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light of his genius. It is this generous regard for others that secures him the esteem of audience and actors.

Outside of purely legitimate comedy, Mr. Warren has some specialties in which as an artist he stands alone and invincible, and these parts are often in the range of lowest comedy or broadest farce. And if they do not afford the same degree of intellectual pleasure that we find in his Sir Peter Teazle and kindred performances, they serve to stretch our laughter to the very "top of our lungs," and their whimsical oddities show us how generous and versatile a thing his genius is. His Sir Peter, with its dignity, repose, gentleness, magnanimity, and plaintive tenderness, is a portraiture satisfying, altogether finished, and complete. But as Jeremiah Beetle, in "Babes in the Wood," Mr. Sudden, in “Breach of Promise," Jonathan Chickweed, in "Nursery Chickweed," or as Mr. Golightly, in "Lend me Five Shillings," he stands apart from his fellows, and altogether inapproachable. He has all the exuberance and natural drollery of Clarke, all his farcical buoyancy, and to these he adds that traditional oldschool finish, which stops nowhere this side of perfection, and which Mr. Clarke and Mr. Owens have not at all. Mr. Warren's audience cannot reason about the manner in which he plays these parts: they can only laugh and be merry over their exquisite funni

ness. In these characters there is the contagion of laughter in his face, gait, eyes, gesture, and voice.

But as if his genius were "general as the casing air," Mr. Warren, while he compels our admiration in these parts, forces us to acknowledge the breadth of his powers in a purely eccentric part, that of the poor French tutor in "To Parents and Guardians." And here his French scholarship stands him in good stead. In this impersonation a genius that he seldom develops shines pre-eminent, that rare genius which makes the actor master of our tears. The whole performance is so quiet, so thoughtful, so profound in

its pain and so subdued in its joy at the end, that, through all the old tutor's sorry blunders and eccentricities, we cannot laugh at the stupid figure; or if we do, tears underlie our mirth, and while the smile trembles on the lip, the eye grows dim with pity. So ample is Mr. Warren's power, and with such tenderness does he cast over Tourbillon's ludicrous side the mantle of the old exile's griefs and sorrows, that we can see in him, not the scoff and gibe of the school, but the sorely stricken parent, recovering at last his long-lost child. beautiful in this performance, (lifting it up almost to the height of Mr. Jefferson's Rip Van Winkle,) and Mr. Warren has imparted to it a dignity and grace which only a profound genius could bestow.

There is something

In like manner he has taken from "Masks and Faces a third-rate part, that of Triplett, and made it of almost the first importance in the play. No one who has seen it can forget the exquisite display of humor and pathos in this impersonation. And it is in such characters, where deep feeling alternates with whimsical oddity, that his rare facial expression has full scope. His voice is adapted with exact fidelity to the look, and to such perfection is this carried, that a blind man might almost know his expression from the emphasis of his words.

Whether in the grace and high-bred courtesy of Sir Peter, the cowardly bluster of Bob Acres, the pathos of Tourbillon, or the drollery of Peter Dunducketty, this great artist of the old school has no superior in the new one. Mr. Jefferson, in the assurance of a genius pure, steady, and true, may contest the day with him upon his own ground, and excel him off of it, but Mr. Jefferson's method is more than half composed of the same characteristics which altogether distinguish Mr. Warren's.

The talents of these actors are alike in great measure inherited, for their fathers in the early days of the American theatre contended, shoulder to shoul

der, for the applause of the town, night after night, for long years. William Warren, comedian and manager, died in a hale, prosperous old age, almost in sight of the theatre, while old Joe Jefferson, his long-time comrade, true to his love for nature in the evening of his days as in their morning, turning his back upon the tinsel of the stage and the gloom of the city, took up his staff, and wandered away to where the fields were green and the birds sang; and so wandering, he came at last to a little village among the mountains of Pennsylvania, where rippled the blue waters of the Susquehanna; and there he rested for a while, died, and was laid away in a favorite corner of a little churchyard; and ten years after John Bannister Gibson, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania, came to the grave of his old friend, laid thereon a decent slab, and wrote for the

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REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.

