treating these events
as mere temporary phases of the great system of evolutions which forms
the _material_ of history, scarcely worthy of notice, and directed their
attention to the great principles which underlie all great social and
religious developments. A strange tone was thus given to conversation.
Listening to the talkers at a Berlin conversazione, one might have
fancied, judging from the nature of the subjects of conversation, that a
number of gods and goddesses were debating on the construction of a
world. Vulgar bricks and mortar they ignored, and were anxious only
about primary and secondary geological formations. The actual state of
any society was scarcely cared for, except in illustration of a
principle, and the great forces which must unite to form the best
possible society, were the only subjects of investigation. It may be
taken as a great proof of the wonderful facility of adaptation of the
female mind, that women joined in these conversations as readily as men,
and frequently with far more brilliancy, in spite of the range of
reading which it must require to obtain even a superficial knowledge of
the subjects of discourse. Fanny Lewald is one of these prodigies. She
has studied every thing from the Hegelian philosophy downwards. She is
as great in revolutions as in ribbons, and is as amusing when talking
sentiment over oysters and Rheinwein, in the Rathskiller at Bremen, as
when meditating upon ancient art and philosophy in Wilhelm von
Humboldt's castle of Tegel near Berlin.

* * * * *

We have read with great interest a series of articles which have
appeared in the recent numbers of the _Grenzboten_ upon GEORGE SAND.
Though we have often failed to agree with the view of the writer, Mr.
Julian Schmidt, one of the editors of that paper, we have rarely met
with literary criticism of more ability, and a more just and catholic
spirit. We translate the conclusion of the last article, in which Mr.
Schmidt gives the result of his careful analysis of all the works of the
author: "The novel, on account of its lax and variable form, and the
caprice which it tolerates, is in my opinion not to be reckoned among
those kinds of art, which, as classic, will endure to posterity. The
authors who have been most read in modern times have already been
checked in their popularity by the greater attraction of novelty offered
by their successors. This is the case even with Walter Scott. Bes