BOOKS, BOOKS.-The presses have been uncommonly prolific during the past month, and as a result, there has been a flood of matter sent out to the world, which has been proportionably worthless. Some most excellent and valuable additions have been made to the sum of human knowledge. But the binding and the paper are by far the most valuable and interesting portion of others. Novels, works of fiction which have outraged our nature in their plots, and insulted our reason in their claims, have been abundant, and we are ready to lift up our hands among this mass, and exclaim, "Who will show us any good thing?" We have courage, however, to hope for better things to come.

HAZLITT'S LIFE OF NAPOLEON.-Wiley & Putnam have published this, the last and perhaps the most permanent of the works of the celebrated author. Its value will be fully appreciated by those who read it-the character of Hazlitt's writings is well known. His style is attractive and rich. Had he been a better man he would have been a better author, and his reputation, already great, would have been doubtless among the greatest of the age.

PLATO.-Dr. Pond has written a book on Plato's life and writings. In some respects the book is valuable, and in others we feel compelled to differ from the author in his opinions. In any case the work is one that will commend itself to all readers, and being small and beautifully got up, will make a pleasant companion and an ornament to the parlor table.

We are glad to see a disposition prevalent to open the graves of the old philosophers. As Poets we love them, if as nothing else. But there lay a depth of truth under their obscurities which needed only the light of revelation to make it shine out gloriously. Their reasonings were the graspings of the mind of man, in the twilight of natural light alone, after an unseen God. We have never found an hour passed in the company of those old sages thrown away, nor has it ever been with other than pleasure that we have studied their beautiful theories of Philosophy. And yet we have loved their poetry more than their Philosophy.

PICTORIAL HISTORY OF ENGLAND.-The Harpers continue the publication of this admirable work. The nineteenth number is before us. The value of the work will render it necessary to all general readers, and the style in which it is published will make it an ornament to any table.

THE ANGLO-SAXON GOSPELS.-We greet with pleasure exery attempt to lead the people of this age to look at the past. The spirit of the age is progressive, and eminently so in language. The corruptions which have been introduced into the English, have become so numerous and important, that its whole character is undergoing a change, and not at all for the better. We have been long satisfied that the study of the Anglo Saxon language has been neglected too much, while other and comparatively useless studies are made to fill up the time of the student. This publication in connexion with the grammar of the Anglo-Saxon language by Klipstein, who edits this also, will, as the editor hopes, we doubt not, conduce to the study of the language of our forefathers, and to a still higher purpose.

THE FROISSART BALLADS.-Who has not read, and does not remember FLORENCE VANE? "Thou wast fairer than the roses

In their prime,

Thy voice excelled the closes

Of sweetest rhyme.

Thy heart was like a river

Without a main ;

Would I had loved thee never,

Florence Vane !"

Philip Cook, of Virginia, who has long been known only as the author of this beautiful creation of fancy, has published a book of ballads, beautifully giving in rhyme some old legends, and promising more if these be liked. Such poems as ORTHONE and Sir GEOFFRY TETENOIRE, will be read and re-read by all lovers of the beautiful. If we mistake not, Mr. Cook is insured a fireside seat with all such, and a home in the hearts of all poets. Not the least admirable characteristic of his book is the independence with which it is sent out. 66 Like it or not, as you please," is the evident thought of the author. We like it.

THE BOOK OF THE FEET.-This is the last and oddest addition to the literature of the age. A history of boots and shoes, with illustrations, is an idea novel enough to cause a demand for the book; these illustrations are good in their way, We notice on the vignette an Egyptian sandal, with a picture on it. It is a picture of one of the shepherd kings. The old Egyptians, when they drove that dynasty from the banks of the Nile, held them in such utter contempt and hatred, that they wore pictures of them on their sandals, so that they might tread on them at every step. This book, we are inclined to think, really valuable. It is certainly readable. It has been well received in England, and is handsomely re-published by Graham.

THE

In the town of Kinsington, in the State of there was a small tavern keeper by the name of Ball. He was an easy, wellto-do sort of a man, who had a great longing to be rich. He had not always been a publican, but when he started in life he was a farmer; and still he kept his farm, and raised most of the matters from it which he wanted for family use. As this farming brought him in very little ready money, he took it into his head to try some other way of adding to his income.

