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that while he seldom lost sight of what he thought right in one direction, there were others who thought he could not be right in any. Probably, at this moment, the last thing that would be thought of, would be a monument to the memory of Isaac T. Hopper, in a public square in Charleston, SouthCarolina, or in an Orthodox-Quaker burying-ground in New-York or Philadelphia. And yet in both cities there will not be wanting enemies and 'Friends' to do justice to his determined energy, his 'tried obstinacy,' and his imperturbable self-reliance, whatsoever the one or the other may think of his particular acts. Instead of quoting the oft-told ''scapes i' the imminent deadly breach'to which fugitive-slaves were subjected, we choose rather the following illustration of the effect of 'acts' under the law' of kindness, which is told in Mrs. Child's most simple and effective vein:

"ONCE, when his father and the workmen had been cutting down a quantity of timber, Isaac discovered a squirrel's nest in a hole of one of the trees that had fallen. It contained four new-born little ones, their eyes not yet opened. He was greatly tempted to carry them home, but they were so young that they needed their mother's milk. So, after examining them, he put them back in the nest, and with his usual busy helpfulness went to assist in stripping bark from the trees. When he went home from his work, toward evening, he felt curious to see how the mother-squirrel would behave when she returned and found her home was gone. He accordingly hid himself in a bush to watch her proceedings. About dusk she came running along the stone-wall with a nut in her mouth, and went with all speed to the old familiar tree. Finding nothing but a stump remaining there, she dropped the nut and looked around in evident dismay. She went smelling all about the ground, then mounted the stump to take a survey of the country. She raised herself on her hind-legs and snuffed the air, with an appearance of great perplexity and distress. She ran round the stump several times, occasionally raising herself on her hind-legs, and peering about in every direction, to discover what had become of her young family. At last, she jumped on the prostrate trunk of the tree, and ran along till she came to the hole where her babies were concealed. What the manner of their meeting was, no body can tell; but doubtless the mother's heart beat violently when she discovered her lost treasures all safe on the warm little bed of moss she had so carefully prepared for them. After staying a few minutes to give them their supper, she came out, and scampered off through the bushes. In about fifteen minutes she returned and took one of the young ones in her mouth, and carried it quickly to a hole in another tree, three or four hundred yards off, and then came back and took the others, one by one, till she had conveyed them all to their new home. The intelligent instinct manifested by this little quadruped excited great interest in Isaac's observing mind. When he drove the cows to pasture, he always went by that tree, to see how the young family were getting along. "In a short time, they were running all over the tree with their careful mother, eating acorns under the shady boughs, entirely unconscious of the perils through which they had passed in infancy.

Some time after, Isaac traded with another boy for a squirrel taken from the nest before its eyes were opened. He made a bed of moss for it, and fed it very tenderly. At first, he was afraid it would not live; but it seemed healthy, though it never grew so large as other squirrels. He did not put it in a cage; for he said to himself that a creature made to frisk about in the green woods could not be happy shut up in a box. This pretty little animal became so much attached to her kind-hearted protector, that she would run about after him, and come like a kitten whenever he called her. While he was gone to school, she frequently ran off to the woods and played with wild squirrels on a tree that grew near his patń homeward. Sometimes she took a nap in a large knot-hole, or, if the weather was very warm, made a cool bed of leaves across a crotch of the boughs, and slept there. When Isaac passed under the tree, on his way from school, he used to call ‘ Bun! Bun! Bun!' If she was there, she would come to him immediately, run up on his shoulder, and so ride home to get her supper.

It seemed as if animals were in some way aware of his kindly feelings, and disposed to return his confidence; for on several occasions they formed singular intimacies with him. When he was six or seven years old, he espied a crow's nest in a high tree, and, according to his usual custom, he climbed up to make discoveries. He found that it contained two eggs, and he watched the crow's movements until her young ones were hatched and ready to fly. Then he took them home. One was accidentally killed a few days after, but he reared the other and named it Cupid. The bird became so very tame, that it would feed from his hand, perch on his shoulder or his hat, and go erery where with him. It frequently followed him for miles, when he went to mill or market. He was never put into a cage, but flew in and out of the house, just as he pleased. If Isaac called 'Ce! Cu!' he would hear him, even if he were up in the highest tree, would croak a friendly answer, and come down directly. If Isaac winked one eye, the crow would do the same. If he winked his other eye, the crow also winked with his other eye. Once, when Cupid was on his shoulder, he pointed to a snake lying in the road, and said 'Cu! Cc! The sagacious bird pounced on the head of the snake and killed him instantly; then flew back to his friend's shoulder, cawing with all his might, as if delighted with his exploit. If a stranger tried to take him, he would fly away, screaming with terror. Sometimes Isaac covered him with a handkerchief and placed him on a stranger's shoulder; but as soon as he discovered where he was, he seemed frightened almost to death. He usually chose to sleep on the roof of a shed, directly under Isaac's

