“MSS. of Benjamin Franklin” form the opening paper of the Magazine—three hitherto unpublished though characteristic essays from the pen of the first eminent philosopher and sage whom America can claim as her own. ‘A Lecture on Providence’ is replete with the profound yet perspicuous common sense which was ever so prominent a feature in the character of the inventor of the lightning-rod; while the letters of ‘Anthony Afterwit’ and ‘Celia Single’ are in his lighter vein of humorous utilitarianism which would have done no discredit to the pen of Addison. (By the way, why have we no compilation or edition of the Life and Writings of Dr. Franklin at all commensurate with the dignity of the subject? Such a work would form a valuable and now desirable addition to American literature.) “Genius” is discussed in the succeeding prose paper, and to better purpose than in the majority of essays on the subject. The writer maintains that “Genius, as it appears to me, is merely a decided preference for any study or pursuit, which enables its possessor to give it the close and unwearied attention necessary to ensure success.” This proposition is stoutly and ably maintained, and, though we cannot concur in it fully, we believe it much nearer the truth than is generally supposed. If true at all, it is a profitable truth, and should pass into an axiom with all convenient celerity. “Some Ancient Greek Authors Chronologically Considered,” is an article evincing profitably directed research, which we shall copy. “March Court” is a sketch so exclusively Virginian, that we can hardly judge of its merit. “The Death of Robespierre” is a dramatic sketch—a species of writing which we do not properly appreciate. We, who do not worship even Shakspeare, cannot bow to the sway of his humbler satellites. “Woman” is the topic of the succeeding paper—judicious and sensible, but not very original or forcible, considering that the essayist is a lady. “Leaves from a Scrap Book” will be found among our literary selections. We regret that its Greek characters and phrases compelled us to exclude the author's forcible illustration of the disadvantages under which the earlier poets labor in a comparison with the moderns. Nothing could be more conclusive. The Editorials of the number are ably written, though some pages are devoted to a solution of the mystery of the Automaton Chess-Player, doubtless the correct one, viz. that, after all the scrutiny which it has undergone, there is actually a man concealed in the pretended machinery. We are not sure that this demonstration, conceding it to be such, is worth the space it necessarily occupies.