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diff --git a/19383.txt b/19383.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..23afd96 --- /dev/null +++ b/19383.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7123 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Knickerbocker, or New-York Monthly +Magazine, January 1844, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Knickerbocker, or New-York Monthly Magazine, January 1844 + Volume 23, Number 1 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: September 26, 2006 [EBook #19383] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KNICKERBOCKER *** + + + + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +THE + + +Knickerbocker, + + +OR + + +NEW-YORK MONTHLY MAGAZINE. + + +VOLUME XXIII. + + +NEW-YORK: +PUBLISHED BY JOHN ALLEN, NASSAU-STREET. +1844. + + + + +INDEX. + + +A. + + Apostrophe to an Old Hat. By J. G. SAXE, 69 + A Lady on the Rights of Women, 79 + A Second Ralph Ringwood, 81 + Ascent of Mount AEtna. By THOMAS COLE, 103 + A Night on the Prairie. By a Buffalo Hunter, 114 + A Winter Trip to Trenton Falls, 133 + A Veritable Sea-Story. By HARRY FRANCO, 151 + A Few Hints on the Philosophy of Size, 156 + American Manners and American Literature, 180 + An Apostrophe to Health, 217 + Anacreontic. By 'G. H. H.', 275 + A Christmas Carol in Prose, 276 + American Ptyalism: 'Quid Rides?' 288 + A Pilgrimage to Penshurst. By C. ALEXANDER, Esq., 307 + A First Night of Racine. By FLANEUR, 345 + Apostrophe to Time. By Miss MARY GARDINER, 353 + An Alligatorical Sketch, 361 + Address and Poem at Boston, 387 + A Brace of 'Pellets' from Julian, 391 + A Dream. By JOHN WATERS, 432 + A Piscatorial Eclogue, 46 + A Picture by Murillo, 503 + A Song. By JOHN WATERS, 516 + Autobiography of the Prairie Hermit, 557 + A Dream of Youth, 561 + A New Spirit of the Age, 583 + A Day With the great SEATSFIELD, 584 + A Thrust with a Two-edged Weapon, 590 + Another 'Pellet' from JULIAN, 595 + + +B. + + Benthamiana, 282 + Belizarius: A Historical Sketch, 337 + Birth-Day Meditations, 527 + + +C. + + Coronation of George the Fourth, 138 + Curiosities of Foreign and Domestic Literature, 490 + CLARK'S Literary Remains, 495, 578 + + +D. + + Descriptive Poetry, 1 + Drawings and Tintings. By ALFRED B. STREET, 387 + Disguised Derivative Words in English, 570 + + +E. + + EDITOR'S TABLE, 78, 180, 283, 389, 499, 584 + Essay on a Passage in Macbeth. By JOHN WATERS, 153 + Elementary Treatise on Human Physiology, 178 + Early Spring at the Homestead, 438 + English State Trials under the Popish Plot, 447 + Exhibition of the National Academy of Design, 595 + + +F. + + Freedom's Beacon at Bunker-Hill, 132 + Fragments from the Greek. By 'G. H. H.', 361 + + +G. + + Ganguernet: or a Capital Joke, 62 + GOSSIP with Readers and Correspondents, 83, 192, 289, 396, 505, 599 + + +I. + + I Follow: from the French, 145 + Isabel: the Death of the Young, 218 + Idyll: in imitation of Theocritus, 323 + Inscription for a Sarcophagus, 367 + Italy and the Italians. By J. T. HEADLEY, Esq., 498 + Impudence of the French, 499 + + +J. + + JOSEPH C. NEALE'S 'Charcoal Sketches,' 184 + + +K. + + KENDALL'S Narrative of the Santa Fe Expedition, 382 + + +L. + + Lines to a Fringed Gentian. By WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, Esq., 28 + Lines to Death, the Great Conqueror, 44 + Letter to the Editor from Mr. JAMES JESSAMINE, 58 + Love's Elysium: from the German, 61 + Lines to an Evening Cloud, 73 + LITERARY NOTICES, 74, 170, 276, 382, 490, 578 + Lines to Time. By Mrs. J. WEBB, 113 + Life's Young Dream, 119 + Life: a Sonnet, 159 + Lines to J. T. of Ireland. By C. W. DAY, Esq., 169 + Life and Times of the late WILLIAM ABBOTT, 187 + Lines sent with a Bouquet. By PARK BENJAMIN, Esq., 211 + Legend of Don Roderick. By WASHINGTON IRVING, 262, 324, 418 + Literary Record, 305 + Lines with a 'Floral Messenger,' 534 + Lines written under a portrait of Jupiter and Danaee, 430 + Lines to my Sister. By R. S. CHILTON, 472 + Legend of the Subjugation of Spain. By WASHINGTON IRVING, 572 + Lines by Prof. Plutarch Shaw, of Tinnecum, 577 + Life in the New World. By SEATSFIELD, 581 + + +M. + + Mexico as it was and is. By BRANTZ MAYER, Esq., 77 + Music, Musicians, Musical Critics, and Ole Bull, 80 + Mr. CHEEVER'S Lectures on the Pilgrims, 388 + MARY MAY: the Newfoundland Indian, 523 + Mental Hygiene. By WILLIAM SWEETSER, M. D., 581 + Magazine Writing, 589 + + +N. + + Night and Morning. By 'POLYGON', 257 + Night-Thoughts: to BLUMINE, 436 + North-American Review for the April quarter, 492 + + +O. + + Old reflections on the New Year, 78 + One Reading from Two Poets. By JOHN WATERS, 218 + On Rivers and Other Things. By do., 349 + + +P. + + Poems of JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL, 170 + Professor Shaw, of Tinnecum, 549 + Poetry and History of Wyoming. By WILLIAM L. STONE, Esq., 382 + + +R. + + Reminiscenses of a Dartmoor Prisoner, 146, 356, 517 + Reves et Souvenirs, 343 + Religious Controversy. By 'FLACCUS,' 445 + + +S. + + Song of the New Year. By Mrs. R. S. NICHOLS, 25 + Stanzas suggested by GLIDDON'S Lectures, 29 + Sketches of East Florida: St. Augustine, 45 + Sonnet to the Old Year, 53 + Some Thoughts on the Country, 70 + Scenes and Scenery in the Sandwich Islands, 77 + Sicilian Scenery and Antiquities. By THOMAS COLE, 103, 236 + Some Sentiments on Sonnets, with Sundry Specimens, 283 + Stanzas to MARY. By Mrs. M. E. HEWITT, 348 + Stanzas on the Burial of an Infant, 460 + Stanzas to Niagara. By CLAUDE HALCRO, 489 + Stanzas to my Three Departed Sisters, 556 + Stanzas Written in Indisposition. By the late WILLIS GAYLORD CLARK, 569 + + +T. + + The Idleberg Papers: a Christmas Yarn, 11 + Thoughts on Color. By JOHN WATERS, 26 + The Quod Correspondence, 30, 120, 245, 368, 473, 529 + Thoughts from Bulwer. By Mrs. M. T. W. CHANDLER, 52 + The Mail Robber, 53 + The AEneid of Virgil: with Notes by CHAS. ANTHON, 76 + The Sacrifice, 127 + The Death-Bed. By the 'COUNTRY DOCTOR,' 128 + The Ruins of Burnside. By JAMES LAWSON, Esq., 137 + The Smithy. By ALFRED B. STREET, Esq., 155 + Two Pictures: Love Celestial and Love Terrestrial, 160 + The Hermit of the Prairie, 161 + Translation from CATULLUS. By Rev. Geo. W. BETHUNE, 166 + The Painted Rock, 167 + Thirty Years among the Players of England and America, 175 + The Study of Woman's Life, 179 + The American Review, 179 + The North American Review, for January, 183 + The Alms-House: a New-England Sketch, 212 + The Tyranny of Affection, 222 + The Fratricide's Death, 232 + The Spectre Imp. By Mr. GEORGE HARVEY, 338 + The Church Bell, 368 + The Inner Life of Man. By Mr. CHARLES HOOVER, 389, 599 + The Floral Resurrection, 417 + The Dog-Star Spirit: or, Tray's Reflections, 431 + The Poet Halleck: Epistle to the Editor, 437 + The Plague at Constantinople in 1837, 511 + The Song of Death. By MISS MARY GARDINER, 523 + The Householder. by JOHN WATERS, 528 + The Hearth of Home, 548 + + +V. + + Vicissitudes, 10 + Voices of Affection, 336 + + +W. + + Winter Evening: an Extract. By J. G. PERCIVAL, Esq., 24 + What is Transcendentalism? 205 + Wanderings of a Journeyman Tailor, 281 + What is It? A Lover's Query, 489 + + + +-------------------------------------------------+ + | Transcriber's Note: The page numbers in the | + | index convert to issues in the following way: | + | | + | January, 1844 1-102 | + | February 103-204 | + | March 205-306 | + | April 307-408 | + | May 409-510 | + | June 511-608 | + +-------------------------------------------------+ + + + + + + + T H E K N I C K E R B O C K E R. + +VOL. XXIII. JANUARY, 1844. NO. 1. + + + + +DESCRIPTIVE POETRY. + +BY A NEW CONTRIBUTOR. + + +Whatever the poets may say, it is incontrovertible that the great majority +of men look upon the beauties and glories of Nature that surround them +with almost entire indifference. We shall not inquire whether this is the +result of a natural incapacity to perceive and admire the beautiful and +sublime, or whether it is that their impressions are so deadened by +familiarity as to be passed by unnoticed. Probably the former is the case +with the greater number; although we cannot believe with some writers, +that all our ideas of beauty are but the results of association, or of our +perceptions of the proportion, or fitness, or utility of things. When we +say that some things are naturally agreeable, and others naturally +disagreeable, we have said all that we know about the matter; and this +amounts to nothing more than a confession of our ignorance. Yet, if we +admit in all men the existence of a natural sense of beauty, daily +observation shows us that the pleasure arising from it is in most cases +very feeble and evanescent. How many live in the midst of the most +magnificent natural scenery, and never perceive its beauties until they +are pointed out to them by some intelligent traveller! And often if +admiration be professed, it is of that vague, undistinguishing kind, which +indicates little knowledge of the causes why they admire. Even among men +of cultivated tastes, there is much more of affected than real enthusiasm. + +If what we have said be true, it is a curious subject of inquiry why +descriptive poetry has been so popular. How happens it that so many who +have looked upon Nature herself with great indifference, have been so much +delighted with the reflection of her image in the pages of the poets? We +suspect, indeed, that a part of the popularity of this class of writers is +factitious. THOMSON, the most popular, is we suspect oftener +purchased than read; and his 'Seasons' are not unfrequently spoken of with +admiration by those who know little of them but the episodes. The chief +interest of the 'Task' is to be sought for in other sources than its +descriptions, notwithstanding the _curiosa felicitas_ of Cowper's diction. + +The pleasure which we feel in reading descriptive poetry may perhaps in +all cases be traced to one of the three following sources: the conception +in our own minds of objects corresponding in a greater or less degree to +those which exist in the mind of the poet; the train of associations which +his language awakens; or the moral interest with which he invests what he +describes. In the case first mentioned, the emotions we feel are similar +to those which the sight of the objects themselves would produce; if +beautiful, of pleasure; if terrible, of awe. A painting, which is an +accurate representation of nature, regarded irrespective of the skill of +the artist, would affect us in the same way. But the effects resulting +from this cause are too inconsiderable to require particular mention. The +picture which words are able to present is so indistinct and vague as +rarely to produce any strong emotion. If the objects themselves are +generally looked upon with indifference, much less can a verbal +description of them afford us any great degree of pleasure. + +The language which the poet uses often suggests to the mind of the reader +trains of thought and imagery which were never present to his own mind. +Hence many expressions which are in themselves eminently poetic, will +arouse associations, oftentimes, that entirely spoil the passage. On the +other hand, an expression low and vulgar may be ennobled by its +associations, and give dignity and force to the composition. We not +unfrequently meet phrases which have great beauty in the eyes of one man, +which seem flat and insipid in the eyes of another. Every writer who has +attempted dignified or pathetic composition, has felt how difficult it is +to avoid those words which will suggest ideas that are unworthy of the +subject. If, however, the poet is sometimes a loser, he is also sometimes +a gainer from this cause. The reader often finds in his own associations, +sources of pleasure independent of the poet. The light that illumines the +page is but the reflected radiance of his own thoughts, and is unseen by +all save himself. + +But it is in the moral interest with which the poet invests the objects he +describes, that the chief source of our pleasure is to be found. The poet +paints Nature, not as she is, but as she seems. He adorns her with beauty +not her own, and presents her thus adorned to men, to admire and to love. +It is by interweaving human sympathies and feelings with the objects of +the material world, that they lose their character of 'mute insensate +things,' and acquire the power to charm and to soothe us, amidst all the +cares and anxieties of our life. The intellectual process which here takes +place is so interesting and important that we shall make no apology for +treating the subject at some length. + +It is sufficiently obvious that an accurate description of nature, or a +beautiful work of art, is not poetical. On the other hand, in proportion +as the minuteness of the description is increased, the poetry vanishes. +The traveller who should give us the exact dimensions of the pyramids, the +precise height of the terraces, the width and height of the inner +passages, would give us much more definite ideas of those structures than +he who should paint to us the effects produced on his own mind by their +vastness, their antiquity, and the solitude that surrounds them. So in +descriptions of natural scenery, the geographer who gives us the +measurement of mountains, and rivers, and plains, is much more accurate +than he who describes them solely from the picture that exists in his +fancy. We wish to be rightly understood. We do not mean that vagueness and +generality are essential to poetical description. As on the one hand, +mathematical accuracy, by allowing no play to the imagination, produces a +feeble impression, so on the other the indistinctness arising from +indefinite expressions is equally unfavorable. But in neither is the +poetry of the description dependent on the greater or less degree of +minuteness with which particular objects are spoken of. When Whitbread +described the Phenix, according to Sheridan's version, 'like a poulterer; +it was green, and red, and yellow, and blue; he did not let us off for a +single feather,' he did not fail more egregiously than Thomson in the +following lines, in which, by the force of language, a flock of geese are +made highly poetical objects: + + 'Hushed in short suspense + The plumy people streak their wings with oil, + To throw the lucid moisture trickling off, + And wait the approaching sign to strike at once + Into the general choir.' + +The poet indeed must give us a lively and definite image of the scene or +object which he undertakes to describe. But how shall this be done? Simply +by telling us how it appeared to him; introducing those circumstances +which had the greatest effect on his own imagination. He looks on nature +neither as a gardener, a geographer, an astronomer, nor a geologist, but +as a man, susceptible of strong impressions, and able to describe clearly +to others the objects which affected himself. This he will do in the style +which the emotion raised within him naturally dictates. His imagery, his +illustrations, his whole language, will take the hue of his own feelings. +It is in describing accurately the effect, not the cause, the emotion, not +the object which produced it, that the poet's fidelity to nature consists. +Let us illustrate our meaning by two or three examples. In Thomson we find +the following description of a thunder-storm: + + 'A boding silence reigns + Dread through the dun expanse; save the dull sound + That from the mountain, previous to the storm, + Rolls o'er the muttering earth, disturbs the flood, + And shakes the forest leaf without a breath. + Prone to the lowest vale, the aerial tribes + Descend: the tempest-loving raven scarce + Dares wing the dubious dusk. In rueful gaze + The cattle stand, and on the scowling heavens + Cast a deploring eye, by man forsook, + Who to the crowded cottage hies him fast, + Or seeks the shelter of the downward cave. + 'Tis listening fear, and dumb amazement all, + When to the startled eye the sudden glance + Appears far south, eruptive through the cloud + And following slower in explosion vast, + The thunder raises his tremendous voice. + At first heard solemn o'er the verge of heaven + The tempest growls; but as it nearer comes + And rolls its awful burthen on the wind, + The lightnings flash a larger curve, and more + The noise astounds; till over head a sheet + Of livid flame discloses wide; then shuts + And opens wider; shuts, and opens still + Expansive, wrapping ether in a blaze. + Follows the loosened, aggravated roar, + Enlarging, deepening, mingling; peal on peal + Crushed horrible, convulsing heaven and earth.' + +MR. IRVING describes a similar scene in the following terms: 'It +was the latter part of a calm sultry day, that they floated quietly with +the tide between these stern mountains. There was that perfect quiet which +prevails over nature in the languor of summer heat; the turning of a +plank, or the accidental falling of an oar on deck, was echoed from the +mountain side, and reverberated along the shores. To the left the +Dunderberg reared its woody precipices, height over height, forest over +forest, away into the deep summer sky. To the right strutted forth the +bold promontory of Antony's nose, with a solitary eagle wheeling about it; +while beyond, mountain succeeded to mountain, until they seemed to lock +their arms together, and confine this mighty river in their embraces. In +the midst of his admiration, Dolph remarked a pile of bright snowy clouds +peering above the western heights. It was succeeded by another and +another, each seemingly pushing onward its predecessor, and towering with +dazzling brilliancy in the deep blue atmosphere; and now muttering peals +of thunder were faintly heard rolling behind the mountains. The river, +hitherto still and glassy, reflecting pictures of the sky and land, now +showed a dark ripple at a distance, as the breeze came creeping up it. The +fish-hawks wheeled and screamed, and sought their nests on the high dry +trees; the crows flew clamorously to the crevices of the rocks, and all +nature seemed conscious of the approaching thunder gust. The clouds now +rolled in volumes over the mountain tops; their summits still bright and +snowy, but the lower parts of an inky blackness. The rain began to patter +down in broad and scattered drops; the winds freshened, and curled up the +waves; at length it seemed as if the bellying clouds were torn open by the +mountain tops, and complete torrents of rain came rattling down. The +lightning leaped from cloud to cloud, and streamed quivering against the +rocks, splitting and rending the stoutest forest trees; the thunder burst +in tremendous explosions; the peals were echoed from mountain to mountain; +they clashed upon Dunderberg, and then rolled up the long defile of the +Highlands, each headland waking a new echo, until old Bull Hill seemed to +bellow back the storm.' + +We think that no one who attentively reads the foregoing extracts can fail +to see the infinite superiority of the latter over the former, in every +thing that pertains to a faithful representation of nature. Irving has +given us the scene just as he saw it, unmixed with any hue or coloring +with which the mood of his own mind might have invested it. We see the +objects themselves, disconnected from the associations of the spectator. +Had there been a thousand persons looking on, each would have heard the +same sounds, and seen the same sights. There is nothing that is +extraneous. He has given us an exact copy of his original, and nothing +more. Thomson, on the contrary, has not described a thunderstorm as he saw +it, but according to the effect that it produced on his own mind. His +epithets are rarely descriptive of the qualities that exist in the objects +to which they are applied. They have reference rather to the emotions +which their presence produces in himself. Thus, in the first line, +'boding' is not a quality that can be predicated of silence. To the +feeling that the silence preceding a storm is wont to excite, the epithet +is properly enough applied. So with the expression 'dubious dusk.' + +In connection with these extracts, we will look at one taken from +SCOTT'S description of the scenery around Loch Katrine: + + 'Boon nature scattered free and wild, + Each plant, or flower, the mountain's child; + Here eglantine embalmed the air, + Hawthorn and hazel mingled there; + The primrose pale, and violet flower, + Found in each cleft a narrow bower; + Foxglove and night-shade, side by side + Emblems of punishment and pride, + Grouped their dark hues with every stain + The weather-beaten crags retain; + With boughs that quaked at every breath, + Gray-birch and aspen wept beneath; + Aloft the ash and warrior oak + Cast anchor in the rifted rock; + And higher yet the pine tree hung + His scattered trunk, and frequent flung + Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high + His boughs athwart the narrowed sky. + Highest of all, where white peaks glanced, + Where glistening streamers waved and danced, + The wanderer's eye could barely view + The summer heaven's delicious blue.' + +The same remarks which we applied to Irving are applicable with some +little restriction here. With one or two exceptions, the epithets mark +attributes that exist in the subjects. Every one can see at a glance the +appropriateness of such terms as _pale_ primrose, _gray_ birch, and +_narrow_ bower. They are not dependent for their effect upon any fanciful +train of associations which their names may excite. + +If we compare the above extracts together, we arrive at certain results +which we shall briefly state. We will throw out of view for a moment any +pleasure which the rhythm may give us, as foreign to our present purpose. +Each of these writers is describing a scene from nature. Each of them has +the same object, to interest others by a representation of those sights +and sounds that interested themselves. Scott accomplishes his purpose by +presenting as exact a picture of nature as it is possible perhaps for +words to give. He does not tell us how he is affected by what he sees, and +looks upon neither directly nor indirectly. He does not search for any +resemblances that are not palpable, and founded in the nature of things. +All similes and metaphors which serve to express his own emotions are +carefully avoided. The whole is picturesque and life-like in the highest +degree, yet every circumstance is mentioned in the cool, unimpassioned way +in which we mention any common occurrence. + +Thomson accomplishes his purpose by portraying his own feelings; not +indeed in so many words, but by the use of those expressions, and by those +transitions of thought, which mark a state of emotion. The epithet +'boding,' to which we have referred, is an example. It is an indirect +disclosure of the mood of his own mind. At another time it is not +improbable that an epithet of a directly opposite meaning would have been +selected. The reader is affected by it, because by a law of sympathy, we +are affected by whatever reveals the presence of passion in another. It +influences us precisely as the tones of the voice of a person in distress +influence us. Both are expressive of emotion, and we cannot remain +unaffected by them. + +This is the main source of the pleasure we feel in reading Thomson's +description. It conveys to us but a very indistinct idea of the subject +matter. Different readers, according to their mental peculiarities, will +be differently affected by it. He does not paint to the bodily eye, but to +the eye of the mind; and he will feel most pleasure who puts himself in +the same position as the poet, and sees with his eyes and hears with his +ears. Unless he can do this, he will derive but little gratification from +the perusal. + +Less minute than Irving, and more picturesque than Thomson, Scott will +probably to most readers give more pleasure than either of them. In +conveying lively impressions of natural objects he is unsurpassed, but he +is scarcely less successful in inspiring the mind of the reader with the +same emotions that fill his own breast. There is ever between the thought +and its expression a perfect harmony. It is only when agitated by passion +that he uses the _language_ of passion. Hence we never find that timid +phraseology which so often disgusts us in Thomson; _vox et praeterea +nihil_. No one delights more in the use of figurative language, nor +employs metaphors that more appropriately convey the sentiment that +pervades his mind. In the passage we have quoted are the following lines: + + 'Aloft the ash and warrior oak + Cast anchor in the rifted rock.' + +The poet looking up at the trees firmly rooted in the rifts of the rock, +defying the tempest and storm, felt an emotion of pleasure which the sight +of their lofty position, and the apparent danger of their being hurled +headlong at the first blast of wind, contrasted with the sense of their +real security, produced. To express this pleasurable emotion, he fastens +upon the resemblance between a root of the tree and an anchor; a +resemblance not between the things themselves, but between their uses. +Neglecting all the points of difference, and confining his attention to +this single point of similarity, he presents an image which all admit to +be highly forcible and poetical. + +The great merit of all descriptive poetry consists in the unity of feeling +which pervades it. Unlike the epic, or the drama, it has none of the +interest which arises from a connected narrative, or the development of +individual character in reference to a certain end. The poet confines +himself to the expression of those feelings which are awakened by the +sight of the beauty and sublimity of nature. Passing, as he necessarily +must, from one object to another, each fitted to excite in his bosom +conflicting emotions, his attention is so much diverted, that none of them +produces upon him its legitimate effect. There is wanting some central +object of interest to which all others are subordinate. Hence is explained +the listlessness of which every one is conscious in the continuous perusal +of the Seasons. We find the greatest pleasure by reading a page here and a +page there, according to the state of our feelings. + +It is never in short poems that the descriptive poets succeed best. +L'Allegro and Le Penseroso are gems; but all Milton's genius could not +have made the Paradise Lost readable, were it deprived of its unity as an +epic, and broken up into a series of detached pictures. The Deserted +Village of Goldsmith is the longest poem of this class that we now +remember, having all its parts so pervaded by a common spirit that a +succession of new objects does not impair the designed effect. Sweet +Auburn as it was in its palmy days, and as it is in its desolation, +presents two distinct pictures, yet so closely connected that each +heightens the effect of the other by the contrast. Nothing can exceed the +exquisite art with which Goldsmith has seized upon those circumstances +that tend to make the desired impression, and rejected all others. How +perfect are each of the following descriptions, and how much would their +beauty be marred by the transfer of a single circumstance from one to the +other: + + 'How often have I paused on every charm, + The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm; + The never-failing brook, the busy mill, + The decent church that topped the neighb'ring hill; + The hawthorn-bush with seats beneath the shade, + For talking age and whispering lovers made. + + * * * * * + + 'The dancing pair that simply sought renown, + By holding out to tire each other down; + The swain mistrustless of his smutted face, + While secret laughter tittered round the place; + The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love, + The matron's glance, that would those looks reprove. + + * * * * * + + 'No more thy glassy brook reflects the day, + But choked with sedges works its weedy way; + Along thy glade, a solitary guest, + The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest; + Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies, + And tires the echoes with unvaried cries; + Sunk are thy bowers, in shapeless ruin all, + And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall.' + +It is by the selection of such objects as have in themselves no common +bond of union, but which combine to raise a certain emotion, that the +essential distinction is to be found between the descriptions of the poet +and the prose-writer. The latter joins objects together as they are joined +in nature, following a principle of association which is simple and +obvious. His resemblances are usually such as are cognizable by the +senses; a likeness in the sensible qualities of things. The poet's +principle of association is in the effect produced on his imagination. +Things which have not in themselves a single point of similarity, are +connected together, because they produce the same emotions of pleasure, or +pain, or hope, or melancholy. A beautiful illustration of this is found in +the opening stanzas of Gray's Elegy: + + 'The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, + The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, + The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, + And leaves the world to darkness and to me. + + Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, + And all the air a solemn stillness holds, + Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, + And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds.' + +A summer evening in the country is associated in most minds with images of +mirth and joy. Thus Goldsmith has described it: + + 'Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close, + Up yonder hill the village murmur rose; + There as I passed with careless steps, and slow, + The mingling notes came softened from below; + The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung, + The sober herd that lowed to meet their young; + The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, + The playful children just let loose from school, + The watch-dog's voice, that bayed the whisp'ring wind, + And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind.' + +With what consummate skill, if indeed it be not rather the instinct of the +poet, has Gray avoided all mention of those objects which might awaken +associations discordant with the mood of his own mind! Each epithet is +full of a plaintive melancholy. There is not one that does not contribute +something to the effect; not one that can be omitted; not one that can be +altered for the better. Yet there is scarcely one that is descriptive of +any quality actually existing in its subject. The fitness of each is to be +felt rather than seen. + +In the selection of those circumstances and objects which Gray has +enumerated, he was governed by the effect which each had upon his own +feelings. He looked upon nature in the reflected light of his own heart. +He was mournful in view of the destiny of man; and wandering amidst the +graves of the lowly and obscure, he saw all the external world colored +with the hue of his own sad thoughts. The melancholy spirit within him +transformed all things without into its own likeness. His imagination, +darting hither and thither, and governed in its flight by laws too subtle +and delicate to be analyzed, reposed itself for a moment amidst the gloom +of the historical associations that cluster around the curfew, hovered +over the lowing herd, and followed the ploughman as he homeward plods his +weary way. Goldsmith, recalling the scenes where he had spent many happy +hours, looks upon nature under a far different aspect. Every thing to him +is gay and joyous. He hears not the hollow tones of the curfew, nor the +drowsy tinklings that lull the distant folds. He sees not the wearied +ploughman, caring for nought but to forget his toils in the sweet oblivion +of sleep. He hears but the song of the milk-maid, and the soft response of +her rustic lover; the watchdog's voice, and the loud laugh of the happy +idlers. He sees but the children just escaped from school, running and +leaping, and romping in their innocent glee. Happy himself, he fastens +upon whatever in nature around him seems to sympathise with him, and +dwelling fondly upon it, casts away from his thoughts every thing that can +obstruct the full, free flow of his joyous emotions. + +We may remark in passing, what has probably been before remarked by the +attentive reader, that both Gray and Goldsmith, excited as they are by +different passions, refer to the 'lowing herd' as raising on the one hand +a cheerful, and on the other a melancholy feeling. To our thought, the +associations connected with the return of the herds from the fields at +sunset are best fitted to awaken that quiet, reflective state of mind +which is most congenial to the mood of the elegiac poet. To another, these +associations may be of such a character as to produce a directly opposite +effect. + +The writer of prose who should describe scenes like these, would aim to +give us a distinct and accurate picture by presenting all their prominent +features, omitting nothing, and grouping them as Nature herself had +grouped them. Such descriptions we daily see in all books of voyages and +travels. Or if the descriptions be of scenes wholly imaginary, their +essential character is not changed. Although they cease to be real, they +do not become poetical. The extract which we have made from Irving is not +poetical. Accurate, vivid, life-like, it is. We cannot read it without a +feeling of pleasure. We admire the genius of the writer; we wonder at the +magnificence of the spectacle which, by a few masterly touches, he has +raised up before us. But there is no more poetry in it than in his +description of Herr Van Tassel's supper table, covered with all the +luxuries of Dutch housewifery. It is true, there may be more of beauty and +sublimity in the scenery of the Hudson, in the gathering clouds and +muttering thunder, than in the sight of dough-nuts and crullers, +sweet-cakes and short-cakes, peach pies and pumpkin pies, slices of ham +and slices of smoked beef; yet the spirit of poetry exists no more in the +one than in the other. Poetry has its abode in the _heart_ of man; not in +the winds, in the clouds, in the mountains, or in the vales. It does not +derive its power from the outward world, but breathes into it its own +breath of life, investing the earth with a beauty which has no existence +but in the human soul, and filling the air with sweet harmonies, which are +unheard save by the inspired ear of the poet. + +We have now, we think, sufficiently answered the question, why so many who +read descriptive poetry with pleasure, look with indifference upon what is +beautiful or sublime in nature. The poet is to them like one who gives +sight to the blind. The landscape which formerly lay before their eyes +unregarded, almost unseen, is now 'beautiful exceedingly.' Nature has not +changed; they themselves have not changed; yet there _is_ a change. There +is a glory unseen before, cast over the earth. It is, as it were, +transfigured before