the bold terms of unquailing freedom, compelled the submission of arms to the toga. But there is a still deeper, more serene and holy rapture, in meditating on the accents of the Redeemer in the very dialect in which they fell from his sacred lips; in meditating with an awe ineffable, on the presumptuous sentence of an earth-born worm, which consigned to a death of ignominy and shame, the august God of the universe. In Mr. R's remarks “on the manner of teaching”—on the duties of a teacher—there is much to command our admiration and respect—a clear conception of the nature and extent of tutorial duties, and a stern sense of the elevated moral standing of the tutor. We see, or we fancy we see, in the wording of this Address, another instance of that tendency to _Johnsonism_ which is the Scylla on the one hand, while a jejune style is the Charybdis on the other, of the philological scholar. In the present case we refer not to _sesquipedalia verba_, of which there are few, but to the too frequent use of primitive meanings, and the origination of words at will, to suit the purposes of the moment. But to these sins (for the world will have them such) a fellow-feeling has taught us to be lenient—and, indeed, while some few of Mr. Roszel's inventions are certainly not English, there are still but _very_ few of them “_qui ne le doivent pas etre_.” WRAXALL'S MEMOIRS. _Posthumous Memoirs of his Own Time. By Sir N. W. Wraxall, Bart. author of “Memoirs of My Own Time.” Philadelphia: Republished by Carey, Lea & Blanchard._