letent power in the writer greater than is displayed in these pro- | rily are with similar works, but we find ready to our hands a ductions. notice in a quarter which probably none of our readers have access to, and as it is a fine piece of criticism, and helps us along in the theory we have started we copy it, in part, for the benefit of all concerned. What is the reason that we have no novel writers in America, the most of a novel-reading country in the world? Even James' poor, dry, inane trashy stories, which have not life enough in them to excite the passions of a milliner's apprentice, are sold here in editions of fifteen to thirty thousand, while Bulwer's novels go off in editions of forty and fifty thousand, and Dickens's in simultaneous editions of hundreds of thousands in every city of the Union. And yet, notwithstanding the insatiate appetite of our people for this kind of literary ailment, who devour all the translations from the German, French, Swedish, Italian and Dan-is deluged, in and out of the season, with what are called true ish, beisdes reading all the anonymous novels that are published in England with the greed of a hungry school boy devouring a piece of stolen gingerbread, and snapping up all the little tales and essays that appear in the English, Scotch and Irish magazines-notwithstanding all this, we United Statesers have not yet produced one popular novelist, and, what is more, we do not believe that we ever shall unless some unlooked for event should either paralize all the European producers of such works, or establish a non-intercourse between us and the rest of the world. By novels we do not mean romances, for Cooper has been tolerably successful as a romance writer. The novel proper, like those of Fielding, Richardson, Miss Burney, Lesage, Smollet, Scott, Goldsmith, Mackenzie, Dickens, D'Israeli, Bulwer, and the author of Jane Eyre, is a kind of composition that seems wholly ungenial to our soil, the comedy of real life, does not appear to have any existence among us, and every attempt to represent it on the stage, or in the form of the novel has been a miserable failure. It is easy enough for an author to mount upon the stilts of tragedy and romance, because naturalness and consistency are not requisites in such productions, but in the easy familiar narrative of the novel and the characterizations of comedy, there seems to be nothing so difficult to an American. The chief cause of this must lie, as a matter of course, in the fact that our authors cannot depict what they never saw; society with us is yet in a transition state; the people have no manners of their own, but take them as they do their language, at second-hand, from England; consequently our authors cannot give a picture of American society because there is no such thing. This is the great reason why we have no novelists, but another powerrul one, but secondary, is, that the copy-right laws of our country do not recognize the right of property in the foreign author, and as a greater number of new novels can be constantly obtained, for nothing, from abroad, than our readers can make way with, there can be no inducement to pay the home author for his productions, and as novel writers, like other human beings must live by their labor, they soon desert a calling which will not afford them their bread and butter. "In this new world, which,' as the poet teaches, 'is the old,' that ancient theme of song and tale, love, is by no means worn out. The greatest and best subjects of poetry and art are necessarily the most hacknied; the best of all, the one just adverted to, is the most hack nied of all, because all men suppose themselves to be well acquainted with it. Hence, the reading world · love stories, and which are for the most part very wearisome or very ridiculous, because they imitate nature so abominably.'— But the grand world-old theme is still fresh as the amaranths of Paradise; and, in the hands of the true artist, it will stir the soul and make sweet music there But the soul will not be moved by pleasant sensations only; and the artist will not spare discord in his harmony, for earthly love is, like all earthly things, mixed up with sadness, and its office is to teach us to asspire after something better than itself; and thus is it truly a 'Discipline of Life.' This doctrine, illustrated by the common occurrences of ordinary life, without the aid of striking incidents or strange combination of circumstances, is taught, and well taught, in these volumes. They contain three beautiful tales, of which it is difficult to say which is the best They are all uncommon, from the simplicity of the materials, the quiet, unpretending tone, the sober, truthful, clear day-light sort of coloring which pervades them. If we have a fault to find with their general scope and tendency it is this, that they are somewhat too sad. True, the discipline of this mortal life is a serious matter; but when the heart has been well trained therein, it should be brave and hopeful as well as loving, and it should diffuse the light of a serene joy around. The writer of these exquisite tales is yet young in this stern but kindly