If we have chosen to speak last of the author of "_Musings_," it is not because he is least in our estimation. On the contrary, we sincerely esteem him as among the favored few, to whom it is given,---if they themselves will it,--to reach the highest honors, and the most enduring rewards, in the empire of poesy. The beautiful and graceful picture of Venice, presented in our present number,--of Venice despoiled of her ancient glory--yet still glorious in ruin,--will command, if we mistake not, general admiration. Successful as the author always is, in his light and fugitive pieces, he gives evidence of a power to grasp the highest themes, and to sport with familiar ease in the least accessible regions of fancy. Why does he not seize the lyre at once, and pour forth a song which shall add to his country's honor, and insure for himself a chaplet of renown? Why does he not at once take rank with the HALLECKS, the BRYANTS and PERCIVALS, of a colder clime? He is every way qualified to do it. To our numerous correspondents and contributors, whose favors have not yet appeared in print,--we owe our acknowledgments, and in some instances an apology. Our space is exceedingly disproportioned to the quantity of matter which we have on hand; and, of course, we are driven to the painful, and rather invidious task of selection. We have many articles actually in type, which we are necessarily obliged to exclude from the present number. Among them may be enumerated "_A Scene in Genoa, by an American Tourist_," the "_Grave Seekers_," and other fine specimens of poetry. The "_Reporter's Story, or the Importance of a Syllable_," "_The Cottage in the Glen_,"--the poems from Louisa and Pittsylvania, and from various other quarters, shall all receive the earliest possible attention. The high claims of our correspondents in Mobile and Tuscaloosa in the state of Alabama, shall also be attended to; and, we hope that others in distant states, will not deem themselves slighted if not now particularly enumerated. The "_Eulogy on Lafayette_," transmitted from France, and handed over to us by a friend, shall appear in the next number. We have read with pleasure, the love tale composed by an accomplished young lady in one of the upper counties; and, whilst we do not hesitate to render a just tribute to the delicacy of sentiment and glowing fancy which distinguish her pages, candor compels us to urge one objection, which we fear is insurmountable. The story is wrought up with materials derived from English character and manners; and, we have too many thousands of similar fictions issuing from the British press, to authorize the belief that another of the same class will be interesting to an American reader. We should like to see our own writers confine their efforts to native subjects--to throw aside the trammels of foreign reading, and to select their themes from the copious materials which every where abound in our own magnificent country.