Thrilling Adventures of DANIEL ELLIS, the great Union Guide of East Tennessee, for a Period of nearly Four Years, during the great Southern Rebellion. Written by Himself. With Illustrations. New York: Harper and Brothers.

Mosby and his Men: a Record of the Adventures of that renowned Partisan Ranger, John S. Mosby, etc. By MARSHALL CRAWFORD of Company B. New York: G. W. Carleton & Co.

The Shenandoah; or, The Last Confederate Cruiser. By CORNELIUS E. HUNT (one of her officers). New York: G. W. Carleton & Co.

THE field is vast, yet we think it would be hard to find among modern publications three other books so foolish as these. They are all written in that King Cambyses vein which is agreeable to the sunny Southern mind, and which, for a few pages, amuses the Northern reader, and forever thereafter pitilessly bores him. The interest is perhaps longest sustained by Mr.

Crawford, whose aberrations of mind, of morals, and of grammar are in the end less tedious than the fourth-rate sentimentality and sprightliness of Mr. Hunt, or the unsparingly eloquent patriotism of Mr. Ellis. Mr. Crawford tells us that for seven years before the opening of the war he was a clerk in the Treasury Department at Washington. When the Rebellion began, he resigned before the oath of allegiance could be offered him, and he exults somewhat that, though other Southern-minded clerks took the oath," their truculency [sic] did not save them." He went South, and got a place in the Confederate Treasury, where, if the pay was insecure, there could not have been a great deal of work; and later he joined Mosby's command. He is not a man capable of writing the history he attempts, and his book is not an intelligible narration of events. It is nothing, indeed, but a confused reminiscence of the forays of Mosby and his men,- -now upon helpless Union farmers, now upon small detached bodies of Federal troops, now upon

pigs and chickens. All events are alike important to Mr. Crawford, and he exults as much in a raid upon a farm-yard as in the capture of armed men. Whether the Mosby rangers fight or fly, they are, to his mind, equally valorous; and if ever they meet with a gallant foe, it is but to display a more heroic courage. The book is illustrated with the portraits of some of the eminent men celebrated, which form a rogues' gallery of such frightfulness that the reader instinctively buttons his pocket and looks to the fastenings of his window-shutters. These pictures have the characteristics of faithful likenesses.

Mr. Hunt is a writer of more intelligence than Mr. Crawford, but of nearly the same moral obliquity. Some small remorse he does feel now and then at the spectacle of burning whale-ships and merchantmen; but then remorse is a luxury in which the predatory frequently indulge themselves without the least interruption of their accustomed pursuits; and Mr. Hunt appears to throw in his expressions of regret as much for the sake of the poor literary effects he admires as from any real feeling. He has no doubt that the career of the Shenandoah, whose crew never brought her within view of an armed foe, and only used her as a means to steal chronometers and set defenceless vessels on fire, was a noble career; and he is quite unconscious what a pitiless comment on the whole shameful farce it is, that the commander of the Shenandoah should at last run away with her officers' money.

We regret these histories of Mosby and of the Shenandoah, because we think them calculated to do great mischief. They will go into the hands of a generation at the South which ought to be taught, if not repentance for the late Rebellion, at least a sense of what was truly heroic in the Southern people during the war,-their courage in the face of danger, their stubborn endurance, their devotion. There can be no hope for the South until it is ashamed of the cruelty, the rapacity, and the bravado which such books applaud.

We suspect that Mr. Ellis, the Union Guide of East Tennessee, did not himself write the story of his thrilling adventures, though it is told in his name. There is much in its general literary character which might lead us to attribute it to the historian of "Mosby and his Men," if the political tenor of the book did not so loudly forbid the supposition. If Mr. Ellis really wrote

it, and if his conversation in the private circles of refugee life at all resembled its style, we can only wonder that any fugitives under his charge ever came into our lines alive.

President Reed of Pennsylvania. A Reply to Mr. George Bancroft and others. February, A. D. 1867. Philadelphia: Howard Challen; John Campbell.