bed-room window. One night he heard him cawing very loud, and the next morning he said to his father: 'I heard Cupid talking in his sleep last night. His father inquired whether he had seen him since; and when Isaac answered No,"

he said: “Then I am afraid the owls have taken him. The poor bird did not make his appearance again; and a few days after, his bones and feathers were found on a stump, not far from

the house. This was a great sorrow for Isaac. It tried his young heart almost like the loss of a brother.'

This is but a fair specimen of the style of Mrs. Child's ‘Life of her friend; and the reader will admit that it is equally unpretending and effective. The volume is printed upon excellent paper and large, clear types; a bookphysiognomy which has much to do in introducing candidates for public favor into 'good society.'

Six Months in Italy. By George Stillman Hillard. In two volumes : pp. 887.

Boston: TICKNOR, REED AND FIELDS.

We have almost come to regard works upon, or travels in Italy, as another name for a literary bore. So many books have been written by tourists, who went abroad carrying their brains in their pockets, without the capacity, in the first place, of observing, and without the ability, in the second, to record their observations, indifferent howsoever they might be, that one takes up a book of Italian travel with great misgivings, if not very positive distrust. But we are happy to record better things of the pleasing and instructive traveller, whose two very handsomely-executed volumes lie (read) before us. — We had written thus far, when up the breezy lawn came our village news-boy with the morning journals; and in one of them—the ‘Times'— we found our own views of Mr. Hillard's volumes so forcibly expressed, that we venture to substitute them in this place :

*Has a writer upon Italy any thing to tell us that is new, or has he the power of telling old stories in a novel manner, are questions to which we can seldom give an affirmative answer. In Mr. Hillard's case, we can reply, most satisfactorily to all parties concerned, that his old stories are newly told, and that so much in his volume is new and fresh, that his work has all the charm of novelty, embellished by a happy style, and pregnant with the felicitous allusions of a refined and clerkly scholarship.

‘And yet, it may be asked, what can be newly said about Italy? If we have read Eustace, have we not exhausted its classical prestige, as far as it can be illustrated by any writer? If we are familiar with FORSYTH, what can a new tourist tell us of the architectural glories of the Eternal City? If we have read CHATEAUBRIAND, Mme. De STAEL, GOETHE, and Lady Morgan, and are familiar, as of course we are, with the poems and diary of Lord Byron, and the poems and letters of SHELLEY, what can a mere tourist add to our knowledge of Italy? what can he say that is not a mere reiteration and impertinence ?

'If Mr. Hillard were an ordinary tourist, his volumes might be easily dismissed with a faint commendatory notice. But he has almost all the attractions of a new writer

with a new vein. Amid the crowd of books which every year flood the Italian field of travel, he has added one work to those few ---five or six in fifty years - which become books of reference for all succeeding tourists. That his style is chaste and scholar-like; that he adorns all that he describes with the grace of eloquence, and that his power of illustration is unrivalled, every reader who is familiar with his reputation will readily believe.

‘A very large portion of these volumes is devoted to the works of art which are so abundant in the museums and galleries and private houses of the Italian cities. These, it is true, have been described again and again, but Mr. Hillard has brought a new eye to the objects of the world's love and wonder. His criticism is individual; he does not echo former judgments, and he is, moreover, thorough, profound, and elaborate. With a due sense of the merit of earlier works, we confess that we do not know the writer on Italy whose labors we can so unhesitatingly commend. There is not likely to be any publication issued during the coming season that will be more extensively read than this work of Mr. HIILLARD.'

TANGLEWOOD TALES FOR GIRLS AND Boys: being a second Wonder-Book By Na

THANIEL HAWTHORNE. In one volume: pp. 336. Boston: TICKNOR, REED AND FIELDS.

