I once lived in a village: to that village came an itinerant dramatic company; and that company advertised to play a grand moral temperance drama, entitled Down the Hill.

The principal actor called himself Eglantine Mowbray. I believe that the latter syllable of the last name was the only portion thereof to which he was really entitled. He did bray.

The bills appeared, with the following heading:

UNPARALLELED ATTRACTION.

On Monday Evening,

THE YOUTHFUL ROSCUSS!

EGLANTINE MOWBRAY!!

Will appear in his great role,

DOWN THE HILL.

Our simple villagers had seen circuses; but youthful Roscusses were entirely beyond their experience. Quite as unfamiliar was the word role, which, to their badly-lettered fancy, stood for movement, by 'turning on the surface, or with a circular motion, in which all parts of the surface are successively applied to a plane, 'as to roll a barrel or puncheon.' [You use Webster?]

So, when the 'show' opened, there was a large attendance, and in that vast multitude of two hundred and thirty men, women, and children, there was not one who did not anticipate an acrobatic performance.

The play pleased them, however. Temperance was rife among us in those days; it was 'in our midst,' as people ought not to say, and the drunken disgraces of John the Inebriate were appreciated. Still, there was an evident feeling of unsatisfied anticipation, which grew with every act, and in all the house there was not a soul who did not murmur to his or her neighbor, 'I wonder when he's goin' to roll down-hill.'

The play terminated. The Inebriate died, under a strong pressure of delirium tremens, groaning and braying loud enough to scare away the fiends which gathered around. But, to the amazement of all parties upon the stage and behind the scenes, the fall of the curtain was accompanied by a thunder-roar of disgust, and the rain-like sound of numerous hisses.

The audience voted the play a humbug. The village was disgusted. Eglantine Mowbray stock went down to nothing.

But the manager was a shrewd fellow. He found out what was wanting, and resolved to remedy it. So, the next morning's posters announced that on that evening Mr. Eglantine Mowbray would perform, at the conclusion, his terrific and unparalleled feat of rolling down the hill!

And he did. At the last moment, the Inebriate appeared, bottle in hand, agonizing and howling on the summit of a high rock, from which a slope, at an angle of forty-five degrees, went down to a mysterious craggy pit, thickly grown around with briers and shrubs, all bearing spiky thorns of the most fish-hooky and ten-penny nail description imaginable. The flat or back-scene, suddenly lighted up from behind, presented, as a transparency, that terrible collection of devils which you may have witnessed in a popular engraving entitled, 'Delirium Tremens.' The Inebriate, taking one parting drink, staggered—fell—rolled over and over down the hill into the abyss, from which flames burst forth, red, green, and blue, and the audience were wild with delight. Three times was Eglantine Mowbray compelled, by the rapturous encores, to roll down that hill into the fiery pit. No wonder that, at the last trial, there rose from the abyss a wild cry of 'I'll be blessed if I do it again.'

MORAL.—When in country villages, don't talk about role-ing, unless you mean to do it!

* * * * *

Since the gilet de matin has superseded the robe de chambre, or dressing-gown, it is marvelous to see with what wrath the fast men, club-men, and other highly civilized forms of humanity, pursue the ancient garment. One of the most vigorous assaults on the gabardine in question, comes to us as

A FLING AT DRESSING-GOWNS.

My name is Albert Fling. I am an active, business, married man, that is, wedded to Mrs. Fling, and married to business. I had the misfortune, some time since, to break a leg; and before it was mended Madame Fling, hoping to soothe my hours of convalescence, caused to be made for me a dressing-gown, which, on due reflection, I believe was modeled after the latest style of strait-jacket. This belief is confirmed by the fact that when I put it on, I am at once confined to the house, 'get mad,' and am soberly convinced that if any of my friends were to see me walking in the street, clad in this apparel, they would instantly entertain ideas of my insanity.

In the hours of torture endured while wearing it, I have appealed to my dear wife to truly tell me where she first conceived the thought that there was a grain of comfort to be found in bearing it on my back? She has candidly answered that she first read about it in divers English novels and sundry American novels, the latter invariably a rehash of the first. In both of these varieties of the same species of books, the hero is represented as being very comfortable the instant he dons this garment, puts his feet in slippers, picks up a paper and—goes to sleep.

A friend of mine who has discovered that Shakspeare knew all about steam-engines, electric telegraphs, cotton-gins, the present rebellion, and gas-lights, assures me that dressing-gowns are distinctly alluded to in The Tempest:

'TRINCULO: O King Stephano! look, what a wardrobe here is for thee!

