The publishers of this _fashionable_ romance, by way of smoothing its path to general reception and favor, have attached to the title page various opinions expressed by English journalists,--to wit: The _Quarterly Review_ says, "a very remarkable performance. It continues in possession of all the celebrity it once commanded." The "_Printing Machine_" (a paper we presume of that name) says, "As an Eastern story, we know nothing produced by an European imagination that can stand a comparison with this work." The _Morning Post_ exclaims, "The finest Oriental tale extant!" and the "_Gentleman's Magazine_," pronounces it "a creation of genius that would immortalize its author at any time, and under any taste." These are very imposing authorities, and superadded to them all, it is said that Mr. Beckford is now living, is one of the richest men in England, and occupies so high a rank in social life, that royalty itself has been known to court his society. Nor is this all. Lord Byron pronounced "Vathek" to be a most surpassing production--far superior as an Eastern tale, to the "Rassalais" of Johnson,--and whatever has been said by Lord Byron, especially in matters of taste, will pass with some persons as incontrovertible orthodoxy. We have not examined particularly to ascertain what our own critics have said on the subject; but we believe that some of them at least, have echoed the plaudits of the British periodicals. Be this as it may, we happen to have an honest opinion of our own, and we must say, in our poor judgment, that a more impure, disgusting, and execrable production, than this same "Vathek," never issued from the English or American press. That the author was a youth of extraordinary genius, is acknowledged; (he wrote before twenty years of age)--but it was genius totally perverted and poisoned at its source. The work could have been written by no one whose heart was not polluted at its very core. Obscene and blasphemous in the highest degree, its shocking pictures are in no wise redeemed by the beauty and simplicity of Oriental fiction. We should pronounce it, without knowing any thing of Mr. Beckford's character, to be the production of a sensualist and an infidel--one who could riot in the most abhorred and depraved conceptions--and whose prolific fancy preferred as its repast all that was diabolical and monstrous, rather than what was beautiful and good. We shall not even attempt a detailed account of this volume--but when such works are recommended to public favor, we think it is time that criticism should brandish its rod, and that the genius of morality--if there be such a spirit in our land--should frown down the effort. LEISURE HOURS, or the American Popular Library; conducted by an Association of Gentlemen. Boston: _John Allen & Co._ 1835.