mon

have disappeared; a few Indians may linger in the passes of the mountains; but the intervening prairies will swarm with the Anglo-American tribes, and be dotted all over with the beautiful homes of civilization. Railroads and highways of all sorts will have bound the Atlantic and Pacific shores together with bands not to be broken; a trip from Boston to Astoria will be no more thought of than was a journey from Boston to Cincinnati forty or fifty years ago; and the Pacific ocean will groan under the commerce which shall then spread its sails between the Old and New Worlds. Now suppose this new world, thus peopled, to be existing under one government; cemented together by identical institutions, language, customs; by the recollections of a common origin, a common history, sufferings and triumphs in common; by comm interests and a reciprocal free commerce; then no military establishment would be required larger than the United States have now; there would be a patriotism with no bounds but two oceans; peace, perpetual over one quarter of the globe; a civilization, harmonious in its sympathies and interests, unexampled in its development, enduring as the world itself. If this continent can be settled gradually, peacefully, honorably by the Anglo-American People; if it can be brought under one government; if the Federal Union, like the Bow of Promise, can span this immense aggregate of sea and river, wilderness and prairie, valley and mountain, in one embrace, who will not rejoice? Is such a prospect visionary? It is not; the dream may yet have a real ty. This is indeed no uncertain prophecy. Prophecy, even the wildest, has always done us injustice, and lagged behind the actual fulfilment. Long live REPUBLICAN AMERICA!

THE ADOPTED SON: A HISTORICAL NOVEL. By J. VAN LENNEP, LL. D. Translated from the Dutch by E. W. HOSKIN. In two volumes. pp. 458. New-York: BURGESS, STRINGER AND COMPANY.

The fact that a good portion of the present space appropriated to the reviewdepartment of the KNICKERBOCKER is occupied by notices which were in type for our last number, must constitute our apology for not noticing more at large the volumes before us. The Adopted Son' should be read by every true KNICKERBOCKER, if for no other reason than is en braced in the circumstance that it is the first novel that has ever been translated from the legitimate Dutch vernacular in the United States. Mr. HOSKIN, the capable translator, informs us, in a brief introduction, that the translation was completed six years ago, at which time he had no intention of publishing it; but reading it over recently, in his own domestic circle, the interest which it excited led him to consent to its publication. We have had leisure to glance but hastily through the volume; yet we are led to think, rather from the descriptive than the dialogue portions of the work, that the impressions of the domestic circle' referred to by the translator will be confirmed by the public. The language throughout seems to have been studiously preserved in its original simplicity; and there is a great uniformity of characteristic keeping' in the gradual development of each of the dramatis persone. We had one or two illustrative passages marked for insertion, but must defer them till a more convenient season.' In the mean time we commend a perusal of the work to all faithful KNICKERBOCKERS, and to our readers generally. It is well executed in its externals, and is dedicated, in a few well-chosen sentences, to His Grace the Duke of WELLINGTON.

GEOGRAPHICAL DESCRIPTION OF THE KINGDOM OF POETRY. - We are indebted to a friend for the following amusing description of "The Kingdom of Poetry.' It was written for The Rambler,' a small, thin periodical, about the size of a little book,' which sported its brief existence in this metropolis nearly forty years ago. There is a good deal of pleasant and forcible satire embraced in the survey' which ensues: Poetry is bounded on the east by Eloquence, on the south by Painting and Sculpture ; on the west by Music; and its northern shores are washed by the ocean of Erudition. It is divided, like other countries, into high and low lands. The higher poetry is inhabited by grave self-important personages, whose language, compared with that of the other provinces, is like the Spanish compared with the French. They are generally heroes by profession; and cutting an armed giant in twain from head to foot is but a trifle in their estimation. As to their women, the sun itself is not to be compared with the ugliest of them. Their horses are more fleet than the wind, and the trees of their country disdain to wave their heads lower than the clouds. The capital of the province is called Epic Poetry. It is built on a sandy and barren soil, which few have attempted to cultivate. This city is said to be far more vast than the ancient Nineveh. Whether it be so or not, it is a fact that those travellers who have attempted to explore every part of it complained mightily of being fatigued. The inhabitants of this upper country, as well as those of the whole kingdom, are not very scrupulous about the veracity of whatever they advance. They entertain strangers with tales of fancy, which they relate with a very serious air, and in a manner tolerably interesting. They are particularly careful to conduct the curious to the antique mausoleum of HOMER, to the tomb of VIRGIL, and to the more modern monument erected to the memory of TELEMACIUS. The most disagreeable occurrences in this city are the disputes, challenges, combats and massacres which we encounter at every step; but the gloominess which such scenes naturally inspire are soon dissipated on our arrival at the Roman suburbs. These exceed the city itself in length; and the people residing in them are handsomer and more accomplished. They have all been great travellers and are all impassioned lovers. They are ever running at the ring of pleasure; festivals occupy the chief part of their attention; and a stranger is never suffered to leave them till he has assisted at five or six of their most splendid marriage ceremonies.