We quite agree with Mr. Eustace Bright, the imaginary author of the mythological stories contained in this beautiful volume, that they are "better chosen and better handled' than those which proved so popular in the 'Wonder-Book,' by the same writer. We have not been accustomed, even when we were younger than at present, to regard mythological tales with much favor; nor, so far as our observation goes, do children generally esteem them to possess much attraction. But not so with the new, simple, and picturesque 'renderings' of them by Mr. HAWTHORNE. He has breathed anew into them the breath of life, and brought them freshly before the little people of this dim and ignorant present.' 'Eustace told me,' says his editor, in his introductory Wayside Chapter,' which is in his usual felicitous vein, that these myths were the most singular things in the world, and that he was invariably astonished, whenever he began to relate one, by the readiness with which it adapted itself to the childish purity of his auditors. The objectionable characteristics seem to be a parasitical growth, having no essential connection with the original fable. They fall away, and are thought of no more, the instant he puts his imagination in sympathy with the innocent little circle whose wide-open eyes are fixed so eagerly upon him. Thus the stories (not by any strained effort of the narrator's, but in harmony with their inherent germ) transform themselves, and reässume the shapes which they might be supposed to possess in the pure childhood of the world. When the first poet or romancer told these marvellous legends, (such is EUSTACE Bright's opinion,) it was still the Golden Age. Evil had never yet existed; and sorrow, misfortune, crime, were mere shadows which the mind fancifully created for itself, as a shelter against too sunny realities; or, at most, but prophetic dreams, to which the dreamer himself did not yield a waking credence. Children are now the only representatives of the men and women of that happy era; and therefore it is that we must raise the intellect and fancy to the level of childhood, in order to re-create the original myths.

We quite agree with Mr. Bright's editor, that he really appears to have overcome the usual objections against these fables;' and the liberties with the original structure,' of which the editor speaks, are, as we have already intimated, the very charm of the volume. An extract or two will illustrate and fortify our praise. Here is a graphic picture of the brazen giant Talts, walking around the island of Crete, at the rate of eighteen hundred miles in twenty-four hours, challenging all vessels that approached; a sort of monstrous jackal to the monstrous MINOTAUR:

Still the vessel went bounding onward; and now THESECS could hear the brazen clangor of the giant's foot-steps, as he trod heavily upon the sea-beaten rocks, some of which were seen to crack and crumble into the foamy waves beneath his weight. As they approached the entrance of the port, the giant straddled clear across it, with a foot firmly planted on each headland, and uplifting his club to such a height that its buttend was hidden in a cloud, he stood in that formidable posture, with the sun gleaming all over his metallic surface. There seemed nothing else to be expected but that, the next moment, he would fetch his great club down, slam-bang, and smash the vessel into a thousand pieces, without heeding how many innocent people he might destroy; for there is seldom any mercy in a giant, you know, and quite as little in a piece of brass clock-work. But just when Theseus and his companions thought the blow was coming, the brazen lips unclosed themselves, and the figure spoke:

Whence come you, strangers ?'

And when the ringing voice ceased, there was just such a reverberation as you may have heard within a great church-bell, for a moment or two after the stroke of the hammer,

“ “From Athens !' shouted the master in reply.
««On what errand ?' thundered the Man of Brass.

"And he whirled his club aloft more threateningly than ever, as if he were about to smite them with a thunder-stroke right amid-ships, because Athens, so little while ago, had been at war with Crete.

"We bring the seven youths and the seven maidens,' answered the master, “to be devoured by the Minotaur !'

« Pass!' cried the brazen giant.

"That one loud word rolled all about the sky, while again there was a booming reverberation within the figure's breast. The vessel glided between the headlands of the port, and the giant resumed his march. In a few moments, this wondrous sentinel was far away, flashing in the distant sun-shine, and revolving with immense strides around the island of Crete, as it was his never-ceasing task to do.'

After Prince Theseus had sought out the gigantic Minotaur and killed him in his awful cave, old Talus was not quite so willing to give the 'pass 'word when, with his seven maidens, he wished to pass from the brazen tyrant's dominions:

In a few moments, the white foam was boiling up before their prow, as Prince Tuesets and his companions sailed out of the harbor, with a whistling breeze behind them. Talts, the brazen giant, on his never-ceasing sentinel's march, happened to be approaching that part of the coast; and they saw him, by the glimmer of the moon-beams on his polished surface, while he was yet a great way off. As the figure more like clock-work, however, and could neither hasten his enormous strides nor retard them, he arrived at the port when they were just beyond the reach of his club. Nevertheless, straddling from headland to headland, as his custom was, Talus attempted to strike : blow at the vessel, and, overreaching himself, tumbled at full length into the sea, which splashed high over his gigantic shape, as when an ice-berg turns a somerset. There he lies yet; and whoever desires to enrich himself by means of brass had better go thither with a diving-bell, and fish up Talus.'