CALIBAN: Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.

Having thus proved its age, let us next prove that it is in its dotage, and is as much out of place in this nineteenth century as a monkey in a bed of tulips.

We find in the Egyptian temples paintings of priests dressed in these gowns: proof that they are antiquely heathenish. And as we always associate a man who wears one with Mr. Mantilini, this proves that they are foolish. Ergo, as they are old and foolish, they are in their dotage.

I have three several times, while wearing this gown, been mistaken for Madame Fling by people coming to the house. The first time I was shaving in my chamber: in bounced Miss X——, who believed, as it was rather late, that I had gone down-town. She threw up her hands, exclaiming:

'Good gracious, Fanny! do you shave?'

N.B.—Fanny is my wife's first name.

The second time I had brought the woodsaw and horse up from the cellar, and was exercising myself sawing up my winter's wood, in the summer-kitchen, according to Doctor Howl's advice, when the Irishman from the grocery entered, bearing a bundle. My back was to him, and only seeing the gay and flowery gown, he exclaimed, in an awfully audible whisper to the cook:

'Shure yer mistriss has the power in her arms, jist!'

Think of my wife, my gentle Fanny, having it shouted around the neighborhood that her brute of a husband made her saw all their winter's wood—yes! and split it, and pile it too, and make all the fires, and so on and cetera, and oh! I am glad my husband isn't such a monster!'

I turned on the Irishman, and when he saw my whiskers, he quailed!

The third time, I was blacking my boots, according to Dr. Howl's advice, 'expands the deltoid muscles, is of benefit to the metacarpis, stretches the larynx, opens the oilsophagers, and facilitates expectoration!' I had chosen what Fanny calls her conservatory for my field of operation—the conservatory has two dried fish-geraniums, and a dead dog-rose, in it, besides a bad-smelling cat-nip bush; when, who should come running in but the identical Miss X—— who caught me shaving.

'Poor Fanny,' said she, before I could turn round; 'do you have to black the boots of that odious brute?'

'Miss X——,' said I, turning toward her, folding my arms over my dressing-gown, spite of having a damp, unpolished boot on one arm and a wet blacking-brush in the other hand, for I wished to strike a position and awe at the same time; 'Miss X——, I am that odious brute himself!'

If you had observed her wilt, droop, stutter, fly!

My wife went to the sea-shore last summer. I kept the house open, and staid in town; cause, business. When she returned, Miss X——, who lives opposite, called to see her. In less than five minutes, my wife was a sad, moaning, desolate, injured, disconsolate, afflicted, etcet. woman.

'How-ow-ow c-could you d-do it, Al-lal-bert?' she ejaculated, flooding every word as it came out with tears.

'Do what?'

'Oh-woh! oh-woe-wooh-wa-ah!'

Miss X—— here thought proper to leave, casting from her eyes a small hardware-shop in the way of daggers at me, as much as to say, You are vicious, and I hate cheese! (theatrical for hate ye.)

Fanny, left to herself, revealed all to me. Miss X——, through the Venetian blinds, had seen a—gown in my room, late at night.

'It is too true,' said I, 'too, too true.'

'Al-lal-al-bert! you will b-b-break my h-heart. I c-could tear the d-d-destroy-oy-yer of my p-p-peace to p-p-pieces!'

'Come on,' said I, 'you shall behold the destroyer of your peace. You shall tear her to pieces, or I'll be d—dashed if I don't. I am tired of the blasted thing.'

I grasped her hand, and led her to the back-chamber. 'There, against the wall.'

'It is—'said she.

'It is,' said I, 'my dressing-gown! I will never again put it on my shoulders, never. Here goes!' Rip it went from the tails up the back to the neck.

'Hold, Albert! I will send it to the wounded soldiers.'

'Never! they are men, bricks, warriors. Such female frippery as this shall never degrade them. Into the rag-bag with it, and sell it to the Jews for a pair of China sheep or a crockery shepherd. Vamos!'

The age for dressing-gowns has passed away, Rococo shams are hastening to decay!

* * * * *

He who writes a book on Boston should have something to say on the ladies at lectures, in the libraries, and at Loring's—at which latter celebrated institution for the dissemination of belles lettres lettered belles do vastly congregate of Saturday, providing themselves with novel—no, we mean novelties [of course of a serious sort] for their Sunday reading. Which may serve as an introduction to the following characteristic of

YE BOSTON YOUNGE LADIE.

