Harvard University, an American college, near Boston, Massachusetts, which, from the number and variety of its professors, and the respectability of its endowments, really deserves the name of university. It is an able and beautiful production; and will, after all, perpetuate his name and character among those who may never know of, or care for, his having been President of the United States.

AMES, FISHER-A New-Englander also; a political writer; a fine orator; a lawyer, and an honest man. No vestiges remain of him, though he wrote continually for the journals and papers of the day, except a volume or two of essays and orations, which are not remarkable for any particulur excellence, although when the latter were delivered by him spontaneously, the sober people of New-England were affected and wrought upon by them, as their more fervid brethren of the south were by the eloquence of Patrick Henry himself.

ALLEN, PAUL-History-PoetryMiscellany. This gentleman, after he wrote Lewis and Clarke's Journal (for which office he was chosen, we believe, by the American government, on account of his literary character chosen, we mean, by intimation, probably from the Secretary of State) was pronounced by no less a man than Mr. Jefferson himself, (as we have heard from high authority,) to be the very best, or one of the two best writers of America. This became publickly known, and was a great advantage to Mr. Allen, who took rank soon after over everybody in the country, except Robert Walsh, jun. esq. a gentleman (well known here) of whom we shall speak in due season.

Mr. Allen is a native of Providence, Rhode Island, one of the New-England States, and never was out of America. He was educated for the bar; took to poetry at an early age; read of Dr. Franklin, and, like him, resolved to seek his fortune-at Philadelphia.

Having arrived in that city, (then the quaker London of America,) he soon became engaged as a writer for the United States Gazette, or Bronson's Gazette, as it was called; a pa

per well known in Europe for the uncommon ability and eloquence of its writers; and, soon after, in the Port Folio, (a periodical miscellany of high reputation, till it fell into the hands of the present editor,) to which he largely contributed, until a few years before the last war between America and Great Britain, when the Federal party of Maryland being about to establish a newspaper for political purposes, engaged Mr. Allen for editor. It was called the Telegraph; and, soon after, became incorporated with the Fede ral Republican. Out of these two papers, after their junction, grew the Baltimore mob, of which we have heard in this country-a mob that might have been overawed in ten minnutes by a single company of horse, or half a hundred serious, determined men; and, perhaps, (had they been properly countenanced by the authori ties of the city,) without any military aid, by the constables and police; a mob, however, that got possession of the town, (one of sixty thousand inha bitants)-blockaded the streets-demolished a large printing establishment-broke open the public prisona fortress in appearance, into which a number of distinguished political men of the Federal party had been beguil ed by the mayor, under pretence of providing for their safety-beat, mangled, and tortured all whom they found there politically obnoxious to themselves; and, finally, murdered an old revolutionary officer, (General) Lingan.)*

Mr. Allen persevered, however, until the political animosity of the two parties having subsided-and the war being over-it was no longer a field worthy of him. Then he established the Journal of the Times, which held up its head only for a few months— abandoned that-and, finally, set up a newspaper, quite of a literary charac ter. called the Morning Chronicle, which holds a very high rank among the American newspapers: and that

where newspapers are everything and where the ablest men of the

* And were never punished for if-so much for mobs in that country.

country are most frequently to be found writing for them-is no common praise.

He remains editor of that paper to this day. His literary works are, (other than a world of miscellany, to be found in the journals and newspapers,) a poem, called Noah; a History of the American Revolution, of which he wrote nothing but the preface, which, I am certain, does not exceed three pages; Lewis and Clarke's Tour, (a compilation)-andnothing more. Yet Mr. Jefferson has placed him at the head of the American literati.

Mr. Allen is a showy, eloquent prose-writer-who never thinks, and, if he can help it, never reasons. His language is often surprisingly beautiful, and as often surprisingly low and common-place, without significance. He has been somehow or other made sensible of the prodigious power in a colloquial style-a familiar, frank, bold, off-hand way of saying things; and he is continually balancing between his natural style, which is rich, harmonious, lofty, and full of picture -and this of the powerful, simple, and unpretending kind, for which he is utterly disqualified-until the most ludicrous combinations are perpetually occurring to startle or provoke the

reader.

Mr. Allen is a man of uncommon genius-but no industry (except that of a steam engine, or a newspaper editor) and little reflection, else he might have been one of the first writers, I will not say merely of his country, but of the age. His prose is full of poetry-his poetry miserably full of prose. His thoughts, which in prose are burning and bright, undergo so many revolutions and eclipses in poetry, as to appear no longer the same. Yet he has the material for a great poet. But the time of achievement has gone by now-he will live and die nothing better than a clever news-paper editor, somewhat given to cant. Lewis and Clarke's Tour is nothing remarkable. The style has no particular attraction-nobody can remember anything about it. But queremay not that be the highest praise?

It has been said of a fine woman, that nobody could ever recollect how she was dressed; and provided that our author can manage to fill our mind with his thoughts, facts, or doctrine, most of us will consent, perhaps, to forego the words.

His Noah is a sad mixture of affect, ed simplicity-boyish combinationsoutrageous poetry-and real genius. A short specimen will show his whole character, and conclude our sketch:

He is describing Noah's Vision:(From Elisha, in 2d Kings.)

"Scarce had he spoke, when, with a sudden start, And wild, unusual throbbings of the heart,

He turn'd around him oft a fearful gaze,
Like one bewilder'd in a dread amaze :

What mean,' he cried, these sharpen'd points of flame,

That move in rapid circles round my frame?

Now, they extend, a line of lengthen'd light;

And now-they flash promiscuous on the sight! what mean those nodding plumes, that round me

They pant their native element to share, And trample with their hoofs the fields of air; Could ye but see the congregation nigh, The brightest sunbeam would relieve the eye!.

