'ARTHUR was a great deal too much flurried to speak. This shabby-looking buck was-was her father. The captain was perfumed with the recollections of the last night's cigars, and pulled and twisted the tuft on his chin as jauntily as any young dandy.

"I hope Miss F Miss CoSTIGAN is well, Sir,' PEN said, flushing up. She-she gave me greater pleasure, than-than I-I-I ever enjoyed at a play. I think, Sir-I think she's the finest actress in the world,' he gasped out.

"Your hand, young man! for ye speak from your heart!' cried the captain. "Thank ye, Sir; an ould soldier and a fond father thanks ye. She is the finest actress in the world. I've seen the SIDDONS, Sir, and the O'NALE. They were great, but what were they compared to Miss FOTHERINGAY? I do not wish that she should ashume her own name while on the stage. Me family, Sir, are proud people; and the CoSTIGANS of Costiganstown think that an honest man who has borne HER MAJESTY'S colors in the Hundred and Third, would demean himself, by permitting his daughter to earn her old father's bread.'

There cannot be a more honorable duty, surely,' PEN said.

"'Honorable! Bedad, Sir, I'd like to see the man who said JACK COSTIGAN would consent to any thing dishonorable! I have a heart, Sir, though I am poor; I like a man who has a heart. You have; I read it in your honest face and steady eye. And would you believe it?' he added, after a pause, and with a pathetic whisper, 'that that BINGLEY, who has made his fortune by me child, gives her but two guineas a week, out of which she finds herself in dresses, and which, added to me own small means, makes our all?'

'Now the captain's means were so small as to be, it may be said, quite invisible. But nobody knows how the wind is tempered to shorn Irish lambs, and in what marvellous places they find pasture. If Captain COSTIGAN, whom I had the honor to know, would but have told his history, it would have been a great moral story. But he neither would have told it if he could, nor could if he would; for the captain was not only unaccustomed to tell the truth; he was unable even to think it; and fact and fiction reeled together in his muzzy, whiskified brain.'

Here we 'rest.' In due course of time we shall condense, for the benefit of our readers, some of the spirited scenes in which the actors hereinbefore introduced to them, and others scarcely less important in the machinery of the History,' figure to entire edification. In the mean time, we commend 'PENDENNIS' to the public in general as a work not only calculated to repay, but amply to reward, perusal.

BRISTED'S 'CATULLUS.'- In the review of this work, in our last number, we took occasion to make some strictures on what seemed to us an exceedingly objectionable passage in the preface to Professor FELTON's Clouds of Aristophanes,' Our intention in so doing was not to bring a personal charge of advocacy of immorality or indelicacy against the editor, but merely to exercise our right, as reviewers, of objecting to an unsound doctrine. Professor FELTON, following Mr. MITCHELL'S theory, and adopting in some degree his sentiments, had nevertheless departed from that scholar's practice, and apparently apologised for the retention of some things of more than doubtful propriety, which Mr. MITCHELL had deemed it necessary to omit, and for which he was taken to task, as we conceived, by the American editor. The passage objected to by us was this:

'AN age which has studied with freshened ardor the elder drama of England, which calls for edition after edition of BEN JONSON, and bears without a murmur the abominations of BEAUMONT and FLETCHER, can have but little fault to find with the Hellenic freedoms of ARISTOPHANES, who wrote for a theatre to which women were not admitted. The Attic drama never felt the refining influence which the society of women exercises over the character and works of man. The Clouds,' however, is less tainted with the universal plague than any other comedy of ARISTOPHANES. Nothing therefore has been omitted from the text of this edition, as but little danger is apprehended to the morals of young men from a few wanton freaks of an old Athenian's gamesome imagination. Mr. MITCHELL has expurgated his ' 'Clouds,' by leaving out all the objectionable passages; an exercise of editorial power too much like Mr. BoWDBER's dealing with SHAKSPEARE to pass unquestioned by the curious student of the Aristophanic drama.' (FELTON's Clouds of Aristophanes,' Pref., p. xi.) ·

Our theory is, that what cannot be fitly recited and commented on in the lectureroom ought not to be retained in a school or college text-book. This case we believe to be quite different from that quoted by Professor FELTON as parallel, namely, the repeated calls for complete editions of BEN JONSON, BEAUMONT and FLETCHER, etc.