The Boston belle is a reader, and knoweth what hath lately appearyd in ye worlde of bookes as welle as in that of bonetts. Shee whispereth of Signore Brignoli and of Hinkley, and of ye Philharmonic, or of Zerrahn his concertes, and eftsoones of aeriall pleasures att parties and concertes, and anon flitteth to Robertus Browning his poetrie, or to Emerson hys laste discourse att ye Musicke Halle. Whan so be itt that twentie of ye sisterhode be gatheren together, lo! seven thereof wyll haue blonde tresses and nineteen be of fayre ruddie complexion, whych a man wolde gife hys lyfe to kisse—yea, and itt oftwhyles passeth that ye twentieth also hath more whyte and rudd in hir sweete face thann ye wolde see in other landes.

Ye Boston demoisselle weareth an waterproof guyascutus, [for so methinketh I haue hearde them calld,] and whan that itt rayneth or snoweth, shee rusheth forth as to a carnavall, and heedeth not yf ye powderie snowe-flakes falle on hir daintie littyl nose, or pile up like untoe a chancellor's wigg on hir hed. Arounde hir whyte necke shee ever bindeth a scarlett scarfe, to shewe thatt she ys an well-redd woman; and whan shee turneth homewardes, she aye beareth in one hande a pamflet, whyle the other holdeth a bouquet of flowres or a pacquette of sugirplummes or confitures. Whyles that she is yett younge and reckeless, and gif shee bee faste, and hathe naughte to beare homewards, lo! shee stiketh bothe tinie fistes intoe hir small syde-pockets, and propelleth onward mightilie independente, caring naught for nobodie. I haue herd from dyvers graue and reuerend menn, who oughte to know, [sith that ther wyves hadd tolde them,] that manie of these demoiselles do wear verie longe bootes, but howe long they may bee I knowe not.

Hee who walketh in Beacon streete on Sundaye, whan thatt the skies be fayre, seeth, after church out-letting, manie of these sweete maydens walking wyth ther cavalleros up and doune hille, talkyng of manie thynges. For ye Boston demoiselle is a notable talker, and doth itt welle, knowing manie thynges whereof ye firste is de omnibus rebus, ye seconde et quibusdam aliis, and ye third alterum tantum. He who complayneth thatt women know nothinge, and haue noe witte, hathe nott mett ye Boston Yonge Lady; if that he dothe, and telleth hir soe, he wyll probablie remember for manie dayes what shee saide in answere. For shee holdeth dixi et solvavi animam meam to bee a goode rule, and thatt it is nott a goode thinge to goe away with wrathe pente up in ye boosum.

She worketh harde for ye armie; yea, she knitteth stockyngs and maketh shertes for ye contrabandes, whereof I haue scene one whiche a contrabande with his wyfe and children didde all were at once, so nobly greate was it. And shee belyveth in ye warre with alle hir braue little hearte and soule, for shee is Uncle Samuel hys oune daughter, if there ever was one, having greate loue for ye Union, alwaies hoping firstly for ye Union politicall, and secondlie for ye wedding union of hertes and ye union of handes, whych is nedeful, that ye countrie shall not perishe for lacke of sturdie urchins to growe upp into soldieres. And thatt theye aye all thus become goode wives and brave mothers, and bee bleste and happie in alle thynges, is ye heartes prayer of

CLERKE NICHOLAS.

* * * * *

The following extract from the Washington correspondence of the Philadelphia Press is significant:

'As pertinent to these questions, let me ask if you have ever gone back to the time when most of the Breckinridge papers in the free States were in danger of being mobbed and torn out after the fall of Fort Sumter?

'I will not ask why these demonstrations occurred, but I will ask if you can point to any one of these journals that is not now filled with strong denunciations of the Administration and its friends, and timid reproaches of the rebels in arms? Are they not all clamorous for the reoerganization of the Democratic party? Are they not all against any combination of patriotic men under the name of a Union party? Their object is as plain as their early treason was notorious, and the end of their victory will be the recognition of the armed rebels, or their full forgiveness. The armed rebels are watching their movements with eagerness and joy.'

That they are doing so, is amply evidenced by the recent 'democratic' and treasonable movements in Washington. In time of war, and especially of such a war as this, there can be, as Mr. Douglas said, 'but patriots and traitors.' Away with all parties—till the enemy are ours, the only parties should be those of the North and South.

