lishing a railway from Chartoff to Theodo- | just been discovered-a wholesale factory of sia, and has accepted the proposition of a autographs and autograph letters! The private company for that purpose, with a forgery was so perfect that Sir Percy Shelcapital of fifty millions of silver roubles ley is found to have purchased a number of ($23,750,000), to which the government letters believing them to be his father's; had consented to guarantee an interest of and Mr. Murray, the publisher, several supthree per cent. Chartoff is a city of the posititious Byrons, which came from this Ukraine, situated 1,030 kilometres S. E. of same workshop. But their most remarkSt. Petersburg, and Theodosia or Kaffa is a able success was selling the collection of port on the Black Sea, near the straits of Shelley's letters, recently published by Kertch. It is in contemplation also to es- Moxon, and edited by the poet Browning, tablish a railway from Moscow to Chartoff, which turn out to be all forgeries. so that a direct communication will be ultimately established between Petersburg and the Crimea, and the capital of Russia be thus able to communicate in a few days with the Black Sea and Odessa.

-The sale of Luis Philippe's library is still going on, and the bidders are paying for the volumes of that valuable collection, at the highest rates. The works of Audubon have been sold for 2,000 francs ($400). - At our latest dates from England, the small screw steamer fitted out by Capt. Beatson, to proceed in search of the missing Arctic expedition by the way of Behring's Straits, was declared ready for sailing. The proposed field of search is east of the meridian of Behring's Straits, towards Keller's discoveries in 1849, Herald Island, and New Siberia. Capt. Beatson takes out autographs from the Emperor of Russia, recommending the expedition to the commanders of the Russian outposts at Siberia, and other Muscovite settlements, and desir ing them to promote the object in view to the utmost of their power.

Meyerbeer, the composer, has received from Queen Victoria two works of art and a complimentary letter for his ode to the m mory of Rauch, the celebrated sculptor. A committee has been formed in Dublin for the erection of a suitable testimonial to the poet Moore. A pension of £300 a year reverts to the Civil List by his death.

"The Political and Historical Works of Louis Napoleon" have just appeared in an English dress. They are a pale shadow of the ponderings and speculations of St. Helena. In the accompanying memoir, M. de Persigny is painted as the secret will and intellect which has guided the entire career of Louis from Strasbourg to the Tuileries.

William Jerdan announces his autobiography and correspondence for forty years of literary life. Mr. Jerdan has come into contact with every literary man of note in England since before the rise of Scott, Byron, and Moore, and when Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Southey were pilloried and pelted in the critical journals as French levellers.

would recommend to the attention of all our | litical considerations left aside-appears to readers.

Any comment on the first of the abovenamed books is unnecessary, the name of Charles Dickens being ample assurance of the goodness of its contents.

me to point to the possibility, if not the probability, of the world seeing a greater and bloodier Jacquerie yet than it ever saw before."

We must defer all further notice of this pleasant little volume to our next, assuring "Claret and Olives," on the contrary, is the reader that it contains one of the most the production of an author, well known in charming pictures that we ever met of the literary circles in London, but whose fame manners and customs of the "children of has not extended very widely in the United the soil" in France. To add to its other States; this is, we believe, his first appear-attractions, it is also dotted with legends and ance before the American public, yet we traditions picked up in the course of the may safely predict it will not be his last. author's wanderings. Mr. Reach, it appears, was commissioned by the proprietors of the London Morning Chronicle, to procure for that journal an accurate and reliable account of the real state of the agricultural community throughout France from the Belgian frontier to the shores of the Mediterranean, prosecuting his enquiries in spots totally unknown to the

Mr. Putnam deserves great credit for his enterprise, in getting the early sheets of so exquisite a volume, and presenting it to the public at so cheap a rate.