them, and made radiant with celestial light. This is +the poet's work. With a keener perception of the beautiful and sublime +than other men; with a greater facility of association, and with the power +to give to language the hue and intensity of his own feelings, he clothes +lifeless nature with the attributes of humanity, making it instinct with +human sentiment and passion. Like Burns, he pours forth his lament over +the mountain-daisy cut down in its bloom, in a few simple words that find +a response in the hearts of all men; and henceforth it is embalmed in our +memories, and shall be as immortal as the star that shines in the far +depths of the heavens. Like Wordsworth, he wanders upon the banks of his +native lakes, and mingles his song with the noise of their waters, until +the faintest whisper of the rippling waves seems but the echo of his +voice. Wherever he goes fruits, flowers, and herbage spring up in his +footsteps. A divine Presence goes with him; Nature speaks to him with her +thousand voices, and he hears, and answers, making sweet music in the joy +of his heart. Nothing is so inconsiderable as to be without the pale of +his sympathy; nothing too humble to stir the fountains of love in his +breast. The solitary flower that blossoms by the way-side, the rivulet far +away amid the hills, is but the starting point of that wondrous chain of +thick-coming fancies, that fill his eyes with light, and his ear with +harmony; as if multitudes of angels were hovering around, and he heard on +every side the rustling of their wings. + +Such are the gifts of the poet. They are God's gifts, and are indeed +'wonderful in our eyes.' + + + + +VICISSITUDES. + + + Hast thou not been where wild winds, freshly blowing, + Brought odorous gladness on each passing gale; + Hast thou not been where the pure streamlet flowing, + In each soft murmur told a gentle tale: + + As the bright flashing of its gushing water, + Glad as the tones of merriment and glee + That joyous burst from children in their laughter, + Swift dashes onward to the boundless sea? + + Hast thou not been where the enamelled mead + Its beauty gave to the enraptured sense, + And the crushed lily, from the elastic tread, + Yielded its life in breath of sweets intense? + + Hast thou not been in spring-time's early hours, + Where the lone bird its short sweet carol gave + To the young bursting leaves and budding flowers, + Beside some wildly-rushing mountain wave? + + Not such the lay it sings in summer hours, + When love beats high within its little breast, + And its exulting song it joyous pours, + Where thick embowering leaves conceal its nest. + + Hast thou not marked, when autumn's gorgeous glory + Fled in the rushing of the hurrying blast, + The deep'ning pathos of the moral story + Sighed in each cadence, as it onward passed. + + Hast thou not heard the ancient forests, bending + To the far sweeping of the mighty wind, + Send forth a solemn sound, as though responding + To voices deep that secret powers unbind? + + Hast thou not stood where ocean madly raging, + Rolled onward as with overmastering shock: + 'Till hushed the storm, the chafed surge assuaging, + It gently laved the firm-opposing rock? + + Hast thou not gleaned a lesson to thy reason + From winter's fostering power and spring's awakening reign; + Summer's brief heat, autumn's maturing season, + And learned vicissitudes are not in vain? + + But from the varied page outspread before thee, + Garner'd of wisdom for thy fleeting days, + Whether the sunshine or the storm be o'er thee, + Forward to look with hope, and trust, and praise? + +_Newport, Rhode-Island, Dec., 1843._ E. R. G. H. + + + + +THE IDLEBERG PAPERS. + +A CHRISTMAS YARN. + + +At Christmas every body is or should be happy. The genial influence of the +season lightens alike the lofty hall and the lowly cottage. It is the same +at home or abroad, on the land or the billow, in royal purple or in ragged +poverty; here and every where, to one and to all, it is always 'merrie +Christmas.' At such a time there is an obligation due from every man to +society, to be happy, and the more cheerfully it is paid, the better. The +man who would be found scowling and glowering like a thunder-cloud, +cherishing his private griefs or animosities at a time when every other +countenance is glowing with light, and hope, and sunshine, should be +denied all the charities of humanity, and exiled to Kamschatka, or some +other inhospitable clime, to growl and fret with the wild beasts, or the +wilder elements. + +How dear is the light of home when glowing with the fires of Christmas! +What though the elements be wild without, or Jack Frost blow his whistling +pipe at the door, or fierce winds rumble down the chimney, and tell of +sweeping gusts and howling storms abroad, if within and around that +charmed circle is breathed the spirit of kindness and affection! Should +the titled stranger or the ragged beggar knock, throw wide open the doors +of thy hospitality; and while prattling infants recount the joys of the +season, and school-boy striplings pursue their holiday sports, and +gray-haired men who have traversed the wide world over, tell how in all +their wanderings they have never passed a Christmas from home; he will +turn his thoughts with a melancholy pleasure to the distant fireside +beyond the sea, and to the friends who are gathered there, and wonder +where the wanderer is spending his Christmas. + +With all respect for the ancient and honorable class of 'old bachelors,' +whose sympathy and good fellowship we most earnestly desire, be it said, +that if to any it is allowed to be miserable at Christmas, it surely is to +them. We would not for the world say aught to heighten the sad picture of +their social desolation, by dwelling on the thousand tender endearments of +home, the ten thousand cords of love, of which they know nothing. Certain +it is, that to many of them 'merrie Christmas' brings only pangs of +remorse; and we have known more than one crusty member of the fraternity, +who on such occasions would rush incontinently from the scene and the +sound of merriment, and shut themselves under lock and key, until the +storm was passed, and people have recovered their lost senses. + +Such an one, however, we are proud to say, was _not_ TOM HARDESTY, though +bachelor he was, in the superlative degree. Every body wondered how he +managed to preserve his good-humor and vivacity under the frosts of +three-score winters. At the period of this authentic history, Tom was the +village grocer; a station he had filled to his own profit and the town's +convenience until he had become a piece of village furniture, necessary to +its existence as a corporation. His little store, with its great variety +of commodities, adapted to every human want, was in itself a perfect +'curiosity-shop.' Odd-looking boxes, kegs, chests, casks, barrels and +hogsheads, contained his groceries, drugs and dye-stuffs. A few remnants +of domestic prints and muslins, together with stray fragments of +broadcloth, constituted his stock of dry-goods. Then there was a modicum +of hardware and cutlery; a few spelling-books and new testaments for a +book store; and sundry jars and bottles filled with fancy-colored powders +and liquids, for an apothecary shop. His remaining list of commodities was +made up of hats, caps and bonnets, boots and shoes, tin-pans and +looking-glasses, slate-pencils and sifters; and as his standing +advertisement in the village newspaper duly notified the public, 'other +articles too numerous to mention--call and see for yourselves.' If any +body desired an article nobody ever heard of before, he could find a large +lot thereof at Tom Hardesty's; and if any lucky or ingenious wight had +found or made any thing that nobody else would have as a gracious gift, +let him call on Mr. Hardesty, and it was the very thing he wanted. In a +word, his shop was a grand depot for every article the ingenuity of man +could devise, or his necessities require. + +What a blessed convenience was Tom Hardesty! How could we have gotten +along without him? How honest and affable! What long ells and heavy pounds +he gave! And then his tea! how it inspired the village gossip on long +winter nights in a chimney corner! All the matrons of the village were +quite in love with Tom, or his tea; and many an old crone, as she sat +inhaling cup after cup of the divine beverage, has been known to pause in +the midst of her inspirations, and exclaim with uplifted hands, 'God bless +Tom Hardesty!' + +And yet Tom Hardesty was a bachelor, and kept 'bachelor's hall.' The only +members of his mess were an orphan boy of his adoption, who waited in the +store, and a brindle cat which the master had honored with his own name. +This point, however, is still wrapt in obscurity, for Tom and 'Tom' were +both so venerable that nobody could swear whether the cat had been named +after the master, or the master after the cat. It had been rumored by +those who should know, that Mr. Hardesty should not be held strictly +accountable for this sin of celibacy, since he had offered his hand, his +heart, and a partnership in his worldly goods, to more than one village +beauty, each of whom had found it impossible to 'love for antiquity's +sake,' and rejected his matrimonial offers accordingly. Still Tom never +repined. His daily experience behind the counter had taught him the useful +lesson, that each applicant does not necessarily always drive a trade, and +the commodity which one rejects may be eagerly sought by another; and +acting on the faith of this philosophy, he lived cheerfully on, cherishing +the hope that even yet some fond heart would beat responsive to his own, +and promise before the competent authority, to 'love, honor and obey' him, +Tom Hardesty. + +On a memorable Christmas-eve we enter his little counting-room. A cheerful +fire blazes on the hearth; and at the moment grimalkin is purring on the +rug. Master John, the adopted, is poring over a picture-book, probably an +early edition of Peter Parley's Travels, and Mr. Hardesty is standing +before a broken fragment of looking-glass, diligently brushing his scanty +locks. + +'John!' said Mr. Hardesty, turning from the mirror, and looking full at +the boy, 'do I look very old to-night?' + +The boy turned up his innocent face, gazed steadily on his master from top +to toe, and answered, 'Sir!' + +'Do I look very _old_ to-night, John?' + +John scratched his head. 'Not much older than you did this time last +night, Sir.' + +'Humph!' said Mr. Hardesty, appealing to the glass, and renewing his +efforts with the brush, while John resumed his reading. + +'But, John,' resumed Mr. Hardesty, seating himself beside the boy, 'do you +really think that a middle-aged lady, of right comfortable property, would +have, _could_ have, any rational objection to be called Mrs. Hardesty?' + +'I think not, Sir,' replied John, taking up the cat; 'I'm sure you have +been very kind to me and old Tom here, and I know you would be so to her.' + +'Very true, John,' said Mr. Hardesty, whose feelings were touched by this +expression of the boy's gratitude; 'but I wish to extend the sphere of my +usefulness; and I may venture to hope--but don't mention it--that in the +course of three or four years, or may-be a little longer, there'll be a +little boy at our house for you to play with; and if it's a girl, John, +you shall marry her when you get old enough. Eh, John! how would you like +_that_?' And the old gentleman chuckled himself into a fit of coughing +that seemed to threaten his longevity, and prevented John's reply to a +suggestion that had never occurred to him as being within the bounds of +the most remote possibility. + +Having amused himself sufficiently with these flights of his fancy, Mr. +Hardesty rose from his seat, gave John eighteen-pence for Christmas-money, +stroked his namesake's back, put on his cloak and cap, and after bidding +John be a good boy, and not to mention it, and to take care of the fire +till he came back, left the house on his errand of love. + +Christmas eve! Surely the village streets were never so gay before! You +may know there is a moon, for though the sky is darkened with clouds, and +the snow is falling as it never fell before, there is a glow of light +above and around, that would burst on the eye like dim revealings of +fairy-land, but for the mist that floats through the dim upper air, and +seems striving to bind the earth as with a mantle. + +What a merry, merry Christmas! Gust after gust comes whirling on, +full-freighted with the virgin snow. There are shouts of revelry that rise +and fall with the sound of the blast. There are hurried footsteps that +glide over the crackling snow. There are merry hearts within those +bounding sleighs, and hands that clasp the hands they love, though wrapped +in countless furs and muffs. Gay steeds dash on with steaming nostrils, as +if their toil were sport; and their bells, as they ring cheerily out in +the sombre night, give promise of marriage-bells to come. + +Through all this busy scene Tom Hardesty pressed on, turning neither to +the right nor left, except when he turned a corner. As the wind dashed the +driving snow in his face, he drew his cloak more closely around him, and, +shivering, passed on with cheerful thoughts of love and matrimony. +Sometimes the boys pelted him with their snowy artillery, or old +acquaintances inquired after his health, but he glided on like a dim +shadow, heedless alike of all. By degrees the holiday din of the village +waxed faint in his ears, and as he approached the suburbs, his heart beat +fast while his steps were slow with indecision, for he was approaching the +end of his pilgrimage--the dwelling of Miss Peggy Sidebottom. + +While Mr. Hardesty is pausing at the door, stamping the snow from his +feet, and making the accustomed use of his pocket-handkerchief, we will +take advantage of his delay to state, briefly, that Miss Sidebottom, +beside being sole proprietress of the cottage-like mansion aforesaid, +claimed also among her chattels sundry shares in bank, and certain notes +of hand, yielding her sufficient income, without calculating the value of +her personal charms, to make her hand and heart two very desirable items +of furniture in a bachelor's apartments. Her household consisted of +herself, and a nephew and niece, christened Dick and Belinda, orphan +children of a deceased brother. Dick was a wild, rattling scape-grace, as +ever robbed hen-roost or melon-patch; Belinda was nothing, particularly, +except a little, quiet, blue-eyed girl, the pride of her aunt, and a +pattern of propriety to all little girls. That Miss Sidebottom was kind +and motherly to the two orphans, there is no question; but it was rumored +that in consideration thereof she enjoyed a comfortable legacy. It is only +necessary to premise, farther, that Miss Sidebottom had been younger by +some two-score years than she was that night; that she was one of Mr. +Hardesty's best customers; and that after long worshipping her across the +counter, he had suddenly determined to declare his passion with all the +eloquence he possessed; which was not inconsiderable, as many can bear +witness. + +Mr. Hardesty knocks and is admitted to the hall. Another door is opened, +and there, in the snuggest corner, and by the snuggest fire conceivable, +sits Miss Sidebottom. The opposite end of the hearth is decorated by +Belinda, while a cat is sleeping on the rug between them. It was a picture +of quiet happiness that touched Mr. Hardesty's heart; and advancing into +the room, he bows with all the elegance of a Beau Brummel. + +Miss Sidebottom turned her eyes upon the new-comer, and as they fell on +the familiar and smiling countenance of the grocer, she sprang to her +feet, and exclaimed: 'Why, Mr. Hardesty! I am so glad to see you! Let me +have your cloak and cap, Sir. Come, be seated; draw near the fire.' + +Mr. Hardesty kept bowing all this time with as much nobility as was +displayed by the famous stick that was too crooked to lie still; and after +grasping Belinda's hand very affectionately, he seated himself, and drew +near the fire. + +'Dear me! what a night!' said Miss Sidebottom; 'ain't it cold out, Mr. +Hardesty?' + +Mr. Hardesty replied by shivering palpably, and said he had seen colder, +and he had seen warmer, but it would do. Having said thus much, he +produced his snuff-box, which he extended to the ladies, and then helped +himself. + +'I am truly glad, Miss Peggy,' continued Tom. 'to see you situated so +comfortably--I am.' And he smiled tenderly and shifted his chair; but in +doing so, he infringed on the cat's tail, and the animal, as cats are wont +to do, squalled vehemently. Mr. Hardesty bounded from his seat. + +'Dear me!' exclaimed Miss Sidebotton, 'don't do that!' + +'Positively, Madam,' said Tom, 'I am very sorry, indeed--I am!' + +'Poor thing!' said Belinda, taking the injured quadruped in her arms; +'poor thing!--did he hurt its tail?' + +''Deed, Madam,' said Mr. Hardesty, stroking the animal's back, 'I wouldn't +have done that for forty ordinary cats. I may say, Madam, speaking +metaphorically, that your cat is of the short-horn Durham stock, and +wasn't made to be trod on.' + +'Lor', Sir,' replied Miss Sidebottom, adjusting her cap, 'cats is cats, +and cattle is cattle--that's my sentiments; but as I was going to say, Mr. +Hardesty, I was telling Mrs. Jenkins to-night, not an hour ago, that I +felt a kind of nervous kind of feeling that somebody was coming; and sure +enough, here comes you. You see, Mrs. Jenkins was here to take tea with me +to-night, and beside the baby, why her little Jack and Sally and Bill and +Susan _would_ come, because, they said, pap wasn't at home, and they would +starve if they staid there. And here, sure enough, come they did, before +Mrs. Jenkins had fairly pulled off her bonnet; and stay they would, though +she boxed 'em well; but they didn't mind that, and I told her Christmas +come but once a year, and as it turned out, the poor things _were_ hungry, +in yearnest. And you never see children eat so; I do believe they hadn't +had a good meal for a fortnight. Well, we hadn't got fairly seated after +supper, when rap! rap! at the door, and there was Jake Crow had come for +Mrs. Jenkins; for Jenkins had got into a drunken row, and had his head cut +with a stick. And you never hearn sich a fuss; and Mrs. Jenkins and the +little brats went home crying all the way; and here me and Belinda have +been by ourselves ever since. But poor Mrs. Jenkins! I wonder men will get +drunk and leave their wives and children to starve. _You_ never get drunk, +Mr. Hardesty, do you?' + +'Drunk! Madam, drunk!' said Mr. Hardesty, placing his hand over his heart, +and shaking his head emphatically. 'No, Madam; I only get what you may +call intoxicated, and not with liquor neither; and I feel it coming on me +now--I do indeed!' + +'Well, well!' replies Mrs. Sidebottom, holding up her hands in utter +astonishment, 'I never heard tell of the like of that before. P'raps its +the cold, Mr. Hardesty.' + +'No, Madam,' persisted the old gentleman; 'it's the heat.' + +'Dear me! Mr. Hardesty; then I'll open the door.' And Miss Peggy started +to her feet. + +'No, my dear Madam, don't, if you please. It ain't this here fire in the +hearth, but,' striking his breast passionately, 'it's _here_, Madam.' + +'That's just where Mrs. Jenkins is affected sometimes, and she says +Madeira's the best thing for it; and she has drank nearly all that last +quart I got of you, Mr. Hardesty, and I don't see as she gets any better.' + +'Madeira, indeed!' said old Tom, scornfully. 'Madeira, madam, instead of +squenching, would only add fuel to the flame that is consuming me. There +_are_ men as takes to the bottle for it when they despair; but bless your +soul!' he continued, dropping his voice to a whisper, 'I haven't +despaired.' + +At this eloquent appeal, Mrs. Sidebottom looked at the fire and said +nothing, until an audible snore from Belinda, who had fallen asleep in her +chair, aroused her. + +'Bless me!' exclaimed Miss Peggy, bouncing to her feet; 'look at the child +there! Belinda dear, wake up. Poor dear thing! you had better go up stairs +to bed.' And rubbing her eyes, the child took up a lighted candle, bowed +politely to Mr. Hardesty, and disappeared behind the stair-door. + +Miss Sidebottom resumed her seat and looked again at the fire, and Mr. +Hardesty looked at Miss Sidebottom. Presently, that amiable lady turned +her gaze, lighted as it was by an equivocal smile, full upon Tom. In the +space of about fifteen seconds, after trying in vain to interpret that +smile to his own satisfaction, Mr. Hardesty quailed, while his heart +commenced vibrating against his ribs, as though it would burst their +feeble barrier, and take refuge in his waistcoat-pocket. Miss Sidebottom, +however, showed no such symptoms of alarm, and her courage rose as Tom's +fell. By the way, composure in such delicate epochs is like see-sawing; +one ascends as the other descends, until perchance the weaker party fails +to recover his equilibrium, and tumbles off the fence. Diffident young +courtiers should remember this. + +Mr. Hardesty was bewildered beyond endurance. How could a man speak more +plainly? And yet he would try once more. + +'Let me tell you, my dear Miss Sidebottom, once for all, I'm----' + +There was a noise of some one opening the front door, and as Mr. Hardesty +turned his head, Dick entered the room. + +'Why, Dicky, where have you been this cold night?' asked his aunt. + +Dicky replied that he had been snow-balling, of which there were +sufficient marks on his person. His countenance was flushed and heated, +and he proceeded to say that he was tired, and wanted to go to bed. + +At this Mr. Hardesty rose deliberately from his seat, saying it was time +to go. + +'But, Mr. Hardesty,' urged Miss Peggy, 'it's cold and snowing; stay all +night there with Dicky,' pointing to a comfortable bed in one corner. 'I +know you are delicate, and it's snowing hard. I'll go and see. Here +Dicky,' and she left the room followed by Dick. Mr. Hardesty looked around +at the comfortable quarters offered him, and determined to remain. +Scarcely had he come to this decision, when the affectionate aunt and +nephew returned, the former telling him not to think of going out on such +a night, and the latter assuring him it was snowing 'like sixty.' + +'I'll stay, Madam, and thank'ee too,' said Mr. Hardesty, re-seating +himself. Miss Peggy bade her guest a very good night, and, threatening to +catch him for a Christmas gift next morning, disappeared up the stairs and +locked the door after her. Tom watched her retreating figure until she +disappeared, and then addressed himself to the boy. + +'Been snow-balling to-night, eh, Dicky? Fine sport, Dicky; fine sport.' + +'I should say it was, Sir, when your side toes the mark and don't run,' +said Dick, placing his damp shoes on the hearth. 'Them shoes'll never run +away with _my_ feet in 'em, certain.' + +'Well, Dicky,' continued Mr. Hardesty, stirring the fire, 'you're a brave +boy.' + +'Yes, Sir,' said Dick, 'braver than you think for. Catch me napping when +there's work to do, and I am to get a pie for it in the bargain, will +you?' The bare suggestion amused Dick, and as he divested himself of his +damp clothes, he laughed heartily. + +'That's just what I was saying, Dicky, and was going on to add, that +snow-balling and such like ain't for me now, but the time was when none +was better at them than I.' + +'P'raps not,' said Dick, 'but as I'm rather tired, and don't mind the +cold, I'll get in and warm the bed, and you can come along when you like;' +and the light-hearted boy sprang into his nest, and in less than five +minutes was snoring audibly. + +Mr. Hardesty stirred the fire, and as the myriad sparks flew up the +chimney, he wished he had just so many dollars; he would give them all if +_she_ would but love him. Growing weary of this delusive sport, he looked +at his watch, compared it with Miss Sidebottom's yankee clock, and finding +his own time-piece was just five minutes the faster, concluded that both +were wrong just two minutes and a half, and he would split the difference. +He might be mistaken, but if he was he would consult the town clock +to-morrow. + +Mr. Hardesty resumed the poker and stirred the fire until its bright blaze +threw a broad glare over the chamber; and out of the glowing coals he +built strange towers and castles, and saw them change by turns into ashes, +and grow dim like his own recent dreams of love. This being a melancholy +contemplation, he lent his ear to a solitary cricket that was cheerily +singing its household song, though the winds were wild without. Presently +the cricket ceased its chirrup, and Mr. Hardesty growing tired of sitting, +yawned, stretched himself, and walked to the window. + +Outside, the ground was covered with a wild waste of snow, and the heavy +flakes were still falling. Suddenly it occurred to him that somebody might +accidentally pass that way and recognize him; so he let fall the curtain +and walked across the room. Here, lifting his eyes from the floor, a +looking-glass stared him in the face, and he started back. He turned again +and walked to the bed-side where Dick was sleeping. The boy, he thought, +might one day be his nephew, and he revolved in his mind a thousand +schemes for advancing him in the world and making him a clever fellow. + +Mr. Hardesty left the bed-side and looked up at the ceiling. Beyond that, +he thought, was the adored Miss Sidebottom. What a narrow space sundered +them! He walked to the fire-place and looked on the mantel for a book. He +selected an old copy of Burns, and opened at the pathetic ballad of 'John +Anderson.' Mr. Hardesty sat down and read it once aloud. Then he read it +to himself over and over again, until he had gotten it by heart. And then +by degrees the room swam dizzily before him, the fire glowed like a pale +meteor, his eyes closed heavily, the open book fell from his hand, and Mr. +Hardesty was asleep. + +He slept and dreamed. Smiles like those of sleeping infancy stole over his +venerable features. In one short moment he was the happiest man alive; his +love had been crowned with success; and putting forth his hand to grasp +the dear shadow, he lost his balance and fell from his chair. + +Mr. Hardesty looked around him, wondering. He resumed his seat and rubbed +his eyes. The fire had almost gone out. The wick was long and dim. He +looked at the clock; it wanted just twenty minutes of midnight. + +Mr. Hardesty snuffed the candle and commenced divesting himself of his +apparel; placed his boots beside Dicky's shoes on the hearth; threw his +upper garments on the back of a chair, and his nether ditto on the seat +thereof. But his extremities were cold, he thought, and placing a chair +bottom upward on the floor, he put his feet to the fire. + +For some minutes Mr. Hardesty stared steadily at the ceiling, beyond which +Miss Sidebottom was sleeping in virgin security; and whether from the +magnetic effect of his constant gaze, or the slumbrous air that pervaded +the room, his eyelids soon closed, and he was again soundly asleep. The +candle burned dimly on; coal after coal was turned to ashes; at last both +went out, and still Mr. Hardesty slept. + +Presently there was a stir in the bed occupied by Dick. The boy rose on +his pillow and looked cautiously around him. He called Mr. Hardesty, but +there was no answer. At this Dick put one leg out of bed, and then the +other, and stood firmly on the floor. Gliding cautiously over the carpet, +he stooped over the sleeper, whose deep breathing assured him that all was +safe. Then stepping softly to the chair on which Mr. Hardesty's clothes +were lying, he selected that gentleman's nether garment, then went to the +hearth and lifted the boots, and slipping on his own shoes, glided +cautiously out of the room with his booty. Returning in a few minutes he +again stooped over the sleeper, and then stole to bed, where, after +laughing immoderately yet quietly, he was soon as fast asleep as Mr. +Hardesty himself. + +When Mr. Hardesty awoke he found himself still reclining on the back of +the chair. Not a little vexed with himself for lying there all night, he +rose to his feet, and looking around, found that Dick had risen before +him, and the bed was empty. 'Why didn't he wake me, I wonder?' said Mr. +Hardesty. + +Mr. Hardesty walked to the window, lifted the curtain, and looked out. The +mists and clouds had cleared away, and left the sky all bright and blue. +The sun had just risen, and was shedding his early splendor on the myriad +snow-drops as brightly as if to atone for the darkness and gloom of +yesterday. It was a cheerful and beautiful view; but Mr. Hardesty heard +the sound of shuffling footsteps overhead; so he turned shivering from the +window to dress himself for the day. 'It'll never do to be caught in this +fix,' said Mr. Hardesty. + +His first search was for his boots, but these had been taken out, as he +supposed, to be polished. He would put on his breeches and wait for his +boots. He cast his eye on the pile of clothes, but the breeches were not +there. Then he looked on the floor, and in all the corners of the room, +and then on the bed and under the bed--but in vain. 'What the d----l has +become of my breeches!' said Mr. Hardesty. + +It occurred to him at length that by some mysterious power of locomotion +the garment had gotten into the drawer of a bureau that stood in one +corner. He pulled at this drawer most lustily, but it was locked, and Miss +Sidebottom had the key. To add to his discomfiture, he again heard the +sound of footsteps overhead. He had but a moment to spare, and looking +around for a place of retreat, his eye fell on a closet-door that opened +beneath the stairs. Putting on hastily the remnant of his apparel, he +presented altogether an appearance the like of which the writer has never +seen, and will not attempt to describe, and managed to effect his retreat +into the closet just as Miss Sidebottom and Belinda entered the room from +above. + +Mr. Hardesty applied his eye to the key-hole, but saw nothing save the +form of either lady as it flitted from time to time across the limited +range of his vision. Presently a conversation began between the two, of +which, however, he could hear nothing except a confused murmur, and +occasionally a most uproarious fit of laughter. Before long the merry +tones of the elder lady were changed to those of anger. Miss Sidebottom +was evidently scolding one of the servants, and then came reiterated +sounds of castigation, interspersed with tongue-lashings, by far the most +terrible of the two. Mr. Hardesty resigned himself to his fate, and was +willing to endure a confinement that revealed to him the evil spirit that +reigned within a form of so much loveliness. + +After a while came the indescribable sounds of breakfast; the rattling of +knives and forks, and cups and saucers, suggestive to Mr. Hardesty's mind +of coffee, hot biscuits, and butter. Presently the table was cleared away, +and he caught a glimpse through his key-hole of the two ladies, dressed in +their cloaks and bonnets. In a moment they departed, leaving Mr. Hardesty +sole proprietor. + +Each moment of this time was one of intense agony to Mr. Hardesty. Exposed +to hunger and thirst, and cold and insult, what had he done to deserve +such misfortunes? And that was Christmas, too; what a merry day to all the +world without; and in what a contemptible plight was he! What would little +Master John think of his absence; and how much would be sold at his little +store before night? These reflections only enhanced the agony of his +imprisonment; so wrapping himself tightly in the folds of his cloak, he +crouched down in a corner of the closet, and soon fell fast asleep. + +Mr. Hardesty slept on until night-fall. So soon as he realized his +situation, he determined to be a prisoner no longer, but to emerge from +his confinement, whatever might be the danger of an exposure. Fortunately +for him, the room was deserted. The ladies had not yet returned from their +visit. Mr. Hardesty approached the window and found it quite dark without. +He had little time left for deliberation, for he heard the sound of a key +turning in the street-door lock, and recognized the well-known voice of +Miss Sidebottom; so hoisting the window, he crawled rapidly through it, +and leaped on the ground. + +Mr. Hardesty breathed once more like a freeman; and muttering deep +anathemas against the inhospitable house and all its inmates, he stole +quietly along, with his bootless feet buried at each step in the snow. +Leaving the more frequented streets, and worming his way through bypaths +and dark alleys; now turning a corner, under the direful apprehension of +meeting some acquaintance, and now darting this way or that to avoid a +random snow-ball, he pursued his painful way until he reached home, where +he knocked and was admitted by Master John. + +The grocer bolted in, rushed into his counting-room, and throwing off his +cloak, stared wildly at the bewildered boy. 'What do you think of that, +John?' pointing to his denuded extremities. 'How does that become your old +master, Sir?' + +Master John, frightened partly at the anomalous appearance of the grocer, +and partly at the sternness of his voice and manner, started back to the +remotest corner of the room, but said nothing. + +'What's the matter now, you little fool?' said his master. 'Are you afraid +of old Tom Hardesty? If you are, you needn't be; nobody need be afraid of +such an old coward as I am--darned if they need!' And feeling that he was +growing melancholy, he determined to subdue the propensity, and to that +end commenced cutting the complicated figure entitled a pigeon-wing. This +exhilarating sport soon restored the grocer's good humor, and he laughed +heartily and made such a racket altogether, that the boy gradually +approached him to inquire what it all meant, how he had spent his +Christmas, what had become of his breeches, and all about it. + +'Here, John,' said Mr. Hardesty, seating himself by the fire, 'sit here +and I'll tell you all about it. But what an old fool I am! Here's +twenty-four blessed hours gone, and the d----l a bit or a drop have I had +since last night at supper. Is this my house or not, John? for I've forgot +every thing except one, and wouldn't swear I ain't dreaming, and haven't +been all day.' + +The boy gave him every assurance that he was at home. + +'Well, John,' pursued the master, 'I think the last time I was here--it +may be a year, or it may be more--I'll be hanged if I know--but I rather +think there was a lot of prime cheese, and a few barrels of crackers. You +haven't sold 'em all, John?' + +John smiled, and answered negatively. + +'I rather think, too, there were several casks of best three-year-old +whiskey, prime lot; any of _that_ left, John?' + +John pointed, in reply, to a row of casks in one corner that answered the +description. + +'No! stop, Sir!' said Mr. Hardesty, soliloquizing; 'I think she said +Madeira was good for it. Yes, John, I'll take a little of the Madeira, if +you've any on hand.' + +John opened a cupboard door, and producing a black quart-bottle, assured +Mr. Hardesty it was nearly full. + +'That'll do, Sir,' said the grocer. 