*

*

*

-and lo! the Zodiac rings With the loud clanguor of descending wings."

BOZMAN. This author we only know from one work, a book purporting to be a History of Maryland; and which but for the fact that there is no other history of Maryland, would not be worth mentioning. General Winder, a celebrated advocate of Baltimore, once undertook to supply the deficiency, in Allen's Journal of The Times: but the manuscript was bad and the printing worse, so that the plan was given up. Since then, another attempt has been made by a Mr. Griffith, but the history of Maryland yet remains to be written.

BRECKENRIDGE, HENRY M.-A Pennsylvanian, a lawyer, and son of

Judge Breckenridge, who was alike distinguished as a humourist, a storyteller, and a judge. Mr. B., the son, is the author of Views in Louisiana, a respectable book, made up from personal knowledge of the country, during a long residence, after Louisiana was purchased by the United States, and while Mr. B. was traversing it in every direction as a circuit judge. It may be depended upon, so far as it goes. He also wrote a history of the American war (the last) with Great Britain, in which he has faithfully preserved the newspaper accounts of the day, as given by the Americans themselves. It is a work of no merit, either in a literary or political view. It can do no good, and may do much harm, to perpetuate the thousand-and-one lies of the American press, during the unhappy season of warfare, and furious political strife. It can do no good, even for purposes of amusement, and must be exceedingly mischievous, when they are put into a popular shape, as this "History of the War" is, and sent abroad through all the "western country" as a sort of school book. I have not forgotten Dr. Franklin's newspaper lie (since acknowledged by himself in his own Memoirs) about the "bales of human scalps, marked and numbered," which were supposed to have been forwarded by the Colonial Government of America to this, in the old American war. It was only got up for the day, but has outlived the rancour of many generations, and, spite of the doctor's own confession, stands now upon grave record in one of the most able journals of the United States, (Niles's Register)—a journal remarkable for integrity and plain truth -as an historical fact; and, what is worse yet, is actually believed in America by a large portion of the people. Nobody can think more highly of Dr. Franklin's virtues than we do, but we should be sorry to have all the consequences of such a wicked political trick upon our shoulders.

Mr. B. is the author of a work upon South America-political, commercial, and statistical, which is highly creditable to him. It is the fruit of his own personal observation during a

secret mission thither, under the authority of the United States Government, in company with two commissioners, (Mr. Justice Bland, now a district judge of the United States courts, and Mr. Rodney,) neither of whom will soon be forgotten by the Spanish Americans. Judge Bland understood no language but his own, not one word of Spanish or French; Mr. Rodney nothing of Spanish, and, I believe, little or nothing of French; and Mr. Breckenridge, their interpreter, secretary, and companion, though he spoke French pretty well, made sad work with Spanish. Yet these were the secret ambassadors of a wise govern ment, in a season of great political anxiety.

BRYANT, WILLIAM CULLEN.-This gentleman's poetry has found its way, piece-meal, into England, and having met with a little of our newspaper praise, which has been repeated with great emphasis in America,is now set up among his associates for a poet of extraordinary promise, on the ground of having produced, within the course of several years, about fifty duodecimo pages of poetry, such as we shall give a specimen of. Mr. B. is not, and never will be, a great poet. He wants fire-he wants the very rashness of a poet-the prodigality and fervour of those, who are overflowing with inspiration. Mr. B., in fact, is a sensible young man, of a thrifty disposition, who knows how to manage a few plain ideas in a very handsome way. It is a bad thing for a poet, or for one whom his friends believe to be a poet, ever to spend a long time about the manufacture of musical prose, in imitation of anybody,-as Mr. Bryant and Mr. Percival both do of Milman, who has quite set the fashion in America for blank verse. Some lines, (about fifteen or twenty,) to a "waterfowl," which are very beautiful, to be sure, but with no more poetry in them than there is in the Sermon on the Mount, are supposed, by his countrymen, "to be well known in Europe.' The following is taken from his poem, "The Ages."

"Has Nature, in her calm majestic march,

Faltered with age at last? does the bright sun

Grow dim in heaven? or, în their far blue arch,
Sparkle the crowd of stars, when day is done,
Less brightly? when the dew-lipped Spring comes

on,

Breathes she with airs less soft, or scents the sky
With flowers less fair, than when her reign begun?
Does prodigal Autumn to our age deny
The plenty that once swell'd beneath his sober
eye ?"

BUCKMINSTER.--A clergyman of Boston, remarkable for his pathetic style of eloquence, and singular piety. After his death, two or three volumes of manuscript sermons were published by some of his friends-(who had not, perhaps, been much acquainted with any sermons but his)—for the sermons of Mr. Buckminster. Unluckily, however, a part of them appear to have been printed before. Some of his own are very beautiful; and those that were not his own, of course, would never have appeared as his with his own con

sent.

CHANNING-Clergyman of Boston. This gentleman, without any question, may rank among the first sermonisers that ever lived. Such of his writings as have been published are remarkable for simplicity, clearness, and power. The diction is of the heart-not of the

schools. It is, as it were, a language of his own-a visible thought.

CHANNING-Professor of Rhetoric and Belles-lettres at Harvard, a brother of the last,-a lawyer, and the Editor of the North American Review before Mr. Everett. There is nothing extraordinary about this man; but the little that he wrote for the North American was highly respectable, without having any particular or peculiar character of its own. He should have nothing to do with rhetoric or belleslettres, except in the way of a concordance, or an index. He has no sense of either, but might get up a good history of the country, which is wanted now at every turn by those who care to know the truth of America.

We have now done for the present: another paper of the same length, perhaps, will enable us to finish the whole alphabet of American writers in the same way; when our countrymen will judge for themselves concerning the truth of what we have said, and the course of policy which we have recommended in the outset. London, Sept. 4, 1824.