discipline; she (for we are well aware that they are the work of a woman) seems afraid to follow the dictates of her own soul and be glad. She dashes all the happiness of her life-like characters with a little too much of bitterness, and at the end of each story the reader feels pain. This should not be. There is a higher wisodm than the wisdom of sorrow-the wisdom of a chastened joy; this, however, is attained by few, and can only be attained by passing through the former. May the authoress of the 'Discipline of Life' soon give the world a fresh proof of her talents in which this higher wisdom will prevail; in which there will not be less of faith and the sweetest charity, but more of hope and as much of joy as as consistent with our mortal life. "There are a few trifling defects in the volumes which their general excellence makes us regret. There is a want of just dise crimination of the many grades of society in this country. All the people are either thorough-bred or have no breeding at all; whenever the story leaves the principal actors, and the non-essential characters appear, the power of life-like delineation leaves the authoress; or, perhaps, to speak more truly, she does not take the trouble to draw them well. The style of composition is fluent, easy, and generally graceful and polished, but it is sometimes careless and rather slipshod. A very little attention would have removed all rhese minor blemishes. We do not often see a work of fiction so well worthy the fining and refining touches of the author; and on this account we do not hesitate to find fault. In the "Discipline of Life" we have a very charming book, readable and profitable, by an anonymous auther, one of a very numerous class in England who do a vast deal of good by working in a field that lies entirely fallow with us. Miss Sedgwick, who is a very thin dilution of Miss Edgeworth, or, perhaps, it would be more correct to call her an unitarianized Hannah More, has attempted something of the kind, but we do not think that she has been very successful, although for lack of a better she has certainly been popular. Mrs. Kirkland has manifested higher talents for this specie of literary composition than any other of our lady authors, but it is hardly possible to judge of her capacity as a novelist from the few tales that she has written. No American woman has a freer or purer style, nor none so true a genius for characterization. We men, so far as our knowledge extends, have done nothing worth alluding to. There are plenty of names of authors who have labored in this line, but they have here outlived the memory of their works. We were going to be more "There are no eccentric paragraphs or striking opinions to exparticular in our notice of the Discipline of Life than we ordina- | tract, and the passage we now quote is merely given as a speci "The three stories are entitled 'Isabel Denison,' A Country Neighborhood,' and 'The Moat; and, on the honor of a critic, we like them all so well that we fear to be unjust to the others by giving preference to one. It would be depriving our readers of a great treat if we were to give rapid sketches of these tales; we refer them to the book itself. men of the whole, which is remarkably even, and for the sake | existence approximating to the Phalansterian system has yet been of the verse, which is more than pretty. Isabel Denison is just beginning to discover that she has made a mistake, and that she does not love the man to whom she is engaged. Lord Clarence Brooke loves her, and she loves him without knowing it: "Why did you look so surprised at dinner to-day, when I said that Miss Forester was going to be married?' asked Lord Clarence..I wished so much to ask you the reason why, but I waited,' ***I was not surprised at her marrying-only at her marrying Mr. Graves.' But why? Mr. Graves is a very good sort of man, above the average, I should say, a good deal. "Oh, yes, it was not that, but it was only about three weeks ago that she was quite laughing at the idea! She said there were particular reasons why she and Mr. Graves should be great friends, but that they were nothing more.' I believe she spoke truly,' said Clarence. 'He was a friend of her brother's, and was with him when he died abroad. They have only just thought of marriage. But that is the commonest of all delusions,' he said, smiling, that of being only great friends.' "You don't mean to say that men and women can't be friends?' said Isabel, with a look of surprise. 