swarm of tourists who spend "the season "Fancies of a Whimsical Man. New York: in continental travel, and even bringing to J. S. Taylor. light sundry circumstances that will doubtless make many Frenchmen open their eyes. Another work from the pen of the auHad we taken up the book by chance, and thor of "Musings of an Invalid," which we without a knowledge of the title, we should had the pleasure of noticing favorably in the have been led to suppose that our inquisi- last number of our Miscellany. We have tive author was narrating some reminis- not been able to give that attention to the cences of the newer continent of America; "Fancies of a Whimsical Man" which the or, if of Europe, of the great plains of Central preceding work would make us suppose it Hungary; or some of the Asiatic-bordering deserves, but the glance we have cast domains of Russia, rather than the old set-over its pages leads us to believe that it has tled and civilised dominion of la belle France. had less care bestowed on its composition Dreary pine-forests, vast burning sandy than its elder literary brother. The fault plains, herds of wild horses, of Arab descent may, nevertheless, probably be as much in (but by no means so high-spirited as Alex- our hasty reading as in the author's hasty ander's immortal steed), were a few of the writing. wonders he encountered. His remarks are often quaint and epigrammatic, and always fearless; for despite all histories to the con

Translated
New

from the German of Zschokke.
York: J. S. Taylor.

trary, he runs a tilt at the chivalry of the Journal of a Poor Vicar.
Black Prince, and challenges the purity of
the gay old chronicler, Froissart, alleging,
in unmistakeable terms, that "he could take
a bribe with any man of his time!" This
volume contains, not the letters to the Lon-
don paper, but a few artistic " pencillings by
the way," consequently the only statistics
we are favored with, are embodied in the
belief that "throughout France there are
five billiard tables to one mangle!" The
result of our author's wanderings has been to
expose to the world a greater degree of desti-
tution and misery than was generally sup-
posed to exist among the French peasantry,
and his concluding words are ominous :-

All the stories of this writer have an irre

"The present state of rural France-all po

sistible charm around them. This little juvenile has a vein of pathetic interest running through from beginning to end, and though closing rather too much in the style of the most approved "modern novels,” has much in it of the finer traits of true benevolence of heart and submission to adverse providence, united with an all-conquering care of the Divine Overruler.

It will be acceptable as a present to the young folks, and cannot fail to interest, and, we think, profit them.

THE

NORTH AMERICAN MISCELLANY

AND

DOLLAR MAGAZINE.

AMERICAN SCENERY.-VIEWS IN THE WHITE MOUNTAINS.

A REMARKABLE cliff, situated near the town of Burton, Stafford County, New Hampshire, bears the name of Chocorua's Cliff, and the legend that explains the why and wherefore, runs thus:

CLIFF.

poison that one of the settlers had prepared for a mischievous fox, and died in consequence. Chocorua believed that the boy had been purposely killed. He determined on revenge. During that settler's absence Years ago we know not how many from his hut, on a bright June day, the an Indian, named Chocorua, was the terror Indian murdered all his family. The madof the little colony that had grown up dened settler hunted Chocorua till he took around this spot. At first he had been refuge on this tall cliff, beyond the reach, as friendly with the settlers, but a sad accident he thought, of the white man's gun. But rendered him their deadly foe. He had a he deceived himself, The settler took unson, about nine years old, who drank some erring aim, and the ball pierced the Indian's

13

ΤΟΥ

in such accidents of nature, the neighbor-
hood of the 'White Hills' has few waterfalls;
of those that are met with in the Notch,'
the Silver Cascade is by far the mos beauti-
ful; but to be seen to advantage it should
be visited after heavy rains. The stream
is scanty, but its course from among the
deep forest, whence its springs issue into
the light, is one of singular beauty. Buried
beneath the lofty precipices of the gorge,
after ascending towards the Pulpit Rock,
by the side of the turbulent torrent of the
Saco, the ear is suddenly saluted by soft
dashings of this sweetest of cascades; and a
glance upward reveals it silver stream issu-
ing from the loftiest crests of the mountain,
and leaping from crag to crag, or spread in a
broad, thin sheet of liquid light on the edge,
of some projecting ledge, till it reaches the
road, across which it passes, forming a still
transparent pool immediately beneath, be-
fore it joins the Saco in the depths of the
gorge.
It is a beautiful vision in the midst
of the wildest and most dreary scenery;
and its sudden appearance-for nothing of
it is seen till the tourist is immediately un-
der it is a moment of deep delight to him
from the suddenness of the contrast. The
lover of nature loves to linger among the
wild beauties of this region; and some of
the purest ideas of the American painters
have been gleaned amongst its solitudes."

