boast to crush the liberties and mar the fortunes of her best allies and most attached neighbors, should be ruthlessly and degradingly cheated of her own.

From the Examiner.

HUNGARY IN OCTOBER, 1849.

From the Tartarian limits of the world

The northern darkness is rolled over thee, Strangling thy morn, whose feeble star is hurled Beneath the founts of Truth's retiring sea: The Imperial dragons round thy sons are curled, And the air saddens with their dismal glee :From tongue to tongue gabbles the brutish hiss, Echoed afar from kingly palaces.

Yet, Hungary, thy freedom is not dead;

It does but sleep, and soon itself will rear :
Liberty, girt with stars about its head,
Walks in the light of God's unwaning year
Secure and calm; while despots, victory-fed,

Still tremble on the brink of some vague fear. Triumphant kings grow pale, though millions greet

Their thrones! but Truth is glorious in defeat. Storm comes, and noon-day darkness; yet, unshaken,

The blue and quiet heavens sleep behind:

Bleak winter comes; yet dreams of spring awaken

Beneath the murmurings of a warmer wind: Death comes; but a new birth, like fire unslaken, Kills with its dawn the night of humankind. Evil is transient;-wrong, and force, and fraud, By the great future still are overawed.

Thrones. Kingdoms, Empires, Dominations, fade: They are as sand before the blast of Time, Which, in quick scorn of what itself has made, Scatters to voidness their frail shapes; they

climb

Rears its crowned head triumphant; but the flame Of thy uprising, Hungary, shall make bright The mourning earth with new-born life and fame,

Their pure, cold, crystal heavens; and thy name Shall hang above our era's dismal story Like dawn on some out-looking eastern promontory. EDMUND OLLIER.

From the Spectator, 20th Oct.

AUSTRIA, throwing off the mask, stands confessed in her old tyrannous cruelty, her old inexorable meanness. Count Louis Batthyani has been made to suffer a penal death at Pesth; and at Arad several military leaders have been slaughtered, for the most part by the rope. The charge was high treason. All were condemned to death by hanging, and the sentence was only commuted to death by fire-arms in the case of a favored few.

Count Louis Batthyani differed from some other Hungarian leaders in his strict adherence to the old constitution; by the constitution he stood against imperial encroachment; by it he stood

against republican encroachment. He had taken

no lead in the war; he was first seized while endeavoring to negotiate a reconciliation; he had been tried by a military commission, and acquitted; he sought no refuge in flight, was again seized by order of Haynau, and condemned to be hanged. He had challenged a trial according to the constitution of his country; he now attempted to avoid the illegal penalty, by suicide; but failing, he was led out to perish by military death.

There can be no doubt that this act violates the

letter of the law, as it violates all civilized usage, and all dictates of humanity and sound policy. Count Louis Batthyani was not, strictly speaking, a prisoner of war; even if he had been, he might have pleaded a previous acquittal for his conduct during the war; but the charge against him, that of having infringed the Pragmatic Sanction by exceeding his duty as a minister, was manifestly not one for a military tribunal. The conduct of the Austrian government, therefore, is anarchical; it violates constitutional law and natural justice, and ought to rouse the nations in defence of order and jus

tice. Austria rests on the combination of crowned heads and armies to enforce her will by such instruments as Haynau; her conduct is of a kind to strike despair into the timid, to rouse a fixed hatred in the bold. The Hungarians are not likely to forget it. A fortiori, it shows what would have been done with Kossuth, had he been surrendered;

It is difficult to imagine a country so totally devoid as is France of public feeling or of public pride. Any firm-handed despot might humble her before Europe, might use her resources to support any criminal, or superannuated, or imbecile cause; might convert her army into mere police, and take the money of the industrious to pay them. Throughout a land of thirty millions there seems no motive for public conduct acknowledged save fear, or avarice, or the merest selfishness. There is no principle in public men; no force in public opinion. There reigns in the political atmosphere that dead, dark and solemn calm that accompanies or preludes great convulsions, when there is not a light to guide one, nor a breath of wind to move a sail, were one to spread it.