'Set the table; never mind the cloth. +Crackers and cheese and old Madeira, and 'away with melancholy.'' + +In a few minutes the table was spread according to directions, after which +Mr. Hardesty seated himself near it and did ample justice to the simple +fare. + +'You see, John,' said the old gentleman, when his appetite was somewhat +assuaged, 'it's all on account of that old, ugly, and infernal Peggy +Sidebottom. Here's hoping she may--may never drown her sorrows in the +flowing bowl!' + +The grocer drank this toast with infinite gusto and replenished his glass. + +'Well, Sir, as I was about saying, I went there last night to spend an +hour in a little sociable chat, and was about taking leave----' At this +point the speaker was interrupted by several violent raps at the door. + +'Who's that?' inquired Mr. Hardesty, draining his glass. + +'It's me,' said a voice from without. + +'What do you want?' said Mr. Hardesty. + +'Nothin'; what do _you_ want?' + +'Who the d----l are you?' said the grocer, in a voice of thunder. + +'Dick!' replied the voice. + +'Dick what?' + +'Dick Sidebottom!' + +'What do you want here?' said the grocer, rising and pacing the floor. +'John, where's my cow-hide? Clear yourself, you little rascal, or +I'll----' + +'But I've got your breeches and your boots, Sir,' said Dick. + +'Oh! you _have_, have you?'--and Mr. Hardesty threw aside the cow-hide, +and opened the door. Dick marched boldly in, deposited his plunder on a +chair, and then looked Mr. Hardesty full in the face with a glance of +perfect innocence. The owner of the recovered booty picked them up, +examined them closely to satisfy himself of their identity, and without +saying a word, put them on in their appropriate places. This done, he +surveyed himself with a smile of approbation, and felt that he was indeed +Mr. Hardesty once more. After helping Dick to a highly sweetened draught +from the contents of the black bottle, he begged of him a detailed account +of the affair of the lost boots and breeches. This Dick proceeded to give; +by telling, in his peculiar and highly figurative manner, how his aunt had +first suggested the feat to him; how he had risen while Mr. Hardesty was +asleep, secured the booty, and hid it in an adjoining hay-loft; how his +aunt had promised him a Christmas pie, and though often requested thereto, +had failed to comply; how she had inflicted personal chastisement on him +for some trivial offence; and how, on reflecting what a kind-hearted old +gentleman Mr. Hardesty was, and what a crabbed old thing Aunt Peggy was, +he had repented of his theft, and determined to make restitution at the +earliest opportunity; 'and there they are on you,' said Dick, in +conclusion, 'and that's all about it.' + +Mr. Hardesty listened with due attention to this detail, and then sat for +some time in silence. + +'And you can swear to all this in a court of justice, can you?' + +'Certainly, Sir.' + +'And you'll do it when called on?' + +Dick bowed his head in assent. + +'Good!' said Mr. Hardesty, grasping the boy's hand. 'Take a little more of +this,' he continued, filling Dick's glass. 'Your aunt shall suffer for +this yet, if there's any law or justice in the land.' + +'Ain't there no law,' inquired Dick, pausing in his draught, 'for suing an +old lady for 'sault and batterhim?' + +'No, Dicky, I fear not in your case; but if I get any damages, I'll give +you half.' + +Dick drained the contents of his glass, and shaking hands most cordially +with Mr. Hardesty and Master John, bade them good night. It is scarcely +necessary to add, that the last surviving male heir of the Sidebottoms was +gloriously drunk in less than an hour, and made such a demonstration of +that fact to his sober and discreet aunt, that she caused his head to be +soused repeatedly in cold water, and then flogged him into sobriety. + +It is not to be supposed that the disappearance of the village grocer from +his usual post for a whole day together, and particularly on Christmas, +that busiest of all days, failed to excite a degree of general curiosity +and inquisitiveness as to the cause of his absence; but to the many +inquiries of his friends touching that subject, he only replied by shaking +his head and saying that time would show. Enough had leaked out, however, +to satisfy the public that the affair was shrouded in a mystery that was +worth the trouble of penetrating; so that when on the morning of the first +of January immediately succeeding the year that had just closed, Mr. +Thomas Hardesty and Miss Margaret Sidebottom were summoned each by three +lusty cheers from the town-crier to appear before his worship the police +judge of Idleberg, the populace rushed to the scene of judicial conflict, +until the humble and contracted audience-chamber was crowded to +overflowing. + +The witnesses summoned in the case were Mrs. Jenkins, Jake Crow, and +Master Dick Sidebottom. In due time the defendant came into court, leaning +on the arm of her next friend and privy counsellor, Mrs. Jenkins, who as +usual was attended by a bevy of young Jenkinses. Before embarking in this +trying embassy, the ladies, by the way, had gone to the Madeira bottle; +the one complaining of a pain in the breast, and the other of general +nervousness. Mr. Hardesty was unattended, and so were his remaining +witnesses. + +The warrant gravely charged the defendant with stealing or causing to be +stolen from the plaintiff, on the night of the twenty-fourth of December +last past, a pair of boots and a pair of breeches, whose respective values +were duly set forth. The reading of this document created quite a +sensation throughout the court-room. Mrs. Jenkins was called and sworn. +She deposed that on the night specified in the warrant, she had taken tea +at the defendant's house; that she was suddenly called home, missing +thereby a great deal of anticipated pleasure; that the defendant passed +the next day, being Christmas-day, at her (witness's) house; and witness +did not at any time see defendant steal or cause to be stolen from +plaintiff the said boots and breeches, nor did she believe Miss Sidebottom +to be capable of such an act; 'and particular,' she said in conclusion, +'from such a pitiful old scamp as Tom Hardesty;' and glancing around +triumphantly at the audience, and scornfully at the plaintiff, she waited +for the court's cross-questions. + +'Is that all you know about the case, Madam?' inquired his worship, +smiling. + +That was all. + +'You can retire. Call Jake Crow.' + +Mr. Crow stood in no need of being called, as he marched up to the judge +immediately, and deposed that on the last Christmas-eve night, he had +called at defendant's house for Mrs. Jenkins, as old Jenkins had been +knocked on the head and carried home drunk. (At this Mrs. Jenkins looked +like a carnation pink, and commenced fanning herself violently with her +pocket-handkerchief.) Witness, however, did not enter the house, and knew +nothing whatever of the matter in dispute.' + +'You can retire, Mr. Crow. Call Richard Sidebottom.' + +Dick had managed, with his usual restlessness, to retire some time before +this from the crowded room, and was breathing the pure air and playing his +boyish pranks in a distant part of the town. The officer who was +despatched for the young gentlemen returned presently, lugging him by the +coat-collar. After being introduced to the court by the usual solemnities, +Dick proceeded to give in detail the events of the memorable night, as +already known to the reader. He also gave an interesting account of the +defendant's oft-repeated cruelties to himself personally; how on Christmas +night he had restored the stolen articles to plaintiff, and how the +rightful proprietor was wearing the same in court. + +A general hurrah and stamping of feet succeeded the delivery of this +testimony; at which the judge frowned, and the constable cried 'Order!' +with all his lungs. + +'Mr. Hardesty,' said the judge, when order was restored, 'do you feel +disposed to prosecute this suit? I fear I must dismiss the warrant, on the +ground that the court can furnish no relief in the case. What say you?' + +Mr. Hardesty arose. 'May it please your worship, the time was, and I care +not who knows it, when I entertained for the defendant in this cause +feelings of the most profound respect and admiration. And I had been led +to hope that my passion was not altogether disregarded; that Miss +Sidebottom would one day become Mrs. Hardesty. And this, Sir, as detailed +to you by the last witness, her own nephew, is the treatment I have +received!' The speaker paused and applied his pocket handkerchief to his +eyes. The audience was touched. 'It ain't the temporary loss of my +breeches; it ain't the long weary hours I spent shivering in that closet; +it ain't the wading home bare-footed in the snow; it ain't the finger of +scorn some gentlemen may p'int at me now, that wounds my heart; but it's +feeling and knowing that the woman I loved better than my own life; the +woman I would have lived for, or died for, to make her happy; that that +very woman----' He could say no more; his feelings overpowered him, and he +sat down. + +Miss Sidebottom's sympathies were evidently touched throughout this +harangue. Until now, she had been rocking to and fro in her seat, and when +Mr. Hardesty concluded, she rushed through the crowd, threw herself on his +neck, and kissed him passionately. + +'Clear the room!' bawled his worship, starting to his feet. 'Clerk,' he +continued, addressing that official personage, who was standing near, +'write me a license to unite Thomas Hardesty and Margaret Sidebottom in +the holy bands of matrimony. I know they are of age, and don't need any +guardeens.' + +The judge sat down, convulsed by his own wit, while the clerk proceeded to +his task. The loving pair looked up and smiled through their tears. 'I +loved you, Tom, all the time; I did indeed. It was all in fun, dear +man--indeed it was!' Tom Hardesty threw his arms around her neck, and +pressed her head to his bosom. + +'Come!' said his worship, after reading the license, 'none of your +hysterics here, but stand up and be married.' And married they were; and +the bride, in consideration of her cruelty, paid the costs of the suit and +the marriage fees; and off they marched homeward, amid the deafening +huzzas of the multitude that was gathered in the street. + +Happy New-Year! that sealed Tom Hardesty's happiness! Many a changing +season has come and gone since then, and nobody knows but they are the +happiest couple in Idleberg. Mr. Hardesty's first domestic advice to his +bride was to decline Mrs. Jenkins's farther acquaintance, which she did +most readily. The old gentleman has long since despaired of having an heir +direct, but has promised John, who is prospering behind his old master's +counter, that he and Belinda shall marry before long. Mr. Richard +Sidebottom is one of the 'reformed drunkards,' and eschews Madeira +especially. He is now an attorney, _in embryo_, and gives ample promise of +carrying into his profession all the acuteness and cunning which +distinguished his exploits on the memorable night that opened this chapter +in the biography of Mr. Tom Hardesty. + + + + +WINTER EVENING. + + + The fire is burning cheerly bright, the room is snug and warm, + We keep afar the wintry night, and drive away the storm; + And when without the wanderer pines, and all is dark and chill, + We sit securely by the fire, and sparkling glasses fill. + + And ever as the hollow wind howls through the moaning trees, + Strange feelings on the boding heart with sudden chillness seize: + But brightly blazes then the hearth, and freely flows the wine; + And laugh of glee, and song of mirth, then wreathe their merry twine. + + We think not how the dashing sleet beats on the crusted pane, + We care not though the drifting snow whirls o'er the heath amain; + But haply, while our hearts are bright, far struggling through the + waste, + Some traveller seeks our window's light, with long and fruitless haste. + + Hark his halloo! we leave the fire, and hurry forth to save: + A short half hour, and he had found beneath the snow a grave. + Pile on the wood!--feed high the flame!--bring out our choicest store! + The traveller's heart grows warm again; his spirit droops no more. + + J. G. P. + + + + +SONG OF THE NEW YEAR. + +BY MRS. R. S. NICHOLS. + + + I have come, I have come from a shadowy clime, + An heir of the monarch Earth's children call TIME; + With years yet unborn, I have stood in the hall + That was reared by our sire, awaiting his call: + Last eve, as I lay on his bosom at rest, + I saw slowly rise a white cloud in the west; + Now through the blue ether, through regions of space, + It floated up softly, with fairy-like grace, + And paused 'neath the light of the white-shining stars, + Whose rays pierced its centre, like clear silver bars; + The winds revelled round it, unchecked in their mirth, + As it hung, like a banner, 'mid heaven and earth. + + The soft fleecy folds of the clouds swept aside, + The winds ceased their revels, and mournfully sighed; + A car slowly rolled down the pathway of Time, + A bell slowly tolled a funereal chime: + A sound in the air, and a wail on the breeze, + Swift as wave follows wave on tempest-tossed seas; + Thin shadows swept by in that funeral train, + As glide o'er old battle-grounds ghosts of the slain. + I saw the dim spectres of long-buried years-- + The Seasons close followed, in mourning and tears. + + Arrayed in his armor, death-darts in his hand, + The grim King of Terrors strode on with the band, + While cold, stark and ghastly, there lay on his bier + The death-stricken form of the hoary OLD YEAR! + How bent was his figure, how furrowed his brow, + How weary he looked from his pilgrimage now! + The phantoms of Passion, of Hope and Despair, + With dark, waving plumage, encircled him there; + The Months stood around, and the bright dancing Hours + On spirit-wings floated, like birds among flowers. + + A voice sweet as music now smote on my ear: + 'Go forth in thy beauty, thou unspotted Year! + The old Year hath died 'mid rejoicings and mirth, + That rocked the stern heart of the rugged old Earth! + The midnight is passing; away to thy car! + Thou'lt sail by the lustre of morning's bright star; + Away!' And I rose from the bosom of Time, + And fled through the gates of that shadowy clime; + My car sped along on the wings of the wind, + While Winter, old man! tottered slowly behind. + + The sky's eastern portals impeded my flight, + When Morning rose up from the arms of the Night; + The dawn faintly glowed, and I saw the old Earth, + And sailed in my kingdom, a monarch at birth! + 'Then give me wild music, the dance and the song, + For ever!' I shouted, while whirling along: + 'I have come, I have come from a shadowy clime, + A breath of the monarch Earth's children call TIME!' + +_Cincinnati, December, 1843._ + + + + +ON COLOUR. + + Full angel-like the birdis sang their hours[1] + Within their curtains green, within their bowers + Apparelled with white and red, with bloomys sweet. + Enamell'd was the field with all colours: + The pearlit drops shook as in silver showers, + While all in balm did branche and leavis fleit.[2] + Depart fra' Phoebus did Aurora greit; + Her chrystal tears I saw hing on the flowers + Which he, for love, all drank up with his heat. + + DUNBAR. + + [1] Heures, prayers. + [2] Float. + + 1. The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. + + 2. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me + beside the still waters; He restoreth my soul. + + A PSALM OF DAVID. + + +As I walk over the surface of this fair Earth, an erring and a wayward +being, at times dejected by the trials of a solitary and an almost +abortive life, or sustained or elevated by its prosperous incidents; I +sometimes think that no one other blessing of existence hath ever +comforted my heart and restored my soul so much, as the pleasures and +delights of COLOUR. It is my wealth, my joy, my faculty, my fountain! + +The recreative pleasure that others find in Music, although this is not +denied is less to me than to them, a restorative and a balm. Music excites, +arouses me; melts me into weakness, or animates me into passionate +exertion; but it is in the green pasture and beside the still waters, in +bowers apparelled with white and red; it is in the tints with which autumn +is bedecked, and Day expires; that I feel I shall not want, and that GOD +restoreth my soul! And it is among huge and solitary mountain masses of +grey castellated rock, in the crevices of which the stinted pine, and the +cedar with its brown and tattered trunk, struggle out a hard and scanty +existence and are yet covered with never-fading verdure--mountains to +which the Saviour of mankind might have retired to meditate and pray--that +I feel that the Lord is my Shepherd, and shall bring me to the green +pastures, and lead me beside the still waters; my Rock! my fortress! and +my high tower! + +Sometimes my heart takes a fancy altogether for _brown_ hues; and as you +cannot at all times command these in the country, I seat myself down +quietly in front of a precious Cuyp with which GOD hath endowed me, and +that (except the sky and water) is composed entirely of them in every +gradation and shade; and when I rise up from the contemplation of it, I +feel that it is in brown hues that GOD restoreth my soul. + +Sometimes I dwell upon the silvery trunk of the birch-tree, or upon the +darker hue of the beech. Sometimes my soul drinks the full beauties of the +umbrageous chestnut; or revels in the golden berries, and the graceful +branches that seem overladen with them, of the mountain-ash. As I grow old +I wave often in the grey pendulous mosses of the South, or stand in +thought under the gigantick branches of the live oak, with all its leaves +of laurel, and its heroick gesture. GOOD GOD! I say, when I think that we +might all have been born, ate, drank, smoked, grown up, built, propagated, +and died, as thoroughly and effectually as we now do, and all these +precious objects of our sight and joy been made for us--out of the one +desolate colour of an old pipe! + +And WATER--that element of Life, that upon the plaintain-leaf looks so +like a molten mass of diamond that you can hardly persuade yourself it is +aught else, might as well have been created of a mere drab quaker-colour; +or not even as bright as a bit of Quartz Rock! and yet have satisfied our +thirst as well as if it had gushed forth from the limpid sources of the +Croton; or been drawn from the transparent body of Lake George; or from +those mountain streams of sparkling chrystal that, in alternate shade and +gleams of light of tropical brilliancy, bound and gush and dance their way +downward from rock to rock to the sound of their own musick, and make +themselves into rivers of joy as they descend along the _Grand Etang_ of +the Island of Grenada! + +And WINE, that GOD hath sent to make glad the heart of man, and +hath blessed it in the cup; and which might perhaps have had the same +hilarious effect, though it were of the dingy colour of the ashes of the +grate by which I sit; but which, for our more perfect happiness, He hath +made to outvie the Topaz and the Ruby, in its lustre and its varied hue! + +There are many of us who have this one quality, the love of colour, in +common with the magnificent DAVID, whose precious inspiration I have +quoted at the head of my Essay, and who in a thousand passages interweaves +it like a golden thread amid his works; but as in the minds of many +others, it may be a blessing only half appreciated, I have thought that a +few words upon this subject might fall not unfruitfully upon the heart, +perchance of some one young Reader of this article, just opening to the +knowledge of this peculiar work of the great Master of mankind, COLOUR. + +Even Music, although itself an occupation revealed to us as of the Angels +of Light, is, except perhaps as they enjoy it--with whom poetry and +modulated sound adapted to the thought are inseparably one--even music is +less refined, less gentle, perfect, unobtrusive. For the enjoyment of +Colour involves no possible interruption of another's tastes; no outbreak +upon the quiet stillness of the day; no intrusion on 'the ear of night;' +nor yet any expression, that by pouring abroad the sensations, might +diminish the deep earnestness of the soul; which, all sight, all ear, +becomes the Recipient. The enjoyment of colour is the Spirit within us +listening to the language of GOD! to the mute expression of His +unspeakable Love! COLOUR--the conception He hath chosen for His bow of +promise in the Heavens! by which He decorates the Earth, and tells of +Himself in the ocean, and in the sky, and by which He restoreth the Soul +of man! + +And in that state of celestial existence which attends the redeemed Soul +disenthralled from 'the body of this death,' is it to be doubted, that +among the joys that 'the eye hath never seen, nor the heart conceived,' +there exist colours beautiful beyond all earthly wealth of imagination; +beyond the poet's fancy and the painter's dream? There where the pure gold +of which the city is constructed, is transparent as glass, and each gate +is one pearl, and the very foundations of the walls are of jasper, and +chalcedony, sapphire, emerald, ruby, amethyst and topaz; and the glory of +GOD is the light that lightens it! + +But it is not to another world that the joys of colour are postponed, nor +even to another climate that we need look for the precious satisfaction +that they impart. We have not the carpets of flowers of rainbow tints, +that spread themselves over whole prairies of Texas and Mexico, but what a +gem upon the bosom of Earth when it is unexpectedly found among us is the +blue campanula! And the small white lily of the valley, sheltered and +concealed in its green leaves like a hidden tear of Joy, and almost as +rare! And the bright and graceful lobelia cardinalis that loves the +neighbourhood of the still waters. And the fringed gentian of a tint so +cerulean that our true poet derives it from the firmament; as his own +spirit, if left to approach its kindred element, might claim affinity with +the overshadowing expanse of celestial life![3] + + [3] THIS allusion is to BYRANT'S lines 'To the Fringed + Gentian,' a poem so replete with truth and beauty, that we + cannot resist the inclination to quote it here. + + ED. KNICKERBOCKER. + + Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, + And coloured with the heaven's own blue. + That openest, when the quiet light + Succeeds the keen and frosty night. + + Thou comest not when violets lean + O'er wandering brooks and springs unseen, + Or columbines, in purple dressed, + Nod o'er the ground-bird's hidden nest. + + Thou waitest late, and com'st alone, + When woods are bare and birds are flown, + And frosts and shortening days portend + The aged year is near his end. + + Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye + Look through its fringes to the sky, + Blue--blue--as if that sky let fall + A flower from its cerulean wall. + + I would that thus, when I shall see + The hour of death draw near to me, + Hope, blossoming within my heart, + May look to heaven as I depart. + +I speak not to thee of the gorgeous sunsets and of those piles of massy +clouds of living and ever-varying colours on which the Day pillows himself +to rest in a luxurious repose; but open thine heart upon the Eastern bank +of the Hudson at the grey of morning, and look with the Sun upon the +opposite shore; and as the mists arise and are dispelled from before thee, +there shall come change after change of colour neutral and calm and slowly +warming into beauty, until a violet haze shall rest upon the hill-tops and +the cliffs that might outvie the golden haze of Italy, and that shall +raise thy thoughts in silent thankfulness, and educate thee to enjoy the +untold treasuries of colour that glow in upper Heaven; and hope shall +spring forth renewed within thee; and sorrow shall fade from thy widowed, +or thy childless heart; the peace which passeth understanding shall come +over thee; and GOD even thine own GOD shall bless thee; and to thine eyes, +now opened to the wonders of His goodness, all the ends of the Earth shall +_shew forth_ His praise! + + JOHN WATERS. + + + + +STANZAS + +SUGGESTED BY GLIDDON'S LECTURES ON THE ANTIQUITIES OF EGYPT. + +MISS H. J. WOODMAN + + + Sublime hath been thy conquest o'er the past, + Stemming Oblivion's torrent by thy might, + Reading symbolic records long o'ercast + By the deep shadows of unbroken night; + Tracing with reverent finger names of kings + That long had slumbered with forgotten things. + + The mists that deeply veiled historic rays, + Thou art dispelling with resistless hand; + And dynasties that flourished ere the days + When ABRAHAM forsook the promised land, + No longer noteless, nameless, boldly claim + Their lofty tablet in the arch of fame. + + Thy curious finger with a magic key + Unlocked the store of ages, and the light, + Flooding the pass of time, sublime and free, + Decks ruined temples in its vesture bright: + These are the relics of _thy_ grandeur flown, + Land of the Pharaohs and their prostrate throne. + + Ere the white stranger's land had trodden been + By foot of pilgrim, Egypt sat supreme, + Queen of the nations, and her realm within + Wealth, learning, power convened--a full, deep stream! + The bulwarks of her throne were safely reared + In hearts by which her greatness was revered. + + And now, with Science for his trusty guide, + The stranger comes to read her mystic lore, + Tread her deserted cities, stand beside + Her sculptured temples, eloquent once more; + Not with man's voice, but with the nobler speech + Of days beyond our spirit's utmost reach. + + And those proud monuments of youthful time, + The pyramids, whose lofty sides have borne + The storms of centuries in that fierce clime, + And seeming still to smile in speechless scorn, + When bow the everlasting hills with age, + Then shall they vanish from the world's bright page. + + A mournful ruin to thy utmost bound, + A type of glory long since passed away, + The statue voiceless whence the thrilling sound + Of gushing music hailed the rising day; + Thus art thou now, oh Egypt! but the flame + Of new-born Science gilds thine ancient name. + + And from the dust shalt thou arise once more, + Not by thine own degenerate sons upreared, + But strangers who have sought thy verdant shore + Shall hail thy fallen greatness, still revered; + Until among the kingdoms of the earth + Thou shalt appear renewed--a second birth! + + + + +THE QUOD CORRESPONDENCE. + +HARRY HARSON. + + +CHAPTER NINETEENTH. + +Notwithstanding his having made what most persons would have considered a +hearty meal at Harry Harson's, Mr. Kornicker had nevertheless such perfect +reliance on his own peculiar gastronomic abilities, that he did not in the +least shrink from again testing them. Leaving Michael Rust's presence with +an alacrity which bordered upon haste, he descended into the refectory +with somewhat of a jaunty air, humming a tune, and keeping time to it by +an occasional flourish of the fingers. Having seated himself, his first +act was to shut his eyes, thrust his feet at full length under the table; +plunge both hands to the very bottom of his breeches-pockets, where they +grasped spasmodically two cents and a small key, and laugh silently for +more than a minute, occasionally breaking in upon his merriment to gossip +to himself in the most profound and mysterious manner. + +'A queer dog! a very queer dog! d----d queer, old Michael is! Well, that's +_his_ business, not mine.' + +As soon as this idea had fully impressed itself upon him, he sat up, +became grave, and looked about in search of the waiter. In doing so, he +encountered the eyes of a short fat man at a table near him, who at the +first glance seemed to be reading a newspaper, but at the second, seemed +to be reconnoitering him over it. Mr. Kornicker observing this, not only +returned his glance, but added a wink to it by way of interest. The man +thereupon laid down his paper, and nodded. + +Mr. Kornicker nodded in reply; and said he hoped he was well, and that his +wife and small children were equally fortunate. + +The face of the stranger was a round, jolly face, with two little eyes +that twinkled and glistened between their fat lids, as if they were very +devils for fun; and his whole appearance was cozy and comfortable. His +chin was double; his stomach round and plump, with an air of +respectability; and he occasionally passed his hand over it, as if to say: +'Ah ha! beat that who can!' But notwithstanding his merry look, at this +last remark his face grew long; and with a melancholy shake of his head, +he pointed to his hat which hung on a peg above him, and was swathed in a +broad band of crape, terminating in two stiff skirts projecting from it +like a rudder, and giving it the appearance of a corpulent butterfly in +mourning, at roost on the wall. + +'Ah!' said Mr. Kornicker, looking at the hat, 'that's it?' + +'Yes,' replied the stranger, with a deep sigh, 'that's it.' + +'Father?' inquired Mr. Kornicker, nodding significantly toward the hat. + +'No--wife,' replied the other. + +'Dead?' inquired Mr. Kornicker. + +'Dead as a hammer.' + +'Was it long or short? consumption or fits?' asked Mr. Kornicker, drawing +up his feet and turning so as to face the stranger, by way of evincing the +interest which he felt in his melancholy situation. + +The man shook his head, and was so affected that he was troubled with a +temporary cold in his head; which, having alleviated by the aid of his +handkerchief, he said: 'Poor woman! She undertook to present me with a +fine boy, last week, and it proved too much for her. It exhausted her +animal natur', and she decamped on a sudden. She was a very fine woman--a +very fine woman. I always _said_ she was.' + +'And the child?' inquired Kornicker; 'I hope it's well.' + +'Quite well, I thank you. It went along with her. They are both better +off; saints in heaven, both of 'em; out of this wale of tears.' + +Mr. Kornicker told him to cheer up. He said that every man had a crook in +his lot. Some men had big crooks, and some men had little crooks; and +although this crook made rather a bad elbow in his lot, that perhaps all +the rest was square and straight, and he could build on it to advantage, +especially if it was twenty-five feet by a hundred, which was the ordinary +width and length of 'lots in general.' + +Having delivered himself of this rather confused allegory, Mr. Kornicker, +by way of farther consolation, drew out his snuff-box, and stretching out +as far as was possible without falling from his chair, tendered it to the +stranger, who in return leaning so far forward as slightly to raise his +person from the chair, gently inserted his fingers in the box, and helped +himself to a pinch, at the same time remarking, that it 'was a great +comfort, in his trying situation, to find friends who sympathized with his +misfortunes. That he _had_ found it so; and that Mr. Kornicker was a man +whose feelings did credit to human natur'.' + +Kornicker disclaimed being any thing above the ordinary run of men, or +that his feelings were more than every other man possessed, or ought to +possess. But the stranger was vehement in his assertions to the contrary; +so much so, that he rose from his seat, and drawing a chair to the +opposite side of Kornicker's table, proposed that they should breakfast +together. + +Kornicker shook his head: + +'It's against the agreement,' said he; 'it can't be done.' + +'But it _can_, Sir--it _shall_, Sir! A man of your sympathies is not to be +met with every day, and must be breakfasted with, whether he will or +not--agreement or no agreement. Don't agreement me!' said the stranger, +lifting up his chair and setting it down opposite Kornicker, with great +emphasis. 'What's the natur' of this agreement?' + +Mr. Kornicker assumed a very grave and legal expression of countenance, +and without replying, asked: + +'What's your name?' + +'Ezra Scrake.' + +'I, Edward Kornicker, forbid you, Ezra Scrake, from breakfasting with me, +telling you that it is contrary to a certain agreement, referred to but +not set forth; and I now repeat the request, that you forthwith retire to +another table, and that I be permitted to take my meal by myself.' He +threw himself back in his chair, and looked Mr. Scrake full in the face. + +'And I, Ezra Scrake, say that I _won't_ leave this table, and that I +_will_ breakfast with a fellow whose benevolence might warm the witals of +a tiger.' + +'Very well, Sir,' said Kornicker, relaxing from his former severe +expression; 'I've done my duty. Old Rust can't blame me. The breach of +contract is not on my part. I'm acting under compulsion. Just recollect +that I desired you to leave me, in case it gets me into hot water, and +that you refused; that's all. Now old fellow, what'll you take? Only +recollect, that each man rides his own pony.' + +The stranger nodded, and said that of course he would 'foot his own bill.' + +These preliminaries being settled, the boy, who had been standing at their +elbow in a state of ecstatic delight at the proceedings of Mr. Kornicker, +with whom he had become familiar, and whom he regarded as a gentleman of +great legal acumen, and in all other respects as rather a 'tall boy,' was +desired by the stranger to hand him the bill of fare, and not to keep him +waiting all day. Having been gratified in this respect, Mr. Scrake +commenced at the top and deliberately whispered his way to the bottom of +the list. + +'Beef-steak; shall I say for two?' asked he, looking up at Kornicker. + +'Yes, but always under protest, as to our breakfasting together,' said Mr. +Kornicker, winking at him. 'Don't forget that.' + +'Of course. Now, my son, what trimmings have you got?' said he to the boy. + +''Taters.' + +'Are they kidneys, blue-noses, or fox?--and will they bu'st open white and +mealy?' + +'They'm prime,' replied the boy. + +'Bring one for me; or, stop--are they extra?' + +'We throws them in with the steak, gratis.' + +'Then bring a dishful, with coffee, bread, and whatever else adds to the +breakfast, without adding to the bill.' + +The boy, having no other interest in the establishment than that of +securing his own wages and meals, was highly delighted at this considerate +order of Mr. Scrake, and forthwith disappeared to obey it. + +In the meanwhile Mr. Scrake, after having deliberately re-perused the bill +of fare, and not observing any thing else which could be got for nothing, +laid it down, and looking at Mr. Kornicker, who was gazing abstractedly at +the table-cloth, said that he hoped he (Mr. Scrake) was not going to be +impertinent; and as Mr. Kornicker made no other reply than that of looking +at him, as if he considered it a matter of some doubt whether he was or +was not, he elucidated the meaning of his remark, by inquiring who Michael +Rust was. + +'The old gentlemen that caters for me,' replied Kornicker, carelessly. + +'And does he make you eat alone?' + +'If I dine double, he'll stop the prog, that's all.' + +'A sing'lar bargain--quite sing'lar; very sing'lar, in fact. Does he keep +a tight eye over you?' + +Mr. Kornicker did not exactly know what kind of an eye a tight eye was, +but he replied: 'Sometimes he does, sometimes he don't. He's nigh enough +to do it. His office is overhead.' + +'Lawyer, I suppose?