low-voiced maiden. 
    Ah, never master that drew mortal breath
    Can match thy portraits, just and generous Death,
    Whose brush with sweet regretful tints is laden! 
    Thou paintest that which struggled here below
    Half understood, or understood for woe,
    And, with a sweet forewarning,
    Mak’st round the sacred front an aureole glow
    Woven of that light that rose on Easter morning.

LITERARY NOTICES.

Homoeopathic Domestic Physician, etc., etc.  By J. H. PULTE, M.D., Author of “Woman’s Medical Guide,” etc.  Twenty-fourth thousand.  Cincinnati:  Moore, Wilstach, Keys, & Co.  London:  James Epps, 170, Piccadilly, 1857.

Of course the reader understands the following notice to be written by a venerable practitioner, who carries a gold-headed cane, and does not believe in any medical authority later than Sydenham.  Listen to him, then, and remember that if anything in the way of answer, or remonstrance, or controversial advertisement is sent to the head-quarters of this periodical, it will go directly into the basket, which, entering, a manuscript leaves all hope behind.  The “old salts” of the “Atlantic” do not go for non-committal and neutrality, or any of that kind of nonsense.  Our oracle with the gold stick must have the ground to himself, or keep his wisdom for another set of readers.  A quarrel between “Senex” and “Fairplay” would be amusing, but expensive.  We have no space for it; and the old gentleman, though he can use his cane smartly for one of his age, positively declines the game of single-stick.  Hear him.

—­The book mentioned above lies before us with its valves open, helpless as an oyster on its shell, inviting the critical pungent, the professional acid, and the judicial impaling trident.  We will be merciful.  This fat little literary mollusk is well-conditioned, of fair aspect, and seemingly good of its kind.  Twenty-four thousand individuals,—­we have its title-page as authority,—­more or less lineal descendants of Solomon, have become the fortunate possessors of this plethoric guide to earthly immortality.  They might have done worse; for the work is well printed, well arranged, and typographically creditable to the great publishing-house which honors Cincinnati by its intelligent enterprise.  The purchasers have done very wisely in buying a book which will not hurt their eyes.  Mr. Otis Clapp, bibliopolist, has the work, and will be pleased to supply it to an indefinite number of the family above referred to.

—­Men live in the immediate neighborhood of a great menagerie, the doors of which are always open.  The beasts of prey that come out are called diseases.  They feed upon us, and between their teeth we must all pass sooner or later,—­all but a few, who are otherwise taken care of.  When these animals attack a man, most of them give him a scratch or a bite, and let him go.  Some hold on a little while; some are carried about for weeks or months, until the carrier drops down, or they drop off.  By and by one is sure to come along that drags down the strongest, and makes an end of him.