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with a new vein. Amid the crowd of books which every year flood the Italian field of travel, he has added one work to those few — five or six in fifty years-which become books of reference for all succeeding tourists. That his style is chaste and scholar-like; that he adorns all that he describes with the grace of eloquence, and that his power of illustration is unrivalled, every reader who is familiar with his reputation will readily believe.

'A very large portion of these volumes is devoted to the works of art which are so abundant in the museums and galleries and private houses of the Italian cities. These, it is true, have been described again and again, but Mr. HILLARD has brought a new eye to the objects of the world's love and wonder. His criticism is individual; he does not echo former judgments, and he is, moreover, thorough, profound, and elaborate. With a due sense of the merit of earlier works, we confess that we do not know the writer on Italy whose labors we can so unhesitatingly commend. There is not likely to be any publication issued during the coming season that will be more extensively read than this work of Mr. HILLARD.'

TANGLEWOOD TALES FOR GIRLS AND BOYS: being a second 'Wonder-Book.' By NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. In one volume: pp. 336. Boston: TICKNOR, REED AND FIELDS.

WE quite agree with Mr. EUSTACE BRIGHT, the imaginary author of the mythological stories contained in this beautiful volume, that they are 'better chosen and better handled' than those which proved so popular in the 'Wonder-Book,' by the same writer. We have not been accustomed, even when we were younger than at present, to regard mythological tales with much favor; nor, so far as our observation goes, do children generally esteem them to possess much attraction. But not so with the new, simple, and picturesque 'renderings' of them by Mr. HAWTHORNE. He has breathed anew into them the breath of life, and brought them freshly before the little people of this dim and ignorant present.' 'EUSTACE told me,' says his editor, in his introductory 'Wayside Chapter,' which is in his usual felicitous vein, 'that these myths were the most singular things in the world, and that he was invariably astonished, whenever he began to relate one, by the readiness with which it adapted itself to the childish purity of his auditors. The objectionable characteristics seem to be a parasitical growth, having no essential connection with the original fable. They fall away, and are thought of no more, the instant he puts his imagination in sympathy with the innocent little circle whose wide-open eyes are fixed so eagerly upon him. Thus the stories (not by any strained effort of the narrator's, but in harmony with their inherent germ) transform themselves, and reässume the shapes which they might be supposed to possess in the pure childhood of the world. When the first poet or romancer told these marvellous legends, (such is EUSTACE BRIGHT's opinion,) it was still the Golden Age. Evil had never yet existed; and sorrow, misfortune, crime, were mere shadows which the mind fancifully created for itself, as a shelter against too sunny realities; or, at most, but prophetic dreams, to which the dreamer himself did not yield a waking credence. Children are now the only representatives of the men and women of that happy era; and therefore it is that we must raise the intellect and fancy to the level of childhood, in order to re-create the original myths.'

We quite agree with Mr. BRIGHT's editor, that 'he really appears to have overcome the usual objections against these fables;' and the 'liberties with the original structure,' of which the editor speaks, are, as we have already intimated, the very charm of the volume. An extract or two will illustrate and fortify our praise. Here is a graphic picture of the brazen giant TALUS, walking around the island of Crete, at the rate of eighteen hundred miles in twenty-four hours, challenging all vessels that approached; a sort of monstrous jackal to the monstrous MINOTAUR:

'STILL the vessel went bounding onward; and now THESEUS could hear the brazen clangor of the giant's foot-steps, as he trod heavily upon the sea-beaten rocks, some of which were seen to crack and crumble into the foamy waves beneath his weight. As they approached the entrance of the port, the giant straddled clear across it, with a foot firmly planted on each headland, and uplifting his club to such a height that its buttend was hidden in a cloud, he stood in that formidable posture, with the sun gleaming all over his metallic surface. There seemed nothing else to be expected but that, the next moment, he would fetch his great club down, slam-bang, and smash the vessel into a thousand pieces, without heeding how many innocent people he might destroy; for there is seldom any mercy in a giant, you know, and quite as little in a piece of brass clock-work. But just when THESEUS and his companions thought the blow was coming, the brazen lips unclosed themselves, and the figure spoke:

"Whence come you, strangers?

'And when the ringing voice ceased, there was just such a reverberation as you may have heard within a great church-bell, for a moment or two after the stroke of the

hammer.

