We hope our readers will not think that we have indulged in a train of thought too serious or sombre for the pages of a literary Monthly Magazine. It is directly forced upon us by our subject, if we would treat it as it deserves to be treated; and our only apology for choosing such a theme, is found in the fact that it is connected with one of the most wide-spread and mischievous delusions of the day. We should indeed think that we had discharged a most important editorial duty, could we only convey to the many thousands of our readers our deep impression, not only of the falsehood and wickedness of these "_lying wonders_," but also of the immense moral evil of which they threaten to be the cause. Editor's Easy Chair. The Spring hangs fire, like a rusty match-lock; and even as we write--though the almanac tells stories of "pleasant showers about this time"--the snow-flakes are dappling the distant roofs, and shivering under a northern wind. The early-trout fishers upon the south-shore of the Island, are bandaged in pea-coats, and the song-making blue-birds twitter most scattered and sorry orisons. It is a singular circumstance--and one of which the meteorologic men must give us the resolution--that the seasons of the Eastern and Western Continents balance themselves so accurately as they do. Thus, the severe winter which, leaning from the Arctic Circle, has touched our Continent with an icy _right_ hand, has kindled with a warm _left_, the north of Europe into a premature Spring. The journalists tell us of flowers blooming in Norway, through all the latter half of February; and the winter in Paris has proved as sham a winter, as their Republic is sham republic. Is there any tide of atmosphere which makes flux and reflux of cold--kindred to the sweep of the ocean? And may not that Northern Centre, which geographers call the POLE, have such influence on the atmospheric currents, as the moon is said to have upon the sea? * * * * * Poor Sir John, meantime, shivering in the Northern Regions, or--what is far more probable--sealed up in some icy shroud, that keeps his body whole, and that will not break or burst until the mountains melt--is not forgotten. Even now the British Admiralty are fitting out another expedition, to flounder for a season among the icebergs, and bring back its story of Polar nights, and harsh Arctic music.