And the descriptive character of the following is vivid :

66

Night among the mountains--oh, glorious and beautiful," arose the voice of the Wanderer, as with one bold grasp, he attained the topmost rock of the hoary steep, rising far above forest and stream. Night among the mountains, the calm moonbeams sleeping on the lake, the boundless azure arching above, the rolling sweep of forest, and the rugged outline of precipice and steep-the far-off convent, its towers looming through the distance, like a cloud of evil omen. Night among the mountains, glorious and grand, and beautiful."-Ladye Annabel, p. 94.

But we must proceed to the books on our list, and leave the "Ladye Annabel" with this comment :— That it is a book of various merits and faults, the plot well sustained in general, the incidents well dovetailed, though often crowded, the descriptions vivid, but too circumspectly detailed-often, indeed, distressingly minute. Yet, with all its faults, it is singularly meritorious as an effort of fancy, and the knowledge of passion and descriptions of character, as well as the legendary lore evinced, will be esteemed wonderful in so young a writer.

The next work under our notice, is the " Quaker City,* a book of some five hundred octavo pages, purporting to be a revelation of " Philadelphia Life, Mystery and Crime."

Up and down, with the most perplexing sinuosities, we seek to track this line of light, till we are tired of the chase, retracing, as we eternally do, our own steps. This is one of Mr. Lippard's obvious weaknesses, perhaps as much exemplified in this work as in any, that he involves his readers in a labarynthine repetition of words, phrases, sentiments, and descriptions. He seems the victim of a singular idiosyncracy, that confounds him into the production of tautological phenomena. We need scarcely speak of the prejudiced scurrilities, and childish ridicule of men and their manners, which mark the "Quaker City," as the author is well-known already to be a master of invective.

Yet, as we said before, there are thoughts, and halfseen glimpses of true and noble intellect, that will go far to redeem even this work from utter reprobation. We stumble upon them, and admire, yet grieve they should be obscured by surrounding dirt. Indeed, in perusing many passages of this book, we are continually reminded of the homely story of the COW, who gave a teeming pail of luscious milk, and then unceremoniously placed her hoof in the midst of it, dashing it poisoned to the earth.

Had our author, before he published a line, been a patient labourer in the classic vineyard-had he even habituated his mind to the earnest study of our great models he might have been more subdued, elegant and chaste, though perhaps not so original or forceful. But he was doubtless forced into the literary field by necessity, and necessity also shaped his works since we firmly believe the "Quaker City" was written but to sell.

This is one of those works which are sure of a rapid sale wherever there is a migratory or floating population. It appeals, in structure, plot, incident, and very often language, to the very lowest sympathies and tastes. Bearing upon its face the evidence that it is founded upon a well-known and heart-rending do- And the "Quaker City," we are informed, did sell; mestic tragedy, (which, however, in his preface, our and we venture to assert that every copy disposed of, author most strenuously denies,) and combining in its though it may have been a pecuniary profit, was a material, the worst traits, actions, and feelings, of the moral loss to the author. The extensive circulation outcast and criminal dregs of society, this book is ser- of a book like that, which (no matter what the author ved up to the public-a most delectable hash of hor-intended) did, de facto, appeal to a corrupt popular ror, superstition and ribaldry, equalled in point of variety and cookery, by nothing but the witch-kettle of Macbeth. From the significant cut upon the cover of a lachrymose individual navigating the Delaware in a coffin, to the welcome last page, we find it impossible, as a whole, to tolerate the book. Murder, incest, fraud, and superstition, are materials too horrible (in our opinion) even for a yellow covered romance. Yet the author of "Adrian the Neophite," could not wholly divest himself of his better garments. Gleaming out amid the lazzaroni-raiment of the "Quaker City," we behold at times a true first-water diamond. There are some fine thoughts even in this bad book, which

"Like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel,"

gleaming out at times, but hidden generally where the sympathetic virtuoso would never think of looking for it. There is a bright, though ever-deviating thread of silvery light winding every where through our author's conceptions. We catch glimpses of it while wallowing in a very slough of despond into which he has led us: we follow it, attempt to trace it, and the next moment plunge again to the mire, or tangled thicket, or vile bagnio of a prurient, morbid,

and unnatural taste.

taste, could have no effect but one, and that ruinous to the author's better reputation. It was not a work addressed to the intelligent or refined, nor one which, read by the mass, was calculated to instruct or refine them. But it was one which, to be sold, pre-supposed a morbid appetite or perverted taste, on the part of the buyer. The very cover and title page--with their characteristic ornaments--were evidence of what is here asserted.

