and more discouraging as to the healthiness of the moral feelings in our community, the fact, namely, stated by Mr. Curtis, and well known to all who know anything of the matter, that during the eight years that have elapsed since the destruction of the convent, in no one instance has the Governor of the State in his annual Message called the attention of the Legislature to the subject. The possible reason for this neglect of the most important topic, that for these eight years has solicited the Chief Magistrate's attention, hinted by Mr. Curtis, "the belief that the suggestion would not penetrate through the prejudices of the time," is by no means sufficient to excuse this unfaithfulness. The suspected existence of such prejudice was the best reason to be given for such plain and earnest statement and re-statement, for such argument and appeal often enough resorted to on questions of general and local politics-as might tend to soften and remove the prejudice, and open the mind to more enlarged and generous views. Who can doubt that had there been the right feeling, there has each year been talent enough in the chair to have presented the question in such a form and with such power, as long before this to have discharged our great debt to the Catholics, and as far as that can be done by repentance and reparation, to have wiped away her darkest stain of dishonor from the fair fame of our ancient Commonwealth. The incumbents of that chair, we are certain, have not, in this, answered the wishes and expectations of the best portions of the people.

Two years ago we expressed the hope that, before the Bunker Hill Monument should be carried to its top stone, that other monument of our shame on a neighboring height, the ruins of the demolished Convent, should be replaced by the restored edifice, and again be occupied by its former tenants. The top stone is up and on, but the ruins stand as they did. Shall they stand there forever?

The pamphlet of Mr. Curtis is able and eloquent, and presents with great clearness and force the legal argument in the question. If such argument as is presented here, and such as shall be heard in the House at the present session, does not produce its effect in accomplishing the ends of honesty and justice, we trust the friends and advocates of justice and honesty will not lose their patience, but repeat their efforts from year to year, till the mind of the people shall be subdued to what must in the end obtain its triumph, the power of truth and right.

Pleasant Memories of Pleasant Lands. By MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY. Boston James Munroe & Co. 1842.

OUT of her pleasant memories of pleasant lands Mrs. Sigourney has made quite a pleasant book. She pours out poetry with the same facility apparently as prose. But whether she employs blank verse, rhyme, or simple prose, she gives utterance to those kindly feelings and that pure sentiment that find a ready echo in the bosoms of all. Her writings are too generally known to need a single critical remark, and we rather turn to her pages for a few such passages as may afford pleasure to our readers. The volume is printed in a very beautiful form, adapted to the wants of the present-making season, An engraved titlepage and a pretty view of Abbotsford, as a frontispiece, are its decorations.

From the chapter devoted to the young Queen of England, we extract the passage which describes her as she appeared addressing the Houses of Parliament.

The countenance of Queen Victoria is agreeable, and her complexion very fair. At first view it seemed remarkable, that one so young should evince such entire self-possession, nor betray by the least shade of embarrassment a consciousness, that every eye in that vast assembly was fixed solely on her. This, however, is a part of the queenly training in which she has become so perfect.

Her voice is clear and melodious, and her enunciation so correct, that every word of her speech was distinctly audible to the farthest extremity of the House of Lords. She possesses in an eminent degree the accomplishment of fine reading. I could not help wishing that the fair daughters of my own land, who wear no crown save that of loveliness and virtue, would more fully estimate the worth of this accomplishment, and more faithfully endeavor to acquire it. For I remembered how often, in our seminaries of education, I had listened almost breathlessly to sentiments, which I knew from the lips that uttered them must be true and beautiful; but only stifled sounds, or a few uncertain murmurings repaid the toil. And I wish all who conduct the education of young ladies would insist on at least an audible utterance, and not consider their own office to be faithfully filled, unless a correct and graceful elocution is attained.

In looking upon the fair young creature to whom such power is deputed, and hoping that she might be enabled to execute the sacred and fearful trust, for the good of the millions who own her sway, and for her own soul's salvation, I was reminded of the circumstance of her weeping when told she was to become a queen, and of the sweet poem of Miss Barret, which commemorates that circumstance.

"O maiden! heir of Kings!
A King has left his place!

VOL. XXXIII.

3D S. VOL. XV. NO. III.

50

The majesty of death has swept

All other from his face!

And thou upon thy mother's breast

No longer lean adown,

But take the glory for the rest,

And rule the land that loves thee best."

She heard and wept,

She wept, to wear a crown!

God save thee, weeping Queen!
Thou shalt be well beloved!
The tyrant's sceptre cannot move,
As those pure tears have moved!
The nature in thine eyes we see,
That tyrants cannot own!
The love that guardeth liberties.
Strange blessings on the nation lies
Whose Sovereign wept,

Yea! wept to wear a crown!

Anecdotes of distinguished and interesting persons occur here and there. She visited Miss Edgeworth, and thus describes her:

"To have repeadly met and listened to Miss Edgeworth, seated familiarly with her by the fireside, may seem to her admirers in America a sufficient payment for the hazards of crossing the Atlantic. Her conversation like her writings is varied, vivacious, and delightful. Her kind feelings toward our country are well known, and her forgetfulness of self, and happiness in making others happy, are marked traits in her character. Her person is small, and delicately proportioned, and her movements full of animation. She has an aversion to having her likeness taken, which no entreaties of her friends have been able to overcome. In one of her notes, she says, 'I have always refused even my own family to sit for my portrait, and with my own good will shall never have it painted, as I do not think it would give either my friends or the public any representation or expression of my mind, such as I trust may be more truly found in my writings.' The ill-health of a lovely sister much younger than herself, at whose house in London she was passing the winter, called forth such deep anxiety, untiring attention, and fervent gratitude for every favorable symptom, as seemed to blend features of maternal tenderness with sisterly affection. It is always gratifying to find that those, whose superior intellect charms and enlightens us, have their hearts in the right place."