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These are for private reading, and for mature minds. The Clouds,' however, was for college-students; and, though Professor FELTON had previously censured the impurities and vulgarities of ARISTOPHANES, we still considered the sentences on which our remark was founded as savoring too much of an apology for their retention. Professor FELTON has taken exception to this, and complains that we have totally misconceived and consequently grossly misrepresented his meaning.' If so, it was certainly not our intention. That we may have misconceived his meaning is very possible; to err is human, and we therefore promptly and cheerfully make this correction, allowing Professor FELTON to be the interpreter of his own language and sentiments that we have grossly misrepresented' his meaning, however, in any other way than as a consequence of that misconception, we distinctly and entirely disavow. Our intention was simply to subserve the true interests of classical learning by entering our decided protest against any thing that might even seem to resemble an apology for, or defence of the moral poison mixed in with the wholesome and nutritious food of ancient literature. That the alleged misconception is one which might easily be fallen into, especially when it is borne in mind that we had seen only the first edition of the Clouds,' will we think be readily perceived from the fact that Professor FELTON himself, either spontaneously or at the suggestion of others, has seen proper to modify the censured passage in his second edition. Those sentences, as altered by the editor, now read as follows:

'NOTHING therefore has been omitted from the text of this edition, as but little danger is apprehended to the morals of young men from a few freaks of an old Athenian's gamesome imagination, to be interpreted only by an assiduous use of the grammar and lexicon. Mr. MITCHELL has expurgated his 'Clouds,' by leaving out all the objectionable passages; an exercise of editorial power not very complimentary to the student of the drama of ARISTOPHANES.' (FELTON'S Clouds of Aristophanes,' Pref., p. xix.)

We hope that what we have here said will prove satisfactory to Professor FELTON, and that, however deficient he may still deem us in quickness of apprehension, he will at all events acquit us of the charge of intentional misrepresentation.

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ORIGINAL PULPIT ELOQUENCE.-WE have often remarked this of 'old Dr. BEECHER,' that when he has any thing to say, he does n't, like some of his brethren whom we could name, evade his subject, and prose away, 'like the clack of a mill where there is no corn to grind,' but comes at once to the point, and when he is done, he stops. He made a characteristic speech the other day before The Brothers' Society' at Yale College commencement.' He was called to the floor, and in opening his remarks, said he was growing old, or at least they kept 'poking it into him' that he was; and he was thinking, 'Who'll take care of the world when I am done with it?' Like a dying mother, he had got to put the trust somewhere. Must n't expect that he thought any body else could take care of it as well as he could, but considered the young brothers second best: Take care of the world, then!' said he; 'take care of the country!' He would give them the comprehensive advice which an Indian gave at a funeral: I think 't is best for every man to go home and be honest!' Adopt sound, honest principles. GOD's system does n't need changing. 'You can never make your bones set any where better than in their sockets.' If you are lawyers, be honest; if ministers, work in godly simplicity. If you propose to be politicians, the LORD have mercy on you! Stand for Principle. Our country is divided into parties between which principle comes to the ground. Right will always triumph.'

GOSSIP WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. An intelligent correspondent at Jacksonville, Illinois, in a note approbatory of a remark in the 'Gossip' of a late number, that there is a' compensation' in the life of nearly every man in this world,' contends, and with good show of argument, that the qualifying word might well be omitted altogether. We commend to the attention of the reader the subjoined thoughtful sentences:

'EVERY thing in this world is comparative; and the ministry of GooD depends as much upon the existence of EVIL, by comparison with which its value is seen, as upon its own positive qualities. If there were no dishonesty among men, we should not know the full value of honesty; if there were no vice, virtue would lose half its beauty, in the state of things which could dispense with its efficacy to amendment. So of pleasure and pain. Those who have never been ill do not appreciate the blessing of health; and those who have never been miserable, cannot very intensely enjoy happiness. The farther you draw a pendulum in one direction, the farther it will swing in the opposite, when you let it go. There is an analogy between physical and moral things. He who has been plunged into misery can perceive and enjoy, in proportion to the depth of that misery, the first rays of light that visit him. Between the two forces, centrifugal and centripetal, the earth preserves its medium, and revolves in an eternal circle. Who shall say that the equilibrium of the two moral forces, good and evil, is not as necessary to the moral safety of the world as the physical to the earth's revolution? GOD works not only with material agents. He has so combined the two elements of our nature as mutually to 'compensate' the one with the other. If years of intense physical suffering have been allotted to me, it is at least probable that my moral and mental capacities for enjoyment have been so sublimated that even a single hour's happiness may be sufficient, through the superior intenseness of my appreciation, to reestablish the equilibrium. He who has known but little evil, physical or moral, is, to use a homely phrase, so 'used to enjoyment' that it comes to him with none of the beauty of contrast and none of the brightness of rarity. No violence is done to any known rule of God's economy in supposing that the equilibrium is kept up by a 'slidingscale' of moral and physical enjoyment. Those who are compelled to labor for the support of themselves and their families too often repine and murmur at their lot, deeming their labor mere slavery. But it is not so. The man who has been absent from home since the morning, toiling painfully for the pittance which feeds, clothes, and educates his family, may find in the evening-welcome of his affectionate wife and playful children 'compensation' for the labors of the day; ay, even for the gnawings of his own repining spirit. And as he seats himself beside his hearth, and enjoys the hard-won fruits of his toil, he need not envy the listless millionare, who rolls in burthensome splendor, and tosses upon his uneasy couch of down.'

...

We regret that a lack of space compels us somewhat to curtail of its fair proportions the illustrative part of our correspondent's argument. THE annexed 'Lines on the Rev. Theobald Mathew's visit to America' have been sent us by the Lady EMMELINE STUART WORTLEY. The difference between a mission of war and a mission of peace is felicitously depicted by our new correspondent:

"THE Hero of Two Worlds; that man of war
The brave LAFAYETTE in old times was called;
More hallowed far thy deathless titles are,
Friend of mankind-O sainted THEOBALD!
A peace-apostle 'twixt two worlds at peace,
Thine is the triumph that can never cease!

See! charioted along the hearts of men,
How that true conqueror reigns where'er he moves!
Blest be the difference wide 'twixt now and then :
Then war scowled hate, where now a nation loves.
Earth round seems one colossal temple made,
Where angels are the only hosts arrayed.

And they?-for us, O let them battle still!

Helmed with the sun, and with the lightning armed,
'Gainst all the shuddering, threatening Power of Ill,
Already half by thee, mild teacher, charmed:
Charmed into almost homage, as they see

Their deadliest weapons wrenched away by thee.

The noble 'Hero of Two Worlds' art thou;
No purer pilgrim ever touched this shore:
Echoes man's voice of praise and reverence now,
Where raged the battle-thunder's deafening roar:
Thrill, softly thrill, thou gracious western air,
With all the meek omnipotence of prayer!'

The Scalpel' for August comes to us with its usual store of readable matter. It is, of course, somewhat 'severe' upon some of our practitioners, for that is its 'mission.' It is scarcely for the uninitiated to say how far these censures are deserved; but we are happy to perceive in 'The Scalpel' the acute edge of discriminating criticism used with skill and adroitness, in place of the undue exhibition of harsh personalities and bitter invectives. The mysteries by which our temporal life is surrounded, the peculiar idiosyncrasies which will attach themselves to particular men and to particular classes of men, render medical pathology one of the most intricate of all sciences; but a careful, acute, unprejudiced magazine, devoted to this branch of study, by its power of generalization has an influence which must be useful and important to all. To a large portion of the reading community The Scalpel' will scarcely fail to be interesting; in fact, a general knowledge of pathology in these days is not only creditable but indispensable. In an article upon 'The Abuse of the Lancet' we find the following passage:

'NEVER did we witness a more instructive scene than was once our good fortune to behold, in company with a dear companion, now, alas! also gone from us. We went to visit a young friend of our youth, languishing on a bed of sickness, and surrounded by a lovely wife and three infants. Every thing about them gave evidence of such simple and refined taste, that the passing observer could not suspect the gnawing care that consumed our friend, lighted up his cheek with fever, and lent irregularity and force to his fitful pulse. A venerable and kind-hearted physician had just prescribed the lancet, as the only means of subduing the fever and threatening inflammation of the lungs. Suspecting, from better acquaintance, the possible condition of the patient, and relying upon the benevolence and good feeling of the doctor. a suggestion was made that the condition of the patient might originate in the collapse of the pecuniarium.' The doctor's professional pride was a little startled at the suggestion, but when we related the story of our friend, there was a convulsive twitching of his eyelids, and a suffusion of their lustre, accompanied with a rapid thrust of his hand into a capacious side-pocket. His excellent heart had found the prescription which his ignorance of the case did not suggest at first; it speedily set our friend upon his feet. This is not the only case we have known to be relieved by the same medicine; yet how few suspect this as a frequent and direct cause of disease? How often might we discover beneath the faithless pulse, the gnawing care that is marking the hour on the dialplate of mental anguish, and slowly snapping the lite-blood of the sick, that physic cannot cure.'