But, thank heaven! the notoriety of the "Quaker City" was not true fame; for if so, we should have need indeed of the "school-master." It gratified the appetites of a hundred thousand readers, it is true, but few among them could, for the life of them, see the silver thread of light running through it. What were the beautiful thoughts or aspirations, or sublime imagery, that at times burst forth in its pages-what were these to readers of the "Quaker City ?" Why their scavenger fare; they gulped all, it is true, but they were pearls cast before swine, mixed up with they cared little about the pearls, we are sure.

The next work of our author's industry was Mr. L.'s imaginative mine, and dedicated to Henry "Blanche of Brandywine," revealing a new vein of Clay, who is said in the preface to be bound to the "heart" of the writer by "strong ties."

In spite of this dedication, however, which would *The Quaker City, or the Monks of Monk Hall, 2 vols. 8vo. probably be a fair illustration of "hero-worship," for Philadelphia, G. B. Žieber. 1845.

some American Carlyle to make the subject of a Quar

that the only fame worth possessing, is the enduring, culminating glory of him who achieves good.

terly article, and in spite of the Protean changes which the book has since undergone, in the shape of legends, dissected as occasion required, this Romance of the "Washington and his Generals" is a melange of Revolution, we are free to say, is a very entertaining various sketches, which have appeared in the mamwork, among the thousand ridiculous ones which this moth newspapers under the the title of "Legends.” terribly-martyred subject has provoked. As its title There was another work of the same name, written implies, it is presumed to be founded on the incidents by a Reverend Mr. Headley, which was published of that well-contested day, which beheld a barren vic- about the same time, and which the author of the tory perch upon British banners; and wherever the" Quaker City" contended was plagiarized from the battle itself is the theme of our author, we are bound, if only from our amor patrie, to be pleased with the imaginative novelist.

aforesaid "Legends." This gave rise to sundry letters of Mr. Lippard in a mammoth newspaper, which, however, were like the Dutch admiral's cannonnade of the desert island, unanswered, save by their own sonorous echoes. So, the question of plagiarism remains, like the inscription on Dighton Rock, a very abstruse subject.

And speaking of " inscriptions," our author seems to be exceedingly happy in these preludes to his subject; the dedication of the last-mentioned book being an extremely Horation tribute to a sort of newspaper Macaenas of Mr. Lippard. The immediate inducement to the formation of this collection of "curiosities

To be sure, he has made a mistake in having such stupendous death-scenes, and conflicts, and charges, and shocks of squadrons, in his description of the action of Chadd's Ford, 11th September, 1777. We say, he has made a mistake, inasmuch as if he should take to writing French romances, and have occasion to describle the battles of Austerlitz, Borodino, or Waterloo, he would find that he had prematurely expended all his thunder in that of Brandywine; for if we are to believe the book, the last-mentioned engagement was a perfect Titon battle, or one that of literature," appears to have been the fact that they could be matched only by that old affair before the had enjoyed a most broad-cast newspaper circulation gates of Illium, where gods mingled with men in single-which was doubtless construed by our young author's advisers to be a proof of his astonishing popularity.

combat.

But n'importe,--that is neither here nor there; we must review the work as a literary production. The plot, to begin, is a most_startling one-as wonderful almost as that of "the Ladye Annabel." We have disguised countesses fighting duels in the midst of the battle-noblemen and princes doing deeds worthy of Round Table Knights,-distressed demoiselles rescued at precisely the eleventh hour and fifty-ninth minute; and as many wonderful escapes, breakneck adventures, and surprising appearances and disappearances, as even fell to the lot of Don Galior, the puissant Amodis, Jack Shepperd, or the Fakir of Ava: and all these remarkable events happening in the very unpretending valley of Brandywine, where a few brave farmers clubbed muskets, and withstood to the death a host of hireling soldiers.

Now, we like romances to be romantic, and novels to possess novelty, and all that. But we are heartily tired of this eternal prate about princes, and noblemen, and blood-royal. In every mushroom book that springs up, we remark how mysterious male individuals usually turn out to be lords, and suspicious female characters elaborate into sangre-azul princesses. And we are so decidedly unromantic, as to believe that this does not reflect the utmost credit on a republican writer, nor have the best effect upon his readers' love of country.