From the extremes of these suburbs are discovered immense shelvy mountains, surrounded on all sides with precipices. Among these are situated Tragedy, an extra

ordinary country, where we particular remark the ruins of a few cities still beautiful amid their devastation. On approaching them the mind is seized with the profoundest melancholy. The inhabitants here are so habitually cruel, that even the women clap their hands with approbation at the sight of a miserable being in the act of stabbing or poisoning himself. Not far distant from the ruins, in a charming situation, rises the fair city of Comedy. A natural taste for painting is generally infused among its inhabitants; but it is a pity that they often make use of this talent to represent dangerous objects under a seducing appearance. Each one here amuses himself with the little foibles of his neighbors, without caring who laughs in return; and this forms the chief pleasure of their societies. The city is divided into five parts; at the entrance of each is placed a band of musicians, and sometimes a group of dancers, to welcome the stranger. It is defended by a citadel, which, in the language of the country, is called a Bologne; and here visitors are stopped, to be informed of the beauties of the place, and to be desired to conduct themselves with proper decorum during their stay in it. These precautions are taken to guard against the Critics, a cunning and evil-minded nation, eternally at war with the kingdom of Poetry. On the declivity of a little hill is seen another city, called Tragi-Comedy, where the inhabitants laugh with one side of the face and cry with the other. Although they are much liked by some, they never retain the affections of strangers for any length of time.

The higher and lower poetry are separated by the immense solitary retreats of Good Sense, where the eye never reposes on a town or hamlet, and meets nothing but humble cottages scattered on the plain. It is, notwithstanding, the finest soil in the kingdom; producing in abundance all the delicacies of life. The want of population in this part arises from the narrowness of the roads and the difficulty of obtaining proper guides. Beside these obstacles, this province is nearly surrounded with the country of False Wit, whose inhabitants are either amusing themselves in the pursuit of pretty nothingnesses and dazzling chimeras, or repose at their ease in the lap of voluptuousness; so that few of them take the trouble of visiting the neighboring solitudes. The capital of this dangerous country is called Elegy; it is encompassed with caves and purling rills, and rocks and woods, where the solitary inhabitants are ever on foot, with arms folded and eyes bent downward, imploring the inanimate objects around them to be the faithful confidants of their grief; which the rocks and purling rills are of course careful not to betray.

"The kingdom of Poetry is watered by two rivers: Rhyme and Reason. The latter is confined to the retreats of Good Sense; and hence we may account for its being so little frequented. The former rises from the foot of mount Reverie; and a vast number of travellers are attracted by a magnificent abode, built on its banks, distinguished by the name of Frivolity. The province we have above described is bounded on one side by the vast forest of Stupidity; the trees of which grow so close together, and are so rankly interwoven one with the other, that the rays of the sun can never penetrate it. It is so ancient, that passengers make it a point of religion to touch one of the branches. On its confines we meet with Imitation, a province of immense extent, and totally unfruitful: its inhabitants are extremely poor, and make a livelihood by gleaning in the neighboring fields; and that without the least acknowledgment to the proprietors. The kingdom of Poetry is extremely cold at the northern extremity, where the inhabitants are of small growth, pedantic and affected, to such a point that if you attend to them they will speak nothing but Latin, and con23

VOL. XXIX.

verse an hour at least on the turning of a particular phrase or the force of a particular point. In this part of the kingdom we also find the little towns of Anagram, Acrostic, Charade, and many others of like note. It is worthy of remark that in these towns the inhabitants scarce ever arrive at the years of manhood. Beyond this place is the ocean we have before spoken of. At a small distance from the shore we discover the island of Satire, dependent on the kingdom of Poetry. The sea by which this island is encompassed abounds in a salt of an extremely acrid and pungent flavor; and it is probably from this cause that the islanders here are afflicted with bilious complaints, and become morose and ill-natured. One of their towns however is an exception to this character. At the time the island was under the dominion of the Romans, this city was governed by one Juvenal, who left behind him a taste for true wit and beauty that is not yet entirely lost. I might also add a description of the peninsula of Epigram, which is terminated in a very sharp point, where it was once intended to erect a castle, to intercept all Sonnets, Madrigals and Songs that should approach the shore. But on reflection, the few that could possibly arrive were not deemed of sufficient importance, and the project was dropped.'