464 known, and, we have our fears, never will be. The object of M. Hennequin in this little book is to confound those enemies of the Fourierite philosophy who have decried it on the ground of its demoralizing tendencies. To do this he has given a brief, bat easily understood outline of the system of Fourier as applied to the sexual relations. The book in this respect is more valuable than any other similar publication that we have seen because it is more positive and comprehensive. We can see exactly what is meant by the vestelate, the faquirate and the potate. So far there is positive good in the book because it conveys positive 12formation. But in other respects we cannot but regard it as reost objectionable, and calenlated to produce unhappy effects upon minds of a certain class, particularly upon the minds of the young. Nothing has ever given us a more convincing proof of the wast of truth and sound reasoning in the Fourierite philosophy than the reading of this little book, because it hears conclusive evidence that the originator of the system based his principles, not upon the universalities of human nature, but upon the particular state of society in which he had been reared. Of all men in the world, Frenchmen are the least calculated to make healthy reforms, because the state of society to which they are accustomed is more artificial and corrupt than that of any other among christianized nations. If Fonrier had been an American he would never have puzzled his brains to invent a cosomgony, nor a No, I don't mean to say that; but I know that I have sometimes remarked myself, and I have very often heard the remark made, that great friendships usually end in love, on one side, or on both. I can understand it,' he continued; such persons begin only with friendship, but every day they grow to know more and more of each other, probably to know each other thoroughly; their tastes and pursuits, too, generally are the same; for it is necessary in friendship, though not in love; and sudden-phalanstery. He would have been content with things as they ly, some day, friendship ends and love begins." But not the highest kind of love,' said Isabel. "No, not the highest, but, I believe, the happiest; the course of such true love more often runs smooth; and then the chances of happiness in married life are greater; for there must be such a thorough knowledge, and dependence, and confidence, in each other.' Isabel sate thoughtfully. Her fingers were playing with some ornaments on the table, and her eyes were fixed earnestly, and yet vacantly, on the shapes and figures in which she placed them. She was thinking, not of Clarence, but of Herbert. She was asking herself, was not that the kind of love she felt for him. You seem to admire that kind of love,' she said, as last, without raising her eyes. For the first time it struck him that she might be thinking of herself and of him. No. I don't,' he said; I only say it is happy. I like a higher kind of love than that; but then, the higher kind of love I can't but own to be more dangerous also.' Dangerous!' and Isabel lifted her eyes to his face. "Yes, dangerous. Is it not dangerous to feel love growing to worship-to idolatry? Is there not a danger,' he said, with a smile, but a grave one, of forgetting the first great commandment ?' 4 "Still Isabel sate thoughtful. How little had it ever crossed her to fear that she loved Herbert too much! "Here is a description of something very like worship or idolatry,' continued Clarence, taking up a book from the table. "I was reading it when you came into the room. Shall I read it to you?' and, with a low, melodious voice, and expressive manner, he read the following lines: "Wouldst thou be mine, I'd love thee with such love, thou canst not dream Wouldst thou be mine-I'd be As father, mother, friend to thee; exist, not regarding them as ultimates, but as in a fairer way of self-reformation than they could possibly be put by any system invented by man. Here he would have seen a degree of wide spread happiness and content which far transcends the dreams of human perfectibility in which he indulged. His disciples in this country oddly enough transplant to the New World the moral diseases and physical sufferings which their head described as he saw them in France, and to understand the drift of their harangues and writings it is necessary to be so thoroughly imboed with a knowledge of European, or at least, French wretchedness, that you disregard wholly the evidence of your own senses and imagine that the East River is the Seine, the City Hall the Palais de Justice, and the Five Points the Cite. There is suffering enough in this country, unquestionably, more than there should be, and infinitely more than there will be a few years hence, but it is not the kind of suffering which afflicted the soul of Fourier, nor does it spring from like causes. One of the most amusing evidences of a want of comprehensive views in the phalansterian system is the constant allusion to the army, to crowned heads, monarchs, &c., as though such antagonists of happiness could ever exist in a condition of perfected society, such as Fontier dreams of. There is but very little in this small book which is fit to quote, or to be spread before the indiscriminate readers of s popular Magazine, but as a specimen of the style and matter of the pamphlet we extract the following chapter on that condition of phalanstrian existence denominated the Vestalate. In making a parallel between the erotic customs of civilization and harmonian manners, the danger and the difficulty certainly do not lie in discussing the institutions of the Phalansterv, but in stirring up the filth of civilization. It is in giving a picture of the actual state of manners that we shall need precautions and Love in the Phalanstery. By Victor Hennequin. New York. circumlocutions, and after all succeed in stating only a small part Dewitt & Davenport. 