THE DRAMA, ETC.

PARK THEATRE. - Mr. KEAN has, during the past month, closed his last engagement in this country; performing, mean time, in all his favorite characters. Mr. KEAN has been peculiarly unfortunate in this second visit to America; first, in the illness which indisposed him to exertion in his profession on his arrival; then in the destruction of the theatre where his engagement was made; and, finally, for the reason which he appropriately gave in his parting address; viz. the general prostration of commercial affairs in this country. The New-York public have, however, had a fair opportunity of judging of this actor's powers; and during his last engagement, especially, they seem to have improved it. We take it upon ourselves to say, that as an actor Mr. KEAN has not been fairly judged on this side of the water. In passing criticism upon CHARLES KEAN, the remembrance of the acting of his lamented father should not be suffered to come into a comparison. Audiences were, however, continually judging him by this high standard. If the elder KEAN, instead of having, in the course of nature, retired altogether, had but for the time absented himself from the stage, and instead of his son, had now reappeared, with only the capacity which his son possesses, these precise comparisons might with justice be applied to him; but to blame CHARLES KEAN, even in the first years of his practice, because he does not equal his father in his prime, is beyond measure unjust. But thus has he been judged. In his performance of Gloster, a character which EDMUND KEAN made more popular than perhaps any other of the bard's creations, Charles was applauded only in so far as he was able to imitate his father. The fiendish chuckle which was peculiar to the elder KEAN, had only to be repeated by his son, to draw down thunders of applause from a truly discriminating pit, while the quiet and natural acting of the scene went for naught. It was a remark - which was constantly repeated at the theatre during CHARLES KEAN's performance of his father's great characters of some sagacious critic or other, to his neighbor, when any particular point was made, or attempted to be made, by the actor: 'I say, Bob, do you remember how old Kean did that? To which the reminiscent Bob would reply: Yes, yes; he was the boy; Charley don't begin with the old-'un! Many who have written of CHARLES KEAN have measured

out to him equal justice, and criticized him as sensibly.

In our poor judgment, Mr. CHARLES KEAN, from some cause or other, did not always do HIMSELF justice. There was at times an apparent carelessness in his acting, and before full houses too, for which it is difficult to account. Perhaps, being aware of this unfair system of criticizing his performances, and knowing that it was impossible for him to come up at once to the high standard by which he was to be measured, he lost heart, and did not even make those fair exertions, which, when made, would only be spoken of as being so many grades below those of the great original. The conceptions of all the characters in which we have seen Mr. KEAN, although none of them entirely new, were all such as a man of his education, experience, and judgment, would be supposed to follow, or create. Unlike many promising and ambitious aspirants of the present day, he seemed willing to put faith in the judgment of his great predecessors, and to believe that he was not the only person who had read SHAKSPEARE correctly.

Audiences are too apt to applaud the violent passages of a scene on the stage; or rather, the loud and violent performance of them; to let slip by, without approbation, and often without remark, the subdued and quiet expression of feeling. They are not content with a gentle summer rain; they must have a tempest, with a crash of thunder, and a flash or two of lightning in it. CHARLES KEAN, we think, found out this secret before he left us; else one would be at a loss to account for the violence with which he executed some scenes, where, by the very nature of the place, and the occasion, the greatest quiet would seem to be appropriate. For instance, in 'Macbeth,' in the scene immediately following the murder, where, meeting Lady Macbeth, and looking upon his bloody hands, the first horrors of the damning deed seem gathering in his soul. The object of these two personages, at this crisis, is secrecy. They fear the slightest real sound, and are startled at imaginary ones:

Now, although the king is dead, Banquo is not; nor Malcolm, nor Donalbain. They are supposed to be sleeping in their chambers, and not far from the room at present occupied by their host and hostess. Common sense, then, would seem to teach the most perfect hush and silence to the two, who, the deed committed, stand there with bloody hands. Ar. KEAN, on the contrary, gave

this scene mostly at the top of his voice, and thereby outraged propriety most abominably, and drew down three rounds of applause. We have also observed an affectation in this actor's delivery, which savors more of the gentleman of the drawing-room, than of the artist, anxious to make the tone of every word expressive of the present feeling of the character. This, however, is a fault which Mr. KEAN's own good sense will soon remedy, and thereby render himself still less obnoxious to the blame of those astute critics who affirm that whatever is the character he endeavors to represent, they see and hear not the fictitious personage, but Mr. KEAN only, in propria persona. We cannot forego a word of praise to Miss S. CUSHMAN, who is a decided acquisition to the Park company. Her performance of 'Ophelia' was a very touching and beautiful rendering of SHAKSPEARE's picture of the poor demented maiden.'

