uld forfeit both it, and his character for sanity, by this
outrageous attempt at humour. Perhaps he is the potent editor of some
American broad-sheet, of which publishers stand in awe. We know not;
of this only we are sure, that more heinous trash was never before
exposed to public view. We read two chapters of it--more we are
persuaded than any other person in England has accomplished--and then
threw it aside with a sort of charitable contempt. For the sake of all
parties, readers, critics, publishers and the author himself, it
should be buried, at once, out of sight, with other things noisome and
corruptible.

On the other hand, we shall be able to introduce to our readers
(should it be hitherto unknown to them) one volume, at least, which
they will be willing to transfer from the American to the English
library. The "Mosses from an old Manse," is occasionally written with
an elegance of style which may almost bear comparison with that of
Washington Irving; and though certainly it is inferior to the works of
that author in taste and judgment, and whatever may be described as
artistic talent, it exhibits deeper traces of thought and reflection.
What can our own circulating libraries be about? At all our places of
summer resort they drug us with the veriest trash, without a spark of
vitality in it, and here are tales and sketches like these of
Nathaniel Hawthorne, which it would have done one's heart good to have
read under shady coverts, or sitting--no unpleasant lounge--by the
sea-side on the rolling shingles of the beach. They give us the
sweepings of Mr Colburn's counter, and then boastfully proclaim the
zeal with which they serve the public. So certain other servants of
the public feed the eye with gaudy advertisements of every generous
liquor under heaven, and retail nothing but the sour ale of some
crafty brewer who has contrived to bind them to his vats and his
mash-tub.

The first book we opened of this series is one called, with a charming
alliteration, "Views and Reviews," by the author of "The Yemassee,
&c." whom we fortunately learn, from another quarter, to be a
gentleman of the more commodious name of Mr Sims; and the first words
which caught our eye were "Americanism in Literature," printed in
capital letters, it being the title of an essay which has for its
object to stimulate the Americans to the formation of a national
literature. This appears to be a favourite subject with a certain
class of their