1848. LOVE in the Phalanstery will be a very different thing, according to Victor Hennequin, from love in the isolated house hold;"' instead of being the universal passion which develops itself alike in peasants and princes, in clowns and sages, it will be an affair of degrees and lovers will be divided into classes, like children at school; there will be lovers of the Vestelate, the Damoisellate, the Angelicate, Feate, and Faquirate; as well as the love of the potate, which is a very different from the potato. We say these will be the loves of the Phalanstery, for no state of of the truth. We know how virginity is sacrificed in civilization. The young man makes small account of his, and would esteem it ridiculous to keep his affections for some unknown woman, whom he should hardly mary before he was thirty years old. But if his career do not open with a legitimate tie, it will at least begin with a noble passion, capable of filling his soul and exalting his thoughts? Not a whit! If in his boarding-school he have not already lost his innocence in outraging nature, which is often the case or if his first conquest be not in simple truth a registered some chance girl met in the street, or of the accommating dispo prostitute, which is still oftener the case; he will avail himself of sition of some servant. Thus he slays the poetry of his soul; He sacrifices everything to this purely material love, which occu- numerous heroes, who face a thousand dangers in fertilizing pies so great a space in the life of the civilizees, spite of their pro- deserts, in draining marshes, in directing the courses of rivers. In fessions in favor of platonic love and pure sentimentalism. these great campaigns, which bring together the subjects of all We would be discreet on the subject of female boarding-empires, the vestale will see crowned heads among her suitors. schools, but we know what disorders transpire in the prisons of Women. Must not the recluse and sedentary life imposed upon young girls already formed, entail upon them a portion of the same abases? In harmony, the period of puberty in both sexes is retarded by the integral exercise and development of the body: moral means concur to the same end. Even when youth is marriageable, it is important to delay the exercise of love, until the health and vigor which are necessary to long life are established upon a durable basis. It is important, moreover, that young people should maintain for some years the practice of a sincere chastity, in order that childhood may not see its morning labors and evening recreations regularly deserted by all who have arrived at a certain age, and thus be excited to curious reflections; it is necessary, in short, that love chaste and pure, love disengaged from the senses, should find its place in life. It is by it that every career should open; it is it which will perfume with poetry all the future of that career. In harmony, man in all his intercourse with woman, will be perpetually recalled to the rules of delicacy, by the remembrance of his first love. It will leave on the soul a sweet and heavenly impression, in place of the filthy traces now left by the first orgy. Does civilization, while recommending virginity, assure it a similar lot? Has it indeed any sincere regard for virginity? Always faithless to its own maxims, it ridicules sincere celibacy in the young man, and in the other sex ít recompenses a too protracted virginity by sneers. The vestales of harmony are not a religious order: the duration of their vows depends wholly upon their own pleasure. Having chosen from their numerous suitors the one they deem most worthy, they pass into the series of the damoisellate, or constant love, and the marriage is not celebrated as with us in the presence of the curious, called together by the sound of a trump. All is mysterious and pure in these nuptials. The indifferent only know of the union when it is accomplished, when they see the vestale wearing the costume of the damoiselle, and replacing by a crown of roses her white crown of lilies. The Principles of the Chrono-Thermal System of Medicine. We are of opinion that Dr. Dickson's exposures of the fallaThe founder of the social science everywhere insists upon these cies of the medical faculty have done, and are likely to do more conditions; he satisfies them perfectly by the admirable concep-good than any work on medical science which has been presented tion of the Vestalic Body. In harmony, the young people of both sexes, who from the age of puberty to that of nineteen or twenty, rigorously preserve their virginity, are the idol of the Phalanx, and receive the highest honors. Fourier designates these young people by the name of vestales (female) or vestels (male.) The chastity of the vestales and vestels is all the better ensured by their having full liberty to quit the corporation at their pleasure, in renouncing its privileges. This chastity remains intact to all suspicion; the industrial relations proceeding only in numerous masses, and tete-a-tete