"From Athens!' shouted the master in reply.

"On what errand?' thundered the Man of Brass.

'And he whirled his club aloft more threateningly than ever, as if he were about to smite them with a thunder-stroke right amid-ships, because Athens, so little while ago, had been at war with Crete.

"We bring the seven youths and the seven maidens,' answered the master, 'to be devoured by the Minotaur!'

"Pass!" cried the brazen giant.

"That one loud word rolled all about the sky, while again there was a booming reverberation within the figure's breast. The vessel glided between the headlands of the port, and the giant resumed his march. In a few moments, this wondrous sentinel was far away, flashing in the distant sun-shine, and revolving with immense strides around the island of Crete, as it was his never-ceasing task to do.'

After Prince THESEUS had sought out the gigantic Minotaur and killed him in his awful cave, old TALUS was not quite so willing to give the 'pass'word when, with his seven maidens, he wished to pass from the brazen tyrant's dominions:

'IN a few moments, the white foam was boiling up before their prow, as Prince THESEUS and his companions sailed out of the harbor, with a whistling breeze behind them. TALUS, the brazen giant, on his never-ceasing sentinel's march, happened to be approaching that part of the coast; and they saw him, by the glimmer of the moon-beams on his polished surface, while he was yet a great way off. As the figure moved like clock-work, however, and could neither hasten his enormous strides nor retard them, he arrived at the port when they were just beyond the reach of his club. Nevertheless, straddling from headland to headland, as his custom was, TALUS attempted to strike a blow at the vessel, and, overreaching himself, tumbled at full length into the sea, which splashed high over his gigantic shape, as when an ice-berg turns a somerset. There he lies yet; and whoever desires to enrich himself by means of brass had better go thither with a diving-bell, and fish up TALUS.'

The familiar style and minute description of ANTÆUS and the PYGMIES, 'out-GULLIVERS GULLIVER;' while the 'keeping' of every one part with every other part, is equally exact and amusing. The Pygmies going with their little axes and cutting down the grain, ‘exactly as a wood-cutter makes a clearing in the forest,' and the sad accidents which sometimes happened, 'when a stalk of wheat, with its over-burdened top, came crashing down

upon an unfortunate Pygmy,' are admirable instances of the characteristics we have indicated. And as for their giant neighbor, who was bigger, if pos sible, than they were little, he becomes truly a 'great character' in the renewing and improving hands of Mr. BRIGHT. 'Voilà :'

'He was so very tall that he carried a pine-tree which was eight feet through the butt, for a walking-stick. It took a far-sighted Pygmy, I can assure you, to discern his summit without the help of a telescope; and sometimes, in misty weather, they could not see his upper half, but only his long legs, which seemed to be striding about by themselves. But at noon-day, in a clear atmosphere, when the sun shone brightly over him, the Giant ANTEUS presented a very grand spectacle. There he used to stand, a perfect mountain of a man, with his great countenance smiling down upon his little brothers, and his one vast eye (which was as big as a cart-wheel, and placed right in the centre of his forehead) giving a friendly wink to the whole nation at once.

"The Pygmies loved to talk with ANTEUS; and fifty times a day, one or another of them would turn up his head, and shout through the hollow of his fists, Halloo, brother ANTEUS! How are you, my good fellow?' And when the small, distant squeak of their voices reached his ear, the Giant would make answer, 'Pretty well, brother Pygmy, I thank you,' in a thunderous roar that would have shaken down the walls of their strongest temple, only that it came from so far aloft. When the sun was

too hot, he often sat himself down, and let his shadow fall over the kingdom, from one frontier to the other; and as for matters in general, he was wise enough to let them alone, and leave the Pygmies to manage their own affairs; which, after all, is about the best thing that great people can do for little ones.'

'ANTEUS loved the Pygmies, and the Pygmies loved ANTEUS. The Giant's life being as long as his body was large, while the life-time of a Pygmy was but a span, this friendly intercourse had been going on for innumerable generations and ages. It was written about in the Pygmy histories, and talked about in their ancient traditions. The most venerable and white-bearded Pygmy had never heard of a time, even in his greatest of grand-father's days, when the Giant was not their enormous friend. Once, to be sure, (as was recorded on an obelisk, three feet high, erected on the place of the catastrophe,) ANTEUS sat down upon about five thousand Pygmies who were assembled at a military review. But this was one of those unlucky accidents for which no body is to blame; so that the small folks never took it to heart, and only requested the Giant to be careful for ever afterwards to examine the acre of ground where he intended to squat himself.'

