atmospheric air is injurious, by robbing it of its well adapted to warming hospitals, asylums for moisture, by decomposing a part of it, and by burning children, prisons, insane establishments, &c., bevarious particles always in the atmosphere, as well cause there is no access to fire, no smoke, nor as the various gaseous matters, constantly escaping dust, and the consumption of fuel is considerably from the human body into it. By the heat of the less. iron these matters are resolved or converted into There are various plans for employing hot water various gases, which, although in small volume, are as a means of heating. One set of plans provide more or less prejudicial to the health of those for the circulation by taking advantage of the dif breathing them. The air undergoes a change by ference of weight between hot and cold water, and passing over intensely heated metallic surfaces, the other plans all circulate the hot water by preswhich is one reason, if not the reason, why many sure, procured by heating water to a very high persons find apartments heated by hot air as unsup- temperature, from 275° to 375° and even 400°, in portable as they do the open anthracite fire. The a hermetically sealed apparatus. This later plan exact nature of this change has not been ascer- has many advocates, but is objected to on the tained; there is little doubt, however, that both its ground that it dries the air, is liable to leakage and chemical and electrical conditions are different from explosion, and consumes more fuel. those of air in the natural state. As an illustration of the prejudicial influence of the change alluded to, we quote the following, taken by Mr. Hood from the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society Heating by steam is also practiced to some extent but is liable to similar objections. The sealed apparatus patented by Perkins, is in operation in a part of the New York Custom-House, and is spoken of in terms of high approbation. A PRACTICAL TREATISE ON DISEASES OF THE EYE.-By William Jeaffreson, &c. 8 vo. p.p. 307. London, 1844. 66 "A quantity of air which had been made to pass through red-hot iron and brass tubes, was collected in a glass receiver and allowed to cool. A large cat was then plunged into this factitious air, and immediately she fell into conMeadows of margin and rivulets of print" on vulsions, which, in a minute, appeared to leave her without any signs of life. She was, however, quickly taken out and white paper produce a pretty book. Mr. Jeaffreplaced in the fresh air, when, after some time, she began to son was surgeon of the Bombay Eye Infirmary in move her eyes, and, after giving two or three hideous the Hon. East India Company's service, and wrote squalls, appeared slowly to recover. But on any person this volume to show up the results of twenty-five approaching her she made the most violent efforts her exhausted strength would allow to fly at them, insomuch that years practice and the treatment of fifty thousand in a short time no one could approach her. In about half cases of diseases of the eye. He seems to have an hour she recovered and then became as tame as before." been highly successful, and much esteemed, for on There is very little reason to doubt that a simi- taking his departure from the Presidency of Bomlar effect would have been witnessed had the sub- bay, the Parsee and other Indian indabitants of the ject of the experiment been a human being instead city expressed their regret in a complimentary The sense of tightness across the fore-letter, from which we extract the following sen of a cat. To obviate this difficulty it is only necessary to contrive a stove or heating apparatus which will warm the air of a room to 70° or 75° Farenheit, without becoming itself hotter than boiling water or 212° of Farenheit's thermometer. In very cold weather this can only be done by extending the surface from which the heat is communicated to the air, or in other words, augmenting the size of the stove to dimensions far beyond those now in ordinary use. The rapid circulation of water at a temperature of from 180 to 200° through iron pipes of from one to four inches in diameter, furnishes perhaps the very best means of obtaining the least objectionable kind of warmth for inhabited apartments. The principle of circulating water is very simple. Cold water is heavier than hot water, and the appa tence: "As a token of our affectionate remembrance and grativalue of three hundred guineas, which we hope will in after tude, we beg your acceptance of a piece of plate of the life afford you some pleasure, as having been presented to you by those who appreciated your virtues and had experienced your fostering care." From such an announcement we expected something rarely excellent, but the work contains scarcely any thing that is not found in similar works, except