--_must_ be,' said Mr. Scrake, drumming carelessly on +the table. + +'You're out, old fellow. I'm with him, and should know something of him; +and he isn't.' + +'Ah!' said the stranger, leaning back and yawning, and then sharpening his +knife on the fork. 'What is he then?' + +Mr. Kornicker raised his finger gently to his nose, winked so violently at +Mr. Scrake that he caused that gentleman to stop short in his performance +to look at him; after which he shut both eyes, and gave vent to a violent +inward convulsion of laughter. + +'What _is_ he?' repeated Kornicker, in a tone of high surprise; then +sinking his voice, and leaning over the table, he whispered confidentially +in Mr. Scrake's ear: 'He's hell.' + +'No! he isn't though, is he?' said Mr. Scrake, dropping his knife and +fork, and sinking back in his chair. + +'Yes he is,' repeated Mr. Kornicker; 'and if you was a certain gentleman +that I know, you'd find it out. _He_ will some day, I rather think.' + +'Are _you_ that individual?' inquired Mr. Scrake, with an air of deep +interest. + +'No, I ain't, but I suspect some one else is. But come,' said he, 'there's +the breakfast, so let's be at it, and drop all other discussion.' + +This remark found an answering echo in the stomach of Mr. Scrake, who +resumed the sharpening of his knife, as the breakfast entered the room, +and did not desist until the steak was on the table, when he immediately +assaulted it. + +'Shall I help you? What part will you take?' + +'Any part,' replied Kornicker, carelessly. + +'Well, it's sing'lar; I never could carve. I'll help you as I would help +myself,' said Mr. Scrake, in his ignorance depositing on Mr. Kornicker's +plate an exceedingly tough piece of dry meat, and upon his own a cut which +was remarkably tender and juicy. + +'Do you always help yourself as you have helped me?' said Mr. Kornicker, +snuffing with great deliberation, and eyeing his portion with no very +contented eye. + +'Always, always.' + +'Then you do yourself d----d great injustice.' + +'Ha! ha! good--very good; sheer ignorance on my part, upon my soul. But +you were telling me about this man, this Rust,' said Mr. Scrake, mashing +his potatoes, and entombing a lump of butter in the heart of a small +pyramid of them. 'You said he was hell, or the devil, or something of that +sort. What then? Eh?' + +Kornicker, though not at all pleased with the ignorance of his companion, +in the particular branch in which it had just displayed itself, was not of +a sulky disposition, and was easily won into a communicative mood, +particularly as Mr. Scrake begged him, with tears in his eyes, to tell him +which was the best part of a beef-steak, so that he might avoid in future +the mortification of being guilty of a similar error. + +As the coffee went down, and the beef-steak followed, Mr. Scrake seemed to +relax, and to forget that his hat hung over his head, commemorative of the +recent retirement of Mrs. Scrake from this 'wale of tears,' and became +quite jocular on the subject of the fair sex, congratulating Kornicker +upon his looks; calling him a lucky dog, and telling him that if _he_ were +him, he'd 'make up to some charming young woman with a fortune, and be off +with her.' He then went into a detail of his own juvenile indiscretions, +relating many incidents of his life; some of which were amusing, some +ridiculous, some tragic, some pathetic, and not a few quite indecent. It +was wonderful what a devil that fat-cheeked, little-eyed, round-stomached +fellow had been. Who could resist the influence of such a man? Not poor +Kornicker; it gradually had its effect upon him, for he in turn grew +communicative; talked freely of Rust, and of every man, woman and child of +his acquaintance. He grew merry over the rare doings which had taken place +in Rust's den. He then descanted upon the peculiarities of the old man; +his fierce fits of passion, his cold, shrewd, caustic manners, his coming +in, and his going out; how long he was absent; how profoundly secret he +kept himself, his doings, his whereabouts, and his mode of life. 'And,' +said he, in conclusion, 'I know nothing of him. He's a queer dog, a +wonderfully queer one. It would take a long time to fathom him, I can tell +you. I've been with him for a long time; and am his confidential adviser, +his lawyer, and all that sort of thing; and yet I've never done but two +things for him.' + +'You don't say so!' exclaimed Mr. Scrake, laying down his knife and fork; +and looking at him with his mouth open; 'and pray what _were_ those +things?' + +'I sued one man,' (being a lawyer you know,) said he, nodding in an +explanatory way at Mr. Scrake, 'and carried a letter to another.' + +'Ah! and who were those fortunate individuals?' + +'Poh! I suppose there's no secret about it. The man sued, was one Enoch +Grosket. The other was one Henry Harson; a jolly old boy he _was_ too. I +breakfasted with him; a prime fellow; keeps a d----d ugly cur, though.' + +'Enoch Grosket, Henry Harson!' said the stranger, musing; 'I've heard of +them, I think. Who are they?' + +'It is more than I can tell,' replied Kornicker. 'That's the mystery of my +situation. I know nothing about any thing I'm doing, or of him, or his +acquaintances.' + +'Why, you must know what you sued the man for,' said Mr. Scrake, +earnestly; 'you must know _that_, surely.' + +'Yes, but it's a height of knowledge which don't carry much information +with it,' replied Mr. Kornicker. 'I sued him on a promissory note. What he +made it for, or how Rust got it, or any thing more about him, or it, or +Harson, or Rust, I know as little as you.' + +The stranger drew himself up, and looking at him gravely, said in a +serious and even stern tone: 'Do you mean to say that you are entirely +ignorant of every thing respecting this Rust; his family, his business, +his acquaintances, his associates, his habits, his plans and +operations?'--in short, that you know nothing more than you have mentioned +to me?' + +The other nodded. + +'Waiter, my bill,' said he in a peremptory tone. + +The boy brought him a slip of paper, on which was written the amount. + +He paid it without a word; walked across the room, took down his hat, put +it on his head, and turning to Kornicker, said in a tone of solemn +earnestness: 'Young man, you're in a bad way, a _very_ bad way. Had I +known with what people you were in the habit of associating before I sat +down at that table, Ezra Scrake's legs and yours would never have been +under the same mahogany. A man in the employ of another and know nothing +of him! It's enormous! He might be a murderer, a thief; a man-slaughterer; +a Burker, an arsoner, or any thing that is bad. Young man, in spite of the +injury you've done me, I pity you; nay, I forgive you.' + +Mr. Kornicker, was merely waiting for an opportunity to suggest to him +that his company had not only been unsought, but actually forced upon him, +and even under his solemn protest. But before he could do so, Mr. Scrake +was in the street; whereupon, on ascertaining that he was out of the +hearing of Mr. Kornicker, he muttered to himself: 'It was no go. Waited +for him two hours; then spent an hour in pumping a dry well. Enoch +Grosket, has sent me on a fool's errand. Michael Rust knows too much to +trust that addle-headed fool.' + +Having given vent to these observations, he deliberately buttoned up his +coat, and walked off. + + +CHAPTER TWENTIETH. + +In a dark room into which even in the day-time the light struggled in such +scanty streams that a kind of twilight was the nearest approach that it +ever made to broad day, but which was now only lighted by a single candle, +that flared and dripped in the currents of air, as they eddied and whirled +about, seeking an escape, sat Tim Craig, and his comrade Bill Jones, the +men with Rust's interview with whom the reader is already acquainted. They +were sitting cheek by jowl on two wooden benches in front of a fire, which +they from time to time nourished with sticks from a heap of wood on the +hearth. The fire however would not burn, but kept smouldering and smoking, +now and then springing up into a fitful blaze, which threw a spectral air +over the room, peopling its dim recesses with all sorts of fantastic +forms, and then expired, leaving it more gloomy than ever. The appearance +of the men, their subdued, whispering voices and startled looks, showed +that at that particular time they were not altogether in a frame of mind +to resist the gloomy influence of the place. The dark, lonely room, with +its large shadowy corners and gaping seams, through which the wind sighed +and wailed, and the pattering of the rain as it swept heavily against the +side of the house and on the roof, all tended to add to the melancholy and +sombre tone of their feelings. Bill drew his bench to the fire, looked +suspiciously about him, and then, as if half ashamed of having done so, +said: + +'It's a h-ll of a night! I don't know how it is, but I'm not in trim +to-night. Blow me, if the sight of that old fellow don't make one's blood +cold. I can't get warm; and this bloody fire keeps sputtering and smoking, +as if to spite one.' + +Tim Craig, to whom this remark was addressed, turned and looked him +steadily in the face, without speaking; and then his eyes wandered about +the room, as if he were fearful of being watched or overheard, in what he +was going to say. + +'Bill,' said he in a low voice, his thin lips quivering; but whether from +anger or any other emotion, was a matter of much doubt; 'd----d if I know +which way to leap! Enoch pulls one way and Rust another. Either of them +could send us to kingdom come. Ugh! how cold it is! Something comes over +me to-night--I can't tell what. I don't half like the job. Bill,' +continued he after a pause, drawing nearer his comrade and lowering his +voice, 'I'm haunted to-night. You know that fellow, the man up town, the +cartman----' He hesitated, and leaned his mouth close to the ear of the +other, while in the dim light his face seemed ghastly; 'the--the man, last +year----' + +Jones looked at him significantly; and then drew his finger across his +throat. 'Do you mean that fellow?' + +'Yes,' replied Craig in a husky tone, and scarcely able to articulate, for +the choking in his throat. 'He's been _here_ to-night. Three times I've +caught him looking over my shoulder! GOD! There he is again! Light! light! +light!' shouted he, springing up; 'make the fire burn, I say--make it +burn! Heap on wood! heap it on! Do _anything_--but keep HIM off!' + +'Why, Tim, you seem to be took bad,' exclaimed his companion, at the same +time getting on his knees, and setting assiduously to work to blow the +fire. 'Come, this is worse than ever. We've got to work to-night; and it +wont do to go into your fantastics.' + +He paused in his remarks to apply his breath to the fire, and with such +success, that in a few minutes a bright blaze was dancing up the chimney, +lighting the whole room, and dispelling at once that shadowy appearance +which its great size and dilapidated state had tended to give it. + +'There now, that's as comfortable a fire as you can want; and arter all, +what you was just talking of was all fancy,' said he, resuming his seat. +'Dead men stay where you put 'em.' + +Craig had been pacing furiously up and down the room, as if to out-walk +some demon that _would_ keep at his side; but he stopped short, and going +up to his comrade, placed his hand on his shoulder and said: 'Bill Jones, +that's a lie! Whoever says so, lies! Dead men _don't_ stay where you put +'em. I've had that man walking with me for hours together. I've had him at +the same table with me, when I ate; I've had him in bed with me--ay, all +night long; and to-night he's been here with his face almost touching +mine. Blast him! if I could but get him by the throat, I'd throttle him!' + +'Come, come, Tom, none of this,' said Jones, with more gentleness than his +appearance indicated. 'I'm sorry for you; you must feel bad enough, or you +wouldn't go on so. I've know'd you since we were boys together; and I know +it's not a little matter that works you up, like you are now. Come, sit +down.' He led him to a seat, and kneeling at his feet, took his hand in +both of his. 'Don't give in so, my old feller. Don't you know, when we +were boys, how we all looked up to you; and although I could have doubled +you up, with my big limbs, yet you always had the mastery over me. Ha! ha! +Tim, don't you remember the old schoolmaster, too? Hallo! what now?' + +Craig leaned his head upon Jones' shoulder and sobbed aloud. Don't talk of +those days, Bill; it'll drive me mad. Oh! if I was a boy again! But no, +no; I'm a fool,' exclaimed he, springing up, apparently swallowing his +emotion at one fierce gulp, and in an instant becoming as hardened as +ever. 'Am I crazy, to-night, or _what_ ails me, that I've become as +white-livered as a girl? Where's the grog? Give us a sup; and we'll see +what's to be done.' + +'There, now you talk right,' said Jones, putting his hand in his +coat-pocket and drawing out a small bottle, cased in leather; 'that'll +wake you up; and now to business. You hav'n't told me what's to be did, +and who you'll go with, Grosket, or Rust.' + +'Rust,' said Craig, abruptly; 'he's our man. He can bleed; Enoch can't. +_He_ never fails in what he wants to do; Enoch _does_; but they are both +devils incarnate. I'd rather fight against ten other men than either of +them; but rather against Enoch than Mike Rust.' + +'Well, what is it? He told you all about it. I couldn't hear what he +said.' + +'He's been on the prowl for two days: God knows what he's arter; but he +wants us to break in a house and steal a girl.' + +'The profligate willain!' exclaimed Mr. Jones, with an air of great +horror; 'I'll tell his father of him!' + +'It's only a child.' + +'Oh! that alters the case,' said Mr. Jones, 'Then I'll tell his wife. +Well?' + +'We are to go to the house, get the girl at all hazards, rob the house if +we choose, and bring _her_ here. What he wants of her, who she is, is more +than I know. 'You are to get her, and ask no questions,' that's what he +said.' + +'Who's in the house?' + +'Only an old man and a woman.' + +'The man?--is he used up, or what?' + +'He's a bull-dog,' was the laconic reply. + +'We'll want _them_ then,' said Jones, pointing to a closet which was +partly open, showing several pairs of pistols on a shelf. + +'I suppose so. Bring 'em out, and look at the locks; not the +flintlocks--it's a wet night; get the others. We must have no trifling.' + +Jones made no other reply than to take out a pair of pistols, which he +carried to the light, and examined their locks. + +'Are they loaded?' inquired Craig. + +Jones nodded: 'Two bullets in each! Suppose they twig us?--are we to fight +or run?' + +''You had better die than fail.' He said that,' replied Craig, in a low +tone; 'and when I saw his look I thought so too. D--n him! I'm afraid of +him. It'll be no baby-work if they discover us.' + +The other robber made no reply, but continued to examine the pistols, +carefully rubbing the barrels, to remove any trace of rust, and working +the hammers backward and forward; after which he put two fresh caps on the +cones. 'All right! I'm ready as soon as it's time. When do you go?' + +'Not till an hour after midnight. That's the time when folks sleep +soundest. You could cut a man's throat then without waking him. Don't let +the fire get down,' said he, turning an apprehensive eye toward the +fire-place. 'It's cold, and we've three hours to be here yet.' + +Jones, with the same good-natured alacrity which he had before displayed, +threw several sticks on the fire, and then turning to his comrade, said: + +'Suppose we rattle the dice till midnight?' + +Craig shook his head. + +'What say you to the paste-board?' + +'No cards for me,' replied the other, seating himself and leaning his +cheeks between his hands, with his elbows on his knees, and his eyes +fastened on the fire. 'I want to be on the move. God! How I wish it was +time! This cursed room is enough to suffocate one. Curse me, but it smells +of coffins and dead men, and is as cold as a church-vault. It goes to a +fellow's very bones.' + +There was something so unusual in the mood of his comrade, that Jones at +last started up and said: + +'Blast me, Tim, but you must stop this. You're making me as wild and +frightened as yourself. Talk of your beaks, and courts, and prisons, and +bullets, and pistols, as much as you like; but d--n it, leave your dead +men, and coffins, and vaults, and all them 'ere to themselves, will you! +Curse me, if you ain't enough to make a sneak of any man. So just stop, +will you? If you can't talk of something better, don't talk at all.' + +Craig took him at his word; and drawing his bench closer to the fire, +maintained his position, without moving or speaking for more than an hour. + +Jones, in the mean while, for want of employment, again examined the +pistols; drew out the loads, and reloaded them; then going to the closet, +he brought out two very dangerous-looking knives, and after trying the +points on his finger, proceeded to oil them. This over, he betook himself +to whistling, at the same time, keeping time to his music by drumming his +heel heavily on the floor. This, however, could not last forever; and +finally, wrapping a heavy coat around his shoulders, he stretched himself +at full length in front of the fire, and was soon sound asleep. + +Not so his companion. In silence, without stirring, and scarcely +breathing, yet wide awake, with ears alive to every sound, and distorting +every sigh of the wind into the voice of a human being, he sat with white +lips and a shaking hand until the faint chime of a clock, which reached +him even above the noise of the storm, told him that the hour was come. + +'Wake up!' said he, touching Jones with his foot. 'It's time to be off.' + +Jones, with instinctive quickness, obeyed the call by springing to his +feet, apparently as wide awake as if he had not closed his eyes during the +night. + +'All right!' said he, looking hastily about the room. 'Hey! but what's all +this noise?' + +'It's a horrible night; all hell seems abroad,' said Craig. 'But come; get +ready, and let's be off.' + +'Will we want any of _them_?' asked Jones, pointing to an upper shelf in +the closet, on which was lying a number of uncouth-looking instruments, +the nature of which was best known to themselves. + +'Take the small crow; we may want _that_, but nothing more.' + +'The bag, too?' inquired Bill. + +'No; it's a girl we've to steal; d--n it, I wish it wasn't!' + +While he was speaking, he had thrust his arms into a shaggy great-coat, +and was tying a thick woollen wrapper over his mouth, so that the last +remark was nearly lost in it. He then put on an oil-skin cap, not unlike +what is called by sailors a 'sou'-wester,' and stood watching the +proceedings of his comrade, which were by no means as expeditious as his +own; for that gentleman proceeded very leisurely to encase his feet in a +pair of thick woollen stockings, and a pair of shoes more capable of +resisting the wet than those which he then wore. After this, he put an +oil-cloth jacket over his other one, and surmounted the whole by a coat +similar to that worn by Craig. + +'One would suppose you was a baby, from your tenderness to yourself,' said +Craig, impatiently. 'You ain't sugar, are you? Do you expect the rain to +melt you?' + +'I'm a sweet fellow, I know that,' replied the other, carefully buttoning +his coat to the chin. 'I may be sugar for all I know, shouldn't be +surprised if I was. I've been told so afore this; let me tell you _that_, +my old feller. You ain't in kidney to-night. Take another pull at little +Job,' said he, handing him the bottle, 'and we'll be off.' + +Whatever Craig's contempt of the rain might be, it did not seem to extend +to other liquids; for he took the bottle, and applying it to his lips, did +not remove it until the bottom of it was not a little inclined toward the +ceiling; perhaps its elevation might even have increased, had not Jones +reminded him that it being late at night, the vessel could not be +replenished, and that there was a 'small child' to be helped after him, +who hated above all things sucking at the neck of a dry bottle. + +Craig permitted the bottle to be taken from his hand, and stood with his +eyes fixed on the floor in deep thought; nor did he arouse himself until +Jones took him by the arm, and said: + +'Come on; all's ready.' + +Craig started at the words. 'The pistols and the glim?' + +'I've got 'em.' + +'And the crow-bar?' + +'All snug _here_,' said Jones, touching the pocket of his great-coat. + +'Good! Follow me.' Craig strode across the room, and went out. + +It was a dreadful night. The rain spouted furiously from the +water-conductors, and sped boiling and foaming through the streets. The +wind too caught it up as it fell, and swept it in long sheets through the +streets; and as the two men battled their way along, it seemed actually to +hiss around them, like the long lash of a whip. The tempest had a rare +frolic that night, and right merrily did it howl over the house-tops, and +through the narrow streets; and fast and furiously did the water bubble +and boil, as it dashed on like mad to the deep river, to take refuge in +her bosom from its tormentor the hurricane. + +Not a thing was stirring; not a beast. Not a man, except the two felons. A +right glorious night it was for rapine and midnight murder. The house-dog +had slunk in his straw, and the watchman was dozing away, under some shed, +or stoop, or in some dark door-way. There was nothing to stand in the way +of these enterprising men, save the fierce storm, and what cared they for +that? It was the very night for them. If it came to blows, or if a life +was to be taken, the death-cry would be lost in the howling of the wind; +it was the night of all nights for _them_; and so thought Craig and his +comrade, as they toiled along, with their heads bent down to keep the rain +out of their faces. + +'Is it far?' at last inquired Jones; 'we've come a mile.' + +'Half a mile more,' replied Craig; and that was all that passed between +them, until they stood in front of Harson's house. + +'This is it,' said Craig. + +He lifted the latch of the gate opening into the door-yard, and approached +the house. + +'Where are we to begin?' inquired Jones. + +Craig pointed to a small window on a level with, or rather sunk somewhat +below, the surface of the ground, with a kind of area around it. '_There_; +there are iron gratings, but they are set in the wood, which is all +rotten. Quick! try them with the crow-bar; they'll give.' + +Jones, with an alacrity and adroitness which showed a long experience in +such matters, after feeling his way to the place, and passing his hand +over the bars to discover their exact situation, inserted his crow-bar +between the stone-work and the wood, and at the very first application +forced the whole out. A wooden shutter which opened from within, being +merely secured by a wooden button, gave way before a strong pressure of +his hand, and left the entrance open. + +'Go in quick!--don't keep a fellow in the rain all night,' said Craig, in +a sharp whisper. 'It's only three feet to the floor. Get in, will you?' + +'Shut up! Cuss ye!' exclaimed Jones, savagely; 'let me take my own way.' + +As he spoke, he inserted his feet, and gradually let himself down until he +touched the floor. In a moment Craig was at his side, and closed the +shutter. + +'Now, quick! a light!' whispered he. In another minute, the dark lantern +was lighted, and Craig, taking it up and throwing back the slide, turned +it carefully around the place. It was a cellar, filled with empty barrels +and boxes; and seemed to be a sort of receptacle for rubbish of all +descriptions. At one end was a door leading to the upper part of the +house. It was partly open. Without a word, Craig went to it and ascended +the stairs, which were shut off from the kitchen by another door. + +Craig opened this, and crossed the room with a quick yet stealthy step, +but with the air of one perfectly familiar with the precincts. Passing +through the entry, he went into Harson's sitting-room; from there into the +outer room, communicating with the street. + +'We'll open the street door, Bill,' said he, 'in case we have to bolt +quick. There,' said he, as he drew back two bolts, and turned the key, +don't forget the road. Leave all the doors open. That'll do. We'll get the +girl first, and then we'll see what's to be done. First door at the head +of the stairs. Quiet, quiet; there's a dog in the next room.' + +Stealing up the stairs, they opened the door, and the full light of the +lamp fell in the child's room. They could hear her low, regular breathing +as she slept. Craig handed the light to his companion. + +'I'll take her,' whispered he. 'Bring the light so that I can see. There, +that will do.' He bent over her. As he did so, he accidentally stirred the +bed-clothes, and the child opened her eyes; and before he could prevent +it, a single wild cry escaped her as she caught sight of the wild faces +which were bending over her. + +'Christ! how she yelps!' exclaimed Craig, in a fierce whisper. He clapped +his hand over her mouth. 'By G-d! there goes the dog too! we must be off. +My chicken,' said he, in a low tone, 'if you understand plain English, you +know what I mean when I say if you whisper loud enough to wake a cat, +you'll get a bullet through your head. Hist! Bill, was that a door +creaking? I can't hear for the d----d dog!' Both stopped and listened. + +'It was only the door below,' said Jones. 'Quick! quick!' + +Craig caught the child out of bed, wrapped a blanket about her to stifle +her cries, in case she should make any, and moved to the door. + +'Turn the light on the door; I can't see. There, that will do. Now then, +it's open, and the game's ours.' + +'_Not quite_!' said a stern voice; and the next instant Craig received a +blow from a fist which sent him reeling back into the room. + +'Watch! watch! murder! thieves!' bellowed Harson from without, while from +the din, at least forty pug-dogs seemed to be barking in all parts of the +entry. + +'Shoot him! shoot him down!' shouted Craig, springing to the door. 'By +G-d! the door's shut, and he's holding it from the outside!' exclaimed he, +pulling it with all his force. 'He's as strong as a bull. Quick! shoot +through the panel! He must stand behind the knob. Fire!' + +Instead of obeying him, Bill Jones seized the child. 'Hark ye, old +fellow,' said he; 'shut up, or I'll dash this girl's brains out. If I +don't, d--n me!' + +This appeal was heard, and operated upon Harson; but in a different manner +from what they expected, for he relaxed his hold of the door so suddenly, +that Craig fell backward, and bursting into the room, with a single blow +prostrated the burglar, who was bending over the child, and dashed the +light to the ground. His advantage was only momentary; for in a minute +Craig flung himself upon him. But the old man's blood was up. In his young +days he had been a powerful wrestler; and even now the robber found him no +easy conquest, for he said, in a husky tone: 'This won't do, Bill. Drop +the girl and come here. This blasted old fool will keep us all night.' + +Instead of obeying him, Jones stole to the head of the stairs and +listened. In an instant he sprang back. + +'We must be off, Tim! Some one is coming. Quick! Let loose the man.' + +But there were two to that bargain; for Harson had heard the words as well +as the robber, and he held him with a grip like a vice. + +'Let go your hold and we'll be off,' said Craig, in a husky voice. + +'Never! You shall taste what you are so ready to give!' said Harson, +fiercely. + +'Bill, there's no time to lose!' exclaimed Craig, in a stern tone. 'Shoot +him, and have done with it! There, now; I'll hold him.' + +The report of a pistol followed; but as it did so, a deep groan came from +Craig. 'You've done for me, Bill. The old fellow dodged. Run! run!--my +rope's out.' + +'Can't I help you, Tim?' exclaimed Jones. + +'No, no; go! Get off; I'll not blow on you.' + +Thus adjured, the robber paused no longer. But escape was now no easy +matter; for at the door he was saluted by a loud voice: + +'Hallo! Harry; is this you?' + +'No, no, a thief! Grab him, Frank!' + +The next instant Jones was in the grip of a powerful man, but he was a +giant himself, and desperate. He flung himself with all his force upon his +adversary, and both went to the floor together; Jones' hand on the other's +throat. + +There is something fearful in the grapple of a desperate man, even when +feeble in frame; and in the case of Jones, who knew that every thing +depended on his efforts, and whose fierce spirit was backed by muscles of +iron, the conflict was one of such fury that the very walls of the old +house shook. From step to step, from the landing to the hall, they fought; +tugging and tearing at each other like two dogs, while Harry Harson in +vain hung about them; the darkness and the rapidity of their motions +preventing him from distinguishing friend from foe. + +'By G-d! he's an ox for strength,' at last said Frank; 'if you'd do any +thing, Harry, go to the door and sing out for the watch. I'll hold him.' + +It might be that in order to utter these words the Doctor relaxed his +grip, or it might be that the knowledge of the increased risk that he +would run gave additional strength to the robber, for he made a single +desperate effort, tore himself from the iron grasp that held him down, +rose to his knee, and striking the Doctor a blow in the face that for a +moment bewildered him, sprang to his feet, dashed Harson from the door, +bounded across the room between the hall and the street-door, and darted +into the street at full speed. + +'D--n me, Harry, he's off!' said the Doctor, assuming a sitting posture on +the floor. 'He deserves to escape, for he fought like a devil for it. D--n +him, he's a brave fellow! There's no use in chasing him, I suppose; you +and I ain't cut out for running. If that last crack had hit me on the +nose, it would have smashed it. Come, let's see after the other fellow; +perhaps he's playing possum, and may be off. If you don't stop the barking +of that d----d dog of yours, I'll kill him.' Groping their way back to the +upper floor, from which they caught sight of Spite, rapidly retreating as +they advanced, they found the house-keeper standing in the room which they +had just left, arrayed in a particularly large white night-gown and +wearing a particularly high cap, with a particularly fierce white ribbon +on the top of it, and bearing in her hand a dim rush-light. + +'Quick! Martha; more lights, and some brandy!' said Harson, pushing past +her. 'Thank God! _you're_ not hurt, Annie! Come, Doctor, this poor devil +is human,' said he, pointing to Craig, who lay on the floor apparently +dead. 'Look to him; he breathes. I hear him.' + +It needed no second appeal; for before he had finished, the Doctor had +turned the robber over, opened his vest, and displayed a wound in his +breast. He thrust his finger in it, and then looking up at Harry, shook +his head. + +'He's a case; _must_ go!' + +'Poor fellow! God only knows what may have driven him to this. Help me to +put him on the bed.' + +Taking him in their arms, they placed him on the bed; and there they sat +and watched him until the dawn of day. The bright sunshine came cheerily +in at the window; the storm had passed, and the sky looked clear and blue, +as if it had never been unruffled. And at that hour, and in that room, +with the golden sunbeams streaming in, lay Tim Craig, his head pressed +heavily back upon the pillow, bound round with a cloth dabbled in blood. +His face was blackened and bruised, and his shirt and the bed-clothes +stained with blood. His breath was short and heavy, and at times, gasping; +his mouth half open, and his dull eye fixed with a heavy leaden stare at +the ceiling. His race was nearly run. He seemed utterly unconscious of the +presence of any one, until the door opened, and Harson, who had gone out, +came in. + +He went to the bed, and leaned over the burglar. As he did so, his shadow +falling across the man's face, attracted his attention, and he turned his +heavy eye, and asked, in a husky voice: + +'Will I go? What does he say?' + +Harson shook his head. 'It's almost over with you, my poor fellow; God +help you!' + +The man turned his head away and looked at the wall. + +'Do you understand me?' said Harson, anxiously bending over him. + +'Yes, yes,' replied the man in the same mumbling tone; 'yes, I'm come for; +my time's up. I was a strong man yesterday; and now! now----! It's very +strange! very strange!' He muttered a few inarticulate words, and then +resumed his old position, looking at the wall, with no sound escaping him +except the low panting of his breath. Suddenly he said, in a louder tone: + +'It's all very strange _here_.' He pointed to his head. 'Were you ever at +sea? Yes; well, well--did you ever see a ship toss and swing to and +fro--to and fro--to and fro, and yet keep straight on? Well, my brain +reels and swims in that way. There are dim strange things; men, beasts, +birds, and ghosts hovering about it; but I see straight on, and they are +on all sides of the path; yes, I see it straight, straight, straight and +plain. I'm going on it. They can't make me swerve; but it's awful to have +such company about me on such a journey. Come close to me!' + +Harson drew his chair close to the bed and sat down. 