OUR LITERATURE.
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We fully subscribe to the following sentiments
|of the American Quarterly Magazine. Our lite
rary men are praised too much for the trifles
which they throw off in hours Of leisure. They
are accounted by the superficial as ornaments to
the literature of the country, and soon begin to
think so themselves, though they have produced
little that will live over hundred years. There
is, too great itching after notorlety, and too
little deep thought, intense research, and love Of
Literature for its own sake. Not until our authors
cease to write for notoriety, can they be truly de-
serving of it.-Baltimore TSuer.


Under such circumstances, it is vain to ex-
pect or hope for anything great. There must be
no dependence on foreign literature.-no anxiety
about foreign opinion-no humble and slavelike
acknowledgment Of foreign approbation--ere we
become, what we absurdly boast we are, proud
and sclf-reying Nation. We must confer, rot
derive, if we would be anything; we must aban-
don politics and pelf, if we wish to create what
shall challenge Immortality. Fugitive verses and
essays, and crude tales, are the reproach, the
condemnation of our literature. Though Ephe-l
mera, they yet live long enough to shame our
vainglory, and excite smile on the thick lips Of
cockneys. We want something better-some-
thing higher, deeper, more enlarged and exalted
The trial rests with us alone. Cast aside all i'm
itation of transatlantic models-all expectation of
European applause-be to thysclf, poet or novel
ist all that thou desirest others should make
thee!-be proud, not vain, silently confident, not
boldly ostentatious; never soliciting praise, but
happy in the knowledge that thou deservest it. |
So wilt thou shun the irksome yearning of low
ambition, and rest in the elysium Of purified
heart!


In all the reviews we write, whether of foreign
or homeborn books, these will be ever our delibe-
rate sentiments. We despise the prospective
boasting of our own journalists as much we
do the fatuous arrogance of foreign scrlbblers.
WHY can we not act not talk?-create, not images?
be somebody now, not everybody hereafter?
What has the number of our people to do with the
learning of our professions, the genius of our po
ets or the forensic skill of our orators? Or what
is the connection between the extent of our cont-
nent--ts mountains, valleys, woods and streams
and the isolated greatness of deep thoughtedI
man? Nothing If ever this Nation has occa-
sion to exut in the Present, not prospectvely, It'll
will be when we become masters of our own de-
sres, and live in the grandeur of our own thoughts
not (spe pendulus horn,) in the expectation that
some one will confirm the questionable opinion
we entertain Of ourselves.


No one can view these things with more pro-
found regret than we do. But, instead of pander-
ing to folly and fraud, as some do, who win gold
by aduation, we mean to speak the TRUTH plain
ly, and tell our counrymen fearlessly, that, if
they do not respect themselves, no one will re-
spect them--that, if they summon posterty to
immortalize themselves they lack all sense in their
empty vaunts-and that the only path which leads
to honor lies through the wilderness Of toll, strug-
gle, privation and heroic self-reliance.'


+ f \