The same work, with the addition of a _third_ book, and many additions (600) to the two first. _Paris, Langelier_, 1588, in 4to. An edition at _Brussels, Foppens_, 1659, 3 vols. 12mo. and one at _Paris_, the same year, in 3 vols. 12mo. The French admit, that of the earlier editions, that of Touson, which appeared in London in 1724, with the remarks of P. Coste, in three volumes 4to., is the finest. A supplement to it was published in 1740. Editions appeared at Paris in 1725, (3 vols. 4to.) at the Hague in 1727, (12mo.) in London in 1739, and 1745, reprints of Coste’s edition. There were editions in Paris in 1754, and in Lyons in 1781, and subsequent editions in Paris in 1783, 1793, and 1801 and 1802—since which, editions have followed, in that city, in rapid succession, and more than twenty, with the “Notes of all the Commentators,” are to be had for the asking. The English translations are, first: “The Essays of Michael, Lord of Montaigne, translated by John Florio, London, 1603, folio.” Florio was the Holofernes of Shakspeare. This edition, with a portrait of Florio, by Hole, again appeared in 1613, and 1632. “Essays of Michael, Seigneur of Montaigne, made English by Charles Cotton. London, 1680.” There are editions in 1711, 1738, and 1743. A new edition of this translation appeared in 1776, with many corrections, which was reprinted in 1811, but by whom the corrections were made does not appear. The last edition, to which is added his “Letters and Journey through Germany,” and which is an edition of his works prepared by Mr. Hazlitt, from which the Philadelphia edition has been printed. * * * * * _Poems. By Frances Sargent Osgood. With Illustrations by Huntington, Darley, Cushman, Osgood, etc. Philadelphia: A. Hart. 1 vol. 8vo._ This beautiful volume, the finest in point of pictorial illustrations of a beautiful series, deserves a much more extended notice than we are capable of giving it at present. Mrs. Osgood occupies, among American poets, a place peculiarly her own, where she is without a peer, and almost without a rival. She is the most lyrical of our poets, her nature being of that fluid character which readily pours itself out in song, and quick and sensitive to impressions almost to a fault. A hint from an object is taken, and instantly her soul surrenders itself to the impression, and sings it as if her whole life was concentrated in the emotion of the moment. Her mind, being thus so readily impassioned, glides easily into various forms of character and peculiarities of situation, which she has never actually experienced. Most of the songs in the volume, though they burn and beat as if the writer’s life-blood was circling through them, are essentially dramatic lyrics—the position of the author being an imaginative not a personal one.