not only cannot repress our disgust, but are unwilling to withhold the expression of it.

There was something generoussomething truly noble-in the reception bestowed on this yourg man by the American people, even though it may not have been free from a few of those small touches of the ridiculous in exaggeration, which are often apt to attend the impetuous impulses of a high and warm-hearted generosity. It was a splendid national tribute of gratitude, love, and honor, to genius-genius humble in station, and wholly insignificant in respect to every accessary calculated to add distinction to the person of its possessor. It was because it appeared to be united to a good and genial heart, full of kindly sympathy for the victims of every form of social oppression, and to direct itself, at once bravely and beautifully, towards the aim of their rescue and redress. It proceeded from a spirit not less creditable to those manifesting it, than to the individual its object. A prince happened to land on our shores at nearly the same time, the son of the powerful monarch of a nation with which we have peculiar historical sympathies, and towards which the lowering aspect of our foreign affairs at that time naturally disposed us to turn with a more than usual degree of friendliness, and yet his reception served for little else than a foil to that of the youthful and humble novelist. The pen behind the ear far eclipsed the possible future crown upon the brow. Nay, if all the reigning monarchs in Christendom and out of it, had come in a body, though they might have been stared at a little as a novel genus of menagerie animals, ninety-nine hundredths of the popular throngs that did honor to his ovation would have turned from them all with the coldest indifference to the spectacle, to obtain a sight, and, if possible, a friendly grasp of the hand, of the poor scribbler. His reception was a thing unprecedented, and was an honor a thousand-fold higher than he had ever experienced before, or is ever likely to know again. Independent of the obligations of courteous respect and kindness due always from a gentleman to those from whom he has received, and professed to take pleasure in receiving, a profuse and cordial hospitality, it created moreover an

obligation of gratitude which ought to have been not less warm and affectionate than profound-and which could not have failed to be so in the breast of any but one immeasurably unworthy of it. Had he not been,-in spite of all the indirect professions of his writings,— a man of thoroughly mean and sordid heart, he would never have been able, to the last day of his life, to hear the name of America without a quickened throb in it; he would have cut off his unworthy hand before he would have suffered it to write a syllable of abuse against it, or its hospitable and generous people. Whatever others might have an unchallenged right to do, he at least was bound to respect that which gratitude made sacred to him. Even fair and legitimate subjects of rebuke or ridicule which America might have afforded, ought rather to have been left for other pens to do justice to. The world is wide enough, and he should have looked elsewhere for the materials for even a fair and legitimate indulgence of his Cruikshank faculty of caricature. Such a course would at least have been a more graceful one on his part, even if we concede him to have been under no actual obligation of duty or decency to pursue it. But when we see him actually going far beyond this, and, gratuitously creating occasion for it, rioting in invention-invention the most preposterous-to cast odium and ridicule upon this country,—the whole marked, too, with a spiteful and malignant character, and national, not individual, in its application,—it is thoroughly vile.

The sordid nature of his evident motives gives the last shade which might else have been wanting to its completeness. The original provocation left rankling in his heart was his disappointment in the money-making speculation of his visit, because Congress would not be carried by storm, to make a sudden change for his benefit, in a law of great and pervading public concern, no adequate reasons being exhibited to it of either morality or policy. The more immediate motive was of a still meaner character. The public were getting tired of his one string. He had himself well-nigh worn it through. His writings, charmingly as they amused and entertained on the first reading, in the lengthened suspense of pleasure of the serial mode of publica

tion, are not one of those commodities that are "warranted to keep one year." If their popularity was such that the question could be asked, Who did not read them a first time? its ephemeral character is equally proved by the next question, to which an answer would be long waited for in vain, Who ever did read them a second? His notes are like those of the Bank of Englandthey are never issued twice. After the exhaustion of the first demand, Dickens's copyrights cannot be worth much; even if he retained the ownership of them, they could not yield him more than a very trifling income. The revolution in his mode of life, caused by so sudden an influx of money and popularity, could only be sustained by the continuance of the same supplies through the periodical coinage of his brain. But this source must have already for a considerable time begun to run thin and poor. Barnaby Rudge added little to its author's fame-it probably added not much more to its publisher's purse. From the returns of sales of the earlier numbers of Martin Chuzzlewit, he must have received a fearful warning of the mutability of human affairs. And if the public would not buy it, it was for the best and simplest of reasons, because it was not worth it; the general dulness of the book being only relieved either by poorly hashed repetitions of his former writings, or by characters so nauseous, that where they do not make us sleep, they turn our stomach. Abuse of America would rally his market; and the more bitter and biting, the better for

this effect.

