EDITOR's thousands of square miles. The very idea of "10,000 a year" has become paltry-it is but the cost of a dish of bean-soup in California-suggestive of utter povertythe daily scrapings of the poorest and most indigent digger, self-sold into slavery at the mines. The man who owns a square of brick houses is nobody; an empty braggart, beside him who sits upon golden rocks, with a cigar in his mouth, overlooking acres of the shining metal. The very millionare who used to strut about consequentially, with his hands thrust into his pockets significantly, may be hooted now by the veriest sweep in California, as a vulgar ragamuffin, who would scarce have money enough to pay his board there on Saturday night, and would be utterly at the mercy of his landlady. Girard College, as a building, is very well, too, in its way, as reminding us of an old gentleman who spent half a century in picking up gold flakes, one at a time, with his fingers; a plodding, careful old chap, who lacked the creative faculty altogether, and had no idea of cradles and basins. His school-house on the Ridge Road will do very well as a specimen of primitive architecture, and might answer very well as a sort of outhouse to the palaces that we will have in California-a very good stable for the Master of Hounds to Col. Mason, or some other grandeebut as it stands, it is now a shocking evidence of parsimony, utterly disgraceful to the spirit of the age. A sort of lame and impotent conclusion to a long life foolishly spent. sobriety of thought, and of taking their cue from facts, and not from "Q Brandy" continually. Young gentlemen whose systems were here so relaxed, that nothing but taking a horn two or three times before dinner could impart to them sufficient energy to attend to out-of-door business, go around it, and give it a wide berth in the hot latitudes-shut their ears to all hints about the nervous system, and with a hardihood and self command, acquired within view of sharks and yellow fever, brave danger without stimulus, and fatigue without "having a gale." Under the tropics, too, young men, who have at home found no difficulty in getting three sheets in the wind, have rather an aerial difficulty in getting a flowing sail, and with plenty of steam on board, in the absence of propellers, decline all invitation to steam it, "to drive dull care away"-the trouble greatest, for the time, being to get away themselves. The boys who often declared in the hours of midnight that they were the particular individuals who feared no noise, and who would not go home till morning, wish themselves very quietly dozing there, and are perfectly subdued and indolent under the Equator in a three days' calm, and do not insist upon "three more-and again," so that they have an opportunity of candid inquiry and sober reflection, which may be serviceable-promotive of a thirst for cold water, and an abhorrence of dark brandy, in a "sunny" clime. We do not see why something cannot be done for Temperance in this way, as well as not. People talk very disparagingly about "whipping the devil round the stump," but so that the old scoundrel gets soundly thrashed at last, I never could see that the modus operandi is so particularly im- · portant. Now, without pursuing this question, or glancing at the disappointment of the adventurer-the long days of toil in unhealthy waters-the burning heat of the sun-the chilling nights on a dreary soil-the fevers of the mind as well as of the body-the hope deferred-the horror of be The far-famed Genoese must have been a dull fellow, or he would have cast anchor in the Pacific, near San Francisco, instead of sailing about to no purpose. It is a wonder, too, how he could have been so stupid, when there are so many routes to this desirable haven. He certainly must have been a bad navigator, too, or he would have got around the Horn, some how, at some time. But it was reserved for the adventurous sons of Jonathan to make the successful voyage, and with the sword to cut the way to fortune; and instead of diverging like radii from a common centre, to take the outermost limit, and to claiming mixed with such society-the desolation of all good as his own all that he walked around and into. Showing conclusively that instead of bothering one's brain about getting on the right side of a question, the safest plan is to get around it, and capture it by force of arms, as the Irish policeman did with the mob. It saves a vast deal of hairsplitting, in argument, and of irrelevant discussion, first to knock down your man, and then pinion him. Or like the Cockney sportsman, who winged the farmer's goose, to say that you "only came out for the sport, and now that you have hit the bird, you have no objection to buy him." Jonathan in this case, and in this way, seems to have bagged the one that laid the golden eggs, which we used to read of in the nursery, and a whole army of his sons are now rifling her nest. She must have left behind her a prolific brood if she satisfies the whole of them. The veriest "madness of the moon," must impart a feeble pulse, compared with the fever which Jonathan's lucky hit has created in the whole family. Homeopathy is totally at fault in this disease. Nothing but very violent depletion will answer. The whole body of family physicians, and nurses of the body politic, have their hands full, and the multifarious practice sets at naught the popular idea of perfection, as a necessary consequence. It is gratifying to know, however, that in the absence of consistent and regular treatment, the popular remedy applied in its early stages is conducive to longevity and temperance-those who suffer severely from the fever here, and become exceedingly dry in consequence, are cured effectually by GOING AROUND THE HORN. Lying water-logged under the Tropics being rather a different thing from "getting up a breeze" at home, and being eminently suggestive of