Mrs. FITZWILLIAM, with her usual spirit, has also completed a short engagement, and at her benefit introduced a new two-act piece, entitled the Ladies' Club, which was received with approbation. A more sprightly actress than this lady never trode the Park boards. She has all the vivacity and tact of the VESTRIS, with a dash of sly humor which reminds us strongly of our old favorite, Mrs. KEELEY, whom, in more than one respect, she strongly resembles. Mrs. FITZWIL LIAM was so perfect in her art when we first saw her, that we expended all our terms of praise in extolling her then; and as she could not improve, we can now, in consequence, say nothing new in the laudatory line. May she remain thus, in omne ævum.'

C.

FANNY ELSSLER. Thus far our correspondent. It becomes our duty, and it certainly is a pleasure, to render a brief tribute to the professional gifts of one of the most accomplished female daucers that ever appeared upon the Park boards. Without altogether realizing that 'the eyes of Europe are upon us,' as a uation, to see whether or not we appreciate FANNY ELSSLER's powers, and indeed without any of the cruberant enthusiasm which has been so widely felt or feigned, in this town, concerning our fair artiste, we can yet see and feel that she accomplishes her remarkable professional triumphs with an ease and a grace that have never been equalled on this side the Atlantic. It is needless to add, that a constant succession of crowded houses attests her popularity, after that substantial mode, which was doubtless the load-star that attracted her steps toward our benighted shores.

BOWERY THEATRE: MR. RANGER. The appearance of Mr. RANGER at this theatre, in his own play of The Artist's Wife,' affords us an opportunity to say a few words of this gentleman's literary and professional acquirements. We have had the pleasure to peruse three or four of the plays from his own pen, in which he appeared with such eminent success in Boston; and we have no hesitation in saying, that these productions, as various in character as his professional rôle, are not less indebted for their popularity to their own distinctive literary and dramatic merits, than to the remarkably effective and natural personations of the actor-author. An undoubting reliance upon NATURE alone for his effects upon simple, unhackneyed sentiment and feeling in both the departments of which we have spoken, is the great secret of Mr. RANGER'S complete success in each. One is apt to ask himself, with the tear on his cheek, when the gentle CLERMONT comes staggering to his chair, in the Artist's Wife,' after finding that his spouse has eloped with another, 'Why is it, after all, that without clap-trap, without tearing any one passion to tatters, we are so powerfully affected?' At some future period we may hope to essay a more detailed consideration of Mr. RANGER's literary and professional performances. At present, we are compelled to content ourselves with bearing this imperfect testimony to his various merits; which are heightened, let us add, for the honor of the profession, by his character as a man and a gentleman.

MR. WILSON'S LECTURES ON SCOTTISH SONG.-The course of lectures upon the Songs of Scotland, recently delivered by Mr. WILSON, the distinguished operatic artist, at Clinton Hall, aud repeated at the Stuyvesant Institute, were well attended by delighted auditories. Nothing could be more pleasing than this union of literary and musical attractions; and Mr. WILSON, in his discharge of a divided duty,' won new laurels at the hands of his hearers. By the time these pages shall have reached our most distant readers, Mr. WILSON will be on the seas, returning to England, and his native Scotland. We cannot resist the occasion, therefore, to say, that while the professional career of our friend in this country has been one of constant popularity and success, he has, at the same time, acquired troops of friends' in the best circles of American society, by his unspotted private character, and an exercise of the inherent qualities of a highminded gentleman. Very cordially do we desire for Mr. WILSON a pleasant voyage homeward; and we cannot but indulge the hope, that in the fulness of time,' we may once more welcome him, professionally and socially, among his many friends and admirers on this side the water.