self-glorification. It will not be republished we guess on this side of the Atlantic. So much for you Mr. Editor and for your readers. Let them take my hints and save or spend their money accordingly as they deem best. I have endeavored to open their eyes to their interests in a branch of literature, and I trust that not in vain will be the warnings of HOLGAZAN. New-York, Sept. 1844. *Ruschenberger Must the warm, beating heart be crushed, ratus is so contrived that the water finds its way THE HONORS OF POESY-TO WOMAN. back to the boiler in consequence of increasing its weight by losing its warmth. The principle is illustrated on a small scale by the not unfrequent plan of supplying hot water to bath rooms, remote from the kitchen, by means of what is known by the name of "hot water back," placed behind or above the kitchen fire. In London the hot water apparatus is extensively used in private dwellings. In the United States we see it chiefly in hot-houses, conservatories and some few public establishments. It is particularly Ere richest odors may be breathed? The brow grow pale ere 'tis inwreathed? Look at a Hemans' lonely part! How sadly, mournfully, each line Doth tell the deep void of the heart- Its weakness round some faithful stem, Look at a Landon! meeting death When she had found her orange wreath Look at a Norton! drop by drop, Distilling balm from bitterest herb- O, dear bought triumph! ask it not, Nor ask to strike the tuneful shell! CYLLENE. Notices of New Works. -- Our table contains some works deserving a more extended notice, than we shall be able to give them. Oftentimes nothing but an extended review can impart much information as to the contents of a work. Our bibliographical notices are designed to impart a knowledge of the current publications, with some idea of their merits and character; and from the nature of the case must generally be brief. LEA & BLANCHARD: PHILADELPHIA. 1844. Have, through Messrs. Drinker and Morris, sent us the following: LETTERS OF HORACE WALPOLE, EARL OF ORFORD, To SIR HORACE MANN, his Britannic Majesty's resident at the court of Florence, from 1760 to 1785. Concluding series, 2 vols. The author is rather minute and prolix, and his letters have hence been compared to the "Annual Register" and "Hansard's Debates." We commend the work to our readers. It is handsomely gotten up, and bound in cloth. THE HISTORY OF CHIVALRY, OR KNIGHTHOOD AND ITS TIMES. BY CHARLES MILLS. Author of the History of the Crusades, &., &c. This is another work of the valuable "Library of Standard Literature;" and is to be followed by Niebuhr's Rome, Ranke's celebrated Histories of the Popes, the Reformation, and the Ottoman and Spanish Empires, and the works of Proctor, Guizot, Wraxall and others. We rejoice to see some indication of a revival of chivalry. Our times are sadly deficient in that spirit of gallantry, to which it gave rise, and we are sorely tempted here to indulge in a tirade upon the beaux of the present day. We commend to their selfish natures, the study and practice of chivalry. Especially let them read and ponder on Mr. Mills' chapter upon "Dames and Damsels and Ladylove." When the unfortunate Marie Antoinette fell, Burke eloquently declared that the days of chivalry were gone. Burke was a philosopher and a prophet. The days of chivalry are gone. The beaux of these latter times, (too many of them at least,) have laid aside chivalrous feelings of disinterested gallantry, and given themselves up to a species of genteel loafing and dignified ease-taking. Few pay their devoirs to the fair, but those who are "courting," and too many "court" only to mend their fortunes. "Dames," and a most worthy class of "damsels," politely called "wall flowers," because they are often too sensible for foolish chit chat, or not pretty enough to be flattered, are entirely neglected. Ladies escort themselves about-or take their little brothers, or elderly relatives with them; or send to some well known bachelor friend; whilst the beaux parade in double files and think it honor enough to condescend to talk to the ladies when they meet them, at parties and other places. Out upon such craven laggards! Can't some Pope seize his pen? Can Salmagundi speak no more? If these gentlemen don't improve their gallantry, they shall feel the denunciations of chivalry, the displeasure of the fair and the bitter invectives of B Americus South. RELIGIO MEDICI. ITS SEQUEL, CHRISTIAN MORALS. BY SIR THOMAS BROWNE. KT. M. D. With resemblant passages from Cowper's Task and a verbal index. These two works contain a mine of wisdom and truth from which many subsequent writers have dug some of their richest ore. Religio Medici seems to have been one of the favorite companions of the poet Cowper, whose poem, the Task, contains many passages bearing a striking resemblance to parts of it. These are all