of the immortal painter. He left to the
Academy of Venice the choice of the form of the monument, and of the
site on which it should be erected. The Academy, after a discussion _pro
forma_, confided the monument to one of its members, M. Zandomeni,
professor of sculpture. The monument is to be placed in the church of
St. Mary of Frari, near that of Canova. It will be inaugurated in about
a year's time with great pomp. Shortly after the monument was commenced,
Zandomeni died, but his son has carried out his design.

LITERARY NOTICES.

_The Reveries of a Bachelor_, by IK. MARVEL (published by Baker and
Scribner), some portions of which have already been presented to the
public in the October number of our Magazine, and in the _Southern
Literary Messenger_, where they originally appeared, is one of the most
remarkable and delightful books of the present season. Under the
artistic disguise of the reveries of a solitary bachelor, yielding to
the sweet and pensive fancies that cluster around his contemplative
moments, inspired to strange, aerial, and solemn musings by the quiet
murmur of his old-fashioned wood-fire, or gathering a swarm of quaint
moralities from the fragrant embers of his cigar, the author stamps his
heart on these living pages, and informs them with the most beautiful
revelations that can be drawn from the depths of a rich experience and a
singularly delicate and vivid imagination. Perhaps the most striking
feature of this volume, is its truthfulness and freshness of feeling.
The author has ventured to appropriate the most sacred emotions as the
materials for his composition. Scenes, over which the vail is reverently
drawn in real life, and which are touched lightly by the great masters
of passion, are here depicted with the most faithful minuteness of
coloring, and fondly dwelt on, as if the artist could not leave the
tearful creations of his fancy. Nothing but an almost Shakspearian
fidelity to nature could give success to such an experiment. The
slightest tincture of affectation, or false sentiment, would ruin the
whole. We always distrust the man who would play upon our emotions, and
are glad to take refuge in the ludicrous, to save ourselves from the
pathetic. If a single weak spot can be detected in the magic chain which
he would throw around our feelings, if every link does not ring with the
sound of genuine metal, the charm is at once broken, and we laugh to
scorn the writer who would fain