ontinually increasing anxiety.
The importance of that city is now understood by all the European
powers, and its future fate has become a subject of deep interest to
all the western states, in consequence of the determined set made upon
it by its powerful northern neighbor. With the Cossacks at Istamboul
instead of Turks, we should be very ill satisfied, and the whole charm
of this city on its seven hills would have departed: already is it on
the wane. Sultan Mahmoud's hostility to beards and to flowing robes,
to the turban and the jherid, has deprived his capital city of much
of its picturesqueness and peculiarity; but still enough remains of
eastern manners and costumes to make it one of the most interesting
cities in the world to visit and roam over. Such as, like ourselves,
may not hope to sport a caique on the Bosphorus, will do well to
acquaint themselves with the information Aubrey de Vere can give them,
and to suffer their imagination to transport them to scenes among
the fairest and the loveliest on the earth's surface, and which are
presented to them in these volumes as graphically as words can paint
them.

By the possessor of Wordsworth's Greece, where every spot almost, of
the slightest historical interest, is given in a picture on its
pages, these "Picturesque Sketches" will be read with the highest
gratification that scenes and descriptions together can supply.
There is so much of mind in them; so much of sound philosophy in
the observations; such beautiful thoughts; so well, so elegantly
expressed; so many allusions to the past, that are continually placing
before us Pericles, Themistocles, or Demosthenes, that we are improved
while amused, and feel at every page that we are reading a work far
above the general works on such subjects; a work of lasting interest,
that may be read and re-read, and still with delight and advantage.

* * * * *

DEATH AND SLEEP.

FROM THE GERMAN OF KRUMMACHER.

In brotherly embrace walked the Angel of Sleep and the Angel of Death
upon the earth.

It was evening. They laid themselves down upon a hill not far from the
dwelling of men. A melancholy silence prevailed around, and the chimes
of the evening-bell in the distant hamlet ceased.

Still and silent, as was their custom, sat these two beneficent Genii
of the human race, their arms entwined with cordial familiarity, and
soon the shades of night gathered around them.

Then arose the A