'I've sent for a +clergyman,' said he, in a low tone; 'He'll be here presently. You must +endeavor to chase away these thoughts; they are only dreams.' + +Craig's thin lips contracted into a smile which was horrible, as without +moving his eyes from their fixed position, he whispered: 'No, no; he won't +do it--he'll not do it. No; I won't blow on you, Bill. Ha! how hot that +bullet was! Lift me up! _He's_ there! Yes, lift me up, so that I may be +above him; up! up! Ha! ha! that'll do. Bill, do you recollect the old +school-master? There! Up! up!' + +Harson put his arm under him, and raised him. As he did so, Craig's head +fell against his shoulder, dabbling it with blood. The next instant he +stretched himself out at full length, gave a shudder; a long rattling +breath followed; and he fell back on the pillow--dead. + + + + +LINES TO DEATH. + + How vain is human strength to flee, + Thou mighty ONE! from thee! + + + Thou hid'st the scenes that lie the grave beyond-- + Thou hast the secrets of the world unseen; + Where the loved ones, the beautiful, the fond, + And all who tossed on life's wild sea have been, + Have gone in silence at thy dreadful call, + Great conqueror of all! + + Empires are crumbled at thy dread command, + And nations rise and nourish but to fall; + Even earth is thine; and thou e'er long shalt stand, + And mark its wealth, and power, and beauty, all + Fade and depart as sunbeams in the heaven + Vanish and die at even! + + The midnight storm, the tempest raging high, + The sweeping pestilence, and fell disease, + Rude winter's blast, and balmy summer's sigh, + Earth, and the sea whose murmurs never cease, + All are but agents of thy sovereign will, + Thy bidding to fulfil. + + Couldst thou to man's earth-fettered soul reveal + The bliss thou bringest to the pure in heart, + Would sudden horror o'er his spirit steal, + When called at last with low-born joys to part? + Would he not rather sigh for that bless'd shore, + Where death is known no more? + + Stern Power! though others shudder at thy tread, + And vainly seek thy arrow to evade, + Before thy stroke I fain would bow my head, + Nor grieve to see my transient pleasures fade: + In thy embrace my sorrows all shall cease, + For in the grave is peace! + + H. C. + + + + +SKETCHES OF EAST-FLORIDA. + +NUMBER FOUR. + +ST. AUGUSTINE: THE LAST LOOK. + + +Our schooner was 'up' for Charleston by the first fair wind; but the +captain was fastidious, and the only fair wind was directly aft. A point +or two off would not do, unless it had been blowing for a day or two and +was likely to continue till the captain could land his passengers in +Charleston. Running in on the Georgia coast was always very delightful to +the passengers, but not at all so to Captain S----. We had taken berths in +the schooner about the middle of April, and when the first week in May had +passed by, we began to think it would be difficult to find the precise +article of air which the captain desired. During this time it seemed to +have become coquettish, giving us all kinds of northerly, all varieties of +east, and a preponderance of westerly wind, finishing off with a sirocco +from the south-west, ('a Boston east wind boiled,' and the only unpleasant +summer wind on the coast,) after which it stopped short; the sand and the +orange blossoms settled again, and every thing hung perpendicular. The +next morning a puff came up from the south in a very blustering manner, as +though it had an immense capital to back it, but proved very short-winded. +Our little craft thinking to beat us, shook its sails out right and left, +and dashed out of the harbor, rounding the point in a handsome manner; but +before reaching the bar it slacked away, till 'small by degrees and +beautifully less,' it came to a dead stand; and the same evening we dashed +back again with a no'th-east-by-east behind us, to the great delight of +promenaders on the sea-wall and the public in general. Ladies rode through +the streets at a hard-gallop; little niggers crept under balconies; and an +individual who shall be nameless performed a feat with a certain Di. +Vernon of that ilk, which resulted in a bill the next morning of some odd +dollars for extra motion, and a severe lesson upon the moralities of +fast-riding. The mid-day weather at this time was decidedly summerish, the +temperature having the _feel_ of about seventy in our latitude, but +ranging there from eighty to ninety degrees. + +We were beginning the summer custom of gathering every morning to meet the +'doctor' (sea-breeze) on the square, only a short walk below, which I +prolonged on the sea-wall to the little schooner, examined the labels on +the berths, crushed an orange at the corner shop, and lounged up to the +nine-pin alley to close up the 'unfinished business.' After bowling, if it +was too warm to invent any thing that would not be forgotten before +dinner, the old routine was the order of the day; and back-gammon or +flirtation had it, according as we were nearer the Florida House or the +one 'round the corner.' The thirty or forty others who had helped make the +winter pleasant, had been gone for weeks, and our little parties for +bathing or riding, or any other trifling matter which might be better than +a cigar on the piazza, had that snug kind of personality which is so much +more pleasant than safe, that I half-wished the thirty or forty had gone +much sooner than they did. + +I was sitting on the piazza one morning with a number of un-appropriated +blank hours before me, a little embarrassed whether to tease the big bear +in the yard or lean over and give up to it, with the old dog who was +snapping at flies on the floor, when it struck me as something very fresh, +that as the wind was still two points off, I could make one more sally +into the country. Before the thought had time to cool, my horse was +brought to the door, and looking about for a companion, I asked Miss +H----, who hesitated and declined; but I found one in Lieut. T----, who +was that morning going over to Picolata. The distance is eighteen miles, +through an unbroken pine-barren, (one opening only, at Fort Searle, twelve +miles out,) and an under-growth of palmettos of just sufficient height for +Indians to hide in. For a long time the travel over all that portion of +the territory lying south of a line fifty miles north of us, was with an +escort of fifteen or twenty men, who moved at a slow rate, a hundred yards +apart, so as not to present to the Indians more than one or two shots at a +time from any one point. + +Notwithstanding the precaution of a strong escort every day, out or in, on +the Picolata road, there had been more downright murdering there than in +any other part of the territory, some having been shot down almost in +sight of Augustine. This was not escort-day, but if it had been, our +horses were not disposed to be six hours in the sun, in going so short a +distance. The little grey steed that I had been using for some weeks was +not by any means a lady's article, but he had been alongside of them in +many a ride on the beach, and so learned the trick of combining the +playful and gallant in a very pretty manner. His ambition was to be always +up to the mark, and a head more if his companion would allow it; but at +the least indication of rivalry his head went down, and nothing less than +iron muscles could keep him from his twelve-mile gait. If not well-matched +it was his delight to dash ahead for a hundred yards, and then stop and +look back, or perhaps return, make a short sweep around his companion, jog +on sociably for a little, and then repeat the manoeuvre; and in doing this +my arms were only sufficient to guide him a little in case he attempted +the barren, and keep him clear of the saw-palmetto. T----'s animal +belonged at Picolata. The quarter-master at the barracks had sent him up +to be taken over, and as we mounted at the Florida House, I could not help +smiling as I recognized the same fellow that the quarter-master had +politely sent me for a similar purpose some time previous. He was +long-bodied and very long-limbed, and having been brought up in camp, his +motion had all the stiffness of the marching step. His point, any two +points being given, was to make the straight line between them in the +shortest possible time, in an unbroken trot; but there was no danger of +his breaking it; he was not capable of a gallop; his limbs couldn't be +brought to it. + +We passed out of town at an easy pace, talking over the last night's ball; +and while crossing the bridge the lieutenant called my attention to his +saddle, a cast-iron frame thinly covered with leather, leaving large +rib-spaces on the back, which he commended as being delightfully cool. +'But, my dear fellow,' said I, 'why didn't you get a blanket?' He replied +that after getting accustomed to it, it was much easier than the padded +saddle. 'Do you know,' said I, 'that that horse is a trotter?' 'I'm used +to trotters,' said he. 'You ease up a little in the stirrups?' 'No; +contrary to rules.' + +We now entered the barren, and the moment the horses dipped their hoofs in +the sand, the old 'forker,' seeing the problem to be solved, took the bit +in his teeth and started for Picolata. At the first dash the forker went +ahead. He had laid his course, as they say at sea, and no up-helm or +down-helm had the slightest effect upon him. His mind was made up; no +wavering, no playfulness, no scarishness, no looking to the right or left. +Picolata was the point; 'no two ways' to Picolata; he was on the right +way, and he was the horse to do it in double-quick time. The little grey +had evidently thought it was too hot for any thing in his line; but as +soon as he noticed any thing like game in his companion, his head went +down as usual; and after a little hard running, we brushed by the old +fellow, made the requisite heading, wheeled, passing the forker on the +larboard quarter, and made the circuit, to his great satisfaction. 'Here +we go!' said I, as we passed him again; and this time the grey kept 'head +on' for some miles, till at length I succeeded in stopping him, and looked +back. The forker was coming in a bee-line, T---- bobbing up and down 'with +a short uneasy motion,' endeavoring to make a seat of his jacket which he +had stripped off; and as he came nearer I noticed that he was trying to +look very cool and comfortable. We waited till they came up, but there was +no stopping; the forker went by without winking or noticing the grey in +the slightest manner. + +Easing up on the reins till we came abreast, 'How are you now?' said I. +'Oh, this is nothing' said T----, turning round a very little with a +highly-charged expression of face; 'a little rough; yes, a little--little +rough; but you observe my seat, Sir--West Point?' 'O yes,' said I; 'very +fine--and cool, I suspect.' But there was not much chance of intelligible +conversation. T---- kept on talking, but his remarks, meant for the +quarter-master, were so barbarously broken, that I could only guess +occasionally at some exclamations, which for point and emphasis were +highly military. Our rate of travel was not, you observe, from five to +ten, or from eight to twelve miles an hour, but exactly ten. That was the +forker's motion, from which there was no deviation. If he was struck, his +heels went up suddenly and very high, but it was no impediment. He +evidently took the blow as a military order for a rear motion; nothing +more, and no occasion for malice. Now, if any body wishes to know about +the face of the country; how bounded, what products, etc., between +Augustine and Picolata, I am unable to give the slightest information from +any notes taken that morning. My perceptions were all _in medias res_; and +I only remember seeing a wild turkey that we scared up, and an alligator +that made for the water while we were a quarter of a mile distant, and +splashed in in a great fright some time after we had passed him. + +In little more than an hour we entered the opening at Fort Searle so +suddenly, that I heard the orderly report, as he marched up to the +commanding officer: 'Two gentlemen from Augustine, Sir.' 'Very well,' said +the officer; and he turned to receive the lieutenant, but T---- was past +all dignities. Stretching himself on a bench he ordered brandy-and-water, +and as that was not quite the thing, added a little cherry bounce, and +finished with old Jamaica, and presently went round a corner with a +tumbler of the latter; but whether for external or internal application, I +am unable to say. Without stopping long enough to get stiff, we mounted +again, and after a few closing flourishes from the little grey entered the +city of Picolata, consisting of one house, and were greeted with the +chattering of ten thousand black-birds all in full chorus. A boat coming +up very opportunely, we took passage in her that night, and next morning +were at Pilatka. + +A few miles south of that place, there is a small plantation on the river +that had been deserted and the house burned down by the Indians during the +first winter of the war. Some weeks previous, while at Pilatka, Colonel +---- had politely offered me a sergeant and nine men to visit the place, +but shortly after reaching it they complained of the musquitoes and rode +back to the camp, leaving me with the guide and Gen. W---- to finish the +survey. I now found a young physician who was waiting an escort for Tampa +Bay, and we went out alone; and after studying trails for a long time, and +taking directions by the compass, we came in sight of the hammock when +some miles distant, and entering by a winding road that was arched over so +as to be almost dark as night, we emerged, after a quarter of a mile, in a +little round spot in the wilderness, which for quiet beauty was beyond any +thing I had ever before seen. There were some forty acres in the circle, +and yet it looked not unlike a dollar in a tumbler, so high and dense was +the forest. The magnolias, a hundred feet in air, were in full blossom, +their white tops making an unbroken wreath over the area, while the lower +branches of the live-oaks were loaded with the long moss, hanging like +curtains, motionless in the bright light, and not a single bird on the +tree-tops to break the perfect charm of the place. Beautiful, very +beautiful! but how strangely still! A squirrel chattering, or the rat-tat +of a woodpecker, would have been something; but there was not a single +voice out; not so much as the hum of a musquito, though it was the hottest +of summer days. + +Why didn't the oaks speak, or the magnolias? If they had, shaken their +white heads, and raising their trailing garments, had all burst out in +some grand anthem, I should only have thought it quite in character; and +if personally addressed, it would have seemed entirely a matter of course. +I should have replied civilly, begged pardon for intruding in so informal +a manner, and backed out as soon as possible; and perhaps the click of a +rifle would have produced the same effect. We rode around the little gem, +and found the charred timbers where the house stood, and a few orange +trees that the Indians had left; but the cool spring was so hid in the +high grass, that we were forced back with parched lips to the flat water +at Pilatka, which place we reached in time for a late dinner; and just as +the evening set in I took passage again for Picolata. + +All the boats running on the river were in the government service, and +ours at this time was loaded fore and aft with a company of dragoons, +bound to Black Creek. As we left the dock, another large boat came out in +a pompous manner, and gave us chase; and as the day had been intensely +hot, a large line of clouds rolled over the bluff at the same time, +probably from the gulf _en route_ to the Atlantic, and moving slowly +across the river, gathered their black folds around the pine-tops, +shutting all up, river and forest, every thing but our chimneys, in utter +darkness. And now began a scene which combined little and great in a +manner quite fantastic. Boatmen swearing and yelling to each other as the +boats came near collision, and that infernal scream sounding off through +the pine barrens like some spirit newly damned; horses prancing and +threshing on the bows; men growling at cards, and over head thunder and +lightning leading off the storm in a very brilliant and point-blank +manner; all which was quite rousing and melo-dramatic. While I was +noticing the pilot's manner of steering by flashes, a gentleman came up, +whom I recognised as a resident of St. Augustine; and as he had a horse at +Picolata, we agreed to go over together that night, as the darkness was +rather favorable, and the road being sandy, we could ride rapidly without +being heard. + +It was late in the evening when we reached Picolata; and with a good deal +of uproar, men shouting, steam puffing, and half a dozen blacks +gesticulating on shore, we each made a fortunate leap to the dock; and +walking up to the camp in a blaze of pitch-pine, we ordered our horses, +and at eleven o'clock entered the pine woods for St. Augustine. 'I +wouldn't go over to-night,' said the man as he brought up my horse; 'the +rascals have been seen about here within a day or two; for God's sake, +Sir, _don't_ go over to-night!' But this only gave a keener zest to the +ride. I had carried with me every where a double-barrelled gun, but I had +found it an awkward companion, and having been all day in the saddle I +concluded to leave it to be sent over, and mean time trust to my friend's +pistols. + +The rain had ceased, and the wind had gone down, but the night was still +so dark that we could only guess at the road by the strip of light over +head, and now and then a flash, which would light up the avenue for a long +distance ahead, and then leave it still darker than before. As we entered +the barren at an easy trot, I was pleased to notice that the darkness or +the storm had tamed my little grey into a very sober humor, and his +companion also was in a very moralizing way. There was no starting at the +lightning, no attempt at running, but with a noiseless tread they stepped +daintily in the sand, pointing their ears hither and yon, and as it seemed +to me, affecting a little scarishness, though what they could hear when +the forest was so breathless, it was difficult to imagine; but every +little while they would both leap some fifteen feet across the road, +(which couldn't be affectation) shiver a little, and then pick their way +carefully as before. We could see nothing, hear nothing; but horses are +keen snuffers, and they might smell when we couldn't; but what was +singular, the vaulting was done from the same side of the road. + +We were still keeping up a little small-talk, when some miles in the +forest, both horses, without any jump or start of any kind, stopped +suddenly; and looking ahead, we saw something moving stealthily toward us. +My companion cocked a pistol and challenged; but we only heard a little +grumbling, and I counted him a dead man; but before we had time to guess +about it, something brushed by, and by a flash of light we saw a glitter +of buttons, and a man on horseback. Whoever or whatever he was, we saw him +but a moment, and he was soon out of hearing. With a remark or two upon +the fool-hardiness of the man, we quickened our pace, and went on at a +dashing rate, abreast and Indian fashion, just as it happened; now one +leading and now the other, according to the wind of our horses; and in +this manner we were passing the most dangerous part of the road, when +there was a sudden whizzing about our ears, and the report of half a dozen +rifles. The little grey reared and plunged and I landed--where, I don't +know; but the next that I remember, I was standing alone in the pine +barren. I had been running for a long time; how far I couldn't tell, being +conscious only of dodging often from one tree to another. On looking about +I remarked that the clouds had opened a little, and that there was nothing +to be seen or heard in any direction. Presently I heard a yell, and +looking around, a strapping Indian, with his rifle drawn to his eye, fired +as I faced him, and the ball parted a lock of my hair in a manner very +embarrassing. I levelled upon the rascal, but missed fire; the rain had +wet the powder in the tube. The fellow took no pains to hide himself, but +was very coolly loading again, and had got his ball ready, when I once +more started off at full speed. + +It was a sharp race, and a warm one. After running a mile or more, there +was a small stream to be crossed; and with a few well-balanced steps on a +half-decayed log that lay at the edge of the water, I reached the opposite +bank just as my pursuer stepped on at the other end. Hearing a strange +kind of shock, I turned and saw the big six-footed animal astride the log, +twisting and writhing about in great agony. He had slipped and fallen in +such a manner as to pain him almost beyond endurance. I stood on the bank +and laughed at him; and--shall I confess it?--I tried half a dozen more +caps at the fellow, with a most savage deliberateness; to all which he +paid not the slightest attention; but as his strength came gradually back, +I took to my heels again, and fortunately reached the highway.... + +The last ten miles of our ride that night were passed over in a very +headlong manner: we stopped only once, as we heard the cry of some hounds +on the south side, and then on again, keeping our horses just within their +speed, till at the worst place on the road, we gave up the reins and let +them go. In less than two hours from Picolata, we snuffed the salt air +again; and reaching the open country, walked our horses leisurely into St. +Augustine. + +As we entered the city my companion left me; and as I drew rein on the +square, I noticed that the schooner was still at the dock, and all about +the city was quiet and undisturbed. The storm had gone by, its skirts +hanging on the eastern horizon, and forming a back-ground to the light of +the light-house, while the city and bay were bright in the starlight; and +if stars shine any brighter in the small hours, they were doing their best +then. All looked pleasant and quite at home, even to the sentry at the +corner; and there was nothing, you would say, to make one sad; but as I +turned the corner I drew a breath of such yawning profundity that the old +dog at the Florida House started up and growled impromptu. That dog had +held a stout nigger all night in the yard, not long before; but +fortunately he knew me, and after smelling, to make sure that all was +right, he followed me into an out-house, when I rolled Bob out of a +cradle, and giving a general order in a low voice for a warm bath in the +morning, found my quarters and went to bed. + +At sunrise the next morning I was half awake, grasping at the skirts of a +pleasant dream, when Bob came in, blew about the room for awhile, and +cried out 'Massa, did you order um wom bath?' 'No; clear out! Eh? warm +bath? Yes; warm bath, to be sure.' And Bob went out, and came in directly +with two wenches and a warm bath. 'How's the wind Bob?' 'De wind?' 'Yes; +where's the wind' 'Dun know, Sah.' 'Well, go out in the balcony and see +where it comes from.' Bob shouted through the open window, 'De wind come +from de Souf.' + +I made but one spring, and the blacks vanished. Going below, I found the +house in commotion. The schooner was to sail at nine o'clock, and the +signal would be the report of a two-pounder which the captain carried on +his quarter-deck. At eight o'clock I had been all over town from the fort +to the powder house; looked in at the church, where were some fifteen or +twenty kneeling, silent and devotional; and was seated at breakfast, when +we heard the captain's gun, an hour before the time. 'My God!' said I, 'I +can't go without seeing Mrs. J---- and kind Mrs. G----; and then there's +the pretty Di. Vernon!' (I had bade them good-by a dozen times.) I rushed +into the street, and seeing half-a-dozen ladies not far off, gave them a +touch-and-go shake; rushed up a wrong street, then back again, and finally +came out on the square and saw the little schooner's sails bellied out +full; passengers waving their handkerchiefs, and the people all around +crying out to me to hurry, or I should lose my chance. But I _didn't_ +hurry. The idea of hurry, after we had waited six weeks! That captain too, +had he been asleep all this time, and just awaked? No; I did not hurry, +but walked leisurely across the square, looking over my shoulder +occasionally to see if ---- was any where in sight, for she had promised +to be at the dock; and passing over the long wharf in the same stubborn +way, I stepped on board the schooner with a stiffer upper lip than I ever +remember to have had in that climate. The moment that my feet touched the +deck, the ropes slipped and away flew the schooner; but in all this 'heat, +haste and hunger,' from a half-swallowed breakfast, and consignments of +pacquets and kind wishes that were left behind, the sentiment of my last +look was burnt to a cinder. + + + + +THOUGHTS FROM BULWER. + +BY MRS. M. T. W. CHANDLER. + + + I. + + It cannot be that earth was given for our abiding place, + Or that for nought we're darkly doomed the storms of life to face; + It cannot be our being's cast from 'neath the ocean wave + Of vast Eternity, to sink _again_ within its grave. + Else tell me why the aspiring thoughts, the glorious hopes of man, + Which spring up from his 'heart of hearts,' brook not earth's narrow span; + Oh! tell me why unsatisfied forever here they roam, + And seem to claim in higher spheres a refuge and a home. + + + II. + + Why is it that the rainbow and the tints of evening clouds + Dispel the mists in which the world our spirits still enshrouds? + The chord they strike!--oh, tell me not that it can be of earth-- + The golden heart-string that they touch is _not_ of mortal birth: + The very buds and blossoms, and the balmy summer air, + Awake within us shadows vague of things more bright and fair; + 'Tis almost like _remembrance_--oh! would that I could tell + The meaning of that hidden charm my spirit knows so well! + + + III. + + A simple tone can rouse it; a smile, or even a sigh + Can make the ghost-like shadows flit before my dreaming eye; + 'Tis one of life's deep mysteries; in vain we seek to trace + The hidden spell's dark origin that chains our feeble race: + But, oh! may we not fancy, may we not sweetly think, + 'Tis between us and another world a dim mysterious link? + May we not hope that secret chord from God to man was given, + To shadow forth within his soul pure images of heaven? + + + IV. + + The very stars which pierce the veil far o'er this world of sin, + And seem to give faint visions of a paradise within, + In all their hallowed loveliness, their vague and mystic lore, + Oh! do they not seem beckoning to a purer, holier shore? + And tell me why the well-loved eyes which here upon us beam + Gleam radiantly o'er our path, then vanish like a dream; + My MOTHER! oh! my Mother! shall they find belief in me, + Who tell me there's no happy land where I shall meet with thee? + + + V. + + I _know_ there is a heaven which is peopled not with shades, + Where the buds and flowers ne'er wither, and the rainbow never fades: + Where the mourners cease from mourning, and in smiles of joy are drest, + Where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest: + Oh! there is gladness in the thought; 'tis deep, deep joy to me + To feel that those I love so well I there again shall see; + To know that though around them now my very heart-strings twine, + They'll be forever with me there--forever more be mine! + + + + +SONNET: TO THE OLD YEAR. + + + Good-by, Old Year! we wait to greet the New, + And hope within its circling hours to see + More of content and less of misery. + Yet, haply, all life's toilsome journey through, + No happier scenes than thine will meet our view; + If so, we humbly bow to Heaven's decree, + With hearts, though wounded, still as firm and true + As when we first knelt to the DEITY. + Many will weep, Old Year! while thou dost lay + Thine aged head within the voiceless tomb. + _We_ weep, yet on the clouds of grief doth play + The bow of promise, lighting up their gloom. + Not so with many hearts that crushed and bleeding lie, + Whose only thought of gladness is like thee to die! + +_Brooklyn, Dec., 1843._ HANS VON SPIEGEL. + + + +THE MAIL ROBBER. + +NUMBER SIX. + + +LETTER TO THE EDITOR FROM HIS ENGLISH CORRESPONDENT. + +Sir: My friends abroad complain that my last letter reached them in small +type, most pernicious to English eyes, and half hidden among the rubbish +of your editorial remarks, literary notices, and chit-chat with your +million butterfly correspondents. Unless I am better served in future, I +shall be compelled to transfer my patronage to the post-office, dangerous +as it is, and liable to the occasional interference of American citizens. +I have conferred with an attorney, who tells me that there is just ground +for an action for breach of trust, in the unfaithful performance of the +duty you have undertaken. It remains with yourself to avert any such +consequence, by attending more strictly in future to the proper conveyance +of my correspondence. + +During the last week I have received a note from the gentleman who stole +the letters. This I enclose to you; and as I do not know where to address +him, I will simply reply to him, through the Magazine, that although I +have the highest respect for his talents, I would see him several miles on +his way to the devil, before I would comply with his polite request. + + Truly yours, etc., + ---- ----. + + +THE MAIL ROBBER'S NOTE. + +My Dear Friend: You will be surprised that I have found out your address, +and indeed it required some sagacity. But now that I have, you will pardon +me for broaching a matter in which we are mutually concerned. You must be +aware how horribly I have been used by the Editor of the KNICKERBOCKER, +and all through the share I have unfortunately had in your troublesome +correspondence. He still persists in refusing to pay me a proper +remuneration for my services, for which hitherto, I am sorry to say, I +have received only insult and vexation. I have been advised by my lawyer +to institute a suit at law against the miscreant, and matters are now in +progress toward that desirable result. + +In the mean time I have thought proper to apply to your sense of justice +for a partial compensation of the trouble you have caused me. My character +has been assailed, my tranquillity disturbed, and my valuable time taken +up, without a penny of remuneration. Now, Sir, if you think fit to +transmit to the address of 'M. R.,' through the post-office, a hundred +dollars ($100), I will overlook what is past, and resign solely to +yourself what interest I possess in your epistolary intercourse through +the pages of that infamous Magazine. With sentiments of esteem, + + Yours, as before, + M. R. + + +'So shaken as we are, so wan with care,' we begin to wish that we had +never undertaken the publication of these letters. Between two impending +law-suits how shall we muster courage to keep on the even tenor of our +way? Even our staunch friend, the anonymous Public, torments us with +frequent accusatory epistles, charging us with dulness, impiety, and +irreverence for American institutions. All these we must lay on the back +of our Englishman, whose compatriots we confess are apt to assume a +latitude of style hardly tolerated among us. In the mean time, gentle +Public, respected Cockney, and worthy Mail-Robber, we cry you mercy all +round! + + ED. KNICKERBOCKER. + + +LETTER SIXTH. + +TO CHARLES KEMBLE, ESQUIRE, LONDON. + + + Good Cassio, Charles, Mercutio, Benedick, + (Of all your names I scarce know which to pick,) + Colossal relic of the nobler time + When great JOHN PHILIP trod the scene sublime; + Ay, true Colossus, for like that which strode + From shore to shore, while seas beneath him flowed, + You seem to stand between two generations, + High o'er the tide of Time and its mutations; + Be not alarmed; this comes not from a dun, + Nor any scheming, transatlantic BUNN, + Tempting with golden hopes your waning years, + Like 'certain stars shot madly from their spheres,' + Like MATHEWS or old DOWTON, to expose + The shank all shrunken from its youthful hose; + So boldly read, howe'er it make you sigh, + Nor manager nor creditor am I; + Yet in some sort you are indeed my debtor, + And owe me for my pains at least a letter. + + Not long ago, conversing at the Club + Which Londoners with 'GARRICK'S' title dub, + We both confessed, and each with equal grief, + That poor Melpomene was past relief; + So many symptoms of her dotage shows + This nineteenth century of steam and prose. + Nor in herself, said you, entirely lies + Th' incurable complaint whereof she dies; + 'Tis not alone that play-wrights are too poor + For gods or men or columns to endure;[4] + Nor that all players in a mould are cast, + Every new Roscius aping still the last; + Nor yet that Taste's too delicate excess + Demands perfection and despises less; + But mere indifference, that worst disease, + From bard and actor take all power to please. + How strive to please? when all their friends that were, + To empty benches empty sounds prefer; + And seek, like bees attracted by a gong, + The fairy-land of tip-toe and of song; + Whether a voice of more than earthly strain + Be newly sent by Danube or the Seine, + Or some aerial, thistle-downy thing + Float from La Scala on a zephyr's wing. + Say, might a SIDDONS, conjured from the tomb, + Again the scene of her renown illume? + Could her high art, (ay, even at half price,) + The crowd from 'La Sonnambula' entice? + No; dance and song, the Drama's deadly plagues, + RUBINI'S notes, and ELLSLER'S heav'nly legs, + Would nightly still bring amateurs in flocks, + To watch the bravos of the royal box. + + [4] By the word 'columnae,' Horace (though BENTLEY knew it not) + evidently meant the columns of the Roman newspapers. + + While thus, between our filberts and our wine, + We mourned with sighs your mistress's decline, + You half indulged the fond imagination, + That what seemed death was but her _emigration_. + Perhaps, quoth you, and 'twas a bold 'perhaps,' + Ere many years of exile shall elapse, + The wand'ring maid may find in foreign lands + More loving hearts and hospitable hands. + Perchance her feet, with furry buskins graced, + May shuddering walk the cold Canadian waste, + And rest contented with a bleak repose + In shrubless climes of never-thawing snows. + Yes, in those woods that gird the northern lakes, + Pathless as yet, and wild with shaggy brakes, + Or in the rank savannahs of the south, + Or sea-like prairies near Missouri's mouth, + Fate may conduct her to some sacred spot, + Where to resume her sceptre and to--squat. + Some happier settlement and simpler race, + Where, though her worship lack its ancient grace, + New days may dawn, like those of royal BESS, + And every stream a Stratford shall possess; + Where, though in marshes resonant with frogs, + And rudely housed in temples built of logs, + The nymph, regenerate in her classic robe, + May see revived the 'Fortune' and the 'Globe.' + + Such was the dream your fancy dared to mould + Of what yourself had witnessed here of old; + When with your twins--your FANNY and your fame-- + Among our cousins of the west you came; + But you mistook a momentary fashion + For a deep-seated and enduring passion: + Now to your own a friend's experience add, + And judge what grounds your glorious vision had. + Beyond that Cape which mortals christen Cod, + Where drifted sand-heaps choke the scanty sod, + Round the rough shore a crooked city clings, + Sworn foe to queens, it seems, as well as kings. + On three steep hills it soars, as Rome on seven, + To claim a near relationship with heaven. + Fit home for saints! the very name it bears + A kind of sacred origin declares; + Ta'en, as I find by hunting records o'er, + From one BOTOLFO, canonized of yore,[5] + Whom bards have left nor