occupations between the sexes being interdicted by the vestalic body, it would be impossible for the vestales or vestels to have erotic intimacies, without immediate discovery. Lodgings are disposed in a manner to give the utmost security; the vestalic body occupying only the two quar ters appropriated to itself alone. since the days of Hippocrates. His lectures are written in so popular a style, they abound in such a variety of information, they are so copious in illustration, and withal manifest such a thorough knowledge of the subject on the part of the lecturer, and so humane and tolerant a disposition, that the reader who is not hampered down by a narrow prejudice in favor of old precedents, or rendered a bigot by superficial acquirements in medical science, yields up his convictions at once to Dr Dickson and rises from the perusal of his book a non-phlebotomist if not a positive chrono-thermalist. No man will ever permit a licensed bloodletter to stick a lancet into his veins and let out his heart's blood, During the course of the day the vestales will not be separated the life of his body and the sustainer of his soul, after reading from the men; not only will they meet them in all the industrial Dr. Dickson's essays or lectures. But for the boldness of Dr. sessions, but their mission is to inspire and rekindle love disen-Turner, who has had the courage, like Jenner, to introduce a new gaged from the senses, the love which prompts beautiful actions, the love of the troubadours and of chivalry. Every vestale has her suitors, who, in order to please her, emulate each other's devotion to humanity. The title of suitor is only accorded to him who has always given proof of his deference for women and his loyalty in their behalf. Let us here cite some details from Fourier, in regard to vestalic usages. system of medical treatment among his countrymen, in spite of the jeers of his cotemporaries, and the certainty of losing caste among those solemn owls with whom stupidity is a patent for professional dignity, we should never have seen an American edition of Dr. Dickson's Lectures. We welcome a second edi it the vestales hold the first rank in the plalanx, it is because tion of this book with great pleasure, and recommend it to our nothing excites more esteem than an undoubted virginity, a genuine and undissembled modesty, an ardent devotion to useful and readers with entire confidence in its giving them pleasure in the benevolent labors, an active emulation in good works and in fine perusal, whether it makes converts of them or not. We under arts. All these qualities combined in a group of young girls,stand that Dr. Turner has been eminently successful during the must captivate the public favor without reserve. Thus, the vestales are adored. Each phalanx is proud of its vestales; they are distinguished as virgins of ceremony (apparat,) of talent, and kindness. They every month elect a presiding quadrille, who occupy the chariot in all ceremonies. When a monarch arrives at a Phalanstery, they take very good care not to besiege him, as now, by a municipal depnatation pouring out doleful harangues upon the interests of commerce: he is received by two virgins of ceremony, distinguished for their beauty, and adorned with the precious stones of the treasury. They meet him at the borders of the territory, and he makes his entree in their chariot, drawn by twelve white horses in violet trappings. The chief function of the vestales, out of the Phalanx, is to inspire with enthusiasm the industrial armies. These assemblies are lucrative, are more brillant than the famous Field of the Cloth of Gold, and are in no way fatiguing, since their labors are executed under movable tents. As they give public fetes every day, which are as magnificent and delicious as our present public fetes are inspired, they have no need to draw young people to them with a chain about their necks, like our conscripts proud of the name of free-men;-admission to the army is a reward, and the vestales are the first body which should partake of it. The vestales of each canton form the first nucleus of the army; the suitors who aspire to distinguish themselves in their eyes, come in crowds to fill up the ranks. The graceful times of the paladins have returned. The conception of industrial armies is very grand in itself: the intervention of the vestalic body adds to it the prestige of the most charming poetry. Behold, then, love performing miracles; behold industrial rivalries exalted into romance, the vestale inspiring the exploits of past season in the treatment of diseases chrono-thermally, and Hebbe's Universal History. Vol. I. New York. Dewitt & THIS is an imposing volume, and to many readers will be profitable to a certain extent. Those who know nothing of the history of mankind will be able to learn a little something from this volume, but for the great mass of readers it can be of little value. The portraits with which it is illustrated are of no value what ever, either as resemblances or as works of art, and the only end they can serve is to create distrust of the authenticity of the text. Ex pede Herculem; if a fancy portrait