collected by the Editor at the close of this volume. Sir Thomas evinces much reflection and no little learning; and the perusal of this little volume will exert a good influence upon the mind and character of the attentive reader. The first volume of these agreeable and instructive letters was issued some months ago, and many of our readers have become acquainted with them, either through that volume, or the English and American notices of the work. The letters to Sir Horace Mann, in the volume before us, THE KITCHEN AND FRUIT GARDENER, A SELECT MANUextend from 1776 to Sir Horace's death, in 1786. These AL OF KITCHEN GARDENING AND CULTURE OF FRUITS. are followed by letters to George Selwyn, the duke and The whole adapted to the climate of the United States. duchess of Gloucester and the Rev. W. Mason. The voThis is a very useful little work, intended as a compalume also contains a Memoir relative to Walpole's income, nion for "The Complete Florist," and the other household "short notices" of his life and a description of his villa, volumes, recently issued by the same publishers. Strawberry Hill, which is so frequently mentioned in his THE CYCLOPÆDIA OF PRACTICAL MEDICINE, Edited correspondence; all of which are by the Earl himself. The by Dunglison, has now reached its XI. No. To be comletters to Sir Horace Mann contain much interesting infor-pleted in 24 parts, 50 cents each. It will constitute a library mation of the times, and very constant notices of our of itself. struggle for Independence. Walpole's sentiments were quite THE MEDICAL STUDENT, OR AIDS TO THE STUDY OF MEDIliberal and he often speaks freely in condemning the course CINE. A revised and modified edition. By ROBLEY of England. The style of the letters is familiar and often DUNGLISON, M. D. humorous and readily engages the attention of the reader. A work well worthy of the careful examination of Medi cal Students and those who are soon to assemble in this city will do well to procure it from Drinker and Morris. HARPER & BROTHERS. NEW-YORK, 1844. PICTORIAL BIBLE. We have received the 7th, 8th and 9th No.'s of this splendid illuminated Edition of the Bible, through Messrs. Randolph & Co., and Drinker & Morris. THE SPOON. No. 4. From Randolph & Co. This is a very curious book, containing much that it is singular any man should have treasured up. It is attributed in New York to Mr. Eubank, the author of a late very valuable work upon Hydraulics. He is a sort of scientific antiquarian, taking great pleasure in investigations, that would hardly be thought of by another. A GRAMMAR OF THE GREEK LANGUAGE, principally from the German of Kühner, with selections from Matthiæ, Buttmann, Thiersch and Rost. For the use of schools and colleges. By Charles Anthon, LL. D. We can only slip in the receipt of the following works This Grammar comes out under well known, excellent sent us by Drinker and Morris, just as we were closing auspices; and seems to supply a hiatus that has been a for the month. NEAL'S HISTORY OF THE PURITANS. Part cause of stumbling to many students of the Greek language. VII. SELECT NOVELS No. 3, containing "Tales of GlauHitherto, many students have jumped at once from Valpy per Spa," by Miss Sedgwick, and Messrs. Paulding, Bryto Buttmann, or perhaps to Matthiæ. The wide chasm be-ant, Sands and Leggett; THE WANDERING JEW, by M. tween these has not only been filled up by the work before Eugene Sue. No. 2; and KEITH'S LAND OF ISRAEL, with us, but Prof. Anthon's known judgment and ability have maps and many beautiful embellishments, gotten up in Harbeen employed in embodying in it what was most useful in per style, and bound in cloth. the works of these and other eminent German grammarians. J. W. Randolph & Co. have it. WILEY & PUTNAM. NEW-YORK, 1844. SCENES, INCIDENTS AND ADVENTURES IN THE PACIFIC The contents of this volume correspond with the above HEWET'S PICTORIAL SHAKSPEARE. Edited by Verplanck. Our last No's of this rich work, up to No. 18, in continua. tion of Romeo and Juliet, keep up their wonted taste and beauty. Juliet. "Was ever book So fairly bound!" Act. ii, 2 King Lear has since arrived in Royal Style. Vide No.'s 20 and 21. THE ILLUSTRATED BOOK OF CHRISTIAN BALLADS Edited by the Rev. Rufus W. Griswold. Lindsay and Blakiston. Philadelphia, 1844. This is one of the richest and most brilliant works of which the American press can boast. As a specimen of typographical embellishment it is of surpassing beauty. It is also illustrated with engra vings printed in tints and in Gold; and the ballad gems fully correspond with the elegance of their setting. They are drawn from the greatest variety of authors, and those of the highest excellence. The design of the work, Literary and artistical, deserves all praise and the execution is worthy of the design. Call on Drinker & Morris. THE CHARLESTON BOOK. S. Hart, Sr., an enterpri