* * * * *

The municipal authorities at Nashville met Governor Johnson's appeal, urging them to take the oath of allegiance, by a prompt refusal—falling back 'for reasons' on State rights. There should be, in these times, but one way of dealing with all such State rights gentlemen—arrest as traitors, and trial under military law. This is no day for dilly-dallying and quibbling about 'State rights.' There is only one right in such cases—the right of the Union, and fidelity to it. This rebuff is generally spoken of by the press as 'the Nashville Snag.' There be such things as snag-extractors, and we trust that our Government is free enough from red-tape do-nothingism and circumlocution, to make short work of these insolent rebels, whatever they be.

Boston, April 1st.

DEAR EDITOR: I jot down the following as one of the most melancholy results of this wicked and cruel war:

The Captain at our house believes in General Butler. The Lawyer don't. Such is the state of parties at our table. As I said before, the hand of brother is uplifted against brother, and either may become a fratri-cider—as the fellow did when he squeezed his brother to death in the press, among the apples.

The captain said, the other day, that Butler had a great deal of dash.

'U—m!' growled the lawyer; 'one kind of dash he certainly has—to perfection.'

'And what is that?'

'Balder-dash!' was the annihilating reply.

I report this for the special consideration of Governor Andrew.

Nor less illustrative of the terrible tendencies of civil war, is the following:

'We have a whole navy of gun-boats at Island Number Ten,' said the Colonel, reflectively.

'Yes,' was the unwary reply.

'Then how comes it that if the knave can take the Ten, a navy can't?'

Yours in grief,

CONSTANT READER.

* * * * *

The Legislature of Kentucky has, probably, by this time, made it a criminal offence for any person to join the K.G.C. As soon as the lists shall have been published of all those Northern men who have belonged to the order, the traitors will find themselves in quite as enviable a situation as though 'escaped convict' were branded on their foreheads.

* * * * * From one now far away in the South—albeit not on the Southern side—we have an ornithological reminiscence which may be of interest to those who endeavor to solve the problem, whether animals ever rise to reasoning.

I have amused myself the past year raising a brood of chickens in my little backyard. Being 'tenderly brought up,' they are, of course, very tame, particularly a little brown pullet, that lays an egg in the cellar every morning. A few days ago, as I was leaving the house after breakfast, my wife cried out for me to come into the kitchen. I did so, and found the little brown hen standing quietly by the door at the head of the cellar-stairs, evidently waiting for it to be opened. Going outside, I found the servant had neglected to open the 'bulkhead' door, as usual, and my wise little biddy had concluded to go down-cellar through the kitchen. When I drove her out and opened the outer-door, she went down and laid, as usual. She was never in the house before, to my knowledge, and has not been since. This is a fact, and is only one more instance added to many I could adduce, which go to show that the 'dumb creatures' think and reason.

* * * * *

Poetry on bells is divisible into two kinds, the tintinnabulistic, which refers to little hand-tinklers, sleigh-bells, and the kind which oriental mothers were wont, of old, to sew to the hems of their daughters' garments, [that they might tell by the sound whether the young ladies were at mischief or no,] and the campanologistic, descriptive solely of large church ringers, Big Toms of Oxford, and the regular vivos voco, fulgura frango giants, such as Mr. Meneely makes and sends all over the country, to factories, churches, depots, and steamboats. The sleigh-bell song, according to this classification, is tintinnabulistic; so, too, is the Russian troika,

'I kolokolchick dor voltaia,'

as is also the immortal line which speaks of

That tocsin of the soul—the dinner-bell.'

But Schiller's great ringing poem is superbly campanologistic; so is Southey's 'Inch Cope Bell,' and to this division belong all tollings, fire-alarms, and knells in verse whatever.

The following lyric is, however, far above either, as it ambitiously embraces the whole subject, and therefore, so far as comprehensiveness is concerned, must of course take precedence even of Tennyson's 'Ring Out!'

ABOUT BELLS.

I was sitting, one night, in my easy-chair, When a bell's clear notes rung out on the air; And a few stray thoughts, as this ballad tells, Came into my mind, about sundry bells:

About church-going bells, whose solemn chime Calls, far and near, 'It's time! it's time!' While the worshiper goes, with a faith that is strong, For he knows he can trust their clear 'Ding-dong!'

Of deified bells, like Bel of old, With silver tongues and a ring of gold; While the many who run at their silvery call, Never reach the goal—d; but tire and fall!

