Warwick Castle, where Mrs Stowe grows critical upon art, after a very peculiar fashion—and Kenilworth, at which she indulges in the somewhat singular remark that “it was a beautiful conception, this making of birds”!—need not detain us. The pleasure trip was succeeded by a penance, in the shape of a lecture “against the temptations of too much flattery and applause, and against the worldliness which might beset me in London,” delivered by a celebrated female preacher, belonging to the Society of Quakers, of the name of Sibyl Jones, who had “a concern upon her mind for me.” That Sibyl possessed somewhat of the prophetic spirit, appears plain from the commentary of Mrs Stowe, who was sensibly touched by the hints which she received, and very likely began to feel that she had been somewhat over-elevated by the inflation of the northern Puffendorffs. In all seriousness, we believe that the lesson was both well meant and well timed; but the commentary appended is but one of the many proofs contained in these volumes, that Mrs Stowe is something more than a passive spectator of the Transatlantic movement for establishing what are called the “Rights of Woman”—in more vulgar language, the superiority of the grey mare, and the supremacy of the petticoat over the breeches. Now, as to the supremacy of women, we never had any doubt about it—few men, who have been married for a year, can be sceptical upon that point—and the utmost that men can demand from their wives as to the respective ranking of the garments, is, in the ancient and significant language of the Highlanders, to be allowed “to cast their clothes together.” Moreover, to the wife is invariably committed that highest symbol of authority known as “the power of the keys;” so that she has it in her power at all times to coerce her husband by the simplest and the readiest means. In fact, she has him at a dead lock, and possesses the entire command of the press. Young Hampden may talk as much as he pleases, at his Club, about the liberty of the press, and its being as essential as the air he breathes; but, when he returns home, about one in the morning, he is very fain to take his candle, and move up-stairs as quietly as possible, without attempting to enfranchise any incarcerated spirits. We do not hesitate to declare ourselves in favour of the supremacy of the wife in her own household, believing that it is, in almost every case, an unavoidable consummation, and, upon the whole, the very best arrangement that human ingenuity could devise. But the American notion goes far beyond this. The advocates of the “Rights of Woman” admit of no such paltry compromise as the surrender of domestic authority. What you as a man can do, of that your wife is equally capable, and may lawfully exert herself accordingly. Are you a barrister—why should not your wife, who has studied as a juris-consult, and been admitted to the honours of the forensic gown more legitimately