"For a mountainous region, usually fertile previous articles in this miscellany*), hunof the Registrar-General of Deaths, &c.-die dreds of persons-according to the last Report yearly in England and Wales for the want of food; while in Ireland, death from starvation is much more frequent. At the same time, tons of wholesome food is perpetually swimming about, within reach of starving people, and yet they do not catch it.

A GREAT CATCH.

A correspondent, alluding to the statement that last summer, in Mount's Bay, as many pilchards were enclosed at one time, in one net, as fetched twelve thousand pounds, declares, that "The Seine, or Catch, alluded to was 'shot' at St. Ives, and not in Mount's Bay. The number of pilchards supposed to have been enclosed in the net was sixteen million, five hundred thousand; or five thousand, five hundred hogsheads, weighing eleven hundred tons. The probable value was eleven thousand pounds, reckoning them at the usual price of two pounds per hogshead, before deducting expense of curing."

Yet, despite such wonderful resources of the sea (which were detailed more fully in

*Vol. i., p. 217. "A Popular Delusion;" and vol. iii., p. 421, "Fish Dinners."

FROM GOLD TO GRAY.

GOLDEN curls, profusely shed
O'er the lovely childish head,-
Sunshine, caught from summer skies,
Surely here entangled lies:
Tossing to the light winds free,
Radiant clusters, what are ye?

Types of Time that ripples now
In bright wavelets o'er the brow,-
Of the hopes and feelings blest
Dancing in the guileless breast,
Beautiful in their unrest:
Sparkling joys and willing faith
Rising to Love's lightest breath;-
Of the future, seeming fair,
That may darken with the hair.

What are ye, dark waving bands,
That, beneath the maiden's hands,
Sweep around her graceful head
Fold o'er fold of changeful shade
Touch the cheek's contrasted bloom
With the poetry of gloom.

Offerings for a lover's eye;
Emblems of Love's witchery,
Round her heart that richly lies,-
Shadows, while it beautifies;
Keepsakes Love delights to give.
Did each friend one tress receive,
Every shining tress were lost,
For the Maiden hath a host.
Ay! but trouble, stories say,
Locks as rich hath worn away.
What of this? But friends grew spare
As the scant and falling hair!

Wherefore send your pallid ray!
Streaks of cold, untimely gray,

Through the locks whose burnish'd hue
Hath but seen of years a few?
Autumn leaves on summer trees]
Were less sorrowful than these.

Portions of life's travel soil;

Footprints left by Grief and Toil;
Relics, too, of watchings late,
When one curl was too much weight
On the hot brows, bending o'er
Some grave book of ancient lore.
'Tis the morning Nature wears
For the hopes of younger years:
And the scorching breath of care
Thus can fade the brightest hair.

Hail to thee, thou glistening snow!
Full of placid beauty, flow
O'er the furrowed brows that bear
Life's long story, written fair.
'Tis the white foam, cast aside
After Time's receding tide.

Yes pea, andy are ye pleasantt
Of each moonlight memory;
Shining from his far-off prime
To the old man's evening time.
More-ye are reflections shed
From the heaven above his head;
Pale but still assuring ray,
Of his nearly risen day.
Mortal! may thy hoary hair
E'en such glorious meaning bear,
That its silver threads may be
Messengers of light to thee