A Gossip with our Contributors. There is not one of our correspondents, we verily believe, who will appreciate fully the feeling with which we have yielded to the necessity of omitting from the present number such admirable articles as Thoughts on the Philosophy and Processes of Civilization,' by the author of 'Chivalry and the Crusades ;' 'Harry Franco's entertaining narrative of The Haunted Merchant;'A Sermon by a Disciple of Democritus;' Discursive Thoughts on Chowder;' Lines by William Put Palmer, Esq., and, several other papers, heretofore referred to. We can only say, that each and all shall attain to the dignity of print' at the earliest possible moment. . . . The merits of The Pathfinder's Farewell,' by an anonymous correspondent, are swallowed up, as it were, in the original description by Mr. Cosper. A writer of evident ability does himself great injustice by a mere paraphrase of a scene which, in eloquent prose, has wrought out its triumphs upon the hearts of the reading public; and for this reason, we have frequently declined many otherwise most welcome effusions. One who can pen such stanzas as the following, may well rely upon his original poetical resources:

As I tread again the wilderness through which I was thy guide,

As on Oswego's smiling flood in light canoe I glide:

As I pass the fearful rapids, and dance amid their spray,

As I watch the wily savage, or share the bloody fray,

At morn, at noon, at silent eve, wherever I may be,

I shall think of thee, dear Mabel! I shall ever think of thee!

As holy thoughts within my breast from Nature's beauties rise,

As sounds of music charm the car, as spring-flowers bless the eyes;

As the odors of the woods around, the willing sense enfold,

As the fall bedecks the forest with its crimson and its gold;

As chirps the gay wood-squirrel, or hums the busy bee,

I shall think of thee, dear Mabel! I shall ever think of thee!'

A Defence of Dandies' comes, we think, from a very prince of that tribe. It is too long, however, for our purpose; a brief passage only being within our compass: 'I am a Dandy, Sir, and am quite willing that you and the public should know it. I uphold the honor of my fellows, and mean to have them regarded here as they are in France and England. There, Sir, they are considered artists, of a high order. Sir, there are but two classes of people in this world, strictly speak” ing. They are the tailors and the tailored. I am one of the latter. I have made the 'keeping' of dress, Sir, the principal object of my life, hitherto; and now it rather seems as if I could not dress otherwise than perfectly, even if I desired to do 80. As the great poet animates all the different parts of learning by the force of his genius, and irradiates all the courses of hus knowledge by the lustre of his imagination, even so does the concrete spirit of taste shine in my exterior, with a beautiful gloss and varnish. My tailor, Sir, studies his art. He reflected upon my last surpassing dress-coat, of royal Prince-Albert brown, more than a fortnight after its completion — (though he had studied its proportions for weeks previously) — if happily any improvement might suggest itself. Indeed, it was with some difficulty, at last, that f obtained the sanspareil garment at his hands, so reluctant was he to part with it. He was a month, Sir, composing the shapes of my last invisible-purple Victoria pants; he was indeed: and when, after mature deliberation, he had accommodated his materiel to every swell and depression of the inferior frame and branches, he held the fabric up with an honest pride that 1 shall never forget, and exclaimed: This will contain the lower moiety of an human being, with an effect such as I have not until now achieved! The same spirit, Sir, exists in my hatter and my boot-maker. And, Sir, when you shall remark me upon the street, sauntering down the west aide of Broadway, of