The familiar style and minute description of Antets and the ProMIES, 'out-GULLIVERS GULLIVER;' while the ‘keeping' of every one part with every other part, is equally exact and amusing. The Pygmies going with their little axes and cutting down the grain, 'exactly as a wood-cutter makes a clearing in the forest,' and the sad accidents which sometimes happened, when a stalk of wheat, with its over-burdened top, came crashing down

upon an unfortunate Pygmy,' are admirable instances of the characteristics we have indicated. And as for their giant neighbor, who was bigger, if possible, than they were little, he becomes truly a 'great character in the renewing and improving hands of Mr. Bright. “Voilà :'

He was so very tall that he carried a pine-tree which was eight feet through the butt, for a walking-stick. It took a far-sighted Pygmy, I can assure you, to discern his summit without the help of a telescope; and sometimes, in misty weather, they could not see his upper half, but only his long legs, which seemed to be striding about by themselves. But at noon-day, in a clear atmosphere, when the sun shone brightly over him, the Giant ANTÆrs presented a very grand spectacle. There he used to stand, a perfect mountain of a man, with his great countenance smiling down upon his little brothers, and his one vast eye (which was as big as a cart-wheel, and placed right in the centre of his forehead) giving a friendly wink to the whole nation at once. “The Pygmies loved to talk with ANTÆUS; and fifty times a day, one

or another of them would turn up his head, and shout through the hollow of his fists, 'Halloo, brother ANTÆTS! How are you, my good fellow?' And when the small, distant squeak of their voices reached' his ear, the Giant would make answer, Pretty well, brother Pygmy, I thank you,' in a thunderous roar that would have shaken down the walls of their strongest temple, only that it came from so far aloft.

When the sun was too hot, he often sat himself down, and let his shadow fall over the kingdom, from one frontier to the other; and as for matters in general, he was wise enough to let them alone, and leave the Pygmies to manage their own affairs; which, after all, is about the best thing that great people can do for little ones.'

'ANTECS loved the Pygmies, and the Pygmies loved Antxus. The Giant's life being as long as his body was large, while the life-time of a Pygmy was but a span, this friendly intercourse had been going on for innumerable generations and ages. It was written about in the Pygmy histories, and talked about in their ancient traditions. The most venerable and white-bearded Pygmy had never heard of a time, even in his greatest of grand-father's days, when the Giant was not their enormous friend. Once, to be sure, as was recorded on an obelisk, three feet high, erected on the place of the catastrophe,) Ant.ers sat down upon about five thousand Pygmies who were assembled at a military review. But this was one of those unlucky accidents for which no body is to blame; so that the small folks never took it to heart, and only requested the Giant to be careful for ever afterwards to examine the acre of ground where he intended to squat himself.'

Ox all their holidays, the Pygmies had excellent sport with ANTÆUS. He often stretched himself out at full length on the ground, where he looked like the long ridge of a hill; and it was a good hour's walk, no doubt, for a short-legged Pigmy to journey from head to foot of the Giant. He would lay down his great hand flat on the grass, and challenge the tallest of them to clamber upon it, and straddle from finger to finger. So fearless were they, that they made nothing of creeping in among the folds of his garments. When his head lay side-wise on the earth, they would march boldly up, and peep into the great cavern of his mouth, and take it all as a joke (as indeed it was meant) when ANTÆrs gave a sudden snap with his jaws, as if he were going to swallow fifty of them at once. You would have laughed to see the children dodging in and out among his hair, or swinging from his beard. It is impossible to tell half of the funny tricks that they played with their huge comrade; but I do not know that any thing was more curious than when a party of boys were seen running races on his forehead, to try which of them could get first round the circle of his one great eye. It was another favorite feat with them to march along the bridge of his nose, and jump down upon his upper lip.'

*If the truth must be told, they were sometimes as troublesome to the Giant as a swarm of ants or mosquitoes, especially as they had a fondness for mischief, and liked to prick his skin with their little swords and lances, to see how thick and tough it was. But Antærs took it all kindly enough; although, once in a while, when he happened to be sleepy, he would grumble out a peevish word or two, like the muttering of a tempest, and ask them to have done with their nonsense.'

For the rest -- and there are four other tales, “The Dragon's Teeth,' Circe's Palace,' "The Pomegranate Seeds,' and 'The Golden Fleece,' - the reader must be referred to the volume itself, which, beside being characterized by the accustomed care and neatness of the publishers and printers, is illustrated with a few very fine wood-engravings.

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