that he must see around him, mingling with the memory of the calm delights, the peaceful repose, the joys and purity of home-the glad eyes of sister or mother left behind, but now seemingly looking out sadly upon the scene the longings for that paradise once more, where in boyhood he put up a prayer at the parental knee :-Without speaking of all this, is the reward, reader, worthy of your sacrifice or of mine, of present comforts and present friends. I think not. The road to fortune, to honorable advancement, is open and plainly marked here, and beaten as it is, with the tread of many feet, it offers far greater chances of success than all the sparkling sands of California, mixed as they are with all that is vile and unworthy. In that immense crowd of adventurers, which is pouring in from every clime, virtue and goodness will be but as pearls dropped into the sea-selfishness unmitigated, vice unabashed, and even red-handed murder, will rear aloft their hideous forms, overawing all decency, and setting at naught "all law, all precedent, all right." The very absence of all female restraint, their tender charities, and gentle generosities and affections, and noble self sacrifices, which knit the bands of society together and render man human, will there cause to be let loose all the savage passions and instincts of our natures, and a vast army of unprincipled men, fierce in the pursuit of wealth, unrelenting in their towering selfishness as the grave, will make California a second Pandemonium. What is all the gold of the earth, in a land of wrong and violence, and that smells of blood heaven-high, with the whole atmosphere below tainted with its appalling odor? No! let us stay at home, and cultivate habits of industry, economy and temperance. With a vigilant eye and a steady step pursue the path which has been marked out for us to tread through life-never swerving from our duty to the allurements of pleasure-or by the discouragements of defeat-but up and on! fearless, determined, brave; looking all danger manfully in the face; grappling with all difficulties, if not with the strength, with the determination of giants to overcome; never growing faint or weary in well doing-and my life for it, in ten years you will not exchange places with the proudest aristocrat in California, whose heart and brain have been seared in the acquisition of wealth. Above all things, let those of us who stay behind imitate the self command of the adventurers who have gone, and go boldly and resolutely "AROUND THE HORN" here, and depend upon it, we shall find that the true philosopher's stone-the real Eldoradothe place where we may truly enjoy the horn of Plenty and the cup of Peace, IS AT HOME-AROUND OUR OWN HEARTH-STONE-where the light of kind eyes, and the prayers of warm and true hearts ascend to heaven with our own, for guidance and protection. G. R. G. THE PHILADELPHIA DAILY PRESS. THE NORTH AMERICAN.-The very head and front of the offending party journals, oracular, dignified, and eminently solemn. Doctor Bird's leaders have a stately look in solid column, and his political articles read as if they had been subjected to a very patient drill before showing themselves to the public eye; but his fine genius flashes out the moment he touches a congenial subject. Of all American writers we look upon him as the best qualified to conduct a literary journal, or a monthly review. But, alas! he is a martyr, who must groan under the daily responsibilities of a party organ, with a hearty disrelish of its duties. Why should two such men as Bird and Bryant be sold into slavery in politics, and be thus comparatively lost to the lovers of polite literature? "Independent," the Washington correspondent of the journal, dashes in like Saladin, and wo to the Christian who gets a full stroke of his scimiter; he is cloven to the chin, or has something to nurse and to remember. His egotism has been objected to by those who dislike his slashing style, but that, as much as his correctness of information, has given his correspondence character. He is at least fearless in the use of his weapon, and strikes at high and low with equal strength and temerity. Hennis gives us once in a while his touching little essays, conceived in the quiet beauty of Mr. Chandler's style-the Gamaliel at whose feet he sat and learned. For the rest, we do not like the paper. It is heavy, cautious, and cruelly cold and selfish. THE INQUIRER.-The model of a daily family paper, marked by continued and unwearied industry, and beaming with the kindly nature of its editor. Its ample pages are crowded with well-chosen selections and active scissor ing of news paragraphs; not, however, always carefully pruned and clipped down. It is only once in a while that Mr. Morris shows us that he can write, and his Saturday Readings are full of the warm impulses and genuine kindness of the man, but are written more for purposes of good than to display his powers. Occasionally he warms up in his general articles, and lets out a spark or two, shows us a glimpse of the wealth he hoards, and causes us to wish for continued examples of the ability he possesses. In his political leaders he sometimes is forced by unfair opponents into a little causticity at the opening of his article, but he relents before he gets through, and will most likely give his "friend" a chance to back out of his blunder. He has not the heart, though he possesses the strength, to press his antagonist to the wall, and to pin him there. Mr. Morris has an agreeable, ready and devoted coadjutor in Mr. Crump, a man of various learning and diligent application. This journal is shockingly "made up," to our taste, and is all over disfigured with staring black head-lines, which look to our eye like the sable of a hearse-its "postscript" is our particular horror. THE DAILY NEWS.