He lived on the Corners, near the meetinghouse, and while the store, and the blacksmithshop, and the post-office, and a dozen other establishments, were right there, they had no tavern. Mr. Ball was tempted to hang out a sign and to add the alluring words, "Entertainment for man and beast," which were common on tavern signs up in that part of the country, signifying that sober people and drunkards could both be accommodated there. thought there was no harm in selling rum, especially as he was a member of the church, kept his Bible in his bar, and often talked to his customers of the blessedness of religion, and the value of the hope of heaven which he had indulged ever since he was a boy. It was 'Squire Ball's custom, for he was a justice of the peace, and therefore called the 'Squire

He

by everybody, it was his custom, I say, to close his bar-room at ten o'clock every night, unless the run of custom at the bar made it expedient to dispense with the custom; but on ordinary occasions he was wont to shut up at ten, and when all were gone, he would take his Bible and read a chapter, and then he would kneel down and pray with so loud a voice that he could be heard by the neighbors for a considerable distance around; so that he was sure they all knew that he was a praying man. He got a name for this, and as it was known that he prayed in the bar-room where he sold his rum, it was reasonable to infer that the 'Squire was a very conscientious man in his business. Certainly he would not pray in his bar-room, and so loud, too, unless he feared God, and meant to keep his command

ments.

One night there was quite an affray in the 'Squire's bar-room. Some of his customers were more than usually excited. Two of them were so drunk that he put them out of the house, and when they sought to return, he drove them off with a horse-whip. And those who were not quite so drunk, were even more turbulent. They finally proceeded from loud words to fighting, and one of them was beaten so badly that they were obliged to carry him home helpless and bleeding. It was

354

nearly midnight before the room was clear, and the landlord had more thirst for liquor than for the Bible or prayer, when the house was still. He would have gone off to bed as soon as he had locked up, but the force of habit is as strong sometimes in good as in evil, and he could not be easy at heart if he should neglect his chapter and his prayer. So he took down the book, and opening at random, he read the chapter which contains these words, "NO DRUNKARD shall inherit the kingdom of God." They seemed to glisten as he read them, those words did. What did they mean? He began to think over the drunkards whom he had known, and who had died. He called up the names of his customers; he began to grow confused in his memory, and, to help himself on in the work he had undertaken, he took down his book of Dr. and Cr., in which he had for years kept a running account with his neighbors. There were many who had once stood at his bar, and now they were in eternity. They had died drunkards! And the Bible told him they had not gone to heaven -they must be in hell! He looked over the list, and asked himself, "Was this man a drunkard? And this man "" And then Mr. Ball would try to recollect how they looked the last time they were at his bar, and one after another they would come back to his memory, and when they came they would stay; and soon a whole group of them were there; a horrid group! dead drunkards! for he had seen them all dead; and now, when they rose to his view, they seemed to come from the grave and from hell, and they laughed fiercely, and swore terribly, and roared as if they were beasts let loose. They wanted something to drink, and would have it; and when the 'Squire remonstrated with them, and told them they had been drinking already, and that he never sold liquor to men after they had had enough, they leaped into the bar and helped themselves, and one of them leaped astride the shoulders of the landlord, and another threw the Bible at his head; and altogether, they made an uproar like that which had marked the early part of the evening, until the 'Squire rose up in wrath, and ordered them to quit the house. Instantly they rushed upon him like so many devils, and seized him in their arms, and asked him, as they bore him away, How he would like to keep tavern in Hell?

Before he had time to recover himself, or, indeed, to get his breath so as to be able to speak, he felt himself flying through the air,

as on the fiery wings of fiends; and then, down, down, he sank with his bar-room company, till at last, after an hour of rapid travel downwards, he was suddenly pitched into a world of darkness, so black that he could feel it. And, strangely enough, he could see that this dark world was inhabited, for the people were like so many flames moving madly amid the dismal gloom; and he could hear chains rattling as the people crowded along, so that he soon was convinced that he was in the

world of despair. Here he was to keep

tavern.

The old customers who had brought him, had been sent as a committee to find the right sort of a man to keep tavern in hell; for they had often declared that there was no man doing so good a business as 'Squire Ball, or who had so many qualifications for the high honor of being the landlord for the hosts of the Prince of darkness.

He was instantly and duly installed in office, and commenced dealing out spirits to the spirits in prison. But his surprise was great, and his confusion truly pitiable, when he recognised in almost every customer that came to his bar the faces he had known in Kinsington, and all of them his neighbors and their families.