Of modest bells, by the river's side, As they meekly hang o'er the liquid tide; But are tongueless all, and their changes few, For they ever appear in a dress of blue.

Of modern Belles, which the world well knows, Go all the ways that the fashion goes; And ring their chimes through an endless range, As they change their rattle, and rattle their 'change.'

Of divers' bells, which are made to go, With their living freight, to the depths below; And are quiet quite, on their water ways, Save hen they are trying to 'make a raise.'

Of door-bells, which our callers ring By a kind of a sort of a wire of a string; Answered oft, as wire-pullers ought to be— 'Not at home!' meaning, 'Not in order to see!'

About John Bells, one of whom, we know, Politicians rung not long ago; An unlucky Bell, and to-day a wreck, But fit, even now, to be wrung—by the neck!

About Isabelles, so diverse in kind, That the one you prefer isn't hard to find; Yet hard 'tis to be in this all agreed— Isabelle by name is a belle in-deed!

And thus, as I sat in my easy-chair, While the bell's clear notes rung through the air, Did a few stray thoughts, as this ballad tells, Come into my mind, about sundry bells.

* * * * *

'Is this 'dreadful bad'?' inquires a correspondent. Gentle writer, it is not dreadful, neither is it bad; and we appeal to the reader to decide. To our thought, it is as brave and wild a love-poem as we have seen for many a day:

TO THE KING.

A Health to the King—my king! But not in the ruby wine, Too pale for the name I sing; Too weak for such love as mine!

How shall I pledge thee, my king? What nectar shall fill the bowl? Hope herself can not bring A wine—like that in my soul!

Then take for a pledge, my king! A life—it is wholly thine; And quaff from the cup, O king! A soul—not the ruby wine!

Happy the gentleman who is crowned king with the garland of song and consecrated with the wine of life and of love.

* * * * *

THE PICKET GUARD.

BY J.L. RAND.

The sentinel sounds the dread note that alarms, Each man springs up from his sleep to arms! There's an onward dash And a sudden flash; There's a sigh and a groan, And the quick feet have flown— A picket is dying alone. For men must fight for the sleeping Right, And who can stop to reckon?

The newspaper tells what the President thought, What Stanton did or Seward taught, In columns long, With capitals strong; And the paper is filled As the editor willed: 'SLIGHT SKIRMISH!—one man killed.' But men must fight for the sleeping Right, And who can stop to reckon?

A wife sits sad in her fireside chair, And thinks of the husband so brave to dare, And dreams once more That the war is o'er; While the South-birds trill Near the picket-camp still, And the picket lies dead on the hill. For men must fight for the sleeping Right, And God stands by to reckon.

But the account is kept in eternity—there are none lost, no, not one—and the time will come when all shall be found and known who were brave in this world's battles.

* * * * *

We gladly find a corner for the following, by one known to us of old, as no indifferent poet:

EMANCIPATION.

All oupos ama panta Theoi dosan anthropoisin.—Iliad.

Lift up your faces to the golden dawn That ushers in your year of Jubilee, Ye who to unrequited toil have gone In this great land, in this proud century. The clock of time has beat its seconds slow, But lo the hour of your release has come; Ay, strikes, and thrills the world with every blow That rings Oppression out, and Freedom home.

Not, not in vain, 'How long, O Lord: how long?' Have ye inquired of Him who knew your needs; For those who prospered by your ancient wrong, Invoked the vengeance that upon their heads Is raining ruin. Lo! the Lord is just: Through the Red Sea of War ye, ye alone Come up unharmed; while all the oppressor's host In their mid-passage shall be overthrown.

* * * * *

For the benefit of those desiring to obtain the celebrated K.G.C. pamphlet, we may state that it is published by the National Union Club, communications for which may be addressed to Post-office Box No. 1079, Louisville, Ky.

* * * * *

Owing to our enlarged edition obliging us to send this number of the Magazine to press at an earlier date than usual, we are unable to give this month the commencement of Mr. Kimball's new novel, and the continuation of 'Among the Pines.' Both articles will appear in the next issue.

* * * * *

PROSPECTUS

OF THE

CONTINENTAL MONTHLY.

There are periods in the world's history marked by extraordinary and violent crises sudden as the breaking forth of a volcano, or the bursting of a storm on the ocean. These crises sweep away in a moment the landmarks of generations. They call out fresh talent, and give to the old a new direction. It is then that new ideas are born, new theories developed. Such periods demand fresh exponents, and new men for expounders.

