else, is scarcely to be expected. We have no right to require English grammar and accurate information about Moses and Aaron at the hands of one and the same author. For our parts, now we come to think of it, if we only understood as much about Mount Sinai and other matters as Mr. Headley does, we should make a point of always writing bad English upon principle, whether we knew better or not.

It may well be made a question, moreover, how far a man of genius is justified in discussing topics so serious as those handled by Mr. Headley, in any ordinary kind of style. One should not talk about Scriptural subjects as one would talk about the rise and fall of stocks or the proceedings of Congress. Mr. Headley has seemed to feel this, and has therefore elevated his manner—a little. For example:

“The fields were smiling in verdure before his eyes; the perfumed breezes floated by

sailing over the encampment.

The sun is

That cloud

was God's pavilion; the thunder was its sentinels; and the lightning the lances' points as they moved round the sacred trust And how could he part with his children whom he had borne on his brave heart for more than forty years? . . . Thus everything conspired to render Zion the spell-word of the nation, and on its summit the heart of Israel seemed to lie and throb The sun died in the heavens; an

earthquake thundered on to complete the dismay," etc., etc.

Here no one can fail to perceive the beauty (in an antediluvian, or at least in a Pickwickian sense) of these expressions in general, about the floating of the breeze, the sailing of the sun, the thundering of the earthquake, and the throbbing of the heart as it lay on the top of the mountain.

The true artist, however, always rises as he proceeds, and in his last page or so brings all his elocution to a climax. Only hear Mr. Headley's finale. He has been describing the Crucifixion, and now soars into the sublime:

·

"How Heaven regarded this disaster, and the Universe felt at the sight I cannot tell. I know not but tears fell like rain-drops from angelic eyes when they saw Christ spit upon and struck. I know not but there was silence on high for more than half an hour' when the scene of the Crucifixion was transpiring [a scene, as well as an event, always transpires' with Mr. Headley],—a silence unbroken save by the solitary sound of some harp-string on which unconsciously fell the agitated, trembling fingers of a seraph. I know not but all the radiant ranks on high, and even Gabriel himself, turned with the deepest solicitude to the Father's face, to see if He was calm and untroubled

amid it all. I know not but His composed brow and serene majesty were all that restrained Heaven from one universal shriek of horror when they heard groans on Calvary dying groans. I know not but they thought God had given His glory to another, but one thing I do know [Ah, there is really one thing Mr. Headley knows!], that when they saw through the vast design, comprehended the stupendous scene, the hills of God shook to a shout that never before rung over their bright tops, and the crystal sea trembled to a song that had never before stirred its bright depths, and the 'Glory to God in the Highest,' was a sevenfold chorus of hallelujahs and harping symphonies."

Here we have direct evidence of Mr. Headley's accuracy not less than of his eloquence. "I know not but " that one is as vast as the other. The one thing that he does know, he knows to perfection: he knows not only what the chorus was (it was one of "hallelujahs and harping symphonies "), but also how much of it there was;-it was a "sevenfold chorus." Mr. Headley is a mathematical man. Moreover he is a modest man; for he confesses (no doubt with tears in his eyes) that really there is one thing that he does not know. "How Heaven regarded this disaster, and the Universe felt at the sight, I cannot tell." Only think of that! I cannot !-I, Headley, really cannot tell how the Universe" felt" once upon a time! This is down

right bashfulness on the part of Mr. Headley. He could tell if he would only try. Why did he not inquire? Had he demanded of the Universe how it felt, can any one doubt that the answer would have been: "Pretty well, I thank you, my dear Headley; how do you feel yourself ? "

"Quack" is a word that sounds well only in the mouth of a duck; and upon our honor we feel a scruple in using it; nevertheless the truth should be told; and the simple fact is, that the author of the Sacred Moun tains is the Autocrat of all the Quacks. In saying this, we beg not to be misunderstood. We mean no disparagement to Mr. Headley. We admire that gentleman as much as any individual ever did except that gentleman himself. He looks remarkably well at all points-although perhaps best, EXAS-at a distance, as the lying Pindar says he saw Archilochus, who died ages before the vagabond was born-the reader will excuse the digression, but talking of one great man is very apt to put us in mind of another. We were saying (were we not ?) that Mr. Headley is by no means to be sneered at as a quack. This might be justifiable, indeed, were he only a quack in a small way, a quack doing business by retail. But the wholesale dealer is entitled to respect. Besides, the reverend author of Napoleon and his Marshals was a quack to some purpose. He knows what he is about. We like perfection wherever we see it. We readily forgive a man for

being a fool if he only be a perfect fool: and this is a particular in which we cannot put our hands upon our hearts and say that Mr. Headley is deficient. He acts upon the principle that if a thing is worth doing at all it is worth doing well; and the thing that he "does " especially well is the public.