epitaph nor verse on, + Though in his day, sans doubt, a decent person: + This town, in olden times of stake and flame, + A famous nest of Puritans became; + Sad, rigid souls, who hated as they ought + The carnal arms wherewith the Devil fought; + Dancing and dicing, music, and whate'er + Spreads for humanity the hell-born snare. + Stage-plays especially their hearts abhorred, + Holding the Muses hateful to the Lord, + Save when old STERNHOLD and his brother bard + Oped their hoarse throats and strained an anthem hard. + + [5] The name of Boston, in Lincolnshire, is said to be derived + from ST. BOTOLPH--quasi BOTOLPH'S town. + + From that angelic race of perfect men, + (Sure seraphs never trod the world 'till then,) + Descends the race to whom the sway is given + Of the world's morals by confiding Heaven. + These of each virtue know the market price, + And shrewdly count the cost of every vice; + So, to their prudent adage faithful still, + Are honest more from policy than will. + As if with heaven a bargain they had made + To practise goodness and to be well paid. + They too, devoutly as their fathers did, + Sin, sack, and sugar equally forbid; + Holding each hour unpardonably spent + Which on the ledger leaves no monument; + While oft they read, with small but pious wit, + Th' inscription o'er the play-house portals writ, + In a bad sense--'_The entrance to the Pit._' + + Among this godly tribe it was my fate + To view a triumph they enjoyed of late, + Which, lest the chroniclers who come hereafter + Omit, and cheat our children of their laughter, + I, a DAGUERRE-like sketcher of the time, + Will faintly shadow as I can in rhyme. + + Once these Botolphians, when their boards you trod, + Received you almost as a demi-god; + Rushed to the teeming rows in frantic swarms, + And rained applauses not in showers but storms. + But should you now their fickle welcome ask, + Faint shouts would greet the veteran of the mask; + And ah! what anguish would it be to search + For your old play-house in a bastard church! + To find the dome wherein your hour you strutted, + Altered and maimed and circumcised and gutted; + Become in truth, all metaphor to drop, + A mongrel thing--half chapel and half shop. + Long had the augur and the priest foretold + The sad reverse they doomed it to behold; + Long had the school-boy, as he passed it by, + And maiden viewed it with presaging eye; + Oft had the wealthy deacon with a frown + Glared on the pile he longed to batter down, + And reckoned oft, with sanctimonious air, + What rents 'twould fetch if purified with prayer;[6] + While through the green-room whispered rumors went, + That heaven and earth were on its ruin bent. + + [6] At the late opening of the 'Tremont Temple' in Boston, the + new proprietors chanted what they called a 'Purification + Hymn,' of which we give one stanza: + + 'Satan has here held empire long-- + A blighting curse, a cruel reign; + By mimic scenes, and mirth and song + Alluring souls to endless pain!' + + Too just a fear! The vision long foreseen + Has come at last; behold the fallen queen! + The queen of passion, stripped of all her pride, + Discrowned, indignant from her temple glide. + With draggling robe, slip-shod, her buskin loose, + She flies a barren people's cold abuse; + Summons her sister, who forbears to smile, + And leaves to rats the desecrated pile, + Which dogs and nags already had begun, + Unless by blows and hunger driv'n, to shun: + For well-bred curs and steeds genteel contemn + A stage which Taste had sunk too low for them; + Whereon the town had seen, without remorse, + A herd of bisons and a hairless horse! + + Behind the two chief mourners of the band + A sad procession followed, hand in hand; + Heroes un-heroed, most unknightly knights, + Wand-broken fairies, disenchanted sprites; + Dukes no more ducal, even on the bill, + Milk-livered murd'rers too ill-fed to kill; + Mild-looking demons that a babe might daunt, + Witches and ghosts most naturally gaunt; + Lovers made pale by keener pangs than love's, + Unspangled princesses with greasy gloves; + Wits very witless--grave comedians mute, + And silent sons of violin and flute. + + After these down-look'd leaders of the show, + Who creep like Trajan's Dacians, wan and slow, + Comes a long train of underlings that bear + Imperial robes that kings no more may wear; + With truncheons, helmets, thunder-bolts and casks + Of snow and lightning--bucklers, foils and masks. + As tow'rd the steep of Capitolian Jove + When chiefs victorious through the rabble strove, + With all their conquests in their trophies told, + And every battle mark'd with plundered gold; + When the whole glory of the war rolled by, + And gaping Rome seemed all one mighty eye, + Behind the living captives came the dead, + Poor noseless gods, and some without a head, + With pictures, ivory images and plumes, + And priceless tapestry from palace-looms; + Ev'n such, although Night's alchymy no more + The crinkling tinsel turns to precious ore, + Appears the pomp of this discarded race, + As heaped with spoil they quit their ancient place, + Bearing their Lares with them as they go-- + Two dusty statues and a bust or so; + With mail which once a Harry Fifth had on, + Triumphal cars with all the triumph gone; + Goblets of tin mixed up with Yorick's bones, + Bags made of togas--barrows formed of thrones, + Whereon the majesty of Denmark sat; + Fie! Juliet's petticoats in Wolsey's hat! + Swords hacked at Bosworth, fasces, guns and spears + Rusted with blood before, and now with tears. + + Enough of this: kind prompter, touch the bell! + Children of mirth and midnight, fare ye well! + The vision melts away, the motley crowd + Is veiled by Prospero in a passing cloud; + Like his dissolving pageantry they fade, + The vap'ry stuff whereof our dreams are made; + No more malignant winter to beguile, + Nor start the virgin's tear, the judge's smile; + Save when some annalist, like me, recalls + The ancient fame of those degraded walls; + Or till an age less hateful to the Muse + To their old shape restore the anxious pews. + + T. W. P. + + + + +LETTER FROM JAMES JESSAMINE. + +TO THE EDITOR OF THE KNICKERBOCKER. + + +SIR: It has not been until after much reflection on my own part, and I +must say, very civil encouragement on that of my friend MR. JOHN WATERS, +whose acquaintance I have chanced upon some months back, that I have +determined to venture, either in the form of an advertisement extra, or +possibly by your very polite admission of this self-introductory letter +into your fashionable pages, to submit to the view of the more refined and +intellectual part of the society of the Atlantic cities and particularly +to that of New York, the peculiar claim that I conceive myself to possess +upon their consideration and regard. + +I have been hitherto deterred from taking this decisive step, as well by +the very disturbed and almost turbulent state, which, since my arrival in +this country, appears to have characterized its monetary concerns--alas! +my dear Sir, those horrid yet necessary evils and grievances of life!--as +by some expectations I had cause to entertain soon after I set foot upon +your hospitable shores, of the immediate death of a maiden aunt in +Cornwall, upon which incident, and her continued celibacy, depend very +much all my present reversionary hopes. + +The health of the old lady being however at my latest intelligence +unexpectedly reinstated; the cotton crops coming forward as I understand +to good markets, and the wonderful discovery having been made of +converting western pork into sallad oil; the Tories being put down, and +the banks having entered into what some time ago seemed the _paulo post +futurum_ of specie payments; I desire to share in the general tide of +prosperity; I launch myself upon it at its flood, discard all reserve, and +shall descend at once without farther preface into the midst of what I +have to say. + +I came out then some time ago _ostensibly_ to kill a trout or two in some +of your delicious streams; and indeed I may without presumption say en +passant that few professors of the Rod excel me either in the niceties of +my throw, the cool self-possession with which I take my fish, or the +indomitable perseverance and perfect tact with which I drown and then land +him with a single hair. I say _ostensibly_, for I have now no desire to +conceal from you the ulterior objects that I had in view of either making +a book to replenish my purse, or of establishing myself for life in this +your rising land of freedom and big crops. + +I have had 'good luck to your fishing' sung to me more than once by most +sweet voices, and have realized it to my heart's content in the way of +trout; but this is all. Since I arrived in America there have been no less +than three travelling historians upon the ground, with whose energy of +conception, art of fabrication, facility of combination, capacity of +bitterness and established name, I could not enter the lists. And as for +matrimonial projects, foreigners seem to me to have no longer any hope of +success in consequence of the entire pre-occupation of this walk of life +by a regularly drilled and educated corps of young Americans, bred up +avowedly with no other pursuit; who talk, think, dream of nothing else +than fortune by marriage; and with a shrewdness and intelligence of +calculation that entirely distance the foreigner, (but which seem +wonderfully after the nuptials to forsake them _in stocks of another +description_,) know at a glance the value, expectations, hopes, and +dependencies of each young marriageable lady even before she comes out; so +that instead of being able to accomplish a purpose of this kind, I find it +quite as much as I can do to avoid falling in love beyond repeal with the +refinement, gentleness, grace, and untold sweetness that distinguish the +portionless beauties of New-York. + +Indeed this class to which I have adverted of licensed fortune-hunters is +so numerous; the fortunes themselves except to the initiated are so +uncertain; and the entire want of that most useful profession, _les +courtiers de mariage_, is so grievous to all incidental visitors, that I +have often thought how admirable the arrangement would be, if the young +ladies were at once to adopt as a fashionable decoration some tasteful +head ornament, on which should be inscribed, in distinct but graceful +characters, some one of such legends as the following, which should +indicate the incontestible possessions of the wearer: + + $30,000 State of New-York Fives. + + My face is my fortune. + + $200,000 Indiana State Bonds. + + 2 lots on Broadway, 4 in the Bowery and 1 on Union-Square. + + Nothing but truth, discretion, intelligence and grace. + + $60,000 Alabama Sterling Bonds. + + The Tongues, and what you see. + + $27,000 on indefeasible Bond and Mortgage. + + A House and Shop in _Maiden-Lane_ with fixtures, and a careful + tenant at 1400 a year on lease three years unexpired. + + Musick--four pianos done up since this time last year. + + 30,000 Pine trees and three saw-mills in Saint Lawrence county: + N. B., well situated! + + A large Manufacturing Establishment with unbounded + Water-privileges, in Ulster. + + Life and Trust--40 shares daily recovering. + + +The young gentlemen might wear appended to the third button-hole of the +left breast, epigrammatical notices of 'THE EXPECTATIONS' in which they so +generally abound, as follows: + + Uncle Asa has the phthisick, I am his heir. + + As I STAND, less my tailor's bill of $1800. + + Plenty of LOTS, covered partly with water, partly with + parchment. + + In full and successful business, owing only four times our + capital, due us five times, chiefly in Mississippi. Expect to + retire in two years and enjoy life. + + Two-and-six-pence in my pocket, with great but indefinable + hopes. + + A _promising_ young member of the Bar. Three suits;--[Symbol: + pointing hand] one of them in court. Grant me my fourth! + +A young lady, whose nice tact and discriminating judgment are only +rivalled by her sweetness of disposition and exquisite personal +attractions, has divided the world of beaux into three generick classes: + + 1. The Rich who are afraid of us; + + 2. The Poor whom we are afraid of; + + 3. The Detrimentalists. + +The plan I propose would aid manifestly in the due classification of all +assistants at a ball. It is not to be thought that the sex is governed by +any mercenary motive; but in the present organization of society a certain +degree of attention to the mode in which matrimonial establishments are to +be sustained is absolutely imperative. + +Conceive then Mr. Editor how this explicit course would remove the +ordinary impediments on both sides. One single _tour de Valse_ and the +whole affair might be adjusted! The gentleman forsakes the lady's eyes and +fixes his own upon her tiara; she hers upon his eloquent button-hole. +During the slow movement they have deciphered the mottoes, have +ascertained, (no small desideratum in a crowded ball-room!) each the exact +value of his or her partner; they have arrived in thought, as far as mere +expediency goes, each at a decision; and are ready for question and answer +at the close of the accelerated step. + +By the way, as the waltz is now conducted, the employment of the eyes +during the slow sentimental movement seems frequently to the lady a matter +of some degree of embarrassment; and the method I propose would +effectually remove any thing of the sort. There could be no want of an +object on which to rest them; no looking with a fixed gaze over the +partner's shoulder; no consulting of the cornice; no care-fraught +expression; no reluctant or displeased look, as if the lady would have +fain declined; no indeterminate thoughts, no indefinite sensations; no +languishment; and above all never more the portentous, the ominous look +which often in that entrancing dance exhibits to us the mysticism of the +Sybil, without one ray of her inspiration. + +No; then would the lady look, read, decide, and dance the while. 'This +might do!'--then would she sparkle. 'Ah this would never do!'--then would +she become placid, tranquil, and complete her tour with contentment; for +as I think some one else has before me wisely observed, _the end of doubt +is the beginning of repose_. Then would the faces of the ladies generally +become vastly more attractive than at present during the enjoyment of the +waltz; for singular as may seem the remark, although I have assisted at +several New-York balls, I have met two countenances only throughout the +whole galaxy of beauty that, in dancing the Waltz, have indicated either +joy or undisturbed gratification: the one, is that of a little sylph-like +beam of pleasure, who might well carry upon her beautiful hair, +'unincumbered lots,' as her wedding-portion; who gains our hearts while +she laughs at us; and who, because I chance to be within half a score of +her father's years, threatens to call me her _vieux cheri_--while the name +of the other, if I dared write it, would recall the most tasteful and +fashionable costumes of France, with the sweetest poetry of Scotland. + +But alas my master! I have gone prattling on without saying a word of my +own pretensions until my letter has gained such a length that I am forced +to defer them to another number, while I subscribe myself, dear Mr. Editor +of the KNICKERBOCKER, + + Your most faithful servant, + JAMES JESSAMINE. + + + + +LOVE'S ELYSIUM. + +TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF MATTHISSON BY WILLIAM PITT PALMER. + + + GROVE! embathed in peace celestial, + As in dew the rose's bowers, + Where Hesperia's golden fruitage + Ripens amid silver flowers; + Where a rosy-colored ether + Ever cloudless bends above, + Through whose calm abysses never + Breathed the sigh of slighted love. + + PSYCHE, with a strange emotion, + Half enraptured, half dismayed, + Just escaped her earthly vesture, + Trembling greets thy glimmering shade: + Where, O joy! no misty mantle + Veils her primal purity; + And her immaterial pinions, + Like an angel's, wander free. + + Ha! e'en now o'er paths of roses, + Glorious shape of light, she sweeps, + Tow'rd the shadow-peopled valley + Where the sacred Lethe sleeps; + Thither drawn by magic suasion, + As by gentle spirits led, + Fain she sees the silver billows, + And their flowery shores outspread. + + Kneeling low with sweet foreboding + Griefs oblivious draught to taste, + Softly shines her trembling image + In that faithful mirror traced; + As from ocean's tranquil waters + Fair the cloudless moon outbeams, + Or from crystal stream reflected + Hesper's golden cresset gleams. + + Not in vain she quaffs of Lethe; + For, anon, within the stream + Sinks the night-part of her being, + Like the phantom of a dream; + And from out the vale of shadows + Bright she soars on fearless wing, + To the hills whose golden blossoms + Smile in everlasting spring. + + What an awe-inspiring silence! + Softer calm than zephyr breathes + Murmurs in the laurel foliage + And the amaranthine wreaths: + Thus in sacred stillness rested + Air and wave--in such repose + Slumbered nature, when from ocean + ANADYOMENE rose. + + What an unaccustomed glory! + Earth! though fair Aurora be, + Never from her vernal features + Shone such magic light for thee: + Lo! the ivy's glossy tendrils + Bathed in purple lustre gleam, + And the flowers that crown each fountain + With a starry splendor beam! + + Thus in silvan wilds the dawning, + When the modest Cynthia spied + From the skies her sleeping lover, + And descended to his side; + While the fields were bathed in brightness, + And in magic tones expressed, + Heavenly greetings murmured sweetly-- + Hail, ENDYMION the blest! + + + + +GANGUERNET: OR, 'A CAPITAL JOKE.' + +TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY JOHN HUNTER. + + +Mine is called Ganguernet: I say mine, for you have all had yours; every +one, at least once in his life-time, has met with one of those little fat, +ruddy, burly men, with straight close-cropped hair, low forehead, grey +eyes, broad nose, puffed-up cheeks, the neck between the shoulders, the +shoulders in the stomach, the stomach upon the legs; a sort of a Punch +figure, rolling, bawling, laughing, hallooing; one of those fellows who +come stealthily behind you, clap their hands on your head, and cry out +suddenly: 'Who's this?' Who pull away your chair at the moment you are +going to sit down; who snatch from you your handkerchief just when you +wish to use it; and who, on these occasions, when you look at them with an +angry air, answer you with a broad grin, and a stare of imperturbable +assurance: '_A capital joke!_' + +You have had yours; and mine is named Ganguernet. My first acquaintance +with him was at Rheims. He was a complete adept in his profession, and as +a regular joke-player, master of all the tricks of his trade. Well skilled +was he in the art of attaching a piece of meat to the bell-rope of a +porter's lodge, so that all the wandering dogs about town would snap at +the tempting bait, and awaken the mystified domestics ten times a night. +Very expert was he also at cutting tradesmen's signs in two pieces, and +substituting one for another. On one occasion he took the sign of a +hair-dresser, cut it in two, and added the latter part to that of one of +my neighbours; so that it read as follows: _Monsieur Roblot lets out +carriages and false toupees, after the Paris fashion_. + +But if M. Ganguernet was not the most agreeable companion in the city, +still less so was he in the country, where indeed his presence, to me at +least, was always a perfect nuisance. He knew how to scatter the hair, +adroitly clipped from a brush, between the sheets of a friend, so that the +victim, before he had been a quarter of an hour in bed, would become +furious with the itching. He would pierce the partition between two +sleeping apartments, so as to pass through it a piece of twine which he +had cunningly fastened to your bed-clothes, and then, when he found that +you were asleep, he would gently pull the string, until the covering was +all drawn down to your feet. You awake half-frozen, for Ganguernet always +chooses a cold damp night for this trick, draw up the covering, wrap +yourself carefully up, and very innocently resume your slumbers; then +Ganguernet, gently pulling his cord, again strips you naked; again you are +benumbed with cold; and when you begin to utter imprecations in the dark, +his detestable voice is heard bawling through the hole: 'What a capital +joke!' + +Did Ganguernet chance to fall in with one of those simple-minded +individuals, whose countenances invite mystification, he would steal from +him during his sleep his coat and pantaloons, whose dimensions with needle +and thread he would contrive greatly to diminish. He would then awaken his +victim, begging him to dress himself as soon as possible, and join a +hunting-party. The unsuspecting subject of the joke, thus suddenly roused, +would try to put on his pantaloons, but could not get into them. 'Good +Heavens!' exclaims Ganguernet, with affected astonishment; 'why, what is +the matter, my dear Sir?--you are terribly swollen!' 'Am I?' 'You are +indeed, prodigiously!' 'Do you really mean it?' 'I may be mistaken, but +come dress yourself, and let us go down, and see what the others say.' + +'But I cannot get on my clothes.' + +'Ah! that's it, you are so puffed up. It must be a thundering attack of +the dropsy!' + +And this would continue, the poor fellow, pale and trembling, in vain +endeavoring to get on his clothes, until the tormentor, with a hideous +chuckle, would come out with his famous sentence: 'Ha! ha! a capital +joke!' + +There was one of his tricks which appeared to me to be truly abominable. +He played it upon a person reputed to be a brave man, but who was +nevertheless horribly frightened. One night, after getting snugly into +bed, this gentleman felt something cold and slimy along side of him, he +touched it with his foot; it seemed a round elongated body; he placed his +hand upon it; it was a serpent coiled upon itself! In an ecstacy of +terror, he leaped from the bed with a cry of disgust and horror, when +Ganguernet made his appearance, shaking his fat sides and roaring out: +'What a capital joke!' It was an eel-skin filled with water, that had +caused the panic. The enraged gentleman would have broken the head of the +joker, but Ganguernet throwing a pitcher of water over the sans-culotte +sufferer, made his escape, yelling out at the top of his voice: 'A capital +joke!--a capital joke!' The master of the house and his guests came +running in at the outcry, and with much difficulty succeeded in pacifying +the mystified individual; assuring him that Ganguernet, though fond of +fun, was in the main a charming good fellow, a pleasant boon companion, +and one without whom, especially in the country, it was impossible to +drive away ennui. + +Our readers may perhaps think with us, that, on the contrary, this man was +one of those insufferable beings who are constantly intruding upon the +pleasures and comforts of others; like a dog in a game of nine-pins, +overturning with his paws all the arrangements of your joys and sorrows; +more insupportable, and more difficult to get rid of than the dog, they +lie in ambush to pounce upon you, and disconcert by a word or a trick the +feelings you may enjoy, or the projects you intend. + +Among characters of this description, there are some whom their +common-place attempts at wit consign to contempt. These performers confine +themselves to vulgar and stale jokes. To thrust the head through the paper +window-pane of a cobbler, and ask him the address of a minister of +finances, or an archbishop; to stretch a cord across a staircase, so as to +cause those who descend to take, in the words of a punster, a _voyage sur +la rein_, or 'a voyage upon the Rhine;' to wake up a notary in the middle +of the night, and send him in great haste to draw up a will for a client, +whom he finds in good health; these and a thousand other silly pranks of +the same nature, are the stock in trade of a jester; and no one knew them +better than did Ganguernet. + +He had, moreover, invented some original tricks, which had given him a +colossal reputation among the admirers of this branch of the fine arts. +The only truly witty one I ever knew him to perpetrate, took place at a +country-house where a large party of us were assembled. Among the guests, +Ganguernet had singled out a lady of some thirty years, rather fantastic +in her manners and appearance, who was doatingly fond of Parisian +elegance, and who preferred the pale face of a well-looking youth of +rather shallow intellect, to the coarse, purple visage of Ganguernet. Our +humourist endeavored in vain to render this youth ridiculous in the eyes +of the lady, who regarded his simplicity as a poetical absence of mind, +and his credulity as an indication of sincerity and honest good faith. One +evening, after a brisk defence of the pale-faced youth on the part of the +lady, which was listened to by Ganguernet with a patience and a peculiar +expression of the eye which boded no good, we had all retired to our +apartments. In about half an hour, the house resounded with loud outcries +of 'fire! fire!' which seemed to proceed from the hall upon the +ground-floor. Every one hastened thither, men and women half-dressed, or +half-undressed, which ever you please. They entered pell-mell, candlestick +in hand, and there found Ganguernet stretched upon a sofa. To the +reiterated questions that were put him as to the cause of the clamor, he +answered not a word; but taking the pale-faced young man by the hand in a +very solemn manner, and leading him up to the fine lady, gravely said to +her: 'I have the honor, Madam, of presenting to you the most poetic genius +of the company in a cotton night-cap.' We all burst into a shout of +laughter, but the lady never forgave Ganguernet, nor the cotton night-cap. + +All the jokes which Ganguernet played, however, were not prompted by +vengeance; a spirit of fun merely being the grand principle of most of his +tricks. Before we come to the occurrence which showed this man to me in +his true colors, I must relate a few more of the humorous pranks in which +he took the greatest pride. Opposite his residence at Rennes there dwelt a +worthy pair of venerable citizens, who were the sole occupants of a small +house, which was their only possession. Once a week this honest couple +were in the habit of dining, and having a little game of piquet with a +relation, who resided at some distance from their abode. On these +occasions they were usually regaled with curds and whey, which they +moistened with sparkling cider; and not unfrequently a bowl of punch +concluded the repast; so that the worthy pair commonly returned home about +eleven o'clock, singing and staggering along in a state of happy +elevation. + +On a certain fatal Sunday evening, these good folks returned to their +abode, both of them pretty much, 'how came you so.' They arrived at the +door of their next neighbour, which they recognized, and then proceeded on +ten paces farther, which was just the distance to their own door. The +husband, after fumbling in his pocket for the key of the street-door, +pulled it out, and sought the key-hole; but no key-hole was to be found. +'What has become of the key-hole?' cried he. 'You have drank too much +cider, Monsieur Larquet,' said his wife; 'you are looking for the +key-hole, and we are still before the wall of neighbour Bompart.' + +'That is true,' replied Monsieur Larquet; 'we must go a few paces +farther.' They walked on; but this time they went too far, for as they had +before recognized the door of their right-hand neighbor, they now found +themselves in front of that of their neighbor on the left hand. Their own +door ought to be between these two doors. They return, groping along the +wall until they come to a door, which to their consternation they again +find to be that of their right-hand neighbor! The honest couple become +alarmed about the soundness of their wits, and begin to suspect that they +must certainly both be tipsy. They recommence their inspections from the +door of their neighbor on the right, and again come to the door of their +neighbor on the left. They constantly find these two doors, but not a +vestige of their own: their door has disappeared--vanished! Who could have +taken away their door? Terror seizes them; they ask each other if they +have become demented; and dreading the ridicule which would be cast upon +honest citizens who could not find their own street-door, they grope about +for more than an hour, feeling, poking, inspecting, measuring; but alas! +there is no door; there is nothing but a wall, an unknown wall, an +implacable wall, a desperate wall! At length, terror completely overpowers +them; they utter loud cries, and call lustily for assistance. The +neighbors are attracted by the noise, and after some time, it is +ascertained that the door of the distracted couple has been carefully +bricked up, and plastered over; and when all are trying to discover who +could have played such a pitiful trick upon these honest people, +Ganguernet, who from an opposite window, in company with some kindred +spirits, had been enjoying the tribulation and despair of Monsieur and +Madame Larquet, Ganguernet shouts out his everlasting refrain: 'A capital +joke!' But, answered the neighbors, these poor folks will take their death +of cold. + +'Bah!' replies he; 'a capital joke!' + +The incensed neighbors petitioned the king's attorney to moderate Monsieur +Ganguernet's strong inclination to play his mischievous pranks; and the +magistrate sent our hero to prison for some days, in spite of his skilful +defence, which consisted in incessantly repeating: 'A capital joke!--what +a capital joke, Mr. Magistrate!' + +Notwithstanding his excessive vanity, Ganguernet did not, however, make +boast of all his exploits; and there was one, the authorship of which he +constantly denied, possibly in consequence of a threat that was held out +of cutting off the author's ears, should he be detected. The trick in +question was prompted by the contempt in which he was held in a certain +aristocratic circle; and the subject was no less a personage than an +ancient dame of high birth, and great pretensions, who mingled in the most +fashionable society of Rennes. + +Among other customs of the old school, which this lady retained, were the +following: First, that of never mixing in the society of those of plebeian +descent, such as Ganguernet: and secondly; that of always being carried in +a sedan-chair by porters, when she went abroad. One evening she went to a +ball, given by the first president of the court of assizes, a ball at +which Ganguernet was also present. She left about midnight, carried as +usual in her sedan-chair through a pelting shower of rain. At the moment +she got under one of those loop-holes in the eaves-gutters, through which +the rain pours down into the street in long dashing cascades, two or three +shrill whistles were heard on the right and left hand. Immediately four +men in masks made their appearance, at sight of whom the porters, +abandoning their charge, took to their heels; but at the moment when the +noble dame believed herself on the point of being assassinated, a terrible +dash of cold water upon her head took away her breath, and almost deprived +her of consciousness. The top of the chair had disappeared as if by magic, +and the gutter poured its contents directly into the vehicle, the occupant +of which in vain attempted to force open the door. She beat and thumped +against it with fury, mounted the seat, and like an incarnate fiend, +invoked the divine wrath upon the vile miscreants, who were giving her +such a cruel shower-bath; and who only replied to her invectives by +profound bows, and the most humble salutations. The worst part of this +wicked trick was, that the lady wore hair-powder, and the mystifiers +carried umbrellas. + +My acquaintance with Ganguernet continued about ten years. In the low and +vulgar circles of society which he was fond of frequenting, he was held up +as the most jovial, the best-natured, and the most amusing fellow in the +world; although there were some, whose sense of propriety and moral +feelings were not entirely destroyed, who held him in merited contempt. +For my own part, I always had a dread of the man. That odious smile, +forever hanging on those large red lips, singularly annoyed me; that +imperturbable gayety, exhibited on all occasions of life, troubled me like +the constant presence of a hideous phantom; that phrase, which he appended +like a moral to every thing he did, that detested phrase, 'A capital +joke,' sounded in my ears as doleful and sombre as the Trappists' motto, +'_Brother, we must die_!' + +There was a fatality about the man; and it was destined that a life should +be sacrificed to his mad propensity for mischief. A day came, on which his +famous words, 'A capital joke!' was to be pronounced over a tomb. + +On the eve of my departure from Rennes, some friends invited me to join a +hunting-party, of which I learned that Ganguernet was to make one. This +name took from me in advance half the pleasure I had anticipated. I +however repaired early in the morning to the house of one of our friends, +Ernest de B----. On my arrival I found Ganguernet there with some others +of the party. Ernest had just finished a letter, which he sealed, +directed, and placed upon the chimney-piece. Ganguernet, in his usual +inquisitive and impertinent manner, took it up, and read the direction. +'Ah ha!' said he; 'so you correspond with your pretty cousin, do you?' + +'Yes,' said Ernest, with an air of indifference; 'I have informed her that +we intend visiting her chateau this evening, at about seven o'clock, to +take dinner there. There are fifteen of us I think, and we shall run some +risk of having but poor fare, if she does not get timely notice.' + +Ernest rang for a servant, and gave him the letter, without any of us +noticing that Ganguernet disappeared for a moment with him. We set off on +our expedition. While engaged in the chase, it so happened that Ganguernet +and myself took one side of the plain on which we were hunting, while the +rest of the party pursued their sport on the other. + +'We shall have some fun this evening,' said he to me. + +'How so?' replied I. + +'Would you believe it? I have given a louis to the servant that he should +not carry the letter to its address.' + +'And have you taken it?' + +'No, pardieu! I told him we were going to have a little joke this evening, +and that he must carry the letter to the lady's husband. He is sitting +this moment as president of the court of assizes, and when he finds that +he is going to have fifteen stout fellows, with keen appetites, at his +house this evening, he will be in a devil of a rage. He is as miserly as +Harpagon; and the idea of our laying his kitchen and wine-cellar under +contribution will put him in such a humor, that he will have no scruple in +condemning a dozen innocent men, so that he may reach his country-house in +time to prevent the pillage.' + +'If this is the case,' said I to Ganguernet, 'it seems to me to be a very +malicious jest.' + +'Bah! a capital joke! And the best of it will be when we all arrive at the +chateau. The others, ravenous with hunger and thirst, will expect to find +there an excellent supper. But there will be nothing--absolutely nothing!' + +'And do you think, Sir,' replied I, 'that this will be any pleasanter to +me than to the rest of the party? And you yourself, will you not be one of +the principal dupes of your frolic?' + +'Let me alone for that! Look you here; I've got a cold fowl and a bottle +of Bordeaux in my game-bag, and you shall have half.' + +'I thank you,' said I, 'but I had rather find Ernest, and notify him of +your trick.' + +'Ah! good heavens! my dear Sir,' said Ganguernet, 'you cannot take a +joke.' + +I left him, and apprising our friends of the affair, inquired where I +could find Ernest. I was told that he had gone in the direction of the +chateau of his cousin, toward which I proceeded, intending to give Madame +de L---- notice of the trick of Ganguernet. At a turn of the road I +perceived Ernest at a distance, going toward the chateau. I increased my +speed in order to overtake him, and made so much haste that I arrived +almost at the same moment with him, so that he had just passed the gate as +I reached it. As I was about entering, the gate was violently pulled to, +and immediately I heard the report of a pistol, and then a voice cried +out: 'Villain! since I have missed you, defend yourself!' + +I hastily sprang to a grating in the wall, about the height of my head, +which opened into the court-yard, and there witnessed a frightful +spectacle. The husband, sword in hand, was attacking Ernest with desperate +fury. 