This Continent has lately been convulsed by an upheaving so sudden and terrible that the relations of all men and all classes to each other are violently disturbed, and people look about for the elements with which to sway the storm direct the whirlwind. Just at present, we do not know, what all this is to bring forth; but we do know that great results MUST flow from such extraordinary commotions.

At a juncture so solemn and so important, there is a special need that the intellectual force of the country should be active and efficient. It is a time for great minds to speak their thoughts boldly, and to take position as the advance guard. To this end, there is a special want unsupplied, it is that of an Independent Magazine, which shall be open to the first intellects of the land, and which shall treat the issues presented, and to be presented to the country, in a tome no way tempered by partisanship, or influences be fear, favor or the hope of reward; which shall seize and grapple with the momentous subjects that the present disturbed state of affairs heave to the surface, and which CAN NOT be laid aside or neglected.

To meet this want, the undersigned has commenced, under the editorial charge of CHARLES GODFREY LELAND, the publication of a new Magazine, devoted to Literature and National Policy.

In POLITICS, it will advocate, with all the force at its command, measures best adapted to preserve the oneness and integrity of these Unites States. It will never yield to the idea of any disruption of this Republic peaceably or otherwise; and it will discuss with honesty and impartiality what must be done to save it. In this department, some of the most eminent statesmen of the time will contribute regularly to its pages.

In LITERATURE, it will be sustained by the best writers and ablest thinkers of this country.

Among its attractions will be presented, in the June Number, a NEW SERIAL of American Life, by RICHARD B. KIMBALL, Esq., the very popular author 'The Revelations of Wall-Street,' 'St. Leger,' etc. A series of papers by Hon. HORACE GREELEY, embodying the distinguished author's observations on the growth and development of the Great West. A series of articles by the author of 'Through the Cotton States,' containing the result of an extended tour in the seaboard Slave States, just prior to the breaking out of the war, and presenting a startling and truthful picture of the real condition of that region. No pains will be spared to render the literary attractions of the CONTINENTAL both brilliant and substantial. The lyrical or descriptive talents of the most eminent literati have been promised to it; and nothing will be admitted which will not be distinguished by marked energy, originality, and solid strength. Avoiding every influence or association partaking of clique or coterie, it will be open to all contributions of real merit, even from writers differing materially in their views; the only limitation required being that of devotion to the Union, and the only standard of acceptance that of intrinsic excellence.

The EDITORIAL DEPARTMENT will embrace, in addition to vigorous and fearless comments on the events of the times, genial gossip with the reader on all current topics, and also devote abundant space to those racy specimens of American wit and humor, without which there can be no perfect exposition of our national character. Among those who will contribute regularly to this department may be mentioned the name of CHARLES F. BROWNE, ('Artemus Ward.') from whom we have promised an entirely new and original series of SKETCHES OF WESTERN LIFE.

The CONTINENTAL will he liberal and progressive, without yielding to chimeras and hopes beyond the grasp of the age; and it will endeavor to reflect the feelings and interests of the American people, and to illustrate both their serious and humorous peculiarities. In short, no pains will spared to make it the REPRESENTATIVE MAGAZINE of the time.

TERMS.—Three Dollars per year, in advance, (postage paid by the Publishers;) Two Copies for Five Dollars; Three Copies for Six Dollars, (postage unpaid;) Eleven Copies for Twenty Dollars, (postage unpaid.) Single numbers can be procured of any News-dealer in the United States. The KNICKERBOCKER MAGAZINE and the CONTINENTAL MONTHLY will be furnished for one year at FOUR DOLLARS.

Appreciating the importance of literature to the soldier on duty, the Publisher will send the CONTINENTAL gratis, to any regiment in active service, on application being made by its COLONEL or Chaplain; he will also receive subscriptions from those desiring to furnish it to soldiers in the ranks at half the regular price; but in such cases it must be mailed from the office of publication.

J.R. GILMORE, 532 Broadway, New-York, and 110 Tremont Street, Boston.

CHARLES T. EVANS, at G.P. PUTNAM'S, 532 Broadway, New-York, is authorized to receive Subscriptions.

N.B.—Newspapers publishing this Prospectus, and giving CONTINENTAL monthly notices, will be entitled to an exchange.

* * * * *

THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY

* * * * *

PUBLISHER'S NOTICE.

