Amid the tumult, wilt thou see afar,

Our laurell'd heroes striving for the day?
While clouds unfolding, ope the wings of war,
Where the grim legions sweep the foes away?

And while their deeds thy blest approvance claim,
While crowds of rival chief thy guidance share,
Behold that first, that finished heir of fame,
And be the best of heroes still thy care.

That hero, whose illuminating sword

Lights death and victory through the darkened field,
Bids realms and ages waken at his word,

Their sire, their soul, their saviour, and their shield.

A pressure of matter prevents farther extracts for the present number. We shall take another occasion to complete our quotations, many of which are not only striking records of the time, bu. possess poetical merit of a high order.

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SUMMER IN THE LAP OF WINTER. - When the streets are covered with snow, the rivers, with slow and solemn movement, rolling their tributes of ice to the main, and a howling tempest filling all the air, it is a pleasant thing for a man, while, 'to make use of a strong expression,'

'Cold are his feelings, cold the weather!'

to step into long ranges of hot-houses, where breathes the very breath of midsummer, and on every hand are blooming flowers, of a thousand hues. Let us advise the city denizen to pay a visit to the garden of that nature's nobleman, THOMAS HOGG, walk amidst his fruit-bearing orange and lemon trees, and his amphitheatric rows of japonicas, countless in variety, and fresh as the loveliest damsel in whose hair they may flourish, or in whose bouquet they may attract admiration, conversation, and perhaps beaux. In short, if the reader would see Summer dallying in Winter's lap, let him step up to HOGG's 'New-York Botanic Garden,' at the junction of Broadway and Twentyfirst street, and he may remark that agreeable phenomenon.

KKICKERBOCKERIANA: CORRESPONDENTS, ETC.-There has been no month, since the establishment of this Magazine, in which so many names have been added to its list of subscribers, as during the period which has elapsed since the issue of our last number. For this most substantia! evidence of abundant public approbation, as well as for the testimony afforded in the almost uniform firm adherence of older readers, we shall let slip no endeavor to be practically grateful. Several correspondents, whose valuable favors reached us too late for insertion in the present number, will appear in our next. The Philosophy of Color,' 'Tableaux Vivantes, Down East,' with other communications, the reception of which has been privately acknowledged, are on file for insertion. In answer to an inquiry from several sources, we may state here, that the first and second 'Psalm of Life,' and the 'Psalm of Death,' in late numbers of the KNICKERBOCKER, are from the pen of Professor HENRY W. LONGFELLOW, of Harvard University, an old and regular correspondent of this Magazine, whom the reader will find frequent occasion to welcome in these pages. Brief notices of the following works, although in type, are unavoidably omitted: Address before the Philomathic Society of Alabama University,' HILL's Poems, JAMES' 'Tales of the Passions,' the Ohio Monthly Chronicle,' and an Examination of the Difficulties between France and Mexico.'

.*. THE continued absence of our theatrical correspondent, must constitute our apology for the omission of our usual dramatic notices. The performances, however, have for the most part been such as did not demand deliberate criticism, on the score either of novelty or interest. The fine tragedy of Velasco,' by EPES SARGENT, ESQ., has been repeatedly brought forward at the Park Theatre. Its success, here and elsewhere, has been complete. It is pronounced, on all hands, an acting play of a high order. Of its rare literary merits, we have already spoken. Mr. BURTON, comedian, of the Philadelphia theatres, whose series of amusing papers, entitled 'An Actor's Alloquy,' and other articles contributed to the KNICKERBOCKER, have made him favorably known to our readers, has commenced a brief engagement at the National Theatre.

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