wild--unnatural and horrible! Why will he not permit his fine genius to soar into purer, brighter, and happier regions? Why will he not disenthral himself from the spells of German enchantment and supernatural imagery? There is room enough for the exercise of the highest powers, upon the multiform relations of human life, without descending into the dark mysterious and unutterable creations of licentious fancy. When Mr. Poe passes from the region of shadows, into the plain practical dissecting room of criticism, he manifests great dexterity and power. He exposes the imbecility and rottenness of our _ad captandum_ popular literature, with the hand of a master. The public I believe was much delighted with the admirable scalping of "Norman Leslie," in the December number, and likewise of Mr. Simms' "Partisan," in the number for January; and it will be no less pleased at the caustic severity with which the puerile abortion of "Paul Ulric" is exposed in the present number.--These miserable attempts at fiction, will bring all fictitious writing into utter disrepute, unless indeed the stern rebukes which shall come from our chairs of criticism, shall rectify the public taste, and preserve the purity of public feeling. It would be tedious to pronounce upon the merits and demerits of the several articles in the number under review. Dr. Greenhow's continuation of the Tripolitan Sketches is worthy of his calm and philosophical pen. The re-appearance of "Nugator" in the pages of the Messenger--after a long interval of silence--will be hailed by its readers with great pleasure; his "Castellanus" is excellent. The article on "Liberian Literature," will attract much attention. It presents a very vivid picture of the wonderful progress which that colony has made in most of the arts, and in many of the refinements of life. Lionel Granby--the sketch of the lamented Cushing,--and the sketches of Lake Superior, have each their peculiar merits, and will be read with interest; of the _Critical Notices_, the sarcastic power of the review of Paul Ulric, has been already spoken of. The Review of "Rienzi," too, the last novel of Bulwer, is written in Mr. Poe's best style,--but I must be permitted to dissent _toto cælo_ from his opinion, that the author of that work is unsurpassed as a novelist by any writer living or dead.--There is no disputing about tastes, but according to my poor judgment, a single work might be selected from among the voluminous labors of Walter Scott, worth all that Bulwer has ever written, or ever will write--and this I {346} believe will be the impartial verdict of posterity, at least so long as unaffected simplicity and the true moral sublime, are preferred to the gaudy and meretricious coloring which perverted genius throws around its creations. The Eulogy on the great and good Marshall, is an elaborate and elegant performance. It is a powerful, yet familiar sketch of the principal features in the life and character of that incomparable man.