a summer afternoon, you will be struck with one thing my unconscious manners. I may know, indeed, that I appear as I would: for with my glossy chapeau successfully adjusted, my hair curling over my low coat-collar; my neck-cloth in a tie that no unpractised art could reach; my vest of volcano silk, with lava buttons; my white teeth gleaming faintly through my silky moustache, and lips moist with excitement; my pants every where touching me nearly, and drawing gently upon their yielding straps, like an Arabian courser upon the bridle-rein; and my pedal extremities effulgent with the light of Day and Martin; I say, Sir, that with all these, it would be difficult for me not to know, you know, that I was without my peer upon the trottoir. But, Sir, no one will know that I know it: no, Sir; detain me for a moment; see me, as I salute you, remove my hat with my gloved hand, (French straw-kid,) and enter with me upon that train of meteorological questions and answers which forms the great staple of all polite conversation; and I flatter myself, Sir, that you will encounter a manner so easy and nonchalant, that you will deem it fully equal to the unrivalled exterior 1 have attempted—not, I admit, with adequate success to describe.' Nature descends to infinite smallness, in the production of a character like this; and yet such an one will you see, the model of aspiring parvenus and ambitious merchants'-clerks, who revel in his recog nition, and exult in his approving smile. If you take,' says a recent writer, 'a large buzzing blue-bottle fly, and look at it in a microscope, you may see twenty or thirty little petty insects crawling about it, which doubtless think their fly to be the bluest, grandest, merriest, most important animal in the universe, and are convinced that the world would be at an end if it ceased to buzz.' We leave the application with the reader. ... There is an anecdote extant, of a Scottish gentleman, who was so remarkably obtuse, that his friends could never awaken him to the appreciation of a jest: and on one occasion, an Irishman was remarking to a kindred fellow-Scotchman, that their mutual acquaintance was so dull, that he would not be likely to take a joke, though it were shot out of a cannon.' ⚫ Why,' replied the literal counterpart, 'I do u't exactly comprehend you. How can you shoot a joke out of a cannon 1 You can't shoot a joke out of a cannon, surely!' We mention this anecdote for the benefit of Civis,' whose comprehension and impudence are by no means on a par. We can spare his criticism. One who aims at literary distinction should be a person of decent parts; and it is not perhaps too much to require that he should be acquainted with the art of spelling. But levity apart how wonderfully various are the effects of literature and of nature upon different individuals! Like the tailor who saw at Niagara only a glorious place to sponge a coat,' thousands pass their lives amidst resplendent beauties of scenery, and triumphs of mind, with a total disregard of both. Looking, with two friends, the other evening, from the terrace-roof of our beloved domicil - upon gardens flowering in the breath of May-upon moon-lit sails gliding along the East River-upon Brooklyn and its noble Heights, upon which the moonlight reated like a shroud - gazing far over the quiet bay, flecked with white sails, to the blue hills of Staten Island, and beyond the extreme point of Long Island; we beheld the high revolving light at Sandy Hook, twenty miles distant, glimmering and flashing landward and upon the Atlantic. That's Sandy Hook light,' said the first discoverer; and he turned away, giving it no farther thought. ‘Is that Sandy-Hook Light-House?' asked the other who, although without his peer in the marts of business, has yet a cultivated mind, a fine taste, and a pleasant imagination—is that Sandy Hook light?' Pausing a moment, he added: 'Yes,