IT is well known to the students of American history that during the political contests which arose from the adoption by Pennsylvania of a new constitution the character of President Reed was bitterly assailed. Foremost among the assailants was his former friend, General Cadwallader, who in an elaborate pamphlet accused him of an intention to desert the cause of his country in the critical December of 1776. In 1842 a new attack was made upon the memory of President Reed for the purpose of injuring his grandson, William B. Reed This attack was made in the form of letters communicated under the signature of Valley Forge to "The Evening Journal" of Philadelphia, and bearing the names of General Smith of Baltimore, General Wayne, and Sergeant Andrew Kemp. Those letters, although proved to be forgeries, were republished in 1848 and 1856. The last edition contains a reprint of the Cadwallader pamphlet. Mr. John C. Hamilton, in his "History of the Republic of the United States," revives the accusations of the pamphlet, and Mr. Bancroft, in his recent volume, adds new accusations based upon a passage in the manuscript Diary of Count Donop. It is to meet these accusations that the pamphlet before us was written.

In this defence of his grandfather, Mr. William B. Reed enters into an elaborate examination of the Cadwallader pamphlet, relying in part upon the opinions of Washington and Greene, but chiefly upon evidence drawn from letters written by Cadwallader in 1776-77, which, contradicting the statements of his pamphlet, show that his memory had misled him upon some important points to such a degree as to raise grave doubts of the propriety of accepting it upon any; and also upon an affidavit of John Bayard, in which he expressly denies the opinions and statements attributed to him in the pamphlets. The answer seems to us complete.

The remainder of the reply is devoted to Mr. Bancroft. We shall not attempt an analysis of this part of Mr. Reed's publication, for we trust that every student of our Revolutionary history will read it for himself; but we will give below Mr. Bancroft's assertions, and the authority upon which he bases them. The Italics in the extracts from Mr. Bancroft show the passages which he prints with marks of quotation, as if taken from Reed's letters.

The reader will remember that in the summer of 1776 a question arose as to the powers of Lord and General Howe to treat with the Americans, and the propriety of endeavoring to ascertain the nature of the propositions the English government had authorized these commissioners to make.

Bancroft, p. 40.

"Reed, who was already thoroughly sick of the contest, thought the overture ought not to be rejected,' and through Robert Morris, he offered 'most cheerfully to take such a part as his situation and abilities would admit."

Reed's Letter.

"If it [Howe's communication] can be improved in any respect, either to gain time, or discover the true powers these commissioners have, or in any other way, I shall most cheerfully take such a part as my situation and abilities will admit, and as may be directed. . . . . The Declaration of Independence is a new and very strong objection to entering into any negotiation inconsistent with that idea. But I fancy there are numbers, and some of them firm in the interests of America, who would think an overture ought not to be rejected, and if it could be improved into a negotiation which could secure the two points mentioned above, would think the blood and treasure well spent. . . . . I have no idea, from anything I have seen or can learn, that, if we should give the General and Admiral a full and fair hearing, the proposition would amount to anything short of unconditional submission, but it may be worth considering whether, that once known, and all prospect of securing American liberty in that way being closed, it would not have a happy effect to unite us into one chosen band, resolved to be free or perish in the attempt."

It is from these passages that Mr. Bancroft has drawn the conclusion that Reed was "thoroughly sick of the contest," and

"offered most cheerfully to take such a part [in the negotiation] as his situation and abilities would admit." By what means he has arrived at such a conclusion it might be indecorous to say. We pass to the Diary, premising that the part which we have Italicized has not been printed by Mr. Bancroft.

Bancroft, p. 229.

"The Donop Diary, which is remarkably precise, full, and accurate, alludes to Colonel Reed as having actually obtained a protection. This statement, though made incidentally, is positive and unqualified.”

Donop's Diary.

"The reports about the enemy were so confused that he would not listen any more to them." (It is apparently an aid or secretary who writes.) "Nevertheless he would report that it was reported to him that, during his stay at Mount Holly on the 19th inst., 1,000 men via Haddonfield, and 700 via Morristown, had been marching against Mount Holly, for the purpose of attacking the two battalions at the Black Horse; [that] General Mifflin had advanced with one corps on the route leading to Morristown to the bridge three miles from Mount Holly, but had done nothing except to destroy the bridge entirely; [that] Colonel Reed, having received a protection, had come to meet General Mifflin, and had declared that he did not intend any longer to serve; whereupon Mifflin is said to have treated him very harshly, and even to have called him a damned rascal."

