historians, who sets out with a preface of professions about "studiously aiming at the strictness of truth,” and having "no sinister motives for reproach or animadversion." Indeed, he has no doubt, that, as he is going to be "as heroic as a mule" in maintaining the truth, he shall bring the whole hive of cotemporary authors about his ears; yet, relying upon his own fearless independence and spotless veracity, "he is emboldened to tread the arena of politics, and to defy the censures of prejudice and malignity." He was perfectly safe in so doing; for, so far as our own knowledge extends, no person has thought it worth while to take up his arguments, or interrupt his stories; and we suppose he might go on to " tread the arena” and “defy” mankind till doom'sday, without the least fear of an en

counter.

Yet many may read his book, though none will take the trouble to censure it. A book always acquires value by importation; and, as we Americans are ever anxious to hear what Europeans say about us, our readers may be amused with an extract or two from the chapters of this courageous historian. It was to have been expected that, when the animosities between this country and Great Britain had found time to subside, the English writers would begin to have some little regard for truth; and that those especially who should undertake to compose a sober history of our transactions, would seek information in other sources than the polluted columns of ministerial newspapers. But experience only confirms the saying of Lord Lyttleton about his own countrymen: "It is a rule with the English, that they see no good in a man (or a nation) whose politics they dislike."* This champion of truth and defier of malignity has incorporated into a serious volume of history-which he tacks to a more celebrated work in order to ensure its permanency-all the malicious falsehoods which have been bandied about in the English gazettes, and refuted in the American, any time these seven years. We venture to say, that a man shall read through the book; and, on being interrogated as to the part which relates to America, he will not distinctly remember any thing

* Dialogues of the Dead, No. XIV.

the Chesapeake, and the irruption into Washington. Thus, for instance, the capture of the Guerriere, the Macedonian, and the Java, are slurred over in the table of contents as "maritime engagements;" while the affair of the Chesapeake stands out by itself, as the " engagement between the Shannon and the Chesapeake." The three former battles occupy just three sentences; the latter takes up a paragraph alone.

"The Americans (says the generous man) were frequently successful in actions with single ships. Their vessels were built on a much larger scale than British vessels of the same dimensions: in weight of metal, and in the amount of seamen, they are nearly equal to our ships of the line; and it may be added, not only that many of the men were natives of Britain or Ireland, but that, from the small number of the national fleet, it was far less difficult to fill the ships with experienced seamen than for the portioned to its uncommon extent. The English navy to provide a complement proGuerriere was so severely treated, in an engagement with the Constitution, from the causes which have been stated, that it became an unmanageable wreck;' and the killed and wounded almost quadrupled the number of republicans who suffered from the collision. A contest between the Macedonian and a frigate called the United States, had a similar termination, and the attendant loss was much greater. The Java of its brave defenders.”—p. 392-3. was also captured, with a considerable loss

It appears to us, that we have heard of "a frigate called the United States;" and, if we mistake not, she was a “bunch of pine boards" before the English had scraped acquaintance with her. She became a line of battle ship very speedily after she had flogged the Macedonian. As to a "collision" which the " republicans" had with the Guerriere, we are total strangers; and, if there was ever a "similar termination and a greater attendant loss," with any other frigate, we know nothing of the matter. All we can say is, that a collision between a certain frigate, called the Chesapeake, and a certain other frigate, ycleped the Shannon, is here detailed at full length. We now hear of the

-"glory which the British marine acquired in an engagement near the port of Boston. Broke, commander of the Shannon, having

IN touching on the splendid and ani

templation in the little volume before us, we scarcely have an eye to its merits as a literary composition. We feel a loftier impulse working within us, and kindling our faculties, than any, which as mere critics, we could experience. We are not analysing with minute and rigid circumspection the structure of a sentence, or the justness of an observation: we are not dispersing the mists of fanaticism, nor engaged in the more odious task of unmasking the demon of infidelity. Our imagination, indeed, is actively employed but in a sphere infinitely more glorious, and abounding in objects inexpressibly more exciting than the fairest and brightest creations of the muse. We are not languishing over a finely-told series of imaginary sorrows, nor glowing with a vain and vague delight through scenes of visionary rapture.-No!-the subject of our discussion, rich as it is in pictures both of the most distressful and transporting description, borrows none of its interest from mere fancy;-suffering, intense human suffering the groans and the agonies, the triumphs and, devoutly do we trust, the approaching liberation of millions, starting from the long and heavy sleep of a slavery that threatened to be immortal; the speedy expulsion of every hostile foreign foot from this great western world; the establishment throughout its regions of a pure and rational liberty; the progress of civilization, arts, commerce, and refinement; the desert itself bursting forth into bloom and verdure, beneath the footsteps of a power who, though she may be born in the mountains, will not refuse her presence to the plain and the valley; the spectacle about to be afforded to the human race of an entire continent, or rather two continents, not merely existing under a republican form of government, but flourishing under its auspices in a degree, and with a rapidity which, but for one illustrious example, might have been deemed unattainable even by the most sanguine philanthropist ;-the greatness of the sacrifice, the immensity of the benefit; the new and glorious lights in which the character and capabilities of man will shine out in the consequences of this momentous revolution; the steadiness, the

this

new and magnificent dispensation, are all combined in one grand tableau, to which moral considerations attach an interest of a deeper and more dignified nature, than can possibly be raised by fiction, however pathetic in detail, or glowing with passion.