Upon such a world has poor Louis Napoleon been thrown-we say poor, for we profoundly pity him. He has been a twelvemonth at the head of a noble country, and he has not found one principle of government, one public aim, one true support, one genuine friend. The interests of each party that he advanced to power were hostile to him, yet he has shrunk from those which could best have coalesced with him. He was made to consider everything popular and everything liberal as a bugbear, and he consequently flung himself into the arms of parties whose chief hopes consisted in his betrayal.

It certainly was a perplexing thing, for a prince or a president, placed at the head of a French government, to find out support for that government. The popular party was profoundly ulcerated, the middle class terribly frightened, the moneyed class outrageous with losses, of which they flung the entire blame on liberalism and republicanism, instead of attributing them to their own improvidence, selfishness and folly. Loyalty was a sentiment unknown. Even legitimists disown it; what they want is a prince, to stand capital of that column of which they, the aristocracy, form the shaft. The moneyed class, who were ruined by the republic, and the legitimists, who had been in ruin and disgrace during the last half century, coalesced; and they offered power to whoever would put down republicanism and do their work. They offered it to Lamartine, they offered it to Cavaignac. The one was too foolish, the other too honest, to accept such terms. Louis Napoleon grasped at them. He was elected by them at least appeared to be soand he became their tool. They hold him in their

most foolish conspiracy, which decreased and discredited the liberal ranks and cause. Louis Napoleon has no power to dissolve this assembly. He has no power to govern, save through its majority. And although this majority was obtained from the country under the idea that society and property were in danger, and that the men to be returned should be men who would vote for them at all price, there is no appeal from the extravagant reäction of this majority.

We see what it has done in Rome-something that neither Louis Philippe nor Charles X. could have dared. And what they have done in Rome they will strive to do in France that is, restore the ancient state of things, the monarchy of the elder Bourbons, the court, the priesthood, the categories of proscription, the censorship of the press, the colleges in possession of the Jesuits. The reäction at Paris arrives at a point quite as extreme as the reäction at Berlin or Vienna. All that is wanting is the scaffold, and that may come.

But although this is the aim of M. Falloux and M. Montalembert, and of the united majority of legitimists and Orleanists, we cannot believe that M. Thiers has put himself at the head of any such crusade. M. Thiers is too much and too indelibly a son of the revolution to commit himself to any such doctrines, or any such party. M. Thiers is essentially a foreign politician; his whole soul is in the interests and advancement of his country abroad. And in order that it may have a commanding position abroad, M. Thiers would perhaps desire to raise to power that party which is strongest in domestic politics. What Lord Aberdeen recommends in England, M. Thiers recommends in France. Lord Aberdeen says, Let us make friends with Austria and absolutism, and by that means appear to support and share in a reäction that we cannot resist. M. Thiers says, The tide of reäction and absolutism is strong; let us join it, and make the most of it.

M. Thiers is, like Lord Aberdeen, biased in no small degree by motives of personal rivalry. The old feud between Thiers and Dufaure, Thiers and Passy, survives. And M. Thiers, who fought the battle of the right of ministers, and not kings, to govern, under Louis Philippe, is most unwilling to give up such a principle to a Louis Napoleon. For the president of a republic to write a letter, disowning all complicity with the unpopular but necessary policy in which his cabinet has embarked, is a trick in M. Thiers' estimation which no public man ought to allow.

Such we believe to be the explanation of M. Thiers' conduct, and we are far from thinking it satisfactory. But it, at least, removes or contradicts the very deplorable supposition that such men as M. Thiers have given their assent, their talents, and their efforts, to a legitimist restoration.

From the New York Tribune.

Los Gringos; or, an Inside View of Mexico and California, with Wanderings in Peru, Chili, and Polynesia. By Lieut. WISE, U. S. N.

New York: Baker and Scribner.