of Moses is given in such a publication why may not the biography be a fanciful sketch also? We do not intend any disparagemen upon this particular illustrated Universal History by these remarks, but upon all such. Dr. Hebbe is no doubt a man of erudition, and as capable of executing the task of writing an universal history, as anybody else, and as for his portrait of Moses, it is just as good as anybody else's portrait of the Jewish Lawgiver. No man can be qualified to write an universal history, and as for portraits of Moses they are not a whit more exact than portraits of the man in the moon; it matters not who makes them. It is enough for one man to write the history of one people, of one epoch, or one person. An universal chronology may be undertaken, and as a string of facts and dates for assisting the memory may be serviceable, but an universal history is a sheer impossibility. The first volume of Dr. Hebbe's undertaking is soberly written and handsomely printed, but beyond this we cannot add much in its favor. The attempt is either too ambitious or presumptuous for any one person. It was never designed that one man should do everything. The Image of His Father: Or, the History of a Young Monkey. By the Brothers Mayhew. New York. Harper & Brothers. 1848. THE Brothers Mayhew are both writers in Punch, we believe, and are bright stars in the literary firmament of Great Britain, or rather in that particular constellation of literati whose works have emenated from the Punch office. They are of the new order of cocknies whose wit has a philosophic turn, and whose humor takes the disguise of reformatory essays. They are a vast improvement on the literary cocknies of the last age, and as little like those flashy vapidities, Theodore Hook and George Coleman the younger, who were spawned in the heat of the royal vices of George the Fourth, as Puffer Hopkins is like John Milton, or Judge Conrad like William Shakspeare. "The Image of His Father" is a very good story, and the style, although rather too ambitiously terse, is lively and readable; but this joint produetion will not bear a comparison with that other of the same anthors, the Greatest Plague in Life, which we regard as the finest prose satire that has been written since the Tale of a Tub. But, although the Young Monkey is not equal to the first joint production of the Brothers as a tale, it is a work of very considerable merit. It is very handsomely illustrated with cuts from drawings by Phiz, one of which we present our readers below by the permission of the publishers. TOPICS OF THE MONTH. INTRY weath- | to be inherent, would ever be guilty of wasting an entire day an er has returned a dollar's worth of powder and shot, for the sake of five or six once more; the birds that may be bought in the market for as many shillings. Mr. days are shorter Henry William Herbert, who is the grandson of an English earl, and colder, the and therefore a sportsman by inheritance, has written a work on nights longer American Field Sports, which gives more copious and particular and more cheer-information on the subject than can be found elsewhere. A conful; the mos-siderable part of the work is devoted to snipe-shooting. Mr. quitoes are all Herbert enters into his subject with as much earnestness as though dead, the leaves he were enlightening the world on some newly discovered princihave turned red ple in mechanics; and deals with the poor little snipe with as and fallen, the much gravity as though they were anthropophagi. Poor little squirrel has creatures in their callow innocence little dream that the grandson gathered in his of an earl has crossed the Atlantic with powder and shot, with store of nuts, the steel pen and shooting stick, to instruct the world how to destroy furriers have begun to display their muffs in shop windows, balls their little lives. The work of Mr. Herbert (to think of writing and parties have commenced, hot drinks are now called for in the a work on sport) has been published by a cheap publishing house, place of ice creams, ladies no longer wear roses in their bonnets, and many a youngster, we fear, has imbibed already the vagabut ostrich plumes and birds of Paradise: coal has risen in price, bond ambition of being a sportsman, and thinks it would be gloand the wages of poor work-people have been lowered; men rious to shoot a poor snipe. Mr. Herbert does not write under no longer saunter idly through the streets, but keep up a smart his own name, which is commendable in him, but assumes the pace to set their blood in motion; the watering places are all de- name of Frank Forrester. Some people have supposed that he serted; the birds have taken their flight to more genial climes; was the brother of Fanny Forrester, but we can assure our readthe wind whistles sharply through the leafless trees; there are no ers that there is no relationship between these writers, Fanny is flowers seen on parlor tables but the hardy chrysanthemum, which now teaching Christianity to the Hindoos, and Frank is teaching delights to perfume the first frosts of winter; the delicious fruits us Yankees the noble science of slaying snipe and