We shall precede our observations upon the great and eventful struggle of the South-Americans with the mother-country, by a brief view of the vast and interesting regions which have witnessed the contest, regions which nature seems to have been solicitous in endowing with her choicest gifts of utility and beauty, and destined to become the seats of that knowledge, refinement, and liberty, which the present state of Europe threatens to exile from their ancient abodes.

The southern, like the northern continent of America, bears but a slender affinity, either in its form or its products, to the old world, where, however the defects and comparative parsimony of nature have been redeemed by the genius and perseverance of her inhabitants in a manner that proves to what a pitch of grandeur the human character may attain, in despite of all the evils produced by governments, varying only in the degrees of their noxiousness. Scarcely a league of its coast that is not intersected by some navigable stream; the interior of the country is irrigated by innumerable rivers, and half the fleets of the globe might congregate on the waters of the Oronoco or La Plata. Bays and convenient harbours abound along the whole of the littorale, and the enterprising spirit of a free people, in connecting by a canal, or a system of canals, the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, might change the face of the world. The Andes, the Alps of SouthAmerica, stretch on each side of the equator through nearly 60 degrees of latitude. The divisions of this immense chain, however, vary considerably in their height, being occasionally not more than 600 feet above the level of the sea, and at certain points towering to an elevation of almost four miles from their base. Of these the gigantic Chimborazo appears to be the chief, the height to which it ascends, being equal to the united elevations of Etna and the Peak of Teneriffe

Under the equator, the average elevation is reckoned at 14,000 feet, while that of the loftiest chains of European mountains scarcely exceeds 8,000. The breadth of this stupendous range is various-60 miles at Quito, and in Mexico and some districts of Peru, nearly 200. Clifts or ravines of an astonishing depth intersect those portions of the Andes which rise in Peru and the extensive region of New-Grenada, but to the north of the isthmus of Panama, the altitude of this wonderful ridge gradually declines till it terminates in the vast and lofty plain of Mexico. The metallic riches of the Andes, more particularly the central portions, appear inexhaustible, and a more enlightened system than that in Vogue under the Spanish government, promises an increased and increasing supply of the precious metals. The vast advantages which the possession of these treasures place in the hands of the inhabitants, are, however, counterbalanced in some measure, by circumstances peculiar to this division of the globe, and indicative of the exuberant energy with which the whole system of nature is replete in climates situated under the tropics. Earthquakes of the most tremendous description occur through the entire chain of the Andes, and the power of fire is here displayed in all its awful and destructive magnificence. The whole country from Cotopaxi to the southern ocean, may with perfect propriety be termed a region of volcanos-more than forty being in a state of perpetual ignition-throwing forth streams of lava-or involving the neighbouring districts in a tempest of fire, water, and scorified basalt. Cotopaxi itself, is situated to the south-east of Quito, at the distance of twelve leagues from the Peruvian capital. Of those volcanos whose eruptions are recent, Cotopaxi is the loftiest, and its ragings have a grandeur and solemn fierceness far surpassing those either of the old or new world. Its explosions are more frequent and dreadful, and the immense heaps of ashes, and masses of rock, which it has already ejected from its entrails, and spread over the vicinity, would form, according to a witness entitled to implicit credit,* a mountain of gigantic magnitude and stature. In 1738, the fires of Cotopaxi ascended nine hundred metres above the rim of the crater. In a subsequent eruption, the thunders of the volcano were audible at the distance of two hun

dred leagues, on the banks of the Magdalena. In 1768, the vomited ashes were in such quantities, and so unremittingly ejected, that at Hambato and Tacanga, day broke only at three in the afternoon, and the inhabitants were obliged to use lanterns in walking the streets. The explosion of January, 1803, was distinguished from preceding eruptions, by a singular and alarming phenomenon, the sudden melting of the snows that covered the sides of the mountain. Twenty years had elapsed previously to this devastating eruption, and during that period, neither smoke nor vapour had been observed to issue from the crater. In a single night, the heat of the volcano became so intense, that at sunrise the exterior surface of the cone appeared naked, and of the dark colour peculiar to vitrified scoria. At Gauyaquil, fifty-two leagues distant, day and night, the roarings of the mountain, resembling the discharges of artillery, were heard; and on the Pacific Ocean, south-west of the island of Puna, were these tremendous sounds distinctly audible.

Cotopaxi is remarkable for the beauty and regularity of its form. In these respects, it surpasses all the other giants of the Andes. A complete cone, enveloped in a mantle of snow, at sunrise, at sunset, its aspect is wonderfully grand. The snow filling up every cavity, no rocky prominence disturbs the placid emotions arising from the contemplation of its splendid uniformity. The elevation of its cone exceeds six times that of Teneriffe.

