the wrecked platform of that party's principles, takes, for the sake of being original, an entirely opposite view of the subject. If Mr. Smith makes the Crimean soldiers light-hearted or fat, Mr. Duffy wants to monopolize their souls. Smith will make them laugh to their hearts' content: Duffy will make them cry for their souls' welfare. The latter proposes that all the old Catholic prayer-books in Ireland be sent to Sebastopol, and is probably, actuated by the pious hope of preparing the warriors for that better world, which is ever within gun-shot of them. Many times have the correspondents from the seat of war said that the army had fasted enough; nothing remains for their complete salvation in Mr. Duffy's mind, but to follow up with prayers.

Sir Charles Shaw, who, in a letter to the London Times, made some good suggestions touching the pay of wounded men, also recommends the government to send out Chambers' Journal, Household Words, Punch, and other periodical "paper pellets of the brain," to the Camp. In view of those suggestions, we shall be prepared to hear of flying volumes, as well as flying columns, literary soirees in the trenches, and camp-meetings round the camp-fires. If the intentions of those philanthropists be put in practice, and carried out, as the suggesters hope, military nomenclature may undergo a serious though natural change. The men will be marshaled as readingrooms, instead of regiments, by the book-shelf instead of the battalion, in libraries instead of legions, and we should not be at all astonished to hear of their being addressed according to the literary likings they exhibit, as for instance: Attention, Punch; England expects that every man will do his duty, Household Words; Advance, Light Literature; Prayer-books, Cha-arge.

The last contribution to the new military literature is the Emperor Napoleon's review of the war, as published in the Paris Moniteur. Unlike Messrs Smith, Duffy, and Shaw, the Emperor is very disheartening, his production being an outline of what should have been done in the campaign, and a series of apologies for what has, and has not been done. It is avowedly published to "reassure" and "enlighten" the public, whose "opinion is prompt to take the alarm, and easily led into error in the midst of emotions and events like those," etc; and with this desire it proceeds to deal with such "acknowledged facts, authentic documents, truths of science and military history," as the "strong government of the Emperor" demand on the one hand, the mismanagement of the English government on the other, and the manifold exigencies of the Allies inspire on all hands. The document is only remarkable for not being remarkable. It is a great apology. It consists of-An apology for going to war.

An apology for not carrying the war beyond the Danube and on the Pruth. An apology for Austria not going to war.

An apology for landing in the Crimea.

An apology for the "other side" of the Danube, the Dobrudscha being "a devastated country, without roads, inundated by water, and infected with

pestilential diseases," "an unhealthy, impracticable country," which would not allow the Allies to annihilate the Russians.

Several apologies that the army of France was 800 leagues from the mother country, consequently out of reach of impromptu maternal aid.

An apology that the Russians "at the onset, took two most efficacious measures," which, adds the Decembrian, was very regrettable to us." An apology that our feeble siege artillery could not master the fire of

the town."

And in conclusion, and as a grand apology for all, an explanation of what a "regular siege" ought to be.

As Cibber' the noted mangler of Shakspeare's works, called his auto-biography, "An Apology for the Life of Colley Cibber," so this document may stand for an apology for itself.

YOUNG TWIST AND YOUNG AMERICA.

A N

APPLICATION.

WHEN growing Twist, by natural hunger stung,
(And, like ourselves, without a pa nor ma, (Panama,)
Asked bloated Bumble for a "little more"

Out of his copper, running almost o'er

With its good things, the beadle cried out, "Ah!

I see that boy will one day sure be hung,"

Then fell aghast into his doxy's arms,
Who had much work to quiet his alarms!

E'en so, when Young America demands

Her rightful share of Nicaraguan lands,

Poor John Bull Bumble stands aghast, and cries: "Why, Brother Jonathan you'll want the skies If you check not these bad propensities;

We are your mother, and sure know what's best."

But when America holds out its fist,

And shows itself a very genuine Twist,

Our John Bull Bumble faints on *******'s breast!

HAVE YOU HEARD MR. CHAPIN ?*

I HAD heard much of him. The newspapers, which blow every body's trumpet, had not only blown his, but had actually secured some of his notes, and reproduced them to the public. The humanitarians had besieged me; the utilitarians had beset me; the philosophers had bored me; and all, from the pubescentvoiced male, to the stridulous female inclusive, had battered me with applications that I would go and hear Mr. Chapin. As a pleasant Sunday morning sent sunshine into my bedroom, the thought entered my head that I would button up that day for the Reverend gentleman's benefit. But how to proceed? If my purpose had escaped me, fifty dear friends would have chorused joy; and forthwith leading me captive, would have seated me in their midst, the object of elucidatory nods and of approbatory blinks; of interpreting hunches, and of emphasizing nudges and I thought, that apart from the perplexity of mind inseparable from such a process, if I had any wish to escape the discolorations, the contusions, and the bodily abrasions of such a manipulation, I had better let my troops of