other small of the markets are no longer seen, but in their places have come birds. Audubon states that the average weight of the snipe is roasted chestnuts, and the native hickory, which is worth all the about three ounces. Think of writing a book on the art of shootforeign nuts that are imported; game is now brought into Fulton iug such a little creature. What a mighty fuss for a small heap market from Long Island, and to the Bear market from the Jer- of feathers. Men who go out in quest of sport with a gun and seys; the fashionable tailors and milliners are now reaping their a dog during a snow storm may profit by reading the following harvest, and dancing masters are full of business teaching young from Frank's book: feet how to hop in the true French style. "Once, and once only, at the same place, Chatham, during a of swampy woodland, among tall timber trees with heavy undersnow-squall, I shot several couple of snipe in a very thick piece covert-precisely what one would call admirable summer cockground-the snipe flew in and out of the brakes, and thridded similar thickets. What has happened once, especially in the the branches, as rapidly as quail or cock would have done, in ways of animals, is likely to occur again; and I should not hesitate, when there was no tract of low springy underwood near at during the permanence of cold storms and violent winds, suffihand to snipe meadows, to beat high wet woodlands for this bird, cient to drive them from the open fields. At all events, let the sportsman remember that in the Middle and Eastern States, like, are as regular haunts of snipe in spring, as bog tussocks or bushy ground, brier-patches, alder and willow brakes, and the marshy meadows; and that there is no more propriety in his omitting to try such ground for them, than there would be in neglecting to beat thickets and dingles for quail, because they ordinarily feed on stubbles. Of all the months in the year November is the one in which sportsmen take the greatest delight, for in this month game is fat, and it is lawful to shoot, sell, and eat any kind of beast or fowl that runs at large and calls no man owner. Woodcock and snipe, grouse and deer now become plenty, Long Island and the Jerseys are filled with men who lug about with them during a chilly day, a heavy fowling piece, a game bag and a powder flask, all for the pleasure of knocking over two or three pretty little piping birds, that are hardly worth the picking after they have been killed. We never see one of these sportsmen going out on their murderous pleasure but we think of the indignant outburst of Burns, who, while laboring in the fields, saw a poor hare that some unfeeling .nonster had shot, limp by him, seeking for a spot to die in. There is one thing to be said in favor of shooting, it is a healthy sport, and inures men to exposure. So far it is good, "While I am mentioning the peculiar habits of the American but it would be infinitely better to work in the open air, to chop snipe, such more particularly as it is not generally known to poswood, plough the ground, or do something else in the open air palmated, this little bird swims rapidly and boldly. I was presess, I may observe that although not web-footed or even simiwhich would result in good to others. To carry home at night a viously aware that, on falling wing-tipped into the water, it was small bunch of little birds, as the fruits of a day's labor, is not a able to support itself, and even to struggle away from a dog; but thing for a reasonable man to boast of. Much to the credit of I was a witness to the fact under rather singular circumstances. I had no idea that it would take the water of its own accord, till the American people there are but few sportsmen among them, I was standing still, loading my gun, both barrels of which I had the greater part of the gentlemen who go out a shooting are Eng-just discharged, on the brink of a broad spring-fed ditch which lishmen, who being bred to the faith that shooting is an employ-flushed by a friend at some distance, flew over my head and dropruns along the lower side of the Long Meadow, when a bird, ment only adapted to aristocratic tastes and noblemen born, avail themselves of the liberty which every man enjoys in this country to kill any wild game that he can find. At the west where the man who kills a bear or a catamount renders an essential service to the community, the use of the rifle is an accomplishment which one may well be proud of, but no genuine Yankee, in whom the idea of Locke, that labor for labor's sake is against nature, seems ded within ten feet of me, on a spot of bare black soil, between two or three large grassy tussocks, and the ditch. I had never, alarmed; and I stood watching him, for some time, as he walked at that time, observed the natural motions of the snipe, when ungracefully to and fro, and stooped down once or twice and bored in the mud, bringing up each time a small red angle-worm in his he deliberately entered the ditch, and oared himself across it, as bill, utterly unconscious of my presence. After a minute or two, easily and far more gracefully than any water-fowl could have |