sing book-dealer, of Charleston, South Carolina, is about to issue a large and tasteful volume, with the above title. Its design is similar to that of works, heretofore published in the Northern Cities. It will be beautifully gotten up and bound, and will contain choice productions, in prose and verse, by the numerous amateur and professional authors, who have shed such a lustre upon the Literary cha racter of Charleston. Our knowledge of many of the contributors and of the proprietor warrants us in promising something rare in the proposed work. The subscription price is only $2. SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER. NOVEMBER, 1844. GERTRUDE; A NOVEL. Judge N. BaTusker CHAPTER III. At length the day came, as come it must, which had been fixed for Gertrude's departure. But the fate of Empires has depended on the weather; and though the Almanac-maker knows certainly that Saturday will follow Friday, he cannot be sure when rain may follow sunshine. So it was that the dreaded day was one of storm so furious, that none but a madman would leave his home in such weather, except on business of life and death. Gertrude of course remained where she was. Not so Henry. The business of his court was done; and he had retired to his bed the night before, full of the thought that, on the morrow, his beloved Gertrude would leave his father's roof and go forth into new scenes, to form new friendships and to encounter new influences on which his fate might depend. To-morrow he would return, and she his companion, his sweet confiding friend, the beloved of his heart, would not be there to welcome him. There was no anodyne in such fancies, and, in feverish impatience, he revolved the thought, that if the night were long enough, he would yet see her before her departure. Midnight was past, and presently the rain, driven by the wind, came pattering against his window. He looked out upon the night. It was dismal and terrible. But the stern voice of the blast was not uncongenial to his feelings, and he again threw himself on his bed, soothed by the tumult of the elements. He was sinking to sleep, and fancy, mounting her throne of dreams, began, as usual, to mingle her imaginary another day in the home of her youth, and the bonnet was laid aside, and the coach drove empty from the door. He awoke with a start, and sprang to his feet; his horse was ordered, and, tossing a dollar to the ostler, he sprang into the saddle, and soon disappeared in the thick darkness. The night had again come down. The clouds had disappeared, the stars shone bright, and every thing gave promise of a "glorious morrow." Mr. and Mrs. Austin had retired for the night and Gertrude sat alone in the drawing-room, engaged in one of those pretty occupations which ladies know how to make so graceful and becoming. In short, she was drawing, and as her work grew under her hands, her eye brightened, and a smile of pleasure was on her lip. The sketch was finished; she gazed on it tenderly; then pressed it to her heart, while a tear stole down her cheek. She looked up, and the original stood before her. She screamed with delight, and, yielding to the influence of long habit, threw herself into his arms. In a moment she recovered her self-possession, disengaged herself, and, blushing deeply, resumed her seat on the sofa. Henry placed himself by her side, and, taking her hand in his, bowed his head upon it, and pressed it to his forehead and his lips. His spirit yearned to prostrate itself before her, and every action spoke its yearning. A deportment so new, surprised, but it reassured her, and, when at length he spoke, her faculties were all under command. "Dear Gertrude," he said, "how fortunate I am to find you alone! You have not misunderstood what I said to you at parting, and now I come to ask whether your heart has taught you to rejoice that I am not your brother?" creations with the realities of the scene. The form, which had indistinctly floated before his waking eye, now became palpable. Gertrude was before him bonneted and cloaked, and the coach was at the door. But the storm would make itself heard by the sleeper; and she seemed to be aware of it too, and she looked up to the clouds, and a "O, Henry! how can you ask such a question? smile was on her lip at the thought of spending Rejoice that you are not my brother! No, indeed, VOL. X-81 for if you were my brother, what more on earth all the comforts and enjoyments of life, they shall should I have to wish for ?" This was a turn for which he was entirely unprepared; for the coarseness of man's nature does not understand how the love of woman can take such a form. "I do not understand you," said he, "your words seem to sound the knell of my hopes, and yet there is something in them that might awaken hope, though it were dead." be yours. If it has pleased God to endow me with