'Ah! you love her and she loves you!' cried he, in a voice hoarse +with passion; 'you love her, do you? and she loves you! Your turn first, +and then hers!' + +The letter from Ernest to his cousin, conveyed by the malicious +interference of Ganguernet to her husband, had apprised him of a secret +which had remained hidden for more than four years; and before redressing +the wrongs of society as a magistrate, the president of the court had +hastened to avenge his own as a husband. + +In vain I cried, in vain I called by name the two cousins. Monsieur de +L---- with blind fury drove Ernest from one corner of the court to +another. Suddenly a window opened, and Madame de L----, pale, with +dishevelled hair, and terror painted on her countenance, appeared. + +'Leonie!' cried Ernest, 'withdraw!' + +'No! let her remain!' exclaimed Monsieur de L----, 'she is a prisoner; you +need not fear that she will come to separate us.' And he again rushed upon +his cousin with such fury that the fire flew from their swords. + +'It is I--it is _I_ who deserve death!' cried Madame de L----; 'kill +_me_!' + +I added my cries to theirs. I shouted, I shook the grating. I tried to +scale the wall, when suddenly, urged on by despair, bewildered, +distracted, Madame de L---- threw herself from the window and fell between +her lover and her husband. The latter, completely beside himself with +passion, directed his sword toward her. But Ernest turned it aside, and in +his turn casting off all restraint, exclaimed with vehemence: 'Madman! +would you kill her? Well, then--defend yourself!' And immediately he +commenced a violent assault upon his antagonist. + +I could do nothing to separate them; neither could Madame de L----. The +unfortunate woman had broken a limb in the fall, and lay groaning upon the +pavement. It was a dreadful combat. Nothing can express the violent terror +which seized me. Already the blood of the two cousins began to flow, which +only served to increase their rage. I had succeeded with some difficulty +in climbing to the top of the wall, and was about to leap into the court, +when I perceived some of our friends approaching. Ganguernet was at their +head; he drew near, calling to me: + +'Halloo! what's this? Why, you bawl like a man getting flayed; we heard +you a quarter of a league off. What the devil is the matter?' + +At the sight of this detested wretch, I rushed upon him, seized him by the +throat, and forcing him violently against the grating, I cried to him in +my turn: 'Look there, miserable jester!--'a capital joke!' is it not?--a +'capital joke!'' + +Monsieur de L----, pierced through the heart by a plunge of his +antagonist's sword, was lying by the side of his wife. + +Ernest has left France to die in a foreign land. Madame de L---- committed +suicide the day after this horrible duel. + +'A CAPITAL JOKE!' + + + + +APOSTROPHE TO AN OLD HAT. + +BY JOHN G. SAXE. + + + COME forth, Old Hat! I'll pluck thee from the ditch, + Where thou hadst well nigh found a grave, 'unwept, + Unhonor'd and unsung.' I'll rescue thee + A moment longer from oblivion, + Albeit thou art old, bereaved of rim, + And like a prince dethroned, no more canst boast + A crown! + Would thou couldst talk! I'd e'en consent + That thou shouldst steal my prating grandame's tongue, + And so procure her silence and thy history. + + Time-worn, adust, degraded as thou art, + Thine ancient quality doth still appear; + And this fine web, malgre thy present mien, + (A batter'd cylinder of dingy brown,) + Proclaims that once, some dozen years ago, + Thou wert a good and fashionable hat. + + Perchance thou first wert perch'd right jauntily + A-top some dandy's poll; a most convenient block + To keep thee in good shape, and serve beside + One purpose more--to advertise thy brethren. + + Mayhap a lawyer, in thy pristine years + And his, with thy possession much enhanced + His meagre sum of personal estate; + And, in phrase professional, call'd thee 'chattel'-- + A vile distinction for a beaver hat! + A lawyer's hat!--alack! what teeming store-house oft + Of mischiefs dire; ill-boding parchment; 'writs,' + With hieroglyphics mystical inscribed; + Invention curious of graceless men, + And in sad mock'ry named 'the grace of God!' + What mighty 'suits at law,' begot and born + Within thy strait enclosure, yet survive + Thy tenth successor! And what mighty 'suits + In chancery,' (so named from CHANCE, who sits + Alternate there and in the legal courts,) + Still flourish, endless as the heap of words + Which mark the spot where Justice lies entomb'd! + + Perhaps at first thou wert allow'd to crown + The 'honorable' head of some grave senator; + Or judge astute; or member of 'the other + House;' pregnant perforce with weighty matters; + 'Petitions' humbly praying to abolish + Slavery and 'hard times.' 'Bills' to promote + The better culture of morality + And morus multicaulis! Mayhap a brief + And formal letter to a brother member, + In courteous phrase requesting leave to shoot him. + 'Notes,' 'Resolutions,' 'Speeches' of vast length, + And just adapted to produce what thou + Hast wanted many a year--a decent _nap_. + + Perchance an editor, by some mysterious accident + Made passing rich with five-and-forty shillings, + First bore thee off in triumph; 'tis pity then + Thou canst not speak; else should we hear + Of much before unpublished; of countless 'bills' + Unpaid; of libels prudently suppress'd; + Of 'Stanzas' much, of 'Lines' innumerable; + And love-sick 'Songs' to goddesses mundane, + All wickedly committed to the Persian's god! + + Thou mayst have crown'd a parson, and couldst tell, + If thou hadst power of verbal utterance, + Of 'the divinity that stirred within thee' + In shape of sermons; faithful or smooth-tongued, + As he who wrote them chanced to covet most + The smile of God or man. A lover's hat + Thou surely wert, (since all men love, + Who have a head,) and oft no doubt hast given + To scented billet-doux and amorous rhymes + Thy friendly guardianship; secure from aught + Save lifting winds and porter's curious eye. + + At second-hand 'tis ten to one thou wert + A Jew's possession, got in honest barter; + Next, John the ostler's; last of all, past doubt + A vagrant's hat; the equitable purchase + Of an ill-sung song. Till quite worn out + With rain, and wind, and sleet, and other 'ills + Thy race is heir to,' the beggar cast thee + From his plebeian pate--and here thou liest. + +_St. Alban's, Vermont._ + + + + +THE COUNTRY. + + +There is something very pleasant in the country, particularly about +Thanksgiving-time, when families gather together from north, south, east +and west, around the huge roast turkey, and many pairs of jaws masticate +vigorously in gratitude for blessings received. At this season of the year +the bird which was fortunate enough to excite the enthusiasm of +Brillat-Savarin, and to be the theme of many chapters in his immortal +'Physiologie,' is the emblem of our republic. A bald eagle indeed! Who +ever heard of a roast eagle? But a turkey: + + 'The state of a fat turkey, the decorum + He marches in with, all the train and circumstance! + 'Tis such a matter, such a glorious matter! + And then his sauce with oranges and onions; + And he displayed in all parts! for such a dish now, + And at my need, I would betray my father.' + +What native American does not respond _Amen!_ from the depths of his +stomach to these appetizing verses of Beamount and Fletcher? But higher +far rises the gastronomic phrenzy of the Travelled, who have known the +bird, grand in his stuffing of chestnuts, sublime when swelling with the +bliss-bringing truffle! + +And the country is at all seasons a pleasant idea, if properly considered; +but beware of the man of one idea, if that one be Country, as you would of +the _homo unius libri_. If you cannot distinguish timothy from clover, and +beets from carrots; if, agriculturally speaking, you don't 'know beans;' +he will annihilate you with his rural wisdom. For his whole existence is +in the soil. He worships things under the earth. Dust he is, and to dust +he shall return; (the sooner the better!) He prattles of potatoes, talks +of turnips, harangues about horse-radish, knows no composition except +compost. Speak to him of manners, and he will answer of manures. Like the +Egyptians, he worships a bull; and has all the fondness of Pythagoras for +beans. His only literature is Liebig's Animal Chemistry; his lighter +reading, the Cultivator and the New-England Farmer. + +Such an one was whilom a citizen with protruding abdomen and white cravat, +who having realized a something in business, exchanges the counter for the +country; buys his acre or two, erects his manor-house, with a grass-plat +in front and a tree or two behind; and with a little straw hat on his +head, a linen coat on his back, and a hoe in his hand, saunters around his +limited possessions, as leisurely and as frequently as an old horse in a +mill, perfectly content with his place, his plans, and himself. + +Call not upon him unless with double-soled boots and strapless trowsers; +and choose a cool day for the visit, if it must be made; for not over +'hill and dale,' but over rock and gully you must march; through ploughed +land and through weeds, through bowers of grape-vines and _bosquets_ of +Lima beans; scratched by the thorns of the gooseberry and brushed by the +long dew-covered leaves of the Indian corn. Numberless shrubs from a foot +to eighteen inches in height he will point out to you, and name them with +long names: 'This is the Prota Goras,' 'and that the Demo Creitus;' shrubs +which, if you had encountered them when alone, you might have eradicated +as weeds, in a moment of generous activity. And when muddy, breathless and +dripping, you reach the highest point of his possessions, he will wave his +hand majestically over some twenty feet of grass, and pointing to three +trees and a white fence in the _distance_, talk of scenery! + +Nevertheless, convinced as we are that the taste for country-places is on +the increase, we think it advisable to suggest a few hints for the +instruction of the aspirants after rural felicity. Saratoga and the like +are no longer indispensable places of resort, but it _is_ indispensable to +be out of town for three months of the year, if you would not be out of +fashion during the remaining nine. Select then a bare and stony spot, for +as your object is employment, the more improvements you can make the +better you will be pleased, as you take it for granted of course that +improvements cost almost nothing. On the highest part of this ground you +will build your house: an airy situation is invaluable in warm weather; +and then a view is so desirable. In the choice of a style of architecture +some difficulty arises. You may either have a clap-board Parthenon, with +Corinthian columns in front and Doric columns in the rear, painted white, +to flash back the rays of the sun, or which is perhaps more fashionable, a +Gothic cottage, with steep roof, rustic pillars, fantastic barge-boards, +and numerous pinnacles painted brown, with oak-stained doors. This style +looks well in the situation we have described; the absence of trees +bringing out more fully the beauties of the architecture. It is attended +with one or two inconveniences; scarcely however, worth mentioning: Gothic +windows always leak, and the sloping roof makes the second story a little +_ovenish_ in temperature, and _garrety_ in smell. Whichever of the two +styles you adopt, you must not fail to refer your plans to some bustling +little architect, who will be sure to write articles about himself in one +of the weeklies, and will probably give a drawing of your house, and call +you the 'intelligent, gentlemanly, and high-minded proprietor.' After you +have removed the stones, manured the ground, and planted grass, you will +have a lawn; and after you have dug deep holes and set out tall thin +consumptive trees, you have a wood. Secure the whole with white fences; +throw rustic bridges over the _impassable_ streams; sprinkle red dahlias +and tiger-lilies here and there; buy a bull-dog to set on any small child +who may be reckless enough to trespass; and lo! you have a country-seat as +well as a town-house, and can invite your city friends to fill your one +spare room in regular rotation. + +In the important matter of a name, you must decide for yourself; but +surely with Walter Scott and Lord Byron and the innumerable +_What-d'ye-call-'em_ dales, _Thingumbob_ brooks, and _So-and-so_ woods, to +choose from, you can have no difficulty in fixing upon a suitable one. + +But, says an amateur rustic, I have no fondness for floriculture, +horticulture, or agriculture; what am I to do? Buy a horse, and take a +gallop of some twenty miles or so, and if the horse does not shy you off, +or bolt you off, or kick you off, and you do not fall off, or he does not +fall under you, you will probably arrive at home safe; but as you walk +from the stable to the house, you will quote from George Colman's parody +of the Lady of the Lake: + + 'Hunter rest, for thou must own + _Leather lost_ and empty belly,' etc. + +Have you a fondness for fire-arms? Then procure a gun and dog, and sally +forth before day-light. Walk five miles through swamp and thicket without +starting a bird. Sky cloudless; heat intense. Suddenly dog's tail begins +to beat half-seconds; up whirrs a bird, who is out of sight in a moment; +so is the dog, who indulges in an animated chase. You shout yourself +hoarse; at length succeed in catching dog, and try to thresh him with +decayed sticks. A little while after, dog comes to a point again. This +time he stands beautifully. You walk slowly up, trembling with excitement, +both barrels cocked. Why don't the bird get up? You glance inquiringly +around, and at length discern a wood-turtle fast asleep near the stump of +a tree. Then, if an irascible man, you curse. So passes the day. Now and +then a bird springs; off fly both of your barrels, aimed at vacancy, and +hurling showers of No. 8 into space; and you arrive at home late in the +afternoon, sore-footed from much travel and stiffness of boots, and alas! +without a feather except a small quail which your dog caught in his mouth. + +No more shooting? Try fishing then. Sit all day on a rock watching your +float, or cork, or _dobber_, as the Dutch boys call it, dance merrily over +the waves, occasionally disappearing under the surface, when the hook +catches a weed. Does not even this suit you? Then, dear friend, buy a boat +of from four to six tons burthen, properly rigged and ballasted; also buy +a red shirt, a small low-crowned straw hat, some tar to smear over your +hands, and learn the first stanza of 'The sea! the sea!' to make every +thing seem more nautical and ship-shape. Hoist jib and mainsail, and +venture out. After you have drifted a mile or two, it will fall a dead +calm, and the boat (Gazelle? Wave? Gull?) will float two or three hours, +the sun flashing back from the glassy surface of the water, burning your +face to the color of bricks, and almost frying the eyes out of your head. +Then is the time to sing 'The sea! the sea!' and to take some Monongahela +to still the qualmishness you begin to experience. At length the wind +rises, and your boat, after many _yawings_, dashes away before it. +Suddenly, without any voluntary or visible agency on your part, the +main-boom sweeps from one side to the other, carrying your hat overboard +in its passage, and dipping the gunwale deep under water. Agitated by this +significant gesture, you steer straight for the wharf. In attempting to +round-to, the bowsprit comes in contact with the piles and renounces its +allegiance to the bow. The boat drifts away from the landing, and finally +deposits you high and dry on the beach. + +What! Disgusted with this, too? Then take our advice, and like a +reasonable man, stay in town. + + + + +TO AN EVENING CLOUD. + +BY A YOUNG LADY. + + + Thou beautiful cloud, a glorious hue is thine! + I cannot think, as thy bright dyes appear + To my enraptured gaze, that thou wert born + Of Evening's exhalations: more sublime, + Light-giver! is thy birth-place, than of earth. + Wert thou not formed to herald in the day, + And clothe a world in thy unborrowed light? + Or art thou but a harbinger of rains + To budding May?--or in thy subtle screen + Nursest the lightnings that affright the world? + Or wert thou born of th' thin aerial mist + That shades the sea, or shrouds the mountain's brow? + Whate'er thou art, I gaze on thee with joy. + + Spread thy wings o'er the empyrean, and away + Fleetly athwart the untravelled wilds of space, + To where the Sun-light sheds his earliest beams, + And blaze the stars, that vision vainly scans + In distant regions of the universe! + Tell me, Air-wanderer! in what burning zone + Thou wilt appear, when from the azure vault + Of our high heaven thy majesty shall fade; + Tell me, winged Vapor! where hath been thy home + Through the unchangeable serene of noon? + Whate'er thy garniture, where'er thy course, + Would I could follow thee in thy far flight, + When the south wind of eve is low and soft, + And my thought rises to the mighty source + Of all sublimity! O fleeting cloud, + Would I were with thee in the solemn night! + + B. + + + + +LITERARY NOTICES. + + + HISTORY OF THE CONQUEST OF MEXICO, with a Preliminary View of the + Ancient Mexican Civilization, and the Life of the Conqueror, + HERNANDO CORTES. By WILLIAM H. PRESCOTT. In three volumes. New-York: + HARPER AND BROTHERS. + +We have awaited the appearance of these very elegant volumes with deep and +anxious interest. The ability, industry and taste which the author +displayed in his 'History of Ferdinand and Isabella,' which won for him a +noble reputation in the most cultivated states of Europe, still more +endeared his name to his own countrymen, and led them to look, with the +highest hope and the most pleasant anticipations, to the future efforts of +his elegant and fascinating pen. We have for some time known that he was +assiduously engaged in collecting materials, and preparing from them a +history of the famous Conquest of Mexico; an event which, although of a +very splendid and romantic character, was still but vaguely known, even in +accomplished and well-informed literary circles. The facts relating to it +were nowhere recorded in an authentic and connected form; for it has not +been until within the last fifty years that the attention of historians +and general scholars has been turned in this direction. The labors of +Spanish antiquarians since that time, conducted as they have been with +great skill and industry, and under the supervision and encouragement of +the government itself, have been abundantly rewarded; and a vast number of +original documents have been accumulated in the public and private +libraries, which shed floods of light upon all historical events connected +with the conquests of Spanish armies, or the discoveries of Spanish +fleets, and have thus placed within the reach of writers at the present +day materials for lack of which even the able histories of ROBERTSON and +his contemporaries became meagre and unattractive. The historians of our +era are making the best possible use of these copious and invaluable +collections. The first result of their efforts was WASHINGTON IRVING'S +magnificent 'Life of COLUMBUS,' one of the most polished and perfect works +of its class in the English language, and which has done as much for +American literature abroad as it has for its eminent author at home. Then +followed PRESCOTT'S 'Ferdinand and Isabella,' pronounced by the best +critics on both sides the Atlantic to be one of the most interesting and +valuable histories ever published: and here we have, in his 'History of +the Conquest of Mexico,' drawn from the same rich source, a work eminently +worthy to succeed its brilliant and most 'illustrious predecessors.' + +Within the limits which restrain us, we can of course do nothing more than +intimate very vaguely the general character and scope of this great work; +nor are we sure that even this is not quite a useless labor, as it must +find its way at once into the library of every literary gentleman +throughout the country, and be read with the greatest avidity by men of +every class. One of the most valuable portions of the history is the +extended view which Mr. PRESCOTT has presented, at the opening of the +work, of the character and civilization of the ancient inhabitants of +Mexico. The Spaniards conquered no tribe of untutored savages, roaming, in +the wild lawlessness of the aborigines of our section of the western +continent, over the sunny plains and smiling fields of Anahuac: they found +a people there who, centuries before the discovery of the western world by +Columbus, possessed the arts of civilization, and had reached a point of +intellectual and moral culture in many respects surpassing that of the +most renowned nations of the other world. We are surprised to find the +high degree of refinement which they had reached. The sciences, especially +of mathematics and astronomy, were understood to a degree of nicety +scarcely attained by the Romans in their palmiest days. Their political +organization was of a wonderfully perfect character; and their laws, and +especially the organization of the judiciary, the department by which they +were to be interpreted and administered, were stamped by a clear insight +into the nature of moral obligation, and the mutual duties and rights of +the members of society, which strike us with the utmost astonishment. +Their mythology, with the single exception of the sanction it gives to +human sacrifices, indicates a much nearer approach to a knowledge of the +true God than the popular faith of the Greeks or Romans; and sentiments +are recorded as having been uttered by a prince of the Tezcucan tribe, +guided solely by the light of his own indwelling reason, which were worthy +of Plato or of any sage that has ever lived, unenlightened by the hopes of +revelation on which Christians build their faith. The history of such a +people, dwelling centuries ago upon our own continent, shrouded as it has +heretofore been in darkness and vague uncertainty, under the lucid and +brilliant pen of Mr. PRESCOTT becomes more attractive than any offspring +of the fancy or imaginative fiction could possibly be. This preliminary +sketch occupies nearly half of the first volume; and we have never read +any similar effort of the same extent with equal gratification. + +We can of course give no outline of the main portion of the work, the +history of the train of events by which the whole Mexican empire fell into +the hands of the conquering Spaniard. It is one of the most romantic +narratives which ever bore the seal of truth. Its prominent actors are men +of eminent genius, who performed exploits worthy the greatest captains of +Europe or Asia; and the history of their lives abounds with interest and +instruction. Mr. PRESCOTT has a most happy historical style, glowing with +all the warmth and shining with a far more substantial brilliancy than +that of BANCROFT; and blending the strict truth of accurate narrative with +the free flow of a fine imagination, all under the control of an exquisite +taste, with more success than that of any other American writer, IRVING +perhaps alone excepted. The authorities upon which he relies for his facts +are uniformly given in notes, and the fullest information is presented in +the same form, on all points which concern the accuracy and completeness +of the work. We read the following passage in our author's preface with +profound regret: 'For one thing, I may reasonably ask the reader's +indulgence. Owing to the state of my eyes, I have been obliged to use a +writing-case made for the blind, which does not permit the writer to see +his own manuscript; nor have I ever corrected, or even read, my own +original draft.' Mr. PRESCOTT may well consider this as an ample excuse +for any errors of typography; of which, by the way, we have not discovered +even one. We were already aware, on the best authority, that WASHINGTON +IRVING had prepared to take up the ground so ably occupied by our author; +a fact to which Mr. Prescott alludes in the following graceful terms: + + 'It was not till I had become master of my rich collection of + materials, that I was acquainted with this circumstance; and had + he persevered in his design, I should unhesitatingly have + abandoned my own, if not from courtesy, at least from policy; + for though armed with the weapons of Achilles, this could give + me no hope of success in a competition with Achilles himself. + But no sooner was that distinguished writer informed of the + preparations I had made, than with the gentlemanly spirit which + will surprise no one who has the pleasure of his acquaintance, + he instantly announced to me his intention of leaving the + subject open to me. While I do but justice to Mr. IRVING by this + statement, I feel the prejudice it does to myself in the + unavailing regret I am exciting in the bosom of the reader.' + +We cannot take leave of this splendid book without making mention of the +truly elegant style in which it has been issued by its liberal publishers. +It yields in no respect to the finest issue of the Boston, and we had +almost added, of the London press. The three volumes are large octavo, of +about five hundred pages each, containing elegant portraits and +illustrative maps; and yet the whole is sold for six dollars! + + + THE AENEID OF VIRGIL, WITH ENGLISH NOTES, CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY; a + Metrical Clavis and an Historical, Geographical and Mythological + Index. By CHARLES ANTHON, LL. D. New-York: HARPER AND BROTHERS. + +The cause of sound classical education in America is more deeply indebted +to Professor ANTHON than to any other scholar in the country; and the debt +of gratitude already incurred is almost daily increased by the unwearied +efforts of this distinguished linguist. Beside the voluminous and +unequalled Dictionaries which he has compiled and published, he has in +course of preparation a series of the most popular Latin authors, in which +his principal aim is to adapt them to the use of scholars in our academies +and higher schools. Another volume of this series, containing the AEneid, +has just been issued. It is usually among the earliest Latin works placed +in the pupil's hands, and yet there are few which require a more intimate +and extended acquaintance with Roman history, domestic habits, mythology, +geography, and indeed with every thing relating to the Romans as a nation +and society, in order to a perfect understanding of its character, and a +genuine relish of its beauties, than this. We doubt the policy, or +propriety indeed, of placing in the hands of those who are learning the +elements of a foreign _language_, poems of an elaborate and elevated +character for text-books. No one, for the purpose of learning English, +would take up MILTON'S Paradise Lost before the Vicar of Wakefield or +BUNYAN'S Pilgrim's Progress; for aside from the fact that he would not +thus be introduced to the simple dialect of ordinary life, its classical +and doctrinal allusions, its technical terms, and the profound knowledge +of men, of books, and of nature which it embraces, would render it almost +a sealed volume to any but those who have already become cultivated and +accomplished scholars. And although the case is materially different in +learning the ancient languages, since the object is not to speak or write +them, but to become familiar with the great works which are written in +them, it would be unwise if not useless to teach a pupil to read VIRGIL +without at the same time providing him with the means of thoroughly +understanding and appreciating his poetry. For these he is usually +dependent upon the verbal expositions of his teacher, who, even if he +chance to be well qualified for the task, seldom has sufficient time for +its proper discharge. + +Many attempts have been made to supply this want, and some of them have +been attended with very fair, though not full, success. COOPER'S edition +has had the most copious notes, but they are not always accurate, and are +often upon passages of comparatively little difficulty. GOULD'S notes are +better, but they are much more sparingly introduced, and do not indeed +elucidate the really intricate points. The historical and mythological +references in both these editions are quite scanty; and they must both in +our judgment speedily give place to this of Dr. ANTHON. The critical and +explanatory notes to this are all that could be desired. They occupy more +than six hundred pages, or quite two-thirds of the book, and relate to +every point of interest or of doubt in the whole AEneid. They are full, +accurate, and perfectly satisfactory. The author tells us in the preface +that they comprise the results of all the study and research of modern +European scholars, and embrace every thing which has been brought to light +up to the present time. They are very copiously and clearly illustrated by +neat and perspicuous engravings, which frequently do more than pages of +description to give a distinct impression to the scholar's mind. The +construction of Roman ships, the mode of a naval battle, the style of +conducting a siege, the form of chaplets, of temples, of household +utensils, of coins, ornaments, and in fine, the exact structure and +appearance of every thing pertaining to Roman history or Roman life, are +thus rendered more familiar to the eye than they ever could be to the ear +of the student. The metrical clavis scans all the difficult lines +contained in the book, and the general index clearly and briefly +elucidates all the references which the poem contains to men, incidents, +and localities. With these recommendations, aided by the typographical +clearness and beauty which the publishers have given to it, this edition +of the AEneid must be heartily welcomed by scholars and students (all +rivalry to the contrary) throughout the United States. + + + MEXICO: AS IT WAS AND AS IT IS. By BRANTZ MAYER, Late Secretary of + Legation to Mexico. In one volume, octavo, pp. 426. 'New World' + press: J. WINCHESTER. + +We looked through a large portion of this work while all its sheets were +not yet through the press, and were enabled with some confidence to +predict that it would create no small sensation in the literary world. Mr. +MAYER has a free, unpretending style, which renders all that he writes +eminently _readable_; a merit in which many far more practised writers are +as signally deficient. The programme furnished in the announcement of the +work has been well filled up. Many of the ruins and antiquities here +described have never before been visited or mentioned by any traveller. A +detailed account is furnished of the present social and political +condition of Mexico; an elaborate description is given of the antiquities +to be found in the museum of the capital, and of the ancient remains +strewn from California to Odjaca. A record is presented of the author's +journeys to Tezcoco, and through the _tierra-caliente_; and a full account +of the agriculture, manufactures, commerce, resources, mines, coinage, and +general statistics of Mexico is given. There is beside a complete view of +the past and present _history_ of the country, with vivid pictures of the +domestic manners and customs of the people. The whole is illustrated by +numerous drawings from the pencil of Mr. MAYER, which have been engraved +on wood by BUTLER, in that excellent artist's best style. We scarcely +remember to have met with a work so profusely embellished; and the +literary and pictorial artist being one and the same person, the reader is +helped to a far more life-like view of the scenes and things described and +depicted than he could have obtained under circumstances less favorable to +the strict fidelity of pen and pencil. The publisher has evinced great +liberality in the pictorial department of the volume, having expended +upward of twelve hundred dollars on the illustrations alone. The volume is +printed upon a fine and white (though somewhat too thin) paper, with a +large clear type. The work can scarcely fail to attain, what indeed it +well deserves, a wide diffusion. + + + SCENES AND SCENERY IN THE SANDWICH ISLANDS, AND A TRIP THROUGH + CENTRAL AMERICA: being Observations from my Note-book, during the + years 1837, to 1842. By JAMES J. JARVES, Member of the Oriental + Society, etc. In one vol. pp. 341. Boston: JAS. MUNROE AND COMPANY. + +Those of our readers who may have seen a previous work of Mr. JARVES, on +the history of the Sandwich Islands, which was noticed in this Magazine, +will perhaps remember the following passage in the preface: 'It was +designed to interweave with the civil and political account of the nation, +a series of sketches, illustrative of their present life and condition, +and other interesting points, which would have enlivened a bare narrative +of facts; also to have pictured the wondrous natural phenomena of that +prolific portion of the Pacific, the great volcanic eruption of 1840; and +a full account of the mightiest of craters, the gigantic _Lua Pele_, of +Kilanea, in Hawaii. But it would have swelled the volume to an unwieldy +size. At an early period will be presented an additional volume, which, +without being connected with the present, will give in detail all that is +necessary to form a correct view of the Hawaiian Islands, their condition, +prospects, the every-day concerns of the people, and missionary life as it +now exists; the two to form a succinct whole, illustrating each other.' +The volume before us has been written in fulfilment of the foregoing +pledge. In it the writer has attempted to delineate that which came within +his immediate observation, during a residence of four years on the Group. +As a description of the familiar life of a people, in a novel and +interesting position, one which may with propriety be termed a state of +transition from barbarism to civilization, it will attract the attention, +and interest the sympathies of readers of all classes. A portion of the +sketches have been previously published in journals, and had some +circulation both at home and abroad. The volume is executed by the eminent +Boston printer, DICKINSON, and is illustrated with fine maps and plates. + + + + +EDITOR'S TABLE. + + +THE NEW YEAR.