BATTLE OF THE WINES. We have received from a new correspondent the following amusing paper. It is a translation from a French manuscript of BRABAZAN, written in the thirteenth century, and possesses much interest as giving a curious list of the wines used at that early period. Some names, it would seem, have survived the lapse of the half-a-dozen succeeding centuries, and still remain to us in all the freshness of their ancient reputation. In translating this old French, our correspondent has evidently attempted to preserve, so far as might be consistent with 'keeping the English upon its legs,' the simplicity of expression and bareness of style in the original, as illustrating this characteristic in all early literature:

KING PHILIP, le Gentil,' was a dear lover of good wine. He called it the friend of man, and as often as occasion presented itself, failed not himself to cultivate the friendship. But as he was unwilling to be prodigal of his own wine, and as in all things we ought to be provident and judicious, he undertook one day to make choice of a kind most suited to his liking, and accordingly sent over the whole world to find the best that was offered by the most celebrated vineyards. They all sued eagerly for the honor of satisfying the thirst of the monarch. Each sent a delegation to represent its merits, and daily would you see wines of the most exquisite flavor arriving at PHILIP's table from the different countries of the earth.

There chanced to be at the court about this time an English priest, the KING'S chaplain, who, with the holy stole about his neck, took upon himself the office of examining the wines before they were served up to the royal board. BEAUVAIS, ETAMPES and CHALONS first presented themselves; but hardly had the good man laid eyes upon them, when horror took possession of his soul; and straightway pronouncing sentence of excommunication, he drave them from the room, and interdicted their ever again entering into the presence of honest folk. This severe rebuke made so great an impression on MANTZ and TOURS, that turning away with fright, they made out to save their reputations by not daring to await the ordeal. The same was the case with ARGENCE, RHENISH and CHAMBLI. A single look that the chaplain accidentally cast toward them was enough to create a rout. They betook them

selves to flight, and it was well they did so; had they remained any longer I cannot say what would have been their fate.

The hall having been somewhat cleared by the departure of this rabble, there remained only what was good; for the priest would not tolerate the presence of even the mediocrity. CLERMONT and BEAUVOISINS then made their appearance, and were received in a distinguished manner. Emboldened by this kind reception, CHAMPAGNE came forward with a confident air, and without so much as blushing, gave out that he was of more consequence than all his rivals; but PIERREFITTE, telling over a similar story of like presumption, pretends in his turn to deserve the preference; and in witness thereto calls upon his neighbors MARLY, MONTMORENCY and DEUIL. They, to prove his merit, alleged that he, in company with the wines of Moselle, had the honor of quenching the thirst of the Germans, from whom he received in return beautiful pieces of silver and gold. BURGUNDY attempted to outdo even this: he prided himself on supplying not merely Flanders, Normandy and Brittany, but England, Scotland, Ireland and Denmark too. In confirmation thereof he produced a quantity of English sterling money that he had brought back from his travels in those lands. And here ANDELI, BORDEAUX, SAINTES, ANGOULEME, and the excellent white wine of POITIERS, pressed forward all together to demand the honor of the sovereign's choice; but CHANI, MONTRICHARD, LAÇOIS, MONTMOURILLON, CHATEAUROUX and ISSOUDUN, stopping them half-way, maintained with warmth the glory of the wines of France. What!' said they, if you possess more strength than us, have not we, to make up for it, a briskness and delicacy of flavor that is wanting in you? —and we never hear the eyes and the head loading us with reproaches.' The other party hastened to reply, and a quarrel straightway began. Meanwhile their breaths, excited by the heat of the controversy, perfumed the whole apartment. A pretty tournament to look upon was this of these champions, drawn up in fierce array to do battle with each other for the prize of a king's preference! And there was no one, whether far or near, knight or serf, priest or layman, even were he lame or were he blind, but would willingly have come there to break a lance in the cause of his favorite ; and I engage that not one forsooth would have been anxious here to insist on merely the quarantain, (i. e., forty day's service.)

The KING, whose irresolution and embarrassment were only doubly increased by all these pretensions and contrary stories, declared that he would himself make trial of the several aspirants. This was the means of deciding the case in a manner sure and satisfactory to all parties. The chaplain imitated the KING, and tasted too; finding then for the first time that the wine was somewhat better than the beer of his own country, he threw a wax candle on the earth and excommunicated every drop of drink made in Flanders, England, and on the other side of the Oise. At each bumper that he quaffed, a strange exclamation broke from his lips: 'Ise goute!' In short, so thoroughly did he taste, that the servants had to carry him off on a bed, where he slept three days and three nights without opening his eyes.

At last KING PHILIP was able, by the help of his palate, to assign them their respective ranks. He named the CYPRUS wine Pope,' and AQUILAT 'Cardinal.' As for the French wines, he chose from among them three kings, five counts and

*THE spirit of the age will be noticed in this arrangement. The dignity of the POPE is expressive of the highest honor and merit, while the KINGS Occupy only the third rank in the author's scale.