faculties, which may make your preference honorable to you, I will exert them to the uttermost in that cause. I will seek distinction. I will win honors and you shall wear them as a garland. I will strive To make thee famous, with my pen, I'll deck and crown thy head with bays, "You do not understand me! Should I not then have a protector? Would not your home be mine? There would be no need that we should ever part, and I am sure that I should never wish to leave you. But now they tell me I must marry some- And I will die an hundred thousand deaths, ere body, to provide myself a protector and a home." break the smallest parcel of this vow! God of the "And whom, dearest, should you marry, but him just and pure in heart, hear and record it!" from whom you never wish to part?" Gertrude was completely borne away by the en "Aye, Henry! But I must not marry you, be-ergy of this language, and the fervor of Henry's cause we are both poor." "And is this the only reason?" manner. She threw herself on his bosom, and then, lifting her streaming eyes to his face, she cried, "and I too on my part." 66 Let me not Certainly. What other could there be? Whom is there, besides my mother, that I love half so 'No, my Gertrude, make no vow. well? What society affords me so much pleasure now, for the first time, have to reproach myself as yours? And what more would be necessary to with having come between you and your duty to the happiness of my life, than to be always near your mother. I am willing to trust my hopes of you? Were you indeed my brother, I should have happiness to the constancy of your affection, the an answer to all importunities about marriage. I purity of your heart, and the soundness of your should not want to marry any body. I do not want principles. Should your affections ever fix upon to marry any body. But they are always telling me that I must marry, and that I must marry a rich man. But there is something horrid in the thought of marrying any man that I do not love, and I cannot see any reason for loving a man just because he is rich." another, it would be as sinful to marry me, as it would now be to marry any one else. Should you ever so change, as to be capable of marrying another, while your heart is mine, my vow will remain on the registry of Heaven, and it shall be fulfilled; but I will see you no more. The glorious being, "God, I thank thee," exclaimed Henry fervent- that I now fold to my bosom, I shall ever wear in ly," for this proof that all my power over the feel- my heart; but I shall give no sigh to the polluted ings of this noble creature, has left her pure as wretch that sells herself for gold. Pardon me, she came from thy hands! Dear Gertrude, it was dearest," he added, as he felt her shrinking in his not to obtain any pledge from you, that I sought arms; "I speak only of that which is impossible. this interview. It was to ascertain the state of There is nothing sordid in your nature, and all that your feelings toward me. As yet you do not un- there may be of elevation in the sentiments I have derstand them fully, but I do. You love me, Ger- just uttered, is derived from my communion with trude, as woman can never love more than one, you. I have but given voice to the thoughts that and with a love that would make it sinful to marry lie deep in your heart of hearts. You need no vow any other. You love me with that love, which to bind you to fulfil its dictates, and the instincts God himself implants in the pure heart, and by which he makes them one who were before twain. This is that mysterious union which he forbids man to violate, and while the sentiments you have just avowed, reign in your bosom, none but I can be your husband in His sight. I do not ask you to promise to marry me. I do not ask you to promise not to marry any other man. But, in the name of God, I charge you, never to give your hand to any one whom you do not love with the same hallowed affection you now feel for me. On my part, in the face of High Heaven, I here devote myself to you. Whether I become your husband, or not, for you alone will I live. To your service will I devote all my powers. If my labors can purchase for you of your nature. From all but these you are free. Remain so. God is with you. He loves the pure in heart. Put your trust in him, and he will protect and guide you." Gertrude never felt before how deeply and fervently she loved; and, in all the warmth of her innocent heart, she poured forth her tenderness into Henry's bosom, and retired to her chamber the happiest creature upon earth. The delicious mystery of Love was disclosed. The treasures of the heart were unlocked. The fountains of the great deep of bliss were broken up, and she seemed to float on a shoreless Ocean of delight. She now thought of her intended journey, if not without regret, at least with complacency. It presented |