the speech of the Newfoundland fishermen. A little of
this is well enough, but it should not be pushed to an extreme. The
author's style, in general, is vigorous and expressive; it is the garb
of an original mind, and often takes striking forms; but in grace and
simplicity there is room for improvement, and we doubt not that
improvement will come with practice.

There are many passages which we should like to quote as specimens of
the imaginative power, forcible description, and apt illustration which
are shown in this work. Whether the author has ever written verse or
not, he is a poet in the best sense of that much-abused word. To him
Nature in all its forms is animated; it sympathizes with all his moods,
and takes on the hues of his thought. There are very few of these
paragraphs that are easily separable; they are fixed in the page, and
cannot be understood apart from it. Besides, many of these beauties are
minute,--a gleaming word here and there,--but making the track of the
story glow like the phosphorescent waters of the tropics.

We give a few paragraphs at random:--

"Does the sea hold the secret?

"Along the wharves, along the little beaches, around the
circuit of the little coves, along the smooth or broken face of
rock, the sea, which cannot rest, is busy. These little waves
and this long swell, that now are here at work, have been ere
now at home in the great inland sea of Europe, breathed on by
soft, warm winds from fruit-groves, vineyards, and wide fields
of flowers,--have sparkled in the many-colored lights, and felt
the trivial oars and dallying fingers of the loiterers, on the
long canals of Venice,--have quenched the ashes of the
Dutchman's pipe, thrown overboard from his dull, laboring
_treckschuyt_,--have wrought their patient tasks in the dim
caverns of the Indian Archipelago,--have yielded to the little
builders under water means and implements to rear their
towering altar, dwelling, monument.

"These little waves have crossed the ocean, tumbling like
porpoises at play, and, taking on a savage nature in the Great
Wilderness, have thundered in close ranks and countless numbers
against man's floating fortress,--have stormed the breach and
climbed up over the walls in the ship's riven side,--have
followed, howling and hungry as mad wolves, the crowded
raft,--have leaped upon it, snatch