that is it! With what different feelings has that light been regarded! How it shone to the eyes of the drowning pas sengers and crew of the 'Mexico' and the 'Bristol,' when the winds raved, and 'churned white the waves,' and the roar of the tempest mingled with the noise of the trampling surf on the ice-bound beach, and the shrieks of the dying! And with what agonizing interest, half fear, half hope, has it been descried by many a far-off mariner, when cold on his midnight watch the snow-cloud blew, and the sea-bird, cleaving the adverse storm, shrieked wildly as he cuffed it with his wings!

While the tough cordage creaked, and yelling loud,

The fierce North blustered in the frozen shroud!'

And yet never was there a more welcome sight, than was that same light to me, in the first blush of a June twilight, after a long homeward voyage from Europe. I knew I was not far from my native shores; and I had been watching, for two delicious hours, to see,

in the western sky the downward sun

Look out effulgent from araid the flush
Of broken clouds, gay shifting to his beam;'

and when day faded, and that light, as it were from the fireside of home, streamed upon my eye, far over the blue waters, its sheen went to my heart, like a familiar voice in a strange land. And from the above contrast of minds, reader which is no fiction, but a literal transcript one may glean a fruitful lesson. Our friend, although a practical man, looks upon nothing in nature or art as indifferent or worthless; and we could not avoid calling to mind, while he was speaking, 'Master Humphrey,' standing thoughtfully amid the river scenes of murky London, and following in thought the turbid Thames in its winding course through the metropolis, far into the green and sunny country; and of Carlyle, taking heedful note of the grim bracket of old iron over a grocer's shop in the Rue de la Vennarie, at Paris; still sticking there; still holding out an ineffectual light of fish-oil it had seen worlds wrecked, yet said nothing!'... Is Summerfield' aware that this Magazine never embroils itself with the grievances and controversies of polemics? If 'a distinguished Presbyterian clergyman in this city has publicly insulted a brother in Christ, and withal a stranger on our shores, simply because he was a Methodist,' we would rather be in that brother's place, than in his antagonist's. We must be permitted, at the same time, to question the correctness of Summerfield's' impression, that the exhibition of such illiberality toward this particular sect is by no means a rare occurrence: especially would we disclaim the imputation upon the Knickerbocker, and the distortion of a remark of one of its most popular contributors. The manner, the matter, and the method of American Methodists have been continually improving. They exhibit, as a class, none of the cant of the lower orders of English Methodists. We have never seen, for example, in their journals, any of those 'Pharasaical advertisements,' enumerated by a reviewer: Wanted a man of serious character, who can shave;' 'Wants a place a young man who has brewed in a serious family; Wanted, a coachman, to take care of a barouche, and a pair of horses, of a religious turn of mind!' etc. Nor can there be found among our clergy of this numerous and popular sect, such examples as the Rev. Mr. Stiggins, the Shepherd,' a character, as we have been assured, by no means rare in England. Undue colloquial familiarity in prayer, however, and the enforcement of religious precepts by improper and oftentimes ludicrous illustrations, are faults of American Methodism, that should, and doubtless will, be eventually rooted out. The following passage, from the lips of a back-woods divine, will exemplify our meaning: 'Yes, my brethren, read your Bible! It's a great and a good book. I want to tell you an anecdote. T' other day, I called to see a poor family in a far-back settlement. I found the man bow-ed down with trouble. I asked him what it was that afflicted him. He said that he was bow-ed down with sorrow, on account of the loss of a fine-tooth comb. His family had greatly suffered for the want of that useful implement. He had se-a-rched and se-arched; but 'twas n't of no use, my brethren; the comb was gone! Seeing a Bible upon a board-shelf, covered with dust an inch thick, I took it down: There is great consolation in that book,' says I, for the bow-ed down.' He took it from my band, and as he opened it, the fine-tooth comb, whose loss he had mourned so long, fell out upon the floor! Ah, my brethren, se-a-rch the Scriptures! You little know the consolations they contain !... An anonymous correspondent, whose penmanship would put Cham_ pollion at fault, has sent us a long communication, upon an article in the Paria Presse,' describing Col. Thorne's Bal Costume, and representing that rich American' as a philosopher, whose contempt for the great is unprecedented,' and to enter whose saloons, the high-born of France' are obliged to make the most humiliating concessions.' This statement," says our correspondent, is ridiculously absurd, and is intended solely for the American market;' and he relates a dialogue between two French gentlemen, at Col. Thorne's where, there being attractive viands and superb wines, they often visited with great edification to show the real estimation in which the pretensions of our ostentatious countryman are held in Paris: This is quite a select, a distinguished circle,' said one; 'the parvenus seem to be excluded entirely.' 'Yes,' replied his companion, with a shrug, with the exception of the grand millionaire himself, the company is certainly unexceptionable !' As if he had said, 'let but our host absent himself from the fete, and nothing farther need be desired !' We return, as requested, our correspondent's favor through the post-office... 'An Old Reader's caution reminds us of a warning paragraph, just now going the rounds of the press, headed, 'Do not sleep with your Grandmother !' because physical debility may be transferred from an old crone's body. A more supererogatory piece of advice than that of our friend was surely never tendered to an editor. Has he ever seen any thing in the Knickerbocker to justify so poor an opinion of our taste and discernment ? We should hope not. ...Thoughts on Mr. Green's Project of Ballooning across the Atlantic,' is a gross plagiarism from a London journal; and comes, we have reason to believe, from the gentleman who palmed upon us The Dinner of the Months,' some two or three years since. As our original copyist seems interested in crostation, we should advise him to take in a little gas, and go up himself. A very small quantity would serve to inflate him. ... Law and Lawyers' is under consideration. It has merit and humor. The epigraph is capital: 'If a man would, according to law, give to another an orange, instead of saying, 'I give you that orange,' which one would think would be what is called, in legal phraseology, an absolute conveyance of all right and title therein,' the phrase would run thus: I give you all and singular my estate and interest, right, title, and claim, and advantage of and in that orange, with all the rind, skin, juice, pulp, and pips, and all right and advantage therein, with full power to bite, cut, suck, or otherwise eat the same, or give the same away, as fully and effectually as I, the said A. B., am now entitled to bite, cut, suck, or otherwise eat the same orange, or give the same away, with or without its rind, skin, juice, pulp, and pips; any thing heretofore or hereafter, or any other deed or deeds, instrument or instruments, of 71

VOL. XV.