* MR. CHAPIN is a powerful and a popular orator—he is, therefore, a “public man,” and a subject of printed commentary. Every body discusses, has discussed, or will discuss him in the manner and measure of a criticism on an Everett or a Calhoun. Like all celebrated or influential persons, he has his merit-his merit, that is greatness which all may see-his defect, that is his littleness which friends, lovers, and followers overlook. In publishing the present article we imply not only the notability of Mr. Chapin, but the ability of his reviewer: ability stimulated by admiration for the man it eulogizes; but in giving room for the talent of his eulogist, we admit no tacit apology for the sectarian principles or defects of his subject. These remain unnoticed, though not unperceived. Let the reader forget that he himself is a Catholic or a Presbyterian, and look at Mr. Chapin, not as an Universalist, but simply as an eloquent moralist. We will neither defend nor controvert him: that is not our duty, nor, if it were, is a Democratic journal the proper vehicle for a theological criticism. We publish sketches of Democratic orators not only because they are men of influence but because they are good Democrats-a double claim. We have not studied, and should

friends rest for the time. So, I determined that I would venture alone to the sanctuary, and try the effect of a solitary observation of the meridian splendors of this famous preacher. The day was one of those peculiar atmospheres, that lave the body, as with blood-tempered water. The repose of my nerves produced a walking reverie; and had I not been disturbed, I should, doubtless, have strolled unconsciously to the churchdoor. But a promiscuous crowd with which I became suddenly sensible that I was entangled, awoke me to real life. Tension of muscle and a certain rectilineal action characterized the individual locomotion of those in the group. The males seemed to have been aroused from a six-day secular rumination, to a Sabbatical exposition of measures and men. One, of sturdy step, who paused at no impediment, and who, maugre rubbish or puddles, placed his foot as if by a rule of arithmetical progression, opened a firmly-set mouth, to the tune of universal salvation and of Brother Chapin. Another, whose habiliments ambitiously aspired to the philosophical, while seemingly deprecating an imputation of the austere, was inclined to doubt the salvation part, but stuck to Brother Chapin. And then, such a storm of femininity overtook, and so overcame the masculine, that I was reminded of that marvellous feat of precocious school-girls-the Battle of Prague, the rattle of the small arms of polemical disputation proceeding with a wonderful alacrity, interrupted, however, with astounding effect, by the timely booming of the heavily-shotted ordnance of Christian salvation, and finally suspended altogether by a terrific explosion of the whole magazine of the evangelical combustibles Fore-ordination, Free-will, Election, and Eternal Damnation. How much soever this logical catastrophe may have pacified their minds, it assuredly left them in bodily disar

even shrink from the responsibility of investigating the democracy of Mr. Chapin ; luckily there are forms of public merit, which serve to balance the defect of a political creed; special talents, like the muscles of the blacksmith's right arm, are generally attended by a weakness of the other side, the fault of a partial culture; and yet the said arm may of itself be a model for the artist. Eloquent clergymen sometimes commit astonishing blunders in politics; we almost forgive them for the good they do in other channels: the imbecility of the left arm is compensated in some degree by the powerful and fine development of the right. And yet we would throw out this general caution to all eloquent moralists and theologians, that in blazoning a "Divine unity," they forget not the multiplicity, the multiform providence, the harmony of sects, creeds, and State governments, working all together, and yet united towards the common good. UNDER GOD, the Constitution of the Union has guaranteed their independence to Catholic and Universalist, Methodist and Deist. Let the Beliefs made free by the States guarantee to the States independence in turn. Ed. U. S. Review.]

ray; and our approach to the church was the signal for a rapid readjustment of those various articles of dress, the derangement of which, on the peripatetic female, so justly denotes the extent to which controversial heats have wrought her awry. A person at the door was actively engaged in providing seats for strangers. A respectfully-staid demeanor distinguished these last from the congregation, whose general regularity and energetic action impressed me as the effect of an associated mannerism. My application for a seat, was preceded by the inquiry, whether Mr. Chapin was to preach. "Yes S-i-r," was the emphatic reply; each red hair of my informant's cropped whiskers bristled an affirmative; the consecutive foot-falls that conducted me, squeaked articulately, Sir-ee, Sir-ee; the pewdoor opened with a positiveness that set mistake at defiance; and I was inclosed in the hospitable pew, with a bang that informed me that the worship of that church was a work in earnest. No graceful step glided noiselessly to luxurious hassock; no rustling of silks heralded the approach of aristocratic pretensions; no superciliousness oppressed humanity, or flouted itself in the face of Deity. Of plain but tasteful costume, the females were seated with a decent composure; and manliness of thought and action set its mark on the intelligent features of the males.

The interval between the assembling of the congregation and the appearance of the minister was shorter than in most churches; and I could not help thinking that the clangor of flapping fans was entitled to the credit, either by directing favoring gales upon the coming man, or by alarming him with fears that his delay would raise a breeze among the ladies, who worked the fanning mills. A door opened at the right, and a short, round, religio-rolicko-looking personage pushed up to the pulpit. It was Mr. Chapin. His appearance affected his congregation much as if a full jet of gas had suddenly relieved them from the sombre complexion of the half-stop. His glasses made their field of the church before him; and apparently satisfied that all was right, he read the opening hymn.

Of strong, melodious voice, he inspires no dread of its loss, either from protracted effort or over-exertion. Metallic resonance, however, is wanting, with which to expand the volume of his speech, and to impart sonorous fullness to his periods. Though flexible, his voice is undisciplined; and though displaying remarkable ductility, yet it frequently riots in mistaken emphases, and false cadences. He is a bad reader of poetry; yet, while reading, he is manifestly actuated by a