CHANGE IN AUTHORSHIP.

225

dress, ceremony has quite given way to comfort and convenience. And last, (though most important, and to be alluded to with proper respect,) "Puseyism" is making an alarmed rally to protect, from this spirit of nudification, the imposing ceremonials of religion.

Hearts whose fibres spread through the world-minds that could make whole nations grateful--have been the privileged prerogatives, till now, of regular poets and authors. Genius, as shown in conversation, was limited to a sphere of listeners and personal acquaintance. A man might say more brilliant things in an hour than an author could put into the reading of two hours, yet the brilliant talker occupied but a circle of friends, and the less brilliant author occupied the universe. This unequal occupancy of space, honor and control, (by authors ruling nations of thought, as by kings ruling nations of people,) was a monopoly which, in this free day, could be permitted no longer. Superiority of all kinds must have general recognition. Talkers must share the sceptre of Pen and Ink. The world must be delighted with thought in its undress, and be content to yield its admiration as willingly to unclassic utterance of good things in print, as to utterance of good things in delightful conversation. The courtentrance, at the eye, was made as free to all comers and costumes, as the unceremonious gateway of the ear.

Under this new franchise, numbers of gifted men, hitherto only known to their friends, are extending their acquaintance to the whole reading world. Any body who can talk agreeably to six, has only to put his thoughts down as he talks them, and he is as agreeable to ten thousand as he was to six. How often have we met persons with whose voice-born discourse we have been enchanted, and wondered that, in a world of daguerreotypes and

10*

226

CONVERSATIONAL NARRATIVE.

clairvoyance, such gifts could be imprisoned by the limit of voca

utterance!

The book whose name is at the head of this article is one of the most agreeable men in the world-put into print. "Wise, of the Navy," (whom we name, thus familiarly, because by this designation he will be delightedly recalled to memory by the most spirituelle circles in different cities of the Union,) has had for years a moveable Dickens-dom, bounded by every four walls that contained him and his friends. To all who were fortunate enough to enjoy his society-to a few at a time—he has given the pleasure that Dickens gives to millions, using carelessly, profusely and jollily, two or three of the rarest qualities of genius. For that power of unexpected parallelism, which brings together, suddenly and laughably, the most distant opposites in grotesque similitude for the quick analysis of a thought or feeling which supplies material for wit-for the genial and irresistible humor which makes what people familiarize by the phrase, "the merriest fellow in the world"-we hardly know the equal of the author of Los Gringos. Mingled as these qualities are with the refinement of a high-bred gentleman, and singularly varied experience of the world as an officer and a traveller, they form a power for giving pleasure which it would have been a thousand pities not to universalize by literature.

To the tedium of ship-board we doubtless owe this conversational narrative which, for lack of better audiences, flowed out upon paper. The author's irrepressible gayety would never have confined itself to pen and ink-on shore. He has used the leisure of his last professional cruize in the Pacific, to scribbletalk over his adventures in out-of-the-way places; and though a cautious friend, who had the overhauling of the manuscript,

crossed out some of its most characteristic and amusing passages, there is enough left to introduce the writer very fairly to the public. A gay man's views of the manners of the SocietyIslands-written boldly and merrily as they appeared to an adventurous young officer-could not be otherwise than amusing, even if written with far less talent. The great interest of the book, however, is the description of a most perilous "running of the gauntlet" across the Southern Continent in the time of the late war-Lieut. Wise having been sent, with secret dispatches, from the Pacific Squadron to the city of Mexico, and having traversed alone this twenty-five hundred miles, forward and back, mostly on horseback, and with curiously varied adventure. In old times his performances on this duty would have made him a theme for the troubadours.

We shall give next week some extracts from this delightful book, "Los Gringos," (which we believe is a Spanish phrase, partially of reproach, and means foreigners who are in search of adventure,) and we stop for the present with commending it to the perusal of all who would know more of strange scenes and places, and who are curious, moreover, to know how life looks, these its outskirts, to an unbaptized author and a gentleman of genius.

in

MADEMOISELLE ALBONI.

A GLIMPSE that we once had of this lady, who is the present "rage" in London, may possibly be worth mentioning to our friendly readers. We were passing a solitary day in Hamburg, some three years ago-on our return to London from Berlin. The weather was vile, and, after a weary morning of trudging through the dirty streets under an umbrella, we sat down to the table-d'hote dinner of the Hotel, expecting no company but foreign clerks and supercargoes, and inclined to satisfy our hunger with shut eyes and ears. The soup was removed, when two persons entered whom we took at first sight to be rather flashy foreigners, and whom we should have guessed to be professed gamblers, but that the landlord made room for them at the head of the table with more deference than is given to ordinary travellers. One was a slight, dark-whiskered man with a moustache, not very prepossessing. The other was a fat and smoothfaced youth, with long hair parted on the middle of the head, fine teeth and fine eyes, an expression of the most sensuous joyousness, and the impulsive laugh of a child. The dress of the latter was rather theatrical, the shirt bosom elaborately worked and ruffled, ccllar turned down, cravat loose, and the waistcoat ready to burst

its tightly drawn buttons with the most un-masculine fulness of the chest. A constant thrusting of the hands cavalierly into the trowsers pockets when not engaged in eating, an apparently complete unconsciousness of observation, and a readiness to laugh loud at the least encouragement, amused us in our idle lookingon, but, though beard there was none, we, had no idea that the fat personage in the baggy-hipped pantaloons was a woman! We left the table, as the merry mouth we had been looking at was taking the first puff of a cigar, and the next morning, as we were taking our departure, the landlord informed us that our jolly vis-a-vis was the celebrated Mademoiselle Alboni!