assemblage of water and land turtles, of all sizes, from the most gigantic to the most diminutive. The Lambert of the case, called the Leviathan Turtle, is 74 feet long and 13 feet in circumference; it was caught by a New York pilot boat, about thirty miles off Sandy Hook, and weighed when killed 800 pounds, although it was thought that it lost about 200 pounds of blood in the conflict. Some of its neighbours in the glass case are not above an inch in length; one of them, however, small as it is, has two heads and six legs. Behind a screen is a dried human body, from a saltpetre cave in Kentucky. It is called an Indian mummy, but is probably a remnant of the more ancient race by which the vast mounds in Ohio were erected. The body, which seems to have been fully grown, is in a sitting posture, the knees up to the mouth; the skin is evidently entire, as well as the hair of the head, but the whole is shrivelled and shrunk in a singular manner. The upper floor of this repository is disfigured with most revolting figures in wax, among which are Saul, Samuel, and the witch of Endor; prodigies of absurdity and bad taste.3 On a partition in the centre of this room are some

This seems a favourite subject for illustration among American artificers in wax; there is another groupe of the same in what is called a museum at Albany. Mr. Scudder's Saul wears a blue silk coat and small clothes, covered with spangles; the witch sits on a parlour chair in a printed cotton gown, with a white shawl, cap, and black riband; and Samuel sports a white cotton night cap.

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immense paintings, in sized colours, of the naval actions of last war in which America was victorious. The fable says, if lions were painters,' and we must put up with the mortification which the brush and the graver here frequently offer to British feelings. Our print sellers exhibit in their windows the Shannon and the Chesapeake; the American artists take ample amends with the Guerriere, the Java, the Macedonian, and the squadrons of Barclay and Downie.

The members of the New York Historical Society, which meets in the adjoining rooms, have produced some able memoirs, chiefly of men who have deserved well of their country; and the last anniversary discourse, delivered on 7th December by Mr. G. C. Verplank, well upholds the respectability of the series. Mr. Verplank has devoted his essay to the commemoration of those Europeans who rendered themselves conspicuous in the various ages of American history, by conferring the blessings of religion, morals, letters, and liberty,' on the western world. In this discourse, which has been printed, the author enters into an enthusiastic defence of the memory of Las Casas, from the imputation of his having encouraged the introduction of negro slavery, into the Spanish American colonies; a charge which has been supported by Robertson, Raynal, Marmontel, and others. In a strain of grateful recollection, Mr. Verplank has noticed the early settlers of the

British provinces, and the many singular but meritorious men, who at different epochs rendered themselves conspicuous in their history. He also records some of the European names, who aided his countrymen in throwing off the control of the British Sovereign, and confers a glowing eulogium upon Louis XVI. Before concluding, he adverts to the characteristic variety and poetic character of European history, and thus contrasts with it the simplicity of that of America:—

"Our own history, on the contrary, like that poetical temple of Fame, which was first reared by the imagination of Chaucer, and decorated by the taste of Pope, is almost exclusively dedicated to the memory of the truly great. Or, rather, like the Pantheon of Rome, it stands in calm and severe beauty amid the ruins of ancient magnificence, and 'the toys of modern state. Within no idle ornament encumbers its bold simplicity. The pure light of heaven enters from above, and sheds an equal and serene radiance around. As the eye wanders about its extent, it beholds the unadorned monuments of brave and good men, who have greatly bled or toiled for their country, or it rests on votive tablets inscribed with the names of the best benefactors of mankind."

Mr. Verplank characterizes Mr. Washington Irving as one of the chief of living American writers; and remarks, as if anticipating the fame which he has subsequently acquired,-" This writer has not yet fulfilled all the promise he has given to his country. It is his duty,

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Mr. Verplank's discourse certainly does honour to himself, and to the literature of his country. It exhibits a great extent of reading, combined with an independence of mind, which leads him fearlessly to controvert opinions sanctioned by the authority of great names; and to estimate the value of historical statements, by their intrinsic worth, rather than by the character of their authors. His style, if somewhat ornate and oratorical, is yet well balanced and harmonious; and is throughout perfectly free from those indigenous expressions which so frequently provincialize American compositions. The spirit that pervades the essay is that of an enthusiastic love of country; and if it may be said, here and there, rather to blind him to its faults, this is a feeling so excusable in itself, perhaps one to which we are ourselves so liable, that we cannot allow it to lessen the pleasure which is afforded by a perusal.

Much has been written on the subject of American literature, and various theories have been pro

because it is in his power, to brush away the pretenders who may at any time infest her society, her science, or her politics; or if he aspires, as I trust he does, to strains of a higher mood, the deeds of his countrymen, and the undescribed beauties of his native land, afford him many a rich subject, and he may deck the altar of his country's glory with the garlands of his taste and fancy." Mr. Verplank, however, who is of Dutch descent, and jealous for the honour of his parent country, feels a little sore at Deidrich Knickerbocker's wit, and makes some remarks on it, to which Mr. Irving pleasantly alludes in the introduction to Rip Van Winkle. See the Sketch Book.

L

posed to account for the comparative scantiness of original compositions, and the frequent inferiority of much that has been written. I have no new hypothesis to propose upon the subject. The fact is sufficiently accounted for by the state of the country, as a young and a rising one; offering more encouragement to commercial and agricultural adventure, than to literary and philosophical pursuits; and probably this kind of mental tutelage has existed longer than its natural time, from the influence of a hereditary disposition in the natives to look elsewhere for their literature. Those who were disposed to write, felt a misgiving in their hearts as to their own strength, and allowed their powers to be deadened by a chilling awe of foreign criticism. Those again who were to purchase their writings, felt no confidence in literary produc- · tions of domestic origin; they did not expect much, and they were slow to admit the existence of even moderate excellence. Every vessel from Liverpool brings an importation of new authors, which the accommodating booksellers immediately transmute from a costly into a cheap form, and a torrent of British authors, of legally accredited talent, deluges the land, and carries with it the minds and the partialities of the multitude. Our Reviews have contributed to increase and perpetuate this feeling of intellectual subordination. They have almost always in criti

5 This had reference to the state of matters before the appearance of Mr. Irving's recent publications.