We have never seen a representation of this celebrated writer in either painting or engraving, but did not before know that none exists. Her reason given for denying the pleasure to her friends and the world of possessing her picture is amusing enough, and a striking instance to show how illogical a very wise person can sometimes be. As if any body wanted her portrait in order to see her mind in it, and so might see it imperfectly

as if it were for any other purpose than just to see how she looks. Does Miss Edgeworth derive no gratification from looking upon the bust or portrait of the great persons of antiquity or of the present day? Why in her own case should she deprive us of a similar pleasure? Does she derive no pleasure from seeing the faces of her living friends? Would she as lief talk with them always with a black veil on, and have intercourse only with their minds? We have great respect for the mind, but a great deal for the body also. We decidedly on the whole think more of mind than body. But we hold it to be quite a reasonable curiosity, when we have been enlightened by the genius of a great author, to look upon an effigy of the outward form, be it ugly or otherwise, in which it pleased Heaven to lodge it. This transcendental elevation of which before we could never have suspected this most practical of writabove the pleasures of sense, above the delights that come in through material forms, sounds, hues, above all joys, but those that can be gathered from a treatise on metaphysics, religion, or universal grammar this, if we were disposed to speak seriously of it, we should call a form of irreverence; but as we are not, we simply call it error of judgment, or affectation.

ers

Mrs. Sigourney saw also Wordsworth and Miss Baillie.

"An excursion to Grassmere and Helvellyn, the falls of RydalWater, Stock-Gill-Force, and other points of interest in the vicinity of Ambleside, communicated great pleasure to our party; but at our return we found it had been purchased by the loss of a call from the poet Wordsworth. Though I had more earnestly desired to see him than almost any distinguished writer, whom from early life had been admired, it was with a degree of diffidence, amounting almost to trepidation, that I accepted the invitation to his house, which had been left at the inn. As I approached his lovely and unpretending habitation, embowered with ivy and roses, I felt that to go into the presence of Europe's loftiest crowned head, would not cost so much effort, as to approach and endeavor to converse with a king in the realm of mind. But the kindness of his reception and that of his family, and the unceremonious manner in which they make a guest feel as one of them, removed the reserve and uneasiness of a stranger's heart.

Wordsworth is past seventy years of age, and has the same full, expanded brow, which we see in his busts and engravings. His conversation has that simplicity and richness, for which you are prepared by his writings. He led me around his grounds, pointing out the improvements which he had made, during the last thirty years, and the trees, hedges, and shrubbery which had been planted under his direction. Snatches of the gorgeous scenery of lake and mountain, were visible from different points; and one of the walks terminated with the near view of a chapel built by his neighbor, the Lady Elizabeth Fleming, on whose domain are both the upper and lower falls of Rydal-Water. In

this beautiful combination of woods, cliffs, and waters, and solemn temple pointing to the skies, we see the germ of many of his thrilling descriptions; for his habit is to compose in the open air. He loves the glorious scenery of his native region, and is evidently pleased when others admire it.

"His household consists of a wife, sister, two sons, and a daughter. The eldest of the sons is married, and with a group of five children resides under the same roof, giving to the family a pleasant, patriarchal aspect. A fine boy of five years, who bears the name of his grandfather, and bids fair to possess somewhat of his breadth of brow, is evidently quite a favorite. Among his bright sayings was the question, whether the Ocean was not the christian-name of the Sea?' It was delightful to see so eminent a poet, thus pursuing the calm tenor of a happy life, surrounded by all those domestic affections and charities, which his pure lays have done so much to cherish in the hearts of others."

Her visit to Miss Baillie is thus described:

"It was both a pleasure and a privilege to see Miss Joanna Baillie, at her residence in Hampstead. She is above the common height, erect and dignified in her person, and of truly cordial manners. On my arrival, she had just returned from a long walk to visit the poor, and though past the age of seventy-six, and the day chill and windy, she seemed unfatigued, and even invigorated by the exercise. She resides with a sister several years older than herself, and who retains a beaming and lovely countenance.

"With them was Rogers, the veteran poet, who has numbered his eightieth winter, but still keeps a perpetual smile of spring in his heart. His polished manners make him a favorite in the higher circles, while the true kindness of his nature is attractive to all. Many from my own land can bear witness to his polite attentions, and to the exquisite collection of the fine arts, which his house in London exhibits; and among all the masters of the lyre in foreign realms, there is none of whom I now think with such deep regret, that I shall see their faces no more on earth.

"Miss Baillie is well known to be a native of Scotland, and sister to the late celebrated physician of that name, whose monument is in Westminster Abbey. Whether it was the frankness of her nation, touching the chords of sympathy, I know not, but it was painful to bid her farewell."

Address delivered before the Harvard Musical Association, in the Chapel of the University at Cambridge, August 24, 1842. By WILLIAM W. STORY. Printed at the request of the Society. Boston: Printed by S. N. Dickinson. 1842. 8vo. pp. 24. THIS is a discourse which an. English writer would call surprisingly clever. But it is more than that, as it shows more