However, he must have been, in his own secret heart, ashamed of himself in the act; and hence, partially, the stupidity of his performance of it. His pictures of New York life and character are not even caricatures, being equally destitute of humor, and of that basis of likeness essential to caricature. It is a pity that his own public cannot appreciate the utter worthlessness of the stuff with which they are imposed upon, under the sanction of a popularity

which seems destined to fade as fast as it was made.

But enough of Dickens-and we are heartily sorry to have ever had to write thus much of one of whom we once delighted to think and to feel so far otherwise. His case is not one of

those common ones of abusive English travellers in America, which it is fittest to treat with silent contempt. A just indignation, partaking of that sorrowful disappointment always awakened by very bad ingratitude, so far mingles with the contempt which he deserves better than any of them, as to make its expression both natural and proper. But even less space than we have given the subject would have sufficed for its claims-and so, again, enough of him. We will glance again over a few of the passages which our pencil paused to mark, in that skimming flight over the surface of the volume before us, which befitted its own light and skimming character.

The "lady" author-(who, by the way, we are ready to swear never wore a petticoat, unless in masquerade)

while on the whole liberal and fair, makes occasionally some clever hits, well put; witness the following:

"Miss Julia

perhaps expresses surprise that I talk of ignorance among the English-attend, ma belle. It is not long ago that an adventurer, named Thom, was regarded by numbers, in Kent, as an inspired prophet-in Kent, a county adjoining London, while its capital (Canterbury,) gives a title to the arch-episcopal head of the Church of England; and even when there was bloodshed in the capture of this impostor, and he was slain, numbers believed he would come to life again! On the borders of Wales, near Newport, two or three years back was a formidable insurrection; the misguided Welshmen showing the most deplorable ignorance, and a reckless readiness for any deed of violence. Charlatans flourish more in England than in all the world beside. London, one of the poets calls

The needy villain's common home; The sink and sewer of Paris and of Rome.]

The really learned are often incommunicative, while pretending braggarts pass off their brawling shallowness for the deep words of wisdom: and sympathizing the orator, because they understand him; hearers hail a kindred spirit, and applaud he speaks down to common, very common capacity, and they feel he must be, right, for they think so too. Believe me, there is a fearful mass of ignorance in the land, and masses of ignorance often are, and may be easily, kneaded into crim.inality. The people, the rich people, see or care nothing for what is passing around

them, they either look over it, and regard (publicly) the wants of foreign lands, or look on with no more special wonder than Shakspeare's summer's cloud commanded; but even a summer's cloud may be fraught with storm and thunder.

"Off the western coast of Ireland-I read this in a work of high authorityare a very great many islands, and the inhabitants are pronounced as rude and are apparently as little cared for as they were centuries ago-how disinterested, then, all these things considered, how self-denying in the British to send out teachers or missionaries, call them what you will, to Tahiti, to New Zealand, to the banks of the Niger! The Thames, and the Severn, and the Mersey, and the Ouse, and the other rivulets, flow through a land so overflowing with wealth, wisdom, and enlightenment, that it can afford to waft its superfluous knowledge and riches to the distant Niger. Am I deceived, dear Julia, in my irony-is this so? May it not be, rather, that pious, and wise, and prosperous are all the children of famed Great Britain; the voice of wailing and poverty is heard no longer in her crowded streets; the school has superseded the prison; the workhouse and the treadmill are among things that were -superfluous judges travel to uncriminal assizes. The soldiers' bayonets are broken to form steel pens; diseases are as rare as the vices that once engendered them; and this blessed consummation attained, is it not the duty of the high and wealthy to inform the African, to regenerate the Chinese, and show their love and admiration for the pious, virtuous, contented, informed, and grateful people at home, by striving to render distant regions as felicitous?"