THE tone of gayety and good-humored persiflage, which has given such brilliant success to several English writers of travels, is almost a new feature in modern literature. With the exception of Beckford's spicy description of his droll experiences in Spain and Portugal, we have had little worth noticing in this kind, until within a comparatively recent period. The instant popularity which has followed the attempts alluded to, has waked up a host of travellers, who feel themselves called to clothe the history of their common-place adventures in the sparkling, gossamer, or, perhaps, gaseous, veil of sprightly romantic embellishment. The apparent ease with which those piquant descriptions are thrown off, has tempted many a conceited itinerant into more perils than those he boasts to have encountered in foreign climes. The book which is so delicious in the reading, has been concocted from the sweat and agony of the author's brain; but the unwary adventurer, who has been enticed into the magic circle, is soon found crushed under the weight of his own stupidity. In this species of composition, more than in almost any other, there is no hope of success except to the writer who combines a genial vivacity, a sensitive, mercurial temperament, a shrewd spirit of observation, with a kaleidoscopic variety and quaintness of expression that always ensures a brilliant triumph in conversation, but which can rarely be woven into the substantial texture of a book. And anything short of triumphant success is dead failure.

The author of this agreeable volume is one of the fortunate persons who can venture on the style, in which he seems so entirely at home, without the shadow of risk. He has only to uncork the radiant champagne of his genius, of which he has specimens of every choice and delicate vintage, and you are regaled with an inexhaustible flow of the exhilarating juice.

The voyage, of which we here have the logbook, worked up into a fascinating tissue of exquisite badinage, genuine humor, and pithy description, led the author into a great variety of scenes, to which his graphic pen has imparted the most felicitous effect. He left Boston at the close of the summer of 1846, in a United States vessel, proceeds to Rio Janeiro, doubles Cape Horn, touches at Valparaiso, cruises along the coasts of Mexico and California, visits the interior, goes to the Sandwich Islands, stops at Nukaheva, explores Polynesia, and returns to this country, after being borne by his noble ship over a space of fifty-five thousand miles. Such a voyage could not fail to open a rich vein of materials to the skilful hand that should be able to work them up with the charms of sparkling, picturesque description. Lieut. Wise has certainly made the best use of his opportunities, and given us a volume which, for its fresh, joyous

humor, its life-like naturalness, its brilliant glimpses of character and manners, and its power of expressive word-painting, we have not seen the equal of for a long time, in our critical hunt for readable books. No one who runs his eye over the lively table of contents, can satiate his curiosity without a perusal of the entire volume. We will dip into it at random for one or two sketches, for which our readers will be sure to thank us. They are by no means above the general average of the book.

LIFE IN RIO.

The saloons are always spacious and lofty, with prettily papered walls, and floors of the beautiful, dark polished wood of the country. Nearly all these residences are surrounded by extensive gardens, blooming in bright and brilliant foliage, only matured beneath the burning rays of a vertical sun. There are no springs in Rio, and the grounds are irrigated by miniature aqueducts, led from mountains in the rear; sufficiently large, however, to float in their narrow channels, serpents and many other cursed reptiles, enough to make one's hair stand erect. It is by no means an uncommon occurrence to find the giracca, a venomous snake, insinuating themselves within the sunny marble pavements of steps and porticos; and I was assured by a resident, that one monster, after having some four feet cut off from his tail, ran away with head and remaining half with a most cricket-like and surprising degree of celerity. Indeed, I was myself a witness to the intrusion of an individual of the scorpion breed, who walked uninvited into the saloon, and was on the point of stepping up a young lady's ankle, when, detecting his intention, with the assist

same.

ance of a servant, he was enticed into a bottle, that he might sting himself or the glass at pleasure. Being somewhat unaccustomed to these little predatory incursions, I was particularly cautious, during the remainder of my stay, to examine every article, from a tooth-pick to the couch, before touching the Another approximation to the same genus is the white ant. possessing rather a literary turn, and I was told that it is not unusual for a million or two to devour a gentleman's library-covers and all, in a single night. I have never yet been able to conquer disgust for even docile, harmless, speckled-back lizards; and, indeed, all the hosts of slimy, crawling reptiles, I heartily fear and abhor.

The

We found the town in a furor of enthusiasm in admiration of the song and the beauty of a French operatique corps. I went thrice, and was well repaid for the dollars, in sweet music of Auber and Donizetti. There were two primas for serious and comique-both, too, primas in prettiness. Academy of Paris Music had never, perhaps, seen or heard of Mesdames and her partner, but La Sala Januairo had been captivated with both, and beauty covers multitudes of faults, particularly with men : for what care we, if the notes touch the soul, whether a crystal shade higher or lower than Grisi, or Persiani, so long as they flow from rosy lips, that might defy those last-named donnas to rival, even with the brightest carmine of their toilets.