THE CONTINENTAL MONTHLY has passed its experimental ordeal, and stands firmly established in popular regard. It was started at a period when any new literary enterprise was deemed almost foolhardy, but the publisher believed that the time had arrived for just such a Magazine. Fearlessly advocating the doctrine of ultimate and gradual Emancipation, for the sake of the UNION and the WHITE MAN, it has found favor in quarters where censure was expected, and patronage where opposition only was looked for. While holding firmly to its own opinions, it has opened its pages to POLITICAL WRITERS of widely different views, and has made a feature of employing the literary labors of the younger race of American writers. How much has been gained by thus giving, practically, the fullest freedom to the expression of opinion, and by the infusion of fresh blood into literature, has been felt from month to month in its constantly increasing circulation.

The most eminent of our Statesmen have furnished THE CONTINENTAL many of its political articles, and the result is, it has not given labored essays fit only for a place in ponderous encyclopedias, but fresh, vigorous, and practical contributions on men and things as they exist.

It will be our effort to go on in the path we have entered, and as a guarantee of the future, we may point to the array of live and brilliant talent which has brought so many encomiums on our Magazine. The able political articles which have given it so much reputation will be continued in each issue, and in the next number will be commenced a New Serial by Richard B. Kimball, the eminent author of the 'Under-Currents of Wall-Street,' 'St. Leger,' etc., entitled,

WAS HE SUCCESSFUL?

An account of the Life and Conduct of Hiram Meeker, one of the leading men in the mercantile community, and 'a bright and shining light' in the Church, recounting what he did, and how he made his money.

A work which will excel the previous brilliant productions of this author.

The UNION—The Union of ALL THE STATES—that indicates our politics. To be content with no ground lower than the highest—that is the standard of our literary character.

We hope all who are friendly to the spread of our political views, and all who are favorable to the diffusion of a live, fresh, and energetic literature, will lend us their aid to increase our circulation. There is not one of our readers who may not influence one or two more, and there is in every town in the loyal States some active person whose time might be profitably employed in procuring subscribers to our work. To encourage such to act for us we offer the following very liberal

TERMS TO CLUBS.

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J.R. GILMORE, 532 Broadway, New-York, and 110 Tremont Street, Boston.

CHARLES T. EVANS, 532 Broadway, New-York, GENERAL AGENT.



Number 6.—25 Cents.

The Continental Monthly

Devoted to Literature and National Policy.

JUNE, 1862.

NEW-YORK AND BOSTON:

J.R. GILMORE, 532 BROADWAY, NEW-YORK,

AND 110 TREMONT STREET, BOSTON.

NEW-YORK: HENRY DEXTER AND ROSS & TOUSEY.

PHILADELPHIA: T.B. CALLENDER AND A. WINCH.



CONTENTS.—No. VI.

* * * * *

The Constitution and Slavery. Rev. C.E. Lord

A Story of Mexican Life

The Red, White, and Blue

Maccaroni and Canvas

En Evant

Desperation and Colonization. Charles G. Leland

The Education to be. Levi Reuben, M.D.

Travel-Pictures. Henry T. Lee

The Huguenots of Staten Island. Hon. G.P. Disosway

Recollections of Washington Irving. By one of his early Friends

New-England's Advance. Augusta C. Kimball

Was He Successful? Richard B. Kimball

Monroe to Farragut. Charles G. Leland

Among the Pines. Edmund Kirke

Literary Notices

Editor's Table

* * * * *

WAS HE SUCCESSFUL?

This new serial, by the very popular author of "Undercurrents of Wall-Street," "St. Leger," etc., which is commenced in this number of THE CONTINENTAL, will greatly add to the reputation of Mr. Kimball as one of the most graphic delineators of American life and character now living. It will be continued throughout the year.

THE RECOLLECTIONS OF WASHINGTON IRVING,

By one of his early friends, will be found to embody many very interesting facts in regard to that eminent man, which have not before been made public.

AMONG THE PINES.

This serial, which is pronounced by the Press a perfect daguerreotype of Southern Life and Manners, is continued in this number, with increasing interest. It will be completed in the July or August issue of THE CONTINENTAL, when it will be followed by other contributions from the same writer.

* * * * *

ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1861, by JAMES R. GILMORE, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of New York.

* * * * *

JOHN A. GRAY, PRINTER



FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote A: By the Seventh Census, (that of 1850,) it appears that 2,210,828 of our then population, were of foreign birth. We have not at hand the means of saying how that appears in the Census of 1860.]