cession with some friends from a balcony in St. James's-street. We have sometimes thought, in New-York, that the accounts we heard of Great Britain's wealth might be exaggerated; they now appear to me under the reality. Hour after hour rolled by, and still rolled the carriages. A very few hackney vehicles were in the line, and the crowd seemed inclined to laugh at them as misplaced; and I remarked that the windows were generally up, as if they who proceeded to their queen's presence at so much a mile, or an hour, did not court the garish eye of day. We could see into most of the carriages: the ladies were beautiful, and the dresses as far as we could observe, elegant and French, ostrich feathers were worn, the most stately of head-dresses; jewels blazed as if the English magnates had a monopoly in diamonds, as some of the Indian Maharajahs used to have. The gentlemen wore court-suits, a bag-wig, sword, and knee-buckles being the chief variation from their ordinary costume; great numbers were in their professional garbs, and in naval or military uniforms, blue, red, and green; this diversity of dress must render the scene much more picturesque.

"It is said a Persian declared that the finest gentlemen in London were those who rode behind carriages; but it is finery run mad; such colours, such gildings and fringes about them, besides long canes and powdered heads; hair-powder now is hardly worn at all, except by livery-servants; perhaps some leader of ton may bring it up again, if he finds himself becoming prematurely gray; I wonder if hair-powder was the fashion in Thomson's day? I think it must, or what means the epithet I have marked?

"While, a gay insect in his summer shine,

"Certainly it was a gorgeous sight, and in England only could it be seen; what lines of carriages along the streets-what silver plate about the horses, and gold lace about the footmen-the coachmen with new wigs, and the policemen in their best uniforms-the crowd was in high good humour-it pleased the queen to hold a drawing-room-the morning smiled, and all the world was gay-I saw the pro

"Nearly all the footmen were tall and young, and seemed well qualified to do nothing with admirable grace. A great many of the carriages, with their occupants, were known to Lieut. F., who was of our party. That's my Lord what fine grays! he's worth £70,000 a year, and saves more than half of it. And - ! he s worth £20,000, there's Sir John (pounds, mind, and annually); and the next is Mr. -, the member for his election, they say, cost him £4,000,' and so on. Lieut. F., I was told afterward, is "a tuft-hunter,' a pursuer of the great, who are not so easily caught, men say:

"Where'er their lordships go, they never find, Or Lico, or their shadows, lag behind.

(I think it's Burke), 'every day for three weeks, and at the three weeks' end you will regard it as truth.' The English supply continual proofs that Burke spoke truth. One hears of men declaring that they will support the Church with heart, head, and hand; perhaps they keep their words, but it is often found that all three are empty."

We would quote the spirited and just remarks of our fair (?) author on the subject of "repudiation," if our space permitted it. We Americans have submitted long and patiently enough to the abuse which has been heaped upon us on the text of this unlucky word. We will take leave, moreover, to say that some of our representatives abroad, in their communications with parties who have addressed them on this subject, have, in our opinion, carried this same humble patience a little further than was absolutely necessary. They may have tolerably well indeed illustrated the precept which commands, when reviled to revile not again; but whether they have exactly maintained the tone naturally appropriate to a sensitive and spirited pride of patriotism, whether they have repelled as might, could, and should have been done, the gross insults to themselves and their country very thinly covered over in those communications with phrases of official decorum,-may well admit of question. A recent occurrence in private life might suggest a useful hint to these public functionaries,-when a young American lady found herself the

object of treatment positively ill-tempered and ill-mannered in the house of an eminent literary celebrity in England, who had suffered somewhat in some of our stocks, and who saw proper to vent his resentment by making the chief theme of his discourse abuse of his visiter's country; until the patience of the latter (herself one of the finest representatives of American womanhood that ever left our shores,) was exhausted, and as she rose to depart, she did not fail to make a reply much more spirited and manly than that of her nation's public representative in the same country. The truth is that England has herself been a far more dishonest repudiator of public debt and public faith than would be any of the American States, even if the temporary inability of some of them (consequent on the state of collapsed exhaustion into which they have been thrown by the operation of a system of which England is the chief impelling and managing force,) were a permanent and wilful repudiation of just debt. The difference between the two countries is that every cent of the American debt will most certainly be paid, while no one entertains the preposterous dream that that of England will ever be paid,

or that the day is very far distant when her people will (most rightfully) " repudiate" also the annual burthen of its interest. However, to this subject we will take an early opportunity to do a fuller justice than is now permitted by either our space or time.