The theatre itself is a very respectable little place, having three tiers and parquette. The royal box faces the stage, hung with damask. The whole interior of the building was quite Italian; every box railed off with gilded fret-work, and lighted with candles swinging in glass shades. The Brazilians are fond of music, and all the world attended grown immensely-tall, awkward, and verging on corpulency even now, though I believe he is only 28 years of age. His Italian wife appeared much older. Both were well and plainly dressed, attended by some half dozen dames and dons of the court.

The curtain rose as the imperial party took their seats, and there were neither vivas, nor groaning manifestations, to express pleasure or disgust, from the audience. All passed quietly and orderly, like sensible persons, who came to hear sweet sounds, and not to be overawed by great people. I made the tour of the donnas through a capital lorgnette; and, although like Mickey Free, fond of tobacco and ladies, I must pledge my solemn assurances, that with the exception of something pretty attached to the French company, there was not a lovable woman to be seen. I doubt not but there are rare jewels to be found in out-of-the-way spots, secluded from public gaze, but it was terra incognita to me, and we

was thrown a complete somerset over his horns. These paisanos of California, like the guachos of Buenos Ayres, and guaso of Chili, pass most of their existence on horseback; there the natural vigor of manhood seems all at once called into play, and horse and backer appear of the same piece. The lasso is their plaything either for service or pastime; with it, the unruly wild horse or bullock is brought within reach of the knife. Ferocious Bruin himself gets his throat twisted and choked, and, with heavy paws spread wide apart, is dragged for miles, perhaps to the bear-bait, notwithstanding his glittering jaws, and giant efforts to escape. Without the horse and lasso these gentry are helpless as infants: their horses are admirably trained and sometimes perform under a skilful hand pranks that always cause surprise to strangers. I once saw a band of horses at General Rosa's quinta, near Buenos Ayres, trained to run like hares, with fore and hind legs lashed together by thongs of

ing one of these cream-colored beauties, valued at a conto of rais, and shipload of coffee; and assured the deluded swain, with tears in her eyes, that it would require more than half his fortune to keep his wife in soap-supposing she should acquire the weakness or ambition to become enamored of fresh

water.

SAN FRANCISCO TWO YEARS AGO.

a

everybody within reach of his curvetings, without ever once spilling a drop. I thought this better than Camille Leroux in the Polka, or a guacho picking up a cigarritto with his teeth, at a hand gallop! It is remarkable, too, how very long a Californian can urge a horse, and how lightly he rides, even when the beast appears thoroughly exhausted, tottering at every pace under a strange rider, yet the native will lift him to renewed struggles, and hold him up for leagues further. Nor is it by the aid of his enormous spurs, for the punishment is by no means so severe as the sharp rowels with us; but accustomed to the horse from infancy he appears to divine his powers, and thus a mutual

portion of the year it is enveloped in chilling fogs; and invariably, during the afternoon, strong sea breezes are drawn through the straits like a funnel, and playing with fitful violence around the hills, the sand is swept in blinding clouds over the town and the adjacent shores of the bay. Yet with all these drawbacks the place was rapidly thriving under the indomitable energy of our countrymen. Tenements, large and small, were running up like card-built houses in all directions. The population was composed of Mormons, backwoodsmen, and a few very respectable traders from the eastern cities of the United States. Very rare it was to see a native; our brethren had played the porcupine so sharply as to oblige them to seek their homes among more congenial kindred. On Sunday, how

The saddles here as well as those along the southern coasts partake in build of the old Spanish high peak and croupe, and are really intended for ease and comfort to the rider. In Chili the pillion is used, a soft material of rugs, smooth and thick, thrown over the saddle frame; but it distends the thighs too greatly. The Californian is both hard and heavy, and murderous to the horse. The Mexican is best, less cumbersome, more elegant in construction, and a great support to the rider. The stirrups of all are similar, weighty wooden structures, and the feet rest naturally in them.

There is nothing either pleasing or inviting in the landscape in the vicinity of Yerbabuena. All looks bare and sterile from a distance, and on closer inspection the deep sandy soil is covered with imper