'ON all their holidays, the Pygmies had excellent sport with ANTEUS. He often stretched himself out at full length on the ground, where he looked like the long ridge of a hill; and it was a good hour's walk, no doubt, for a short-legged Pigmy to journey from head to foot of the Giant. He would lay down his great hand flat on the grass, and challenge the tallest of them to clamber upon it, and straddle from finger to finger. So fearless were they, that they made nothing of creeping in among the folds of his garments. When his head lay side-wise on the earth, they would march boldly up, and peep into the great cavern of his mouth, and take it all as a joke (as indeed it was meant) when ANTEUS gave a sudden snap with his jaws, as if he were going to swallow fifty of them at once. You would have laughed to see the children dodging in and out among his hair, or swinging from his beard. It is impossible to tell half of the funny tricks that they played with their huge comrade; but I do not know that any thing was more curious than when a party of boys were seen running races on his forehead, to try which of them could get first round the circle of his one great eye. It was another favorite feat with them to march along the bridge of his nose, and jump down upon his upper lip.'

'If the truth must be told, they were sometimes as troublesome to the Giant as a swarm of ants or mosquitoes, especially as they had a fondness for mischief, and liked to prick his skin with their little swords and lances, to see how thick and tough it was. But ANTEUS took it all kindly enough; although, once in a while, when he happened to be sleepy, he would grumble out a peevish word or two, like the muttering of a tempest, and ask them to have done with their nonsense.'

For the rest-and there are four other tales, 'The Dragon's Teeth,' CIRCE'S Palace,' 'The Pomegranate Seeds,' and 'The Golden Fleece,' — the reader must be referred to the volume itself, which, beside being characterized by the accustomed care and neatness of the publishers and printers, is illustrated with a few very fine wood-engravings.

THE STORY OF MONT BLANC. By ALBERT SMITH. In one volume: pp. 208. NewYork: G. P. PUTNAM AND COMPANY, Park-Place.

ANY one who has visited the panorama of the 'Ascent of Mont Blanc,' by Mr. OWENS, in this city, would do well to secure this handsome, and very entertaining and instructive little volume. Aside from the main portion of the book, the minute detail of the author's recent ascent of the 'Monarch of the mountains,' it contains an account, in the form of a journal, of a previous visit with a companion, both travelling in the simplest and most economical manner, the very description of which is in itself a delight. And touching this, the writer observes: 'If there is any thing more delightful than travelling with plenty of money, it is certainly making a journey of pleasure with very little; provided, always, that health and spirits are good, and that one can find a companion similarly positioned. Circumstances and necessities throw you out of beaten tracks of proceeding, and make you acquainted with odd folks and adventures; not being bound by any conventional laws of travelling, you are more independent to wander wherever you please; and above all, there is little after-regret at the prospect of overbalancing the pleasure derived from the trip, by the anticipation of winterretrenchment, to make up for the expenses thereby incurred.' In reproducing his 'Diary,' Mr. SMITH has forcibly illustrated and fully verified, by his own case and that of his companion, the truth of his position. He did not, however, go over Italy with only a shirt and a pocket-comb,' like the traveller of whom he speaks; but, at a moderate rate of calculated expenditure which would have done credit to Dr. FRANKLIN himself, the two pedestrians journeyed on, seeing the best views at the best seasons, and taking, literally, the créme de la créme of the scenery, and the edibles and potables of the country. Some idea of their frugal style may be gathered from the following passage from the Diary:

'OUR worthy old host gave us a letter fo the landlord of the Hotel de la Tour, begging him to treat us as students in his charges. We bargained for some hard-boiled eggs at one of the cottages, waiting whilst they were cooked, and then marched on to the Tete Noire Pass, where we halted for breakfast at a little tavern, perched up high on the mountain like an eyrie, where they found us wine and a loaf. At the top of the Forclaz, the magnificent mountain barrier between Chamouni and the Vallais, we halted to bathe, in a natural basin, off the road, where a block of granite had stopped up the torrent, and here we determined to wash our things, which was a laughable affair enough. We spread them out on a flat stone, and knocked them with another, as we had seen the washerwomen do at the fountains, and then put them to dry in the hot sun. They were not particularly well 'got-up,' to be sure, but very clean. This was a good notion, for we must have waited two or three days to have had them done properly, and on the mountains shirt-fronts are not the chief objects of curiosity. During this halt, we finished our eggs, and drank kirschwasser and water, and got to Martigny at six o'clock, where our host's letter was of use, for we had a famous hot supper for two francs each.'