-The absence of Judge Conrad from the daily press seems to have reinvigorated his powers, and has given additional force to his pen, and fire to his thoughts; like an unprisoned eagle, with a spring he darts to the skies and gazes in the sun. Some of the finest articles he ever wrote have appeared in the News. Every subject that Judge Conrad touches, seems to have been fused, as in a furnace, and the metal flies off in lumps from his gigantic mind. His intellect illumes and pervades every part of his subject, and when he drops it, there is nothing more to be said. His compact, all-grasping sentences, may furnish subjects for whole leaders to others, but the vitality has been extracted, and any treatment of the topic is tame and impotent in contrast. He does not, however, always seem to know the power of the words he uses, and will give a whack with his sledge-hammer with a will at a fly, which would effectually knock down an ox. Hence he should never write short paragraphs upon unimportant topics-his style is too ponderous. The News, as a political sheet, is well managed, barring some desire, occasionally manifested, to pull, for personal ends, the strings of its influence; but it is sadly deficient in mercantile news and facts. At this writing, too, it is shamefully brought out, and is made up as if the matter had been sifted over the form, and then locked-up and printed, and very badly printed at that. Mr. Sanderson should look to this, for the general editing of his News is too good to come before the public under so great a disadvantage. THE PUBLIC LEDGER.-Unquestionably the best penny paper that has ever been established-showing in all its appointments the very perfection of mechanical execution, and in its news collection and collation, sleepless enterprise and vigilance, as well as persevering ability. Its leaders are unequal, for the most part written with great force and adroitness, upon topics familiar or of practical utility, but occasionally insufferably stupid and dull. On scientific topics it affects the ultra-learned. We always drop the Ledger when it gets upon "oligies." Mr. Lane, whose quiet humor occasionally gleams out in his short editorial articles, like lightning from the edge of a summer cloud, is unquestionably the best news man in our daily press; clear and discriminative, you always find in his columns all that ought to be said of any and every news fact, and no more. A nicety of judgment very rarely attained, and never in our experience so fully, as in the case of the late Mr. Holden of the Courier. THE SUN.-Graced by a good humor that no annoy ance can ruffle, but occasionally inclined to mischief. Carelessly giving a whack, regardless of consequences, and forgetting it at the same instant. We regard Mr. Wallace as a most able man in any paper; enduring, persevering, and always on the alert. We know of no one in his department of a newspaper who can for so long a time continue to perform downright hard, honest good labor. His nerves and his temper are equally enduring. He appears to have been born where they sing "Old Vir giny never tire," and to have lived through life, the music, the temper, and the sentiment of the song. The topmost bubble of his heart always sparkles. He is, too, what we like, a pretty good hater, though with a good deal more philosophy than is often practiced, in taking his revenges. With his editorials, his SoN makes a capital newspaper, agreeable, gossipy and gay. The news is filled in with EDITOR'S the coolness of an experienced hand, and with the uprightness and newspaper devotion of his father, he will one day stand as high. THE PENNSYLVANIAN.-Col. Forney is the best political editor that his party has ever had in Philadelphia-discerning, prompt and fearless. He deals, however, too much in light skirmishing, and pops his enemy off once in a while from an unsuspected cedar-bush, merely to show the accuracy of his aim. But he is an able tactician, and when he does close fairly, his opponent finds him a tough and sinewy customer. His articles seem for the most part to have been dashed off at a heat, and lack the polishing touch. He often, too, uses a hard word for its sound where another would be more effective. Occasionally he sits down in earnest, blocks out his ground, and makes sure and steady advances; and especially when he has occasion to defend Mr. Buchanan, his intellect is fully aroused and on the alert-he then writes with his full vigor and spirit, and writes well. His partner, Mr. Hamilton, is one of the most capable business printers that we know, and every thing in his department is marked by exactness and proficiency. The press-work of the Pennsylvanian, on each issue, is what the magazines would call a specimen number." pen from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend." Without answer. Who shall sweep the strings of passion after Byron! Truly, with much thankfulness for the kind intentions of those who have written for Posterity, we might add that it is a pity they did not leave Posterity a little chance to write for himself. But since it is so, let us, with due credit, make free for a time with some of those same "lenders' books," for as George Wither quaintly says THE TIMES.-A jaunty, crotchetty, impudent little sheet, filled with quibs and quirks, and a sort of laughing have filled the world with harmonies, to which no echoes philosophy that shouts over seriousness. Its editor, would, if he could, go to his own funeral dressed in ribbons, and wearing a look of rejoicing. He has the happiness of never seeming for a moment anxious; and you might as well punch at a wreath of smoke with a foil, as attempt to intere him in a serious controversy. He will answer your arguments with a pun, your serious reasoning with a laugh, and will set ridiculously ou end your most carefully rounded sentence, and go to hacking at its grammar. Having got you out of humor, he will decline all controversy with you, if you cannot observe the decencies and proprieties. So that the man who urges a controversy with Du Solle, has his anger for his pains, and is fuming while he is chatting and laughing unconcernedly upon some other more agreeable topic. Yet the Times has never given him scope to show the real ability and general information he possesses. He should be in the Ledger with Lane, he would settle the "ologies" in short metre. THE BULLETIN.