And if the fact that Mr. Lippard's "Legend," etc. have circulated and been read, is a proof of their intrinsic worth, then is our author one of the greatest gewritten themselves down asses by inditing an opposite niuses of our day, and many judicious critics have opinion. But many things besides gold glisten very not certified that the arts are popular. Now, like brightly, and the popularity of "model artistes" has "model artistes," Mr. L's. legends took the public they related to the "times that tried men's souls ;"eye. They, in the first place, were patriotic, at least in the next place, they were interesting, because they historical facts; and lastly, they were short, and therewere well-sustained fictions blended with galvanized fore just fitted to be copied by country newspapers, just as a succinct account of a murder or riot, (with plenty of adjectives, to season it) would have been copied. But, as to their historical accuracy, their literary merit, or even grammatical correctness, the least said about them the better; and it requires a caoutchouc conscience to tolerate the aberrations of Mr. L's. historic muse, a lady of most uncommon looseness of character, who takes unbecoming liberties with the dead and living, coquetting with Fact in a way that shocks our notions of literary propriety.

Now in a purely fictious work, we care not how near the Munchausen an author approaches, since the Yet, in this" Blanche of Brandywine," there are antidote accompanies the dose, and renders it innoxeloquent passages, and glowing descriptions, which ious. But where a writer purports to deal in the acstamp the author as a man whose powers are a thou- tual, and to state things as they are or were, allowsand times greater than the pioneer-novelletists in whose wake he follows; and we are pained to see a mind which possesses original genius, descending to avail itself of such threadbare appliances as rant and fustian. It is not his vocation-no strong intellect should pander to false tastes. He should remember that a mountebank's popularity is evanescent, and

ing for embellishments, we certainly expect that he will at least not falsify history nor utterly demolish facts. Therefore we are sorry to say, that the author of "Legends of the Revolution" puts himself out of the pale of critical mercy by producing, from carelessness or ignorance, the historic abortions which are numberless throughout his writings.

(For a biographical sketch of Rev. Dr. Potts, the reader is referred to the March No. of the Magazine. The "Pulpit Portraits,? commence with that number of the volume, and persons wishing to secure the previous sketches of clergymen, can do so by subscribing and commencing with the March No.)

PULPIT PORTRAITS;

[Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1848, by CHARLES W. HOLDEN, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York.]

NO. IX.

REV. RALPH HOYT.
[ORIGINAL.]

were as lowly, in their youth, as the menials who others-that of one day becoming a minister of Diare now subject to their beck and call. These people, vine Truth! To a man of strict integrity, persenow swimming in the tide of prosperity, could not ex-verance, and firmness of purpose, there is no terror in plain if they would, the circumstances by which they surmounting every formidable difficulty in the hope emerged from the gloomy cavern of want and ob- of attaining a praiseworthy end. Dangers, that would scurity into the sunshine and the pleasant fields of appal the talentless or the wicked, appear insignificant plenty and notoriety. Forgetfulness is sometimes when opposed to the clever and determined seeker entailed upon the most vigorous memories. The after good. The probability of the realization of a Lethean draught can be swallowed, and often is; and scheme that to the great human family would appear although the fountain from which it is drawn is fabled, Utopian is ever apparent to the ambitious inventor, yet the waters are to be obtained from the well of and if it be worthy the hope of realization, that hope, every man's wishes. Some few there are who refuse although, perhaps, long deferred, is ever gratified. to employ the questionable advantages of this inherent With his eye ever fixed on the pulpit, our subject facility, of whom the Reverend Ralph Hoyt is one. continued to read and study through all the mutations He was born in the city of New York, in the year of his destiny. Yet he cannot properly rank under 1806, and is yet a comparatively young man. We the title of a self-educated man; for albeit, he achave known instances of men commencing life at his quired the major portion of his intellectual culture age, and retaining it long enough to enjoy all its while he followed humble occupations, and filled the moral pleasures, and also acquire reputation for some position of a common labourer, he was indebted to honourable and particular talent well excercised. Mr. friends for a deal of valuable instruction. His book Hoyt did not tarry, however, in the race for personal education finally reached the standard of usefulness advancement. His parents were natives of this soil, if not of excellence, and that, together with a knowand (as near as we can ascertain) did not possess an ledge of mankind rendered judicious by contingenoverplus of this world's goods. Our subject was cies and sorrows, afforded him an available degree of sent to school in both city and country, where he re- talent, which has always yielded him an abundant mained until he was fourteen years of age. Of harvest in the profession of his later years. course, the education he received up to this time was merely that of a common school. Necessity, or taste, or both combined, led him, at this epoch, to aid in the fulfilment of God's cause upon the race of Adam, and he was, by turns, embryo mechanic and an artist. The mechanical and artistical employments in which he then spent his time are computed, by one who knew him intimately, to have been "various." He laboured in a printing office a period of sufficient length to acquire the art of type-setting, and there are pages now extant which owe their metalic construction to his youthful industry. He was likewise a cabinet maker or carver, and bade fair, we are informed, to achieve the skill of a very excellent worker in wood. While busied in these pursuits he produced drawings which gave proof of the unquestionable fact that had he concentrated his ambition upon the re-man entirely dependent upon his daily exertions for a sults of the pencil, he would have emerged from the livelihood, determinedly fitting himself at the cost studio a finished limner. Long before he reached of hard and unremitting study, for one of the noblest the age of manhood he attempted to wield the pen positions human beings can occupy! of the poet, but with what success we have no power How little do we know what we may do until we try! to tell, as we have never met with any specimen by The lad who is taking down the shutters of a shop which to judge. In his nineteenth year he contracted each morning for a mere living pittance, can, if he matrimony. A clergyman of repute states that his have courage and moral honesty, soon place himself lady was "one of the youngest, fairest and best of all in a commanding situation, and exercise the gifts Eve's daughters," a superlative description, which which have devolved upon him from the Creator to probably is as correct as possible; for there is no in- his own advancement, and, what is of more imporfluence, for good or for evil, so permanent and search-tance, to that of his brethren. We have no right to ing in its effects, as that of woman. The course of sleep away our existence. The breath of life was life pursued by the Rev. Ralph Hoyt must convince all who become acquainted with it, that his character was moulded under the most benignant of influences. He is still blessed in the love of his first-chosen help