Mr. SMITH'S Own account of his ascent having been so recent, and so widely quoted from English journals, we refrain from extracts, albeit sorely tempted. The annexed description of the first discoverer of the 'pass' to Mont Blanc, will well reward perusal: 'The storm increased, and not daring to expose himself to the dangers of a solitary descent in the darkness, he resolved to spend the night alone, in the centre of this desert of ice, and at an elevation of fourteen thousand feet above the level of the sea:'

'HE had no food, and was but poorly clad; night was rapidly coming on, and the frozen flakes fell more heavily every minute. He therefore got under the lee of one of the rocks, and contrived to heap up against it sufficient snow to form a kind of niche, into which he crept, and blockaded himself, as well as he was able, from the storm. And there, an atom on the ghastly and immeasurable waste of eternal frost that extended on every side around him, in awful, unearthly silence, unbroken by any sound from the remote living world-half dead already from the piercing cold, and with limbs inflamed and stiffened by the labor he had already undergone, he passed the long uncertain hours of that terrible night.

'At last, morning broke. Far away in the east, BALMAT saw its earliest lights rising behind the giants of the Bernese Oberland who guarded the horizon, and one after another the Jungfrau, Eiger, and the Finsteraarhorn stood out bright and sharp in the clear cold air. The storm had cleared altogether; the morning was calm and mild; comparatively so, even at that elevation; and, as BALMAT painfully endeavored to move his almost paralyzed limbs into action, he found that his feet had lost all sensation - they were frost-bitten! He could, however, move them, and without pain. The night-frost had hardened the snow; presently the sun-light came down the top of Mont Blanc to the Dome du Gôuté, and then, still keeping up his courage through every thing, this brave fellow determined to devote the day to surveying the mountain, and seeing if any practicable course to the summit presented itself on the vast and untrodden deserts of snow. His courage was rewarded: he found that if the crevices that border the Grand Plateau were once crossed, the path to the top of Mont Blanc was clear and unbroken before him; and he then traced out the route which has, with little variation, been followed ever since; and which appears to be, beyond doubt, the only practicable one.' The volume, beside being very neatly executed, is embellished with three or four good engravings, illustrating the difficulties and perils of ascending mountains that 'pinnacle in clouds their snowy scalps.'

THE HUNDRED BOSTON ORATORS Appointed by the Municipal Authorities and other Public Bodies, from 1770 to 1852: Comprising Historical Gleanings, illustrating the Principles and Progress of our Republican Institutions. By JAMES SPEAR LORING. In one volume: pp. 720. Boston: JOHN P. JEWETT AND COMPANY. Cleveland, Ohio: JEWETT, PROCTOR AND WORTHINGTON.

This is an excellent thought, and faithfully carried out; and is such an embodiment of historical information, and New-England patriotism, sentiment, and feeling, as can no where else be found. The editor brought to his task an evident love of his work, and indefatigable industry in securing, and good judgment in selecting his materials, of which he has embodied a formidable mass, in relation to our own political and national history, 'after poring over valuable manuscripts, newspapers, printed for more than a hundred years past, every variety of periodicals, pamphlets, and a multitude of other authorities, essential to the completion of his design.' The volume, in short, is the result of a most careful research, pursued with an untiring devotion for a period of nearly four years. Its pages are dedicated 'To the Glorious Memory of SAMUEL ADAMS, JOHN HANCOCK, and THOMAS CUSHING, a noble triumvirate, and the foremost of the great Promoters of the American Revolution.' It might perhaps be inferred, by one who had not seen the work, that a volume devoted to extracts from a hundred orators, and to a brief description of the antecedents of each, must be monotonous reading. But not so: the historical incidents and briefly-indicated facts, in the biographical sketches, are of unflagging interest.

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