Professor Willoughby, to the Graduating Class, at the late commencement of the Fairfield Medical College.

We were struck with the pertinence and propriety of this pithy and excellent address. It is short, fervid, and to the point. We should take pleasure, in transferring the whole of it to our pages; but we have space only for the following extract, in proof, that the study of medicine has no natural tendency to produce infidelity.

'Embrace, and revere the purity of PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANITY: let it secure you against Infidel sentiments.

'When we consider the peculiar character of our profession, as displayed in the wonderful structure and organization of Man, in the various functions of his body, their necessary connexion and mutual dependence-the whole animated by an invisible agent, enabling every part to act in harmony with the rest, and subject to the control of an intelligent principle, all of which bear the visible impress of a Divine hand-when, too, we contemplate the profession as exhibited in the solemn scenery of the death-bed, in the deep repentance of the profligate, in the dying confessions of the infidel-and these appalling circumstances placed in contrast with the animated hopes of the CHRISTIAN, the serenity of his last moments, the unshaken confidence that nerves his spirit in its passage out of life, all which come under the view of the physician-there would seem to be no necessity for admonishing you on this subject.

'Yet under all these circumstances, some of the members of our profession have imbibed infidel principles; insomuch that it has been seriously questioned, whether there was not something inherent in the science itself, calculated to originate and cherish a disbelief in a Divine agency.

'But the sentiment is as unfounded as it is unphilosophical. Both the study and practice of medicine are alike calculated to impress the candid mind with a conviction of the existence of the Supreme Being, and to excite the highest admiration of his power, wisdom, and beneficence.

'Whatever may have been the moral and religious state of the profession in other times, and in other countries, its present condition, particularly in these United States, shows us there is no necessary connexion between the science of medicine and scepticism; and it is gratifying to recognize the fact, that all the most eminent physicians of our country openly espouse the Christian religion, defend its doctrines, and give the whole weight of their influence in support of moral and religious institutions.

'Remember, the way of Infidelity is downward; and when once you enter it, each succeeding step will urge you onward with increasing celerity. Few have trod this dark and fearful path, and returned to warn others of its fatal termination.

'Flee, gentlemen, that chilling system of philosophy, which sees in the universe no design-in adversity no tendency to good-in futurity no gleams of hope —and in heaven no Creator, Benefactor, Father, or Friend!

'Study daily the oracles of Divine truth; and while you trace the pages of the sacred volume, open your minds to the conviction of its evidences, and be guided by its precepts.

'Observe strict temperance in the use of ardent spirits.-There is no subject, gentlemen, on which I would entreat you with more earnestness than this: it is a rock, on which many of our profession have foundered-a whirlpool, into which numbers have been drawn.

'The habits and occupation of the physician peculiarly expose him to the vice of intemperance. The arduousness and irregularity of his business, his exposure to the vicissitudes and inclemencies of the season, the interruption of his hours of repose-all seem to call for refreshment, and furnish his friends with an apology for constantly urging on him the use of ardent spirits.'

TO OUR DELINQUENT SUBSCRIBERS.

Our collector and publisher has been, for some months, requesting us to grant him a little corner, in which he may pronounce a short discourse to you. His request seeming but reasonable, we have consented. May he avail himself of words of power; and may you hear, and perpend. You have only to suppose him on a stump, and yourselves listeners, while he addresses you, as follows:

BELOVED, I So call you, because it is my vocation, and a habit. But there would be more sincerity in the phrase, if you had all paid me. Time is on the wing; and the consummation of my third volume is at hand; and, though I have watched the mail, even as the eyes of a servant are on his master, you are not yet prepared for that crisis. Mr. Willis, and other dainty editors, who consort only with those, who are clad in scarlet and fine linen, are privileged to speak of the quid pro quo, as the Romans did of death and the furies, calling the one decease, and the other venerable sisters. This softened and periphrastic speech is in good keeping with the voluptuous study of centre table, Turkey carpet, damask curtains, softened lights, and the white handed, fair haired, rosy cheeked and fascinating inmates. I am compelled to strike a graver key, to harp a deeper string; and to deal with paper makers, printers and binders, men of stern faces, laconic speech, and inflexible gravity, who understand not softenings and circumlocutions, and who hold compliments, in lieu of reality, in abhorrence. They are, moreover, bigoted observers of set days, and certain ceremonies of restitution for the past, and pledges for the future. Beloved, understanding it as aforesaid, no man knoweth, what sorts of people make up this our world, as the publisher of such a journal, as mine; especially, if those who subscribe live on a thousand hills, and all the from Maine to Mexico, and imagine, that they are not comeatable, by reason of their distance, by the strong arm of the law. I print my terms on every cover; and I challenge human speech to make them plainer. But I have paid the postage of more than a hundred letters, quibbling and disputing with me, as though that would pay the debt. Some complain, that they were coaxed into subscription. I am sorry for your easiness and folly. Pay up, and be more hard hearted, and cautious next time. Others find fault with the matter, style and sentiments of the Review. That proves, beloved, one of two things; that either you, or the editor, do not know every thing. Some complain, that we do not charge enough, and alledge inability to find bills, of three and four dollars. I have to suggest a cure for that evil, I furnish more matter (vide my large page and small type) than the five dollar monthlies. Suppose you take the whim of munificence, and enclose me five dollars. As for the patronage, of which some of you talk, whip me those patrons, who do not pay. I would none of them. You owe me among you three thousand dollars. I hope, that your opulence is such, that it seems a trifling matter to you. But, if you knew how affairs are with me, you would not wonder, that I am in good earnest, while I expostulate, and colloquize with you. The withholding your individual subscription may be a trifle, and a sport to you; but the deficit of the sum total is death to me.