mate.

The vocations we have specified as having been followed by him, were speedily abandoned, one after another, until our subject found himself entirely destitute, and with no prospect of adopting any one of the avocations he had indulged in to the agreeable or speedy abrogation of his wants. Through every one of his strange vicissitudes he preserved one desire, which had ever been paramount in his heart to all

The Rev. Ralph Hoyt has travelled over interesting parts of the world, and his peregrinations have helped to store a mind naturally grasping and active with information of the most beneficial character. He was engaged in teaching during one portion of his eventful life, and contrived, with the emoluments of that unpleasant pursuit and the profits of his pen, (which pen he employed in the service of several of our best periodicals) to ensure the receipt of an enviable income. While thus engaged he devoted a goodly share of his hours to preparations in theology, and was steadily and surely accomplishing the earnest desire which so powerfully actuated him. Here we have an example of the benefits of perseverance, and an illustration of the homely but true saying of "Where there's a will there's a way." We see a

breathed into our nostrils for a higher and holier purpose than that of simple personal use. We should be up and doing for society. The meanest lot may be transmitted into the highest. The mendicant boy is permitted to act for himself, and despite the disadvantages dependent upon his fate, may spend the period of manhood in a sphere far different from that of his youth, if he be so inclined; and who among us has not experienced aspirations pointing far beyond those sanctioned by the rank to which we have, for the present, been assigned?

The church was the goal, to reach which Mr. Hoyt so manfully strove, and he finally gained it,-under

what particular auspices, or by whose chief aid after chosen are mostly rural. Sometimes, however, he his own, we are unable to say. Nor are we positive as neglects still, to discourse of the characteristics of to the exact period of his ordination as a deacon of animated life. He delights to paint the peaceful the Episcopal Church of England. Once within the landscape, and even in this he exposes his desire to pale of holy orders, he gradually advanced, step by perpetrate something in favour of moral utility. He step, with unfaltering nerve, in his chosen path,-was, does not choose to delineate the mere prettinesses of in proper course, made a Presbyter of the church, and scenery; he discourses of the farm-yard;-and the eventually was rewarded with a Rectorship. The concomitants of noble toil, honest independence and duties of this, his first Rectorship, he has fulfilled, up sweet contentment, he introduces, if not with a masto the present hour, to the satisfaction of a select and ter hand, at least with a simple and polished energy estimable congregation, and we trust the day may be that achieves all its author can desire. One of his far hence when he shall relinquish their performance. neatest poems is entitled " Old," and in this is comHis church is that of the "Good Shepherd," loca- prised a charming picture, such as must be truly apted on the corner of Market and Monroe streets.preciated by any that have a spark of genuine feeling The congregation, to whose members he is devotedly and understand the secret impulses of their own naattached, and who reciprocate his feelings of affection, ture. It portrays an old man visiting his native vilwas established by him in the Seventh Ward of New lage after a lapse of many years. He is observed York City about two years ago. sitting on a mossy stone" by a host of school-children, one of whom, pitying him for his forlorn appearance, addresses him. To her he gives the following