There is a paper entitled 'Wine versus Water' which we think will at this particular time excite much attention. The writer contends, and quotes abundant authority in support of the impregnability of his position, that 'a temperate use of good wine, when taken at seasonable hours, has never proved injurious to healthy adults,' but on the contrary is often productive of great good. He quotes from the best authors and highest medical authorities of the past, in other countries, in support of his argument, which he strengthens moreover by the verdicts of the most eminent physicians, and others of our own time and country; as Doctors PHYSIC, PARIS, GIBBON, ROBINSON, THOMAS JEFFERSON, Mr. COMBE, and other the like respectable adjuncts. The effects of ardent spirits, as a common beverage, the writer admits, are deleterious beyond all question. The effects of all stimulants, however, are represented to be as various as the constitution and character of man: WILLIAM PITT would retire in the midst of a debate and enliven his faculties with a couple of bottles of port, while half the quantity would silence the oratorical battery of SHERIDAN.' In all excess there is injury, while in the tendency to a habit of excess there is imminent danger. It would not be to edification' were we to re-relate some of the remarkable instances of The Effects of the Imagination upon Unborn Children' in the pages of the KNICKERBOCKER,

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since they are chiefly interesting in a medical point of view. The thirtieth article in
'The Scalpel' contains some of the most miraculous instances in this kind that we
ever heard of. The State of Vermont, especially Rut-land county, seems to be pe-
culiarily ill-favored by Nature in this respect. A singular instance of this kind fell
under our own observation, a few months since, which, as it has never found its way
into print, and may serve to add to the mass of kindred evidence already accumulated,
we can scarcely forbear relating here. A negro woman, FRANCES COUENHOVEN by
name, residing at a place called 'Dead Horse Bay,' near Gravesend, Long-Island,
was married about eighteen months ago. The day after the ceremony she started with
her husband in an ordinary 'top-buggy' wagon to visit some friends who lived a few
miles off; and it so happened that the horse took fright, and in spite of the address
of the driver, managed to run under a sign that was elevated upon two posts, at the
junction of the bay and Gravesend roads, by which the top of the buggy was torn off
instantly, and the sable pair narrowly escaped with their lives. In due course of time
FRANCES became a mother. The child was born entirely bald; but the attention of
the physician, Dr. STILLWELL, was directed to an unusual development on the back of
the infant's head. Upon examination, it proved to be a mass of thin membranous sub-
stance, in texture like a bat's-wing, intersected with slender, elastic radii, resembling
whale-bone, and turning upon osseous pivots at the ears. Judge of the surprise of the
physician, when upon farther examination it proved to be moveable; and gently draw-
ing it forward over the infant's head, it unfolded itself into a miniature representation of
a gig-top! The child is now living, and may be seen at any time by the curious at
Dead Horse Bay, Long Island, about nine miles from this city. A full report of this
remarkable case is in preparation for the columns of 'The Bunkum Flag-Staff and In-
dependent Echo,' by the gifted and enlightened editor of that popular journal. In con-
clusion,' we would recommend 'The Scalpel' as a lively and interesting serial, although
we can scarcely subscribe to the appropriateness of the second part of its title. A
'Journal of Health' it certainly is not; and we would recommend Dr. DIXON to change
it into what suggested itself as we passed a confectioner's the other day, with The
Scalpel' in our hand; namely: The Scalpel: a Collection of Cases.'
THE
following admirable Lines to the Memory of Hood' are from the facile pen of an es-
teemed contributor, who thoroughly appreciates and duly venerates the genius of the de-
parted poet. The poem was sent us for a previous issue, but was accidently mislaid:

GREAT Poets never die; their words are seeds
Which, sheltered in the hearts of men, take root,
And grow and flourish into high-souled deeds -
The world's sustaining fruit.

No idle dreamers they, nor light their task,
Who with a weapon simple as a song
Defend the Right, and tear the lying mask
From the foul face of Wrong:

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