From the physical construction and peculiarities of the country, the valleys of the Andes exhibit to the traveller an aspect singularly contrasted with those of Europe. The plains of Peru have an elevation above the level of the sea greatly surpassing that of the old world, and the gigantic forms of Chimborazo, Cotopaxi, and Autisana, when beheld from the lofty lands of Riobamba and Quito, (nearly three thousand metres above the ocean,) lose something of that sublimity with which the mind invests them, when we read of mountains twenty thousand feet and upwards in height. The spaces between the ridges are rather crevices than valleys. The vegetation at the bottom and sides is vigorous, and the depth occasionally so great, that the nocturnal birds, peculiar to the new world, make their residence in them, and are frequently observed flying in flocks of thousands over the streams and torrents that at once fertilize and refrigerate these cimmerian recesses. Yet though of such great actual

depth, the lowest surface of these valleys is usually so comparatively lofty, as to equal three-fourths of the elevation of St. Gothard and Mount Cenis. The rocks forming the sides, or rather walls, of the valley of Icononzo, are remarkable for the regularity of their appearance. Rising from a surface nearly level with some of the loftiest mountains of Europe, the ridges joined together by the natural bridges of Icononzo reach to the height of nearly nine hundred metres. The name of Icononzo appears to be indigenous, since it is the appellation of an ancient hamlet of the Muysco Indians at the southern extremity of the valley. The approach to this singular and secluded spot is not unattended with danger. Humboldt is the only traveller who appears to have visited it, and he makes emphatical mention of "the dangerous descent of the desert of San Fortunato, and the mountains of Fusagasuga, leading towards the natural bridges of Icononzo." The torrent rushing along the bottom of the valley, is denominated the Summa Paz. Part of its course is directed through a cavernous aperture, or crevice immediately under the second bridge, (sixty feet below the first,) and then discharges itself through a chasm about eight metres square. Entering this crevice on the west of Doa, the stream forms two beautiful cascades. It rises in the eastern chain of the Andes, in the province of New-Grenada. The valley and the torrent are, in all probability, the result of volcanic agency.

What Rome was to the ancient, MEXICO is to the new world. Its present population is stated at more than 300,000 inhabitants. The site of the modern capital is that of Montezuma. The streets are ranged in the same lines, but the canals have been gradually filled up. The appearance of the city since 1769, when it was visited by the Abbé Chappe, has assumed considerable splendour, the patriotism of the inhabitants having embellished it with several magnificent structures. Among these the building appropriated to the school of Mines, deserves particular mention. It was raised by the tribunal of Miners, at an expense of more than half a million of dollars, and is said to be worthy of the finest capitals of Europe. The great square occupies the site of the ancient temple of Mexitli. To the right stands the vice-regal palace, built by Cortez. The palace in which Montezuma lodged the Spaniards, stood behind the cathedral, and that of the emperor on its right, opposite the viceroy's mansion.

The Plaza Major, or great square, is adorned by a fine bronze equestrian statue of the royal fowler, Charles the Fourth, father of the present ruler of Spain, by Don Manuel Folsa, a Mexican artist. Great praise appears to be due to the perseverance, as well as the skill of the artist who had to "create every thing," and to contend with innumerable difficulties. Pity so noble an example of talent and fortitude should be so disgraced by its subject. A statue of Las Casas would, indeed, have been an ornament to the first city of a world, between whose natives and their tyrants, his benevolence undauntedly interposed. The form of the square is irregular, and includes a second. To correct this in some measure, the statue has been elevated on an enclosed platform teen decimeters above the level of the surrounding streets. The oval, whose longest diameter is a hundred metres, is decorated by four fountains, connected together, and closed by an equal number of gates, to the great discontent of the natives. The bars of the gates are ornamented in bronze.

Its

The city of Mexico, in respect to population, is superior to any of the capitals, either of South or North-America-the number of its inhabitants amounting to more than three hundred thousand. former site was, at the period when it fell under the dominion of the Spaniards, surrounded by a lake, and the city was connected with the opposite shore by three extensive causeways: but since that period, the waters of the lake have been considerably diminished by the supplies received by a canal cut through the mountains, and Mexico, though occupying the same ground as the capital of Montezuma, now stands on the shores of the lake, in a sort of morass, intersected by canals. The softness of the soil, has rendered it necessary to build all the houses upon piles, and such of the public buildings as have been raised without this precaution, (among which the cathedral, a superb edifice, deserves particular mention,) have sunk more than six feet in the ground. Externally, the city presents an irregular appearance, but the interior, as appears by the map of Auteroche, rivals the cities of the United States in the regularity of its dispositions. The streets are of considerable width, straight, and cross each other at right angles. Besides the Plaza Major, Mexico is embellished with two other squares-that of San Sellador, where the bull-fights are exhibited, and that of San Domingo-both of which are regularly and handsomely laid out,