If the reader will bear in mind that none of the movements said in this report to have taken place on the 19th, 20th, and 21st of December did take place, he will scarcely doubt that Count Donop was right in saying, that "the reports about the enemy were so confused that he would not listen any more to them." By what process Mr. Bancroft has disentangled the web, and discovered that, at the point in which Reed comes upon the scene, the confusion becomes order, and the untrustworthy trustworthy, we shall not attempt to say.

We might extend our examination, and give even stronger proofs than these of the singular latitude which Mr. Bancroft assumes in the use of historical documents. But this subject has already been brought before the public in the pamphlet in defence of General Greene, and in Mr. Amory's de

fence of General Sullivan. It is not by garbled extracts or contemptuous denial, that writings, based as these are upon documents of unquestionable authenticity, are to be met. If Mr. Bancroft's ninth volume is to stand as the true history of the decisive period of our Revolutionary struggle which it covers, he must give document for document, and proof for proof, for every point which has been called in question by each and all of the adversaries whom his undocumented assertions have raised up against him.

The clearness, precision, and good taste of Mr. Reed's pamphlet will commend it to the confidence of the reader. We are glad, too, to bear our testimony to the self-control with which he has spoken of his opponent. It is no easy task to give calm expression to warm feelings, or defend the sacred memory of an ancestor against charges of treason, without using harsh language. Mr. Reed has not used it.

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AMERICANS are usually supposed to live in the present and the future, and to discard the past as a worn-out garment. But if the tide sets this way, there is nevertheless a strong undertow, which, from whatever cause it proceeds, is a phenomenon very marked and noteworthy. No people are more addicted than Americans to rummaging among genealogies, and tracing out the sources of surnames, as a very copious literature to be found on the shelves of historical and genealogical societies can attest. Moreover, a very large proportion of what little the country has achieved in literature belongs to the department of history. We have a profusion of histories of all kinds, good, bad, and indifferent, and "historical collections" without number, many of them hasty, crude, and superficial, and some, too, evincing the most thorough accuracy.

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The work which furnishes the text of these remarks is a most scholarlike and admirable example of a species of investigation which lies at the base of all accurate and trustworthy history. Its subject is a

discoverer who holds a conspicuous place in the early annals of this continent, but whose life has nevertheless been wrapped in an almost impenetrable obscurity. We hold it to be a duty, when so much that is trivial, crude, and superficial is daily thrust before the public, often, too, in an imposing garb of elegant typography, to call attention to a volume embodying the results of a genuine research concentrated on an object truly historic, and producing results of a real interest and value.

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Those not versed in the secrets of surnames will be surprised at the derivation of Hudson's name, thus: "Many persons called Roger and Rogerous occur as tenants in Domesday. From it are formed Rogers, Rodgers, Rogerson, etc., and from its nickname, Hodge, we get Hodges, Hodgson, Hodgkin, Hotchkin, Hotchkins, Hotchkiss, Hodgkinson, Hockins, Hodson, Hudson. The Norman patronymical form is Fitz-Roger, and the Welsh Ap-Roger, now Prodger."

Mr. Read traces the descent of the navigator Henry Hudson from the eminent merchant of the same name who was the founder of the Muscovy Company, and one of the leading spirits in that course of mercantile adventure which, in the sixteenth century, resulted in discoveries so glorious to the British name. It was the effort to retrieve the waning commerce of England by finding a Northwestern or Northeastern passage to the riches of India, and by opening a trade with the then barbarous empire of Russia, that gave the first impulse to the vast maritime growth of England. With these schemes are connected the names of Willoughby, Davis, the Cabots, Frobisher, the elder Hudson, and at a later periodhis more famous descendant. Among those who invested their property largely in these bold schemes of commercial enterprise appear the principal nobility of the kingdom, assuming for the nonce the character of merchants, and setting at naught the feudal prejudice which held trade derogatory to the character of their order.

The most interesting part of the book is that which relates to the voyage of Hudson in the service of the Dutch East India Company, but we have no space to dwell upon it.

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