[Footnote B: Some of the contrasts which the census shows are startling. While South-Carolina has, in seventy years, only about doubled her free population, New-York, in the same period, has increased hers nearly ten-fold. Ohio, in ten years less time, has increased hers fifty-two fold, Indiana, in the same period, increased hers two hundred and eighty fold! and Illinois, in fifty years, increased hers one hundred and forty fold!]

[Footnote C: Chance threw in our way, many years ago, in Philadelphia, a man whose life boasted one event. While a boy, he had for some time been sent every morning by his employer to inquire after the health of 'Mr. TALLEYRAND.' When a few years shall have passed, there will only be here and there one who can remember having met in New York or Philadelphia JOSEPH BONAPARTE or LOUIS NAPOLEON.—NOTE BY THE EDITOR.]

[Footnote D: Vide Gems and Jewels. By Madame de Barrera.]

[Footnote E: Jahresbenennung.]

[Footnote F: King-tscheu is the sixth of the nine provinces which are described in the tax-roll of Ju, (which contains the sixth of the included divisions of the Annal-book.) It extended from the north side of the hill Hong. Compare Hongingta, the celebrated expounder of King in the times of Tang, with the already mentioned extracts from the Annal-book.]

[Footnote G: In the Leang-schu we find an error in the writing, (a very frequent occurrence in Chinese transcriptions.) Instead of the character Tong (4233 Bas) we have Tang, (11,444 B.) which signifies copper, and according to which we must read, 'Their leaves resemble copper,' which is evidently an error.]

[Footnote H: This is also the case in China with the bamboo sprouts, on which account they are termed Sun, (7449 B.) that is, the buds of the first ten days, since they only keep for that time.]

[Footnote I: The year-books of Leans have a variation; instead of the character Kin, (11,492 B.) 'embroidered stuff,' (meaning, of course, embroidered or ornamented stuff in general,) we have Mien, which signifies 'fine silk.']

[Footnote J: Montesinos, Mem. Antiguas, MS. lib. 2, cap. 7. Vide Prescott's Conquest of Peru, Book I. p. 128.]

[Footnote K: The narrative of these early voyages is preserved in Hakluyt's great History of the Voyages and Discoveries of the English Nation, and this and the following extracts are taken from Vol. III., published in 1600. Americana are under great obligations to this faithful old chronicler.]

[Footnote L: Lane often refers to the Chesapeans, a tribe who dwelt on the Elizabeth River, probably at about the present site of Norfolk, and down to Old Point Comfort. The word Chesapeake is compounded from Che, great, sepe or sepo, river, and peak, a white shell, meaning 'great river of shells,' and probably referred to the mouth of James River. Roanoak means a black shell.]

[Footnote M: This was no doubt what is now known as 'Old Point Comfort.' The position would have been well chosen for defense against his enemies. The Indians knew no difference between an island and a peninsula, and Old Point has but a very narrow connection with the main land.]

[Footnote N: This was undoubtedly Wampum or Wampeage.]

[Footnote O: A celebrated traveler asserts that tobacco, now extended over both hemispheres, is an evidence of civilization.]

[Footnote P: 'To all Christian People to whom these Presents shall come, Greeting, know ye that I Sr William Berkeley Knt Capt Generall and chief Governor of Virginia and One of the Proprietors of Carolina and Albemarle Send Greeting Know ye that I the sd Sr William Berkeley for and in consideration of ye Sum of one hundred pounds sterling to me in hand already paid or secured to be paid, have bargained, sold, agreed, alienated, enfeoffed and confirmed and by these presents Do fully, clearly and absolutely bargain, sell, alienate enfoeffe and confirm unto Joshua Lamb of New England, Merchant, the whole Island of Roanoke Situate and being in the county of Albemarle in the province of Carolina, Together with what is thereon standing growing or being, with all ye profits, privileges and advantages thereto belonging or in any wise appertaining and also all the cattle, hoggs and other stock, with the marshes, houses and buildings thereon to the sd Joshua Lamb. To Have and to Hold the premises and every part and parcel thereof to him his heirs Execrs and Admrs and assigns forever Free from any let, hinderance or molestation of me the said Sr William Berkeley or any other person or persons whatever. And I do hereby further Authorize and impower the sd Joshua Lamb his heirs Execrs and Admrs and assigns to enter upon and possess himself of all and every of the premises and to Oust, eject and expel any person or persons whatsoever pretending any right, title or interest thereto,

'In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and seal this 17th day of April, 1676.

'WILLIAM BERKELEY, L.S.']

THE END