way

We pride ourselves in the backwoods upon being original, and perpendicular, like the blow of a hammer. I have a project, beloved, for the collection of what you owe me, which I impart to you in confidence, and sub rosa. I wish it may go into an example. It will do more for the public honor and honesty, than a thousand sermons. My subscription list embraces as honorable and as respectable names, as our country can furnish. By way of contrast, I propose, in the last number of the third volume, beloved, to make out a list of my delinquent subscribers. Delinquency for one year shall be marked by one star, as thus (*)—and so on according to your arrears. When my Review shall be translated into foreign languages, and shall run on to many editions, how elevating to your sons sons, to see, that their ancestor was not a pacha of three tails, but a knight of three stars! Observe, moreover, that you will not only see your name among the stars; but that this will in no wise exempt you from the visitation of our long sided friend, who traveleth with bills up and down the earth, and to and fro in it, regardeth no man's person, and dealeth directly with our friend, the attorney. Therefore, beloved, I beseech you, pay me, what ye owe. As soon as the glorious word Paid is written against your name, it seems in my eye to radiate with a kind of glory. I look at it with the yearnings of the purest affection. Make no scruples about the difficulty of obtaining threes and fours-but magnanimously enclose the easy and common denomination five. Have no misgivings about the safety of our uncle's letter bags. I warrant me, if you go through the actual ceremony of dropping the money into them, it comes direct to me. I cannot but hope, that you will not compel me to make you a knight of the star,

For the rest, I intend to give those of you, who yield me the effective patronage of paying me, the Review for another year on a new and handsomer paper and type. You may, possibly, lie under the mistake of imagining my editor the worse for the wear. No such a thing. There are, as I believe, hundreds of good stories and Reviews yet in his treasury. I have been constantly urging him to put forth all his thunders, which, I do not understand him, if he has done yet. Therefore, one and all, come forward, and put down your names, nothing doubting; and always accom panied with thein advance. I shall be mighty cautious of sending such a precious thing, as my review, hereafter, without it. As our facetious friend at Hartford said, I cannot afford to fiddle for you longer, without pay; or, in more classical language, press my cheeses for the ungrateful city.

THE

WESTERN

MONTHLY REVIEW.

MAY, 1830.

[Extract from the Shoshonee Valley, a work now in the press.]

The Shoshonee Valley; a romance. 'Dulcia linquimus arva; nos patriam fugimus.' By the Author of Francis Berrian. 2 vols: 12mo. Cincinnati, E. H. Flint: 1830.

ADVERTISEMENT.

I DESIRE not to despise the admonition of those, who, out of a tender regard to bienseance, have admonished me, that other themes, than the following, more befit my pen. A more impressive admonition, the voice of years in their flight, has inculcated the same warning. I do not pledge myself to have forsworn peccadillos of a similar character; but I mean never again to perpetrate offences of romance on a large scale. I hope, the reader will be more ready to accord indulgence in this case, as knowing, it will be his last opportunity. Criticism, of whatever character, cannot deprive me of one satisfaction,—the testimony of my inward consciousness, that whatever other demerit may attach to my writings in this walk, they are at least free from the inculcation of a single sentiment, that had not in my view the purest moral tendency.

With Elswatta, I deprecate the walking of little men over the graves of my romances; and I earnestly desire, that no one will intermeddle in this work, in the way of criticism, who has neither eyes to see, imagination to admire, or heart to feel simple nature, as I have communed with her in scenes, the memory of which is attempted to be transferred to these pages. To those, who love forests, meadows, rivers and mountains, the gay April singers, who return to their forsaken groves, to chirp the tune of the melting snows, the yellow cup of the cowslip, the renovated croaking of the waterdwellers, and the breathing odors of the first vernal vegetation, to whomsoever any touch of sensibility of this sort appertains, to him, to her I dedicate this book; and I will meekly abide their award, be Vol. III-No. 11..

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