"Heir of eternity, Mother of Souls, Let not thy knowledge betray thee to folly! Knowledge is proud, self-sufficient, and lone, Trusting, unguided, its steps in the darkness. Thine is the wisdom that mankind may win, Gleaned in the pathway between joy and sorrow; Ours is the wisdom that hallows the child Fresh from the touch of his awful Creator, Dropped like a star on thy shadowy realm, Falling in splendor, but falling to darken. Ours is the simple religion of Faith, Trusting alone in the God who o'errules us; Thine are the complex misgivings of Doubt, Wrested to form by imperious Reason. _Knowledge is restless, imperfect, and sad; Faith is serene, and completed, and joyful._ Bow in humility, bow thy proud forehead, Circle thy form with a mantle of clouds, _Hide from the glittering cohorts of evening, Wheeling in purity, singing in chorus: Howl in the depths of thy lone, barren mountains, Restlessly moan on the deserts of ocean, Wail o'er thy fall in the desolate forests, Lost star of Paradise, straying alone!_" In the flush of youth, fortunate in all the relations of life, and with a fame already secured, there is perhaps no American author to whom the future promises more than to Mr. Boker. He has that faithful reverence for his art which makes harmless the breath of praise, more dangerous to the poet than that of censure, and there are yet many years before him ere his mind attains its full scope and stature. That all these promises may be fulfilled, to his own honor and that of American literature, is the earnest hope of BAYARD TAYLOR. HERR FLEISCHMANN ON THE INDUSTRIAL AND SOCIAL LIFE OF THE AMERICANS. In the careful watch we keep of French, German, and other foreign literatures, for what will instruct or entertain the readers of the _International_, we are always sharp-sighted for any thing said of us or our institutions, whether it be in sympathy or in antipathy. So, for a recent number, we translated from the _Revue des Deux Mondes_ a very clever paper on our American Female Poets, and on other occasions have reviewed or done into English a great many compositions which evinced the feeling of continental Europe in regard to our character and movements. We shall continue in this habit, as there is scarcely any thing ever more amusing than "what the world says" of our concerns, even when it is in the least amiable temper.