-Our only evening paper, but managed with great enterprise and vigor. Mr. Peterson's strong Saxon words and nervous style, combined with his various and correct learning, make the leading articles of this journal among the ablest that we read anywhere, and have stamped a high value upon the leading column. There is a want of editorial tact in its less imposing, but equally important digest of news and facts. It has all the news, but it has it in bulk, and looks at times, with its henvy, solid nonpariel, like a little man covered with black patches, or as if part of the paper had gone into mourning for the absence of an itemizer. It is always up, however, to the full requirements of the public in its telegraphic despatches, and it had-what has become of him-the writer of money articles that was most regarded here. For the rest, it affects a very nice morality in regard to the theatres, which we do not like, and do not pretend to understand. It is too deep for us. It advertises for the theatres, but does not notice them. Are they wrong, or right, or neither? We suppose there must be a nice line, which casuists who examine morals with a microscope have detected. G. R. G. DEAR GRAHAM,-Poor Tom says, "Let not the creaking of shoes, nor the rustling of silks, betray thy poor heart to women: keep thy hand out of plackets, and thy "We are neither just nor wise, Or mind not how there may be made Room, then! for one of Dante's Angels- As frogs Before their foe, the serpent, through the wave "Down thither prone in flight "Sometimes He scours the right hand coast, sometimes the left, 66 -on some great charge employed He seemed, or fixed in cogitation deep." The thought here is evidently borrowed from the Italian "lender's book." There is a strange propensity to follow these lofty flights; as when in looking from an eminence we feel a temptation to breast the blue ether below us. We are fairly in the wake of Satan when he "Shaves with level wing the deep, then soars Up to the fiery concave-" And now since we are pinion-mounted, like Icarus or Daniel O'Rourke. let us select a few more familiar specimens of flying. "Look you," from Coleridge "Triumphant on the bosom of the storm And lo! from Shelly an eagle, "Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, His steeds to water at those springs Or this from Shelley "Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest, Like a cloud of fire! The blue deep thou wingest, And singing, still dost soar; and soaring, ever singest. In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun, O'er which clouds are brightening, Thou dost float and run; Like an embodied joy, whose race has just begun. All the earth and air With thy voice is loud, As, when night is bare, From one lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams and heaven is overflowed.” Coleridge, too, in his Ancient Mariner "Sometimes adropping from the sky That makes the heavens be mute." And Wordsworth in that beautiful couplet "Type of the wise, who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!" There is a sweet little bird in the description of a Summer's morning, by Thomas Miller, which I would fain add to this goodly company "A little bird now hops beside the brook, Peeping about like an affrighted nun, And ever as she drinks doth upward look, Twitters and drinks again; then seeks her cloistered nook.' But alas the prettiest part of it is borrowed from one of those same "lenders' books," John Bunyan's-no less. The Interpreter takes Christiana into the "Significant Rooms," where he shows her that "one of the chickens went to the trough to drink, and every time she drank she lifted up her eyes toward heaven. 'See,' said he, 'what this little chick doth, and learn of her to acknowledge whence your mercies come, by receiving them with looking up," And now, having winged our way from angels to John Bunyan, let us lay these same lenders' books upon the shelves until a future period. Truly thine, RICHARD HAYWARDE. REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS. The Salamander: Found amongst the Papers of the late Ernest Helfenstein. Edited by E. Oakes Smith. Second Edition. New York: George P. Putnam. 1 vol. 12mo. Mrs. Smith has written nothing so well calculated to convey to the majority of readers a clear sense of the richness, originality, and elevation of her genius, as this wonderful little story. It evinces a high degree of creative power, being an organic product of the mind, with a central principle of life, and vital in every part. The scenery, events and characters have all a living connection with the leading idea of the work, and illustrate each other. The form is the ever facile and yielding instrument of the plastic spirit within, and varies with the variations in the story and the changes in the thought or feeling expressed. By a felicity of nature, Mrs. Smith appears instinctively to subordinate the material to the spiritual; and thus by making the former simply the symbol by which she expresses the latter, she spiritualizes matter, and makes it the living body of the soul. She vivifies and vitalizes the form until it becomes o'er informed with spirit. Natural objects as used by the poet, derive all their effect from being the pictorial language of impassioned thought, the visible image being but the embodiment to the eye of the viewless force which penetrates and animates it; and fitly to employ objects as exponents of thoughts, a firm, decisive grasp of spiritual realities, of |