ion, no appealing for
petty sympathy, no writing for the sake of seeming fine, does she ever
indulge in. She coins words at will, for she writes from her heart and
is no purist; but we feel them to be appropriate, and requisite to
express the shade of thought in question: we may laugh at them at first,
but so natural and naive are they that we soon find them stealing into
our own vocabulary.

The beneficial effect of such writings upon American women cannot be
overestimated. They act as invigorating tonics, courses of beefsteak and
iron upon the somewhat too fragile loveliness, the exacting and
fastidious fine-ladyism, the morbid helplessness, far too prevalent
among them. Their ideal of womanhood has been wrong, narrow and
contracted, wanting in strength, breadth, and charity. Miss Muloch and
Gail Hamilton, while cherishing the sanctity of womanhood, are giving
broader views, higher aims, truer delicacy, and greater self-reliance to
their plastic sex. Their lessons and examples are bracing as the sea
breeze, and soothing as air fresh from the piny mountain.

Gail Hamilton dares to call things by their right names; humbugs die and
shams perish as her clear, deep eyes gaze upon them. She has the bravery
of virtue, and battles courageously with wrong, selfishness, and
weakness, though we always feel it is a woman's arm that strikes the
blow, and the Halicarnassuses of earth are ready to kneel to receive
it. But that she has explicitly forbidden all intrusion into her
privacy, we would say more about her. Meantime we frankly offer her our
sympathy and humble admiration, our true and leal homage, our grateful
appreciation of her strong, womanly, truthful, pure, and generous
nature. Move on in peace, fair iconoclast of false idols, stripper of
tinsel shrines, bringer of pleasant hours to the quiet home-hearth,
vigorous painter of home tasks and duties; and may Halicarnassus feed
upon your pungent and salty wit, drink the wine of your valiant and
patriotic heart, and bask in the sunshine of your loyal and loving soul
forever and ever!

OUR OLD HOME: A Series of English Sketches. By NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.
Boston: Ticknor & Fields, 1863. For sale by D. Appleton & Co., New
York.

Messrs. Ticknor & Fields are daily doing their countrymen service by
publishing good books, and thus increasing the means for promoting
general and solid culture. To them as well as to the gifted author are
due our thanks for this ag