The

what nature or kind soever, to the contrary in any wise, notwithstanding;' with more to the same effect... Trials of a Schoolmaster' are well depicted, but the subject is a hackneyed one. 'Please Sir, mend my pen !'-' please Sir, John Grimes 's a-pinchin' me !'-please Sir, may go out, t' git s'm' ice to pot 'n my trowse's t'keep m' nose from bleedin'!' etc., are unmistakeable school-room exclamations, and the whole scene is drawn to the life. But for the abovementioned reason, A Pedagogue' will find bis MS. at the desk of the publication office. ... New Dramatic Readings' we shall, with the writer's permission, hand over to Mr. Ranger; and if that capital artist turns them not to good account, in some new comedy of his own, we greatly mistake his appreciation of the intensely ridiculous. Did Histrion' ever hear a new rendering of the following passage: Who's here so base, he would not be a Roman? If any. speak; for him have I offended! The latest reading runs thus: Who 's here so base, he would not be a Roman? If any, speak for him. Have I offended ?' - ( ladies and gentlemen ?' understood, of course, with an appealing glance at the audience.) The brilliant effect of the novel pause here introduced, is not unlike that created by the little pursy sobactor, who as Ratcliffe,' in Richard III.,' kept the Park stage waiting, while young Kean, as the tyrant Gloster, was recovering from his horrid dream. In hot haste, and out of breath, he rushed in, and to Richard's nervous ejaculation, Who's there?' he gasped out: Tis I, my lord the village cork.' And here he slipped his wind, past timely redemption, and gave no salutation to the morn ;' as much perverting Shakspeare's text by his awful pause,' as did a royalist divine the litany, during the protectorate of Cromwell: O Lord, who hast put a sword into the hand of thy servant Oliver, put it into his heart also... Parties in this Country' is evidently from an alarmist, who cannot be permitted to croak in these pages. Such writers, if friends, as they profess themselves, of the republic, are those from whom the republic should pray to be saved.' A Lover of Reasonable Liberty' reminds us of Swift's upholsterer, who used to sit up whole nights to watch over the British constitution.' His tears are not well grounded; they are such as Washington prayed his countrymen indignantly to frown upon. Moreover, the writer errs, egregiously, in his 'statements of fact.' Does not the memorable taunt of the Edinburgh Review, (written only twenty years ago, observe,) demolish the whole basis of the seeming argument of our correspondent's last two pages? In the four quarters of the globe, who reads an American book? or goes to an American play ? or looks at an American picture or statue? What does the world yet owe to American physicians or surgeons? What new substances have their chemists discovered? or what old ones have they analyzed? What new constellations have been discovered by the telescopes of Americans? What have they done in the mathematics? Who drinks out of American glasses? or eats from American plates ? or wears American coats or gowns? or sleeps in American blankets?' A Lover of Re sonable Liberty' is on two horns of a dilemma in his assumptions; and if he can extricate himself to his own satisfaction, even, we will grant him a hearing.

The Sixteenth Volume of the Knickerbocker Magazine

WILL be issued on the first day of July next. The reputationof the work is now such, that nothing farther is deemed necessary to be said, than that its character will be enhanced by every additional means within the power of its conductors. Numbering among its contributors all the more proininent writers of our own country, with several of the most distinguished from abroad; printed in the first style of the art; occasionally embellished with fine engravings on steel; and early circulated in every section of the country; it has received an increase so constant, and acquired a diffusion so wide, that its merits, it is confidently believed, are every where known and appreciated. In addition to the regular 'CRAYON PAPERS' of Mr. IRVING, and the favors of its unprecedented corps of contributors, the new volume of the KNICKERBOCKER Will contain articles from the pens of Mr. DICKENS, or Boz,' F. G. HALLECK, ESQ., Mrs. 'MARY CLAVERS,' author of A New Home,' Miss MITFORD, G. W. GREENE, Esq., the American Consul at Rome, and others whose distinguished talents will add new attraction to the work.

A WORD TO DELINQUENT READERS. The unflagging labors, and large cash outlays, necessary to the successful conduct of a Magazine like the KNICKERBOCKER, should be rewarded by prompt payment on the part of its readers. Prohibited by a post-office law from sending bills in the numbers, we take this method of calling on every delinquent reader to do us the SIMPLE JUSTICE to render us the quid pro quo which we have earned by incessant and often disheartening labors, for their monthly amusement and gratification. The new volume of the KNICKERBOCKER will in no case be continued to those subscribers whose delinquency is of such a character as to induce the belief that the reading of the work, and not the paying for it, is their chief rule of right and of action.

NATIONAL ACADEMY OF DESIGN.- The exhibition of pictures at the National Academy of Design is to remain open, as we learn, until some time in July. Having found leisure but for a casual stroll through the apartments, we shall reserve for our next number a notice, somewhat in detail, of the exhibition; a collection which, while it contains several wretched daubs, is nevertheless enriched by many beautiful pictures from the pencils of our most eminent painters, and by a large number of very creditable efforts, from the hands of our young and improving artists.