66

The Rev. Ralph Hoyt's piety is of the quality most acceptable, in the view we take of sacred affairs, to the great source from whence arises every endow-reply: ment of grace. It is simple, unaffected, and earnest. It is founded in a just appreciation of a recognised faith, and strengthened by a sincere reliance upon the promised rewards to be meted out hereafter to those who have earned a title to them. He is a vigorous thinker and a clear expounder, two essential qualifications for a labourer in the gospel vineyard. His manner is eminently adapted to the acquirement of friends and admirers, while his style is of that character, which betraying the integrity and generous trust of its author, carries conviction home to those who are in a position to experience and understand it. theological attainments of the Rev. Ralph Hoyt are by no means inconsiderable. They are solid and substantial rather than dazzling-adapted to practice more than to the fabrication or support of theory. He is consistent in his views, mild in argument; and we may safely say devoid of blemish in his professional attributes, as far as mortal man can reasonably hope to be.

The

Were all the apostles of the gospel as useful, and guided by motives as pure and praiseworthy as is our subject, the clerical cloth would never suffer a reproach through the lukewarmness or ultraism of any one of its disciples. As he expresses himself in one of his poems, (the best of his gestation) called THE WORLD SALES," so, we believe, he means:-

"The best of all I still have left,

My Faith, my Bible, and my God."

The Rev. Ralph Hoyt, as we stated in the initial part of this sketch, devotes much of his attention to elegant literary pursuits. Not that he expends any modicum of the minutes belonging to his divine office, in the performance of the work of a man of letters! None are more faithful to his flock than he. But he finds leisure to produce, now and then, a poem of undoubted merit. We are not positive that he gives attention to prose to any extent, although we have reason for supposing that moral essays without number have been presented to the religious community by him. His poetry, although it does not come up to the highest standard, is sufficiently meritorious to win for its author reputation of a desirable nature and compass. It is indicative of the man and his holy pursuits. It breathes "peace and good will" to all-is inculcative of the soundest morality, and is altogether possessed of a tendency that works the finest results. The subjects

"Angel, said he sadly, I am old;

Earthly hope no longer hath a morrow,
Yet why I sit here thou shalt be told,
Then his eye betrayed a pearl of sorrow,-
Down it rolled;

Angel, said he sadly, I am old!

"I have tottered here to look once more

On the pleasant scene where I delighted
In the careless, happy days of yore,
Ere the garden of my heart was blighted
To the core !

I have tottered here to look once more!

"All the picture now to me how dear!

E'en this grey old rock where I am seated,
Seems a jewel worth my journey here;
Ah, that such a scene must be completed
With a tear!

All the picture now to me how dear!

"Old stone School-house !-it is still the same!
There's the very step so oft I mounted;
There's the window creaking in its frame,
And the notches that I cut and counted
For the game;

Old stone School-house !-it is still the same!

"In the cottage, yonder, I was born;

Long my happy home-that humble dwelling; There the fields of clover, wheat, and corn, There the spring with limpid nectar swelling; Ah, forlorn!

In the cotlage, yonder, I was born.

"Those two gate-way sycamores you see,

Then were planted, just so far asunder
That long well-pole from the path to free,
And the wagon to pass safely under;
Ninety-three!

Those two gate-way sycamores you see.

Perhaps it may not be in strict keeping with our subject to introduce poetry here, but the above, as we have faintly and hurriedly attempted to show, is typical of the man and the divine, and being so, has its value here. Beside, it is intrinsically valuable, and will be read for the pleasure it would afford, apart from an accompaniment, to the reader. Among other poems of this Rev. gentleman's are "NEW," 66 THE BLACKSMITH'S NIGHT," and "EDWARD BELL,"-all clever productions, and honoured by a wide circle of admirers. It is poetry endowed with a healthy tone, hence our joy over its wide circulation!