"Ha! 'Squire, is that you?" said a fiercelooking wretch, as he came up for a drink; "When did you come ?" The 'Squire per

ceived in the new-comer a man to whom he had sold liquor for fifteen years, and who had died a drunkard in the poor-house. He was a sober, decent, industrious man, when the landlord of Kinsington first tempted him to taste a dram, and his progress in the downward road had been sure and rapid from that day.

Next came a female fury, a lost woman, a wild spirit, who flew at him as she entered his infernal tavern, and reproached him as the cause of her ruin, and that of her family. "But for you," said she in a shrill, clear voice, that pierced his ear like a knife," but for you and I might have been an angel in heaven, and now I am a devil in hell. You made my husband a drunkard, and you made me a drunkard, and now we are both of us here!" The 'Squire was speechless. What could he say? His face blazed red with shame; and he tried in vain to make some words of excuse for himself. At last, he thought of his Bible, and he gathered courage to say, " Didn't I often tell you that you must repent of your sins, or you could never go to heaven ?"

355

"Yes, I know you did, and I have heard you praying half a mile off, but what good do you suppose the preaching or praying of a rumseller would do? All you wanted was to get the money for your liquor, and it was nothing to you what became of the souls of your customers. But I'm glad you are here at last. I never wanted to see anybody here so much as you. Did you bring your Bible with you, 'Squire ?"

"No," said he, "I came away in a great hurry. Indeed, I had no thought of coming at all, but was seized in a moment when I had no expectation of being summoned away, and was brought here against my will. I do not see why I was wanted here."

"Why you were wanted? You were wanted that you might see the fruit of your doings, the end of your labors; and that you might feel the fires you have kindled for the souls you have destroyed. You have come to your own place, and you will know what it is to be an agent of the devil on the earth, and his slave in hell. I am glad you are here."

While this wretched woman was raving and cursing, a troop of spirits rushed into the infernal tavern, and whom should the astonished publican behold but the company who had been at his tavern at Kinsington, the night before; and among thein, at their head, were the two whom he had driven away from his door, after they had become so drunk that he could bear them no longer! In they came, reeking with the fumes of the still, and raging with the madness of the pit; and as they entered they gave three cheers for the landlord, that made the whole region of darkness ring with horror. "Why, you are here before us," cried one of them. Caught you, too," said another; and, "Served you right, old one," exclaimed a third. "This is the place for you and your business. You'll make money here, and get your pay in your own coin," said another; and so they went on jeering him till his wrath was kindled beyond measure, and he began to storm in reply. And then they laughed. "Why, you can't hurt us now. We have as good a right here as you, and if you wish to have it all to yourself, we only wish you could. But you sent us here, and now we must have your company." The 'Squire sank down with shame and remorse. He saw his own work. These were his victims, Once they were his neighbors, honest, industrious, upright men, until they began to fre

quent his house, and then they grew worse and worse, till they became quarrelsome, noisy, profane Sabbath-breaking men, and now they were in hell, and he among them, where he deserved to be. Then the spirits of all the men whom he had murdered by selling them rum came thronging around him, and he wished that he was blind that he could not see them, or deaf that he could not hear them; but when he shut his eyes he could see them still, and he could hear them when his ears were stopped. It was terrible to the poor wretch, and he shrieked with agony, and as he shrieked he

AWOKE.

And lo! it was a dream! He had read his chapter, and had kneeled down in the bar-room to make his long, loud prayer, and had fallen asleep on his knees; the gin that he had drunk during the evening was too much for him, and his brain was excited. The verse he had read about drunkards had caught hold of his imagination, and away he had been borne to the regions of black despair. And now, as he awoke, the memory of his dream was all fresh and terrible. It was some time before he could persuade himself that it was a dream. He had been asleep perhaps an hour, and the scenes through which he had passed were impressed upon his mind indelibly. They were written there with a pen of fire.

Though it

had been a dream, it was truth that he had seen and heard, and he knew that the lesson was for his warning and counsel.

The landlord took his lamp, now burning dimly, and finding his way from the bar-room to his bed-room, went to bed, but not to sleep. There was no rest for him that night. He tossed upon his pillow, until his wife was awakened by his restlessness, and begged to know what was the matter. He told her the terrible dream that he had had in the bar-room, and confessed that he looked upon it as the voice of God, that had come to warn him to cease from the wicked work in which he was engaged, that of making drunkards, and shutting them out of the kingdom of God.