ct of principles. Now that slavery is forever
removed, it might seem that this was a harmless error enough, and would
probably hurt nobody,--not even Mr. Foote. But the fact is important,
since it is probable that Mr. Foote represents the opinions of a large
class of people at the South, who were friendly to the Union in the
beginning of the war, but yielded later to the general feeling of
hostility. They were hardly less mischievous during the struggle than
the original Secessionists, and, now that the struggle is ended, are
likely to give us even more trouble.

Mr. Foote offers no satisfactory explanation of his own course in taking
part in the Rebel government, which was founded upon a principle always
abhorrent to him, and opposed to all his ideas of good faith and good
policy; but he gives us to understand that he was for a long time about
the only honest man unhanged in the Confederacy. Concerning the
political transactions of that short-lived state, he informs us of few
things which have not been told us by others, and his criticism of
Davis's official action has little to recommend it except its
disapproval of Davis.

We must do Mr. Foote the justice to say that his book is not marred by
any violence towards the great number of great men with whom he has
politically differed; that he frankly expresses his regret for such of
his errors as he now sees, and is not ashamed to be ashamed of certain
offences (like that which won him a very unpleasant nickname) against
good taste and good breeding, which the imperfect civilization of
Southern politicians formerly tempted them to commit. Remoteness from
the currents of modern thought--such as life in a region so isolated as
the South has always been involves--will account for much cast-off
allusion in his book to Greece and Rome, as well as that inflation of
style generally characteristic of Southern literature.

_Poems in Sunshine and Firelight._ By JOHN JAMES PIATT. Cincinnati: R.
W. Carroll & Co. 1866.

Among the best poems of the earlier days of the Atlantic was Mr. Piatt's
"Morning Street," which we think some of our readers may remember even
at this remote period, after so much immortality in all walks of
literature has flourished and passed away. Mr. Piatt later published a
little volume of verses together with another writer of the West; and
yet later, "The Nests at Washington,"--a book made up of poems from his
own pen and from that of Mrs. Piatt. He now