that speaks its native
language with a purity approaching that with which the English is spoken
by the common people of New England. The vulgar words and phrases which
in other states are supposed to be peculiar to this part of the country
are unknown east of the Hudson, except to the readers of foreign
newspapers, or the listeners to low comedians who find it profitable to
convey such novelties into Connecticut, Massachusetts, and Vermont. We
are glad to see a book that is going down to the next ages as a
representative of national manners and character in all respects
correct.

Nathaniel Hawthorne is among the first of the first order of our
writers, and in their peculiar province his works are not excelled in
the literature of the present day or of the English language.

YEAST: A PROBLEM.

The Rev. Mr. KINGSLEY, author of _Alton Locke_, has collected into a
book the series of vehement and yeasty papers which have appeared from
his pen in _Fraser's Magazine_ under the above title, and a new impulse
is thus given in England to the discussion of the Problem of Society.
The declared object of the work--which is of the class of philosophical
novels--is to exhibit the miseries of the poor; the conventionalisms,
hypocrisies, and feebleness of the rich; the religious doubts of the
strong, and the miserable delusions and superstitions of the weak; the
mammon-worship of the middling and upper classes, and the angry humility
of the masses. The story is very slight, but sufficient for the
effective presentation of the author's opinions. The best characters are
an Irish parson, a fox-hunting squire and his commonplace worldly wife,
and a thoughtless and reckless but not unkind man of the world. Here is
a sketch of a commonplace old English vicar, such as has been familiar
in the pages of novels and essays time out of mind:

"He told me, hearing me quote Schiller, to beware of the
Germans, for they were all Pantheists at heart. I asked him
whether he included Lange and Bunsen, and it appeared that he
had never read a German book in his life. He then flew
furiously at Mr. Carlyle, and I found that all he knew of him
was from a certain review in the _Quarterly_. He called Boehmen
a theosophic Atheist. I should have burst out at that, had I
not read the very words in a High Church review, the day
before, and hoped that he was not aware of the impudent
falsehood which he