--We are standing once more together, reader, at that fairy +vestibule which opens rich with hope and bright to expectation upon +another twelve-month; a coming lapse of time that like a swell of the +ocean tossing with its fellows, heaves onward to the land of Death and +Silence. At such a time, although it seem not meet, it may be, to indulge +in sad thoughts and pensive recollections, who can refrain from giving a +backward glance to years that have passed like a weaver's shuttle, and +woven our 'checkered web of life?' Shall we not for one moment remember +too, even at this joyous season, the loved and lost who have gone before +us, to solve the great mystery of life, and the momentous secrets of death +and the grave? Shall we not remember that _we_ too are passing away; and +in thoughtful mood, pause to ask with the poet: + + 'ANOTHER year! another year! + Oh! who shall see another year? + Shalt thou, old man, of hoary head, + Of eye-sight dim, and feeble tread? + Expect it not! Time, pain, and grief + Have made thee like an autumn leaf; + Ready, by blast or self-decay, + From its slight hold to drop away; + And some sad morn may gild thy bier, + Long, long before another year! + + 'Another year! another year! + Oh! who shall see another year? + Shall you, ye young? or you, ye fair? + Ah! the presumptuous thought forbear! + Beside this church-yard's peaceful bounds, + Pause ye, and ponder o'er the mounds: + Here beauty sleeps; that verdant length + Of grave contains what once was strength; + The child, the boy, the man are here-- + Ye may not see another year!' + +While however we give to emotions like these their appropriate vent, we +are not called upon to forget that there is much that is inspiring and +delightful in the commencement of the year. The time-honored custom of our +metropolis has made it a point of peculiar radiance; a halcyon period, +when heart's-ease would seem to be the general feeling, and smiles the +social insignia. Then the visit is exchanged between friends whom perhaps +the departed year had somewhat alienated; old associations are revived, +and cordialities that had well nigh been forgotten are strengthened and +renewed. As the lip is wetted with friendly wine, the bosom expands in the +generous warmth of honest enjoyment; the cold formalities of factitious +station give place to undisguised welcome and open-handed cheer. The rich +and the poor meet together, and the spirit of pleasure is with all. As the +parties go their rounds, and familiar forms and faces appear to greeting +eyes, the _necessity_ of friendship and the desolation of its absence come +home to the mind. It is felt that comfort is lost when allied to +selfishness, and that it is good to be respected or beloved. And as those +meet between whom the year has passed in sullen estrangement; upon whose +anger many an evening sun has descended; a relenting spirit obeys the +mingled voices of Memory and Friendship: the kind resolve is made and +followed; so that instead of the thorn to goad and wound, there springs up +in the pathway of the Reconciled the olive or the myrtle. How sweet is the +sight of human goodness, struggling to surmount the petty passions which +discolor its beauty, and bending to the benign suggestions of that pure +and gentle principle, _peace with man_! Doubtless there are many severe +strivings with natural pride, before these ends can be reached; but the +new year awakens such throngs of conciliatory sentiments, that it is +impossible to resist them. The call is made; the oversight or neglect +explained; the breach is closed; and friendship is paramount! Months of +reverses and cares and disappointments are lost in that initial day, whose +span is golden from sun to sun; a lapse to be remembered with quiet +satisfaction in trials to come. Indeed, a moment's reflection will assure +any contemplative mind that resentment is the most pitiful passion that +can agitate the human breast. True, there is such a thing as '_spirit_,' +but how often is it ill-directed! How often magnified by little causes +into an importance wholly incommensurate with the object desired! It is +the province of new-year visits to crush these poisonous weeds of our +path, to quench their noxious tendrils, and to substitute in their stead +the balm of friendship and good-will. For such an object the morning of +the year is most auspicious. The grand festival of our SAVIOUR'S nativity +has but lately ended, and a preservation of the era of good feeling is +enjoined both by Precept and Hope. Who can resist such appeals to that +kindness which increases the happiness of its possessor? With these +reiterated words of counsel and of affection, let us take present leave of +our readers, by wishing them in hackneyed phrase, but with unhackneyed +spirit, a HAPPY NEW-YEAR! + + +THE RIGHTS OF WOMEN.--We wish it were possible to transfer to this printed +page the beautiful chirography of the annexed communication, which +proceeds from the pen of a lady who, with a few others of her gentle sex, +sat out the reading of the lecture upon the '_Rights of Women_,' by Mr. +JOHN NEAL, at the Broadway Tabernacle last winter, and which was so +heartily laughed at by the press and the town for a day or two after. It +is gratifying to remark that _women_ themselves have been the prominent +satirists of the characteristic absurdities put forth on the occasion +alluded to. But to our fair correspondent: 'APPEAR, bright Spirits of the +ancient Nine! (for you were women, and can well appreciate my appeal) +arrayed in all the panoply of your charms! Thou, MINERVA! aid me with thy +wisdom! Ye, most lovely GRACES! attend me with the power of honey-like +persuasiveness! And thou, JOHN NEAL! arrayed in the drapery of the softer +sex, gracefully to maintain the lofty eminence whereon thou standest, +assist me with the glorious power of thy overwhelming eloquence, while I +assert the high prerogative of Woman! Yet when I dwell on the brilliant +efforts accomplished by thy mighty genius in our behalf, the pen falls +powerless from my despairing hand, and I can merely point to thee as the +potent champion of our down-trodden rights! Instead of dwelling in dull +obscurity, victims to the caprice of men; mending their thread-bare +clothing and scolding servants--base, unwomanly pursuits!--instead of +listening in silence to the storms of political debate; instead of +remaining within the shadow of our own roofs, and gathering around the +domestic hearth the thornless roses of existence; rendering home a haven +of rest to the weary and care-worn; instead of slumbering idly, in the +security of our mansions, when the torrent of war rolls over the land; +instead of girding then our brothers for the stormy fight, bidding them +GOD-speed; instead of ignobly bending before the tyrannical power of Man, +thou, O! astute NEAL! wouldst have us pluck the laurel-wreath from our +kinsman's brow, and bind it on our own. Thou wouldst have us rise in all +the dignity of offended 'equality,' and boldly assert the holy right of +'_free suffrage to all_!' Why, forsooth, should _we_ rather be confined to +the narrow circle of home than our friends of the other sex? Are we not as +capable of sounding the loud alarm of war, of mingling in the strife and +tumult of the battle-hour, as the ladies of antique Amazonia, or the +warrior-_men_ of our own day? Have we not intellect enough to cope with +the WEBSTERS, the CLAYS, and the WRIGHTS, in the halls of Congress? Is not +our dignity sufficient to maintain, with honor to our country and +ourselves, the various offices of the government? Why may not our superior +talents elevate us to the lofty station of the presidential chair?--to +become Ambassadresses, Generalesses, Stateswomen? Surely our intellect is +as lofty, as noble, and as clear as that in which proud man exults. Arise +then, Women of America! Study immediately the tactics of military +discipline; proceed to the green savannahs of Florida; wrest their +authority from those who now possess it, and deck your own brows of +loveliness with the wreaths of conquest and of glory. March to the halls +of legislation; demand from statesmen there assembled the concession of +'woman's rights,' and desert them not till that 'vantage ground' is well +secured. Then, ladies, will you be enabled to cast aside with disdain the +bonds of domestic confinement, which insure merely your peace and +happiness; to mingle your shrill cries with the tumult of contending +armies, confounding confusion itself with your loud clamors! You may then +unite your voices with the shouts of opposing factions at the momentous +periods of election, huzzaing for your candidates, and gathering all your +influence to win success for them. So shall you nobly fulfil the high +destiny allotted you, instead of longer enduring the degrading cares +attendant on the happiness of your fathers' and your husbands' homes. So +shall you take by storm the hearts of men as well as the citadels of your +enemies; forcing them to admire those female 'braves' who so kindly +relieve them of the weighty burden of their cares.' Capital! This +mock-heroic is just the vein for a theme so ridiculous as the insane +crudities here touched upon. By the by; a private note advises us that +'there have been recent symptoms of chuckling exhibited by the 'champion +of women,' on the supposition, real or assumed, that the attention of the +legislatures of several States had been diverted toward 'woman's rights' +in the matter of personal property between man and wife, by reason of the +lecture aforesaid!' It is unnecessary perhaps to add, in justice to the +public sense, that the action of three or four States upon this subject +had a far different origin, as their legislative records will abundantly +show. + + +OLE BULL.--We confess ourselves among the uninitiated in the mysteries of +music. We are quite aware that it is not a little dangerous for one who +would not lose _caste_ in society to assert that he does not greatly +admire that ill-assorted compound of '_strains_' which is usually +designated by the hackneyed phrases of 'brilliant execution' and +'difficult passages;' passages which Dr. JOHNSON wished were 'not only +_difficult_ but _impossible_:' we cannot force an admiration nor affect an +enthusiasm which we do not feel. Indeed, we have always had great sympathy +for the amateur of fashion who aspired to great refinement of taste, to +exhibit which, in one branch of art, he gave on one occasion an +entertainment of instrumental music. While the musicians were _all_ at +work, he seemed delighted with the performance; but when one instrument +chanced to be engaged upon a solo, he inquired, in a towering passion, why +the others were remaining idle? 'It is a _pizzicato_ for one instrument,' +replied the operator. 'I can't help that,' replied the virtuoso; 'let the +trumpets _pizzicato_ along with you; they're _paid_ to do it!' Now in +regard to musical knowledge and taste, this hopeful amateur has many a +counterpart in this day and generation, and in this same city of Gotham. +In the case of OLE BULL, however, there has been no call for _affected_ +admiration. He has _compelled_ not only admiration but enthusiasm; not +indeed by mere artistical 'execution,' although in this he is acknowledged +to be preeminent, but by the creations of _genius_, which 'take the full +heart captive.' Let the distant reader imagine an audience of three +thousand persons awaiting in breathless expectance the entrance upon the +Park-stage of this great Master. The curtain rises, and after the lapse of +a moment, a tall manly person, with a frank, ingenuous expression of +countenance, emerges with an embarrassed salutation from the wing, and +with another somewhat less constrained, stands in front of the orchestra, +the focus of every eye and glass in that brilliant assemblage. Pausing for +a brief space, as if to collect himself, he raises his bow, and with a +slight motion, beckons to each member of the orchestra in turn, who 'start +into sound' at his bidding as if touched by the wand of ITHURIEL. When the +tide of harmony has reached its flood, and is gradually ebbing back to +fainter sounds, the Master raises his instrument to his shoulder and lays +his ear upon it, as if listening for his key-note amidst the tones that +are serpentining through his brain. When to the audience 'nothing lives +'twixt these and silence,' a strain which has at first a dying fall +imperceptibly swells on the ear. It is _the_ instrument, beyond all +peradventure; and from that moment you are 'all ear.' While you are +wondering why you never knew before that there was such a _volume_ of +sound in a violin, a passage of infinite pathos arrests your _heart_, and +you find your eyes moistening under its influence. It subsides into +tremulous tones that retreat farther and farther from the ear, until they +seem to come from a mile's distance; anon, they begin to approach again, +and swelling gradually upon the 'aching sense,' almost overpower you with +their fulness of melody. This transcendent effort of genius reminded us of +the phantasmagora, or 'magic lantern;' for what the lessening and +enlarging figures of that instrument are to the _eye_, OLE BULL'S magic +sounds are to the _ear_. We had intended to allude in detail to several of +the performances of this great Master; but we lack the requisite space. We +can only instance the 'Norwegian Rondo,' the 'Themes from BELLINI,' and +the 'Carnival at Venice,' as eminently justifying the fervent enthusiasm +which they excited. It was no unnatural combination of splendid +sinuosities, of small notes split into hexagonals, and attenuated into +tremors that were 'no great _shakes_' after all, which entranced the +audience; it was full, rich tones; it was melody, harmony, that won their +loud and almost irrepressible applause. We have not yet had the pleasure +to hear VIEUX-TEMPS, the distinguished violinist recently arrived among +us. His numerous friends and countrymen in the metropolis rank him even +above OLE BULL. We are inclined, however, to trust the comparison made by +an eminent brother-artist, who assisted at his first concert: +'VIEUX-TEMPS,' said he, 'is a very accomplished _artist_; but OLE BULL is +a magnificent _genius_.' We shall have something to say of VIEUX-TEMPS, +ARTOT, and Sig. CASSELA, in a subsequent number of the KNICKERBOCKER, +should time and occasion serve. + + +A SECOND 'RALPH RINGWOOD.'--We have a western correspondent, a 'man of +mark' in his region, and far from unknown elsewhere, who has seen a good +deal of the world, and whose entertaining epistles always remind us of the +graphic '_Experiences of Ralph Ringwood_,' as recorded in these pages by +WASHINGTON IRVING. Here is a fragment of youthful reminiscence, fresh from +his mint, 'which it is hoped may please;' and if it _does_, we will use +our 'selectest influence' to induce him to write out for us a series of +papers containing his complete autobiography, which we have good reason to +believe would overflow with romance and strange vicissitude: 'I was +raised,' he writes, 'as we western folks term it, in a small village some +fifteen miles from Boston, and when about sixteen years of age I paid a +visit to the metropolis for the first time in my life. When I first +arrived there I spent some hours in trying to hunt up an old play-mate who +had been bound apprentice to a Boston mechanic some two years previous. I +could hear nothing of him, however, and so gave up the search. But one +day, while sauntering down the main-street, and wondering at all I saw, I +suddenly encountered a strange sight. It was _a sheep_, dead and dressed, +but moving along the side-walk in an upright position, and apparently +without help! Puzzled at this phenomenon, I turned round as it passed me, +in order to observe it more closely; when to my astonishment I discovered +a boy behind it, who with the sheep on his back was shuffling along the +walk, stern-foremost. I was still more astonished when I recognized in +this lad my old and long-sought playmate. 'DICK, my boy!' said I, grasping +his hand warmly. DICK seemed a little embarrassed at first; but after a +moment's hesitation, he threw down his load spitefully, and seizing my +hand returned my grasp as cordially as it had been given. 'For GOD's sake, +DICK,' inquired I, 'how long is it since you commenced walking backward?' +'Not a great while,' replied he, with a grin. 'To tell you the truth, +FRANK, I saw you looking in the jeweller's window there, and knew you at +once; and as I didn't care to be seen by an old comrade with a sheep on my +back, I was in hopes to escape your observation by walking in the manner +in which you saw me.' 'And that was the very thing which led me to +discover you,' I replied; 'you might have passed me in the ordinary way, +nineteen times in every twenty, without being recognized.' 'Well, it's all +one now, since you have found me out,' said DICK. 'But what, after all, +are you going to do with that measly-looking animal?' I inquired. 'Eat +it,' replied he, with a comical twist of the nose; 'I have to lug one home +every day; we apprentices live on them altogether. I'm a sheep myself, +almost; _b-a-a-h_!' and here he imitated the cry of that animal so +naturally, that I had no doubt of the truth of his statement. After a few +moments' conversation, chiefly about home, the clock struck ten, when DICK +suddenly resumed his load, and after giving me the directions to the 'old +man's' house, and exacting a promise to call and see him in the evening, +he started for home. At the appointed hour in the evening, I called to see +him, as agreed upon, and found him waiting for me. But what a +different-looking personage from the one I met in the morning! He was now +very smartly dressed in a small black frock-coat, and drab gaiter-trowsers +strapped tightly over a pair of nicely-polished boots. On his head a black +velvet cap, from which two enormous tassels were swinging, was setting +jauntily on one side, while in his hand he carried a little silver-headed +cane, with which he occasionally rapped his legs. In my unsophisticated +eyes he was a very paragon of gentility, and I couldn't help contrasting +him with my own countrified appearance. However, I had but a moment for +reflection; for sallying into the street, with me at his heels, DICK at +once proposed going to the theatre. I agreed without hesitation, for the +big play-bills had been staring me in the face all day, and on them were +emblazoned in large capitals the names of COOPER and FINN, who were to +play together that evening in one of SHAKSPEARE'S comedies. When we +arrived at the play-house, DICK took me aside, and pointing to the little +window in the office, proposed that I should go and purchase the tickets; +'because,' said he, 'the box-keeper knows me.' I couldn't exactly +comprehend why the fact of his being known to the box-keeper should +prevent his purchasing the tickets himself. However, I supposed it was all +right, and so I crowded up to the little window, and after awaiting my +turn, obtained two pit-tickets, for which I had to pay out of my own +pocket, of course. Dick took them from me when I returned, and then again +resuming the lead, he conducted me into the lobby of the play-house. Here +he handed the tickets to the door-keeper, at the same time nodding his +head toward me, in order to intimate to that gentleman that I was under +his special patronage, and that the other admission was intended for me. +Once seated in the centre of the pit, DICK seemed to be in his glory. He +ogled the ladies in the boxes, and whistled and shouted and stamped, and +cried 'Physic!' until I thought he would split his throat. But when at +last the gloomy curtain rose and the stars of the evening stood glittering +before us, he clapped and shouted so much louder and longer than all the +rest, that the whole audience gazed at him with admiration. He would have +gone on applauding, I verily believe, until the end of the play, had not a +tall gentleman, with a red handkerchief round his throat, and carrying a +long pole, rapped him over the head, and peremptorily shouted 'Silence!' +From that moment DICK was as mute as a Quaker, until the end of the play; +when rushing out and dragging me after him, he proposed that we should go +and finish the evening at a celebrated coffee-house, kept by 'a particular +friend of his,' and where he had agreed to meet some half-dozen +fellow-apprentices. Here we stayed until a very late hour, drinking and +smoking, telling stories and singing songs. As it grew later, our +companions one by one walked or reeled out of the bar-room, until we two +were left the only tenants, save the landlord. The latter then commenced +closing the house, and hinted pretty strongly that it was high time we +were going. I turned to DICK, who had been remarkably silent for some +time, when to my utter dismay I discovered that he was perfectly +insensible from drink. I looked up to the landlord for counsel. He was a +short, _squab_ man, with a bulbous excresence growing out from between his +shoulders, that I suppose passed for a head, though it looked like a wen; +a kind of expletive, to wear a hat on, or to fill up the hollow of a +shabby wig. 'What shall we _do_ with him?' said I. 'Hustle him out!' cried +he; 'hustle him out! he didn't get his liquor here: I've no room for such +company!' I then endeavored to put my companion upon his feet, but his +legs bent under him, and his whole body seemed as limber and lifeless as a +wet rag. 'You can't do any thing with him in _that_ way,' continued the +landlord; 'if you want to get him home to-night, you must take him on your +back and carry him there yourself. He'll be bright enough in the morning.' +I saw no other way of proceeding; and so, being strong and athletic +myself, while DICK was of slight proportions, I managed, with the +assistance of the landlord, to get him upon my back, and then started for +his master's house. As my burthen was perfectly speechless, I had plenty +of time for uninterrupted thought as I trudged along; and I couldn't help +contrasting the apprentice of the morning with the apprentice of the +present moment. _Then_, though rather coarsely dressed, and smooched with +the marks of labor, he blushed at being caught with a sheep on his back, +though he had come honestly by it; but _now_, though bedecked in the +habiliments of a gentleman, he was being carried home himself like a beast +on the back of a companion. On reaching his master's house I laid him down +upon the door-sill, where he commenced breathing intensely through his +nose, while I fumbled round for the handle of the bell, which I rang. The +'old man' himself came to the door, and looking down at his apprentice, +shook his head sorrowfully. Then turning to a black domestic, who with a +candle in her hand stood grinning behind him, he said, 'Here's DICK come +home drunk again, Dinah; you must take him up stairs and get him to bed in +the best way you can.' The old gentleman turned away with a tear in his +eye, and I also departed, leaving DICK, who had come to his senses a +little, struggling in the arms of the brawny black, and vainly trying to +kiss her polished cheek. Thus ended my first youthful adventure in a +city.' + + +GOSSIP WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.--We encounter in our personal +correspondence not a few comments, pro and con, upon the papers on '_Mind +and Instinct_,' which appeared in the last two numbers of the +KNICKERBOCKER. Our friend and correspondent, 'HARRY FRANCO,' among others, +in a gossiping epistle to the Editor, writes as follows: + + 'I HAVE been considerably interested in your correspondent's + paper on mind and instinct; only I rather wonder at his laboring + to prove a theory which few are inclined to question. But he + does not after all, it appears to me, draw the right conclusions + from his argument. All living beings have a mind, or reason, or + what you will, which prompts them to do all that their animal + functions are capable of performing. In this respect man is as + much governed by instinct as a brute. My neighbor's dog every + night when I come home walks up to me, wags his tail, and looks + in my face, and says in his way, 'How are you?' His master gives + me a nod, takes his pipe from his mouth, and says the same. But + when a stranger comes to my door, neither the dog nor his master + salutes him; but were he to fall into the brook, they would both + run to pull him out. Are they not both influenced by exactly the + same feelings? If I should ask my neighbor to endorse my note, + he would look sulky, hem! and haw! and refuse; if I should + attempt to take a bone from his dog, the brute would snarl and + growl, and perhaps bite me. Do you see any marvellous difference + between the two animals? A near neighbor of mine, about six + months since, had a little boy of four years old, who had a + spaniel of which he was very fond. One day during the absence of + the father, the child was taken ill with the croup; the mother + was alarmed, and it so happened that her servants were away, and + she had no one to send for a physician. The poor woman was in + great tribulation, for in spite of all her efforts the child + grew worse. In about an hour after the child was taken ill, her + father's carriage stopped at the door, and her mother made her + appearance. Her father's house was about two miles distant. The + grandmother said that Carlo, the sick child's dog, 'came running + into the house, all bespattered with mud, and flew about and + acted so strangely that she knew something must be the matter + with little Billy, her grandson, and she came to see what it + was.' Until then, the mother of the child had not noticed the + absence of the dog from the room, for the boy was playing with + him when he was taken sick. The child remained ill three or four + days, and then died; and during the whole time the dog never + left his bed-side; he watched by the corpse until it was buried, + and then took possession of the little boy's chair, which he + would allow no one to touch, not even the child's mother. Every + day he absented himself for three or four hours; and the father + one day going to look at his child's grave, found that the dog + had almost scratched his way down to the coffin. He was after + this kept within doors; but he refused to eat, and in a short + time died in the chair of his little master. If I had time, I + could tell you a story almost as touching, in relation to a pig, + an animal that phrenologically speaking has generally been + looked upon as somewhat deficient in the region of the + sentiments.' + +NOW that our attention has been awakened to the subject, we find in our +casual reading the testimony in favor of 'mind in animals' greatly to +increase and multiply. OLEUS MAGNUS, Bishop of Norway, in a work written +in Latin some two centuries ago, tells us of a fox that, in order to get +rid of the fleas which infested his skin, was accustomed to swim out into +a lake with a straw band held high and dry in his mouth. When the +water-hating vermin had all escaped from his submerged body to the dry +straw, down dived Reynard, leaving his tormentors 'at sea,' and rising +again beyond the scope of safe jumping. 'Curious, isn't it?' A +correspondent at Rochester, 'who experienced much satisfaction in the +perusal of the article' above alluded to, was yet 'a little dissatisfied +with the closing portion of it.' The proposition of the writer to 'abstain +entirely from animal food,' on the score of humanity, he considers +'especially ridiculous.' He has 'the gravest authority for stating, that +every drop of water that quenches our thirst or laves our bodies, contains +innumerable insects, which are sacrificed to our necessities or comforts; +each ingredient in the simplest vegetable fare conveys to inevitable +destruction thousands of the most beautiful and harmless of created +beings. From the first to the last gasp of our lives, we never inhale the +air of heaven without butchering myriads of sentient and innocent +creatures. Can we upbraid ourselves then for supporting our lives by the +death of a few animals, many of whom are themselves carnivorous, when the +infant who has lived for a single day has killed an infinitely greater +number of human beings than the longest life would suffice to murder by +design? Or, if we sacrifice either our lives or our comforts by +scrupulously denying ourselves the use of animal food, can we derive much +consolation from considering that we spare a few scores of beings, when we +involuntarily, but knowingly, are every moment massacreing more than the +longest life-time would suffice to enumerate?' . . . A REFERENCE to the +case of '_Rachael Baker, the American Somnambulist_,' in a late London +Magazine, has recalled that remarkable phenomenon very forcibly to our +mind. RACHAEL BAKER resided within four miles of 'the house where we were +born;' and the first exhibitions of her religious exercises during sleep +took place alternately at the homestead and the residence of a relation in +its near vicinity. We remember as it were but yesterday the solemnity +which sat upon the faces of the assembled neighbors, as they awaited the +signal-groan from an adjoining apartment, to which, at about seven P. M., +the Somnambulist usually retired for the night. When the door was opened +the crowd pressed in. The sleeper, dressed in white muslin, lay straight +and motionless in bed; her eyes closed, her face white and inflexible as +marble; and her fingers with livid marks beneath the nails, clasped meekly +upon her bosom. Flecks of foam were visible at the corners of her mouth, +and her lips moved 'as if they would address themselves to speech,' for +some seconds before any audible sound came from them. At length, however, +in a clear silvery voice she opened with prayer; a prayer fervent, +devotional, and evidently direct from the heart. When this was concluded, +and after the lapse of a brief space, she began an exhortation, in +language pure, beautiful, often eloquent, and occasionally rising to a +noble sublimity; and then closed with prayer. If interrupted with a +question, as she frequently was, by clergymen, medical gentlemen, and +others, she answered it with readiness, and with a felicity of language +surpassing belief. 'RACHAEL,' said a clergyman to her in our hearing one +evening, while in the midst of her discourse, 'why do you engage in these +exercises? and why----' She interrupted the speaker with words to this +effect: 'I, even I, a worm of the dust, am but a feeble instrument in the +hands of HIM who hath declared, 'I will pour out of my spirit upon you; +and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy; your young men shall see +visions, and your old men shall dream dreams. And on my servants and on my +handmaidens I will pour out in those days of my spirit, and they shall +prophesy.' Even _so_ FATHER, for so it seemeth good in thy sight!' The +girl was of bashful demeanor; altogether uneducated; could scarcely read; +knew little of the Bible; and indeed in her waking hours conversed in a +language that was far from being respectable English; but neither in her +prayers nor in her exhortations was she ever at fault; nor did she at any +time exhibit the slightest hesitation or confusion. Her answers to +questions were brief, pointed, and invariably correct. Crowds flocked to +see her, until the public curiosity overran all bounds. She was visited by +many persons from New-York; and finally, under the direction of a +committee of medical gentlemen from the city, was brought to the +metropolis, where she created a great sensation. A pamphlet was written +upon her case by Dr. MITCHELL; and we should feel greatly obliged to any +reader who would place it for a short time in our hands. . . . A VALUED +friend and correspondent, to whose kindness we have frequently been +indebted, has sent us a '_Massachusetts Centinel_,' printed in Boston +sixty years ago; in which, among many other curious and amusing matters, +there is a copy of an original letter written by the celebrated GEORGE +ALEXANDER STEVENS, author of 'Lecture on Heads,' etc., dated at 'Yarmouth +Jail, County of Norfolk,' which runs thus: + + 'SIR: When I parted from you at Doncaster, I imagined, long + before this, to have met with some oddities worth acquainting + you with. It is grown a fashion of late to write lives; I have + now, and for a long time have had, leisure enough to undertake + mine, but want materials for the latter part of it; for my + existence now cannot properly be called living, but what the + painters term _still life_; having ever since February 13, been + confined in this town-goal for a London debt. + + 'As a hunted deer is always shunned by the happier herd, so am I + deserted by the company,[7] my share taken off, and no support + left me, save what my wife can spare me out of hers: + + 'Deserted in my utmost need + By those my former bounty fed.' + + [7] The Norwich company of players, to which he belonged. + + 'With an economy, which until now I was a stranger to, I have + made shift to victual hitherto my little garrison, but then it + has been with the aid of my good friends and allies--my clothes. + This week's eating finishes my last waistcoat; and next, I must + atone for my errors upon bread and water. + + 'THEMISTOCLES had so many towns to furnish his table, and a + whole city bore the charge of his meals. In some respects I am + like him, for I am furnished by the labors of a multitude. A wig + has fed me two days; the trimming of a waistcoat as long; a pair + of velvet breeches paid my washerwoman, and a ruffled shirt has + found me in shaving. My coats I swallowed by degrees. The + sleeves I breakfasted upon for weeks; the body, skirts, etc., + served me for dinner two months. My silk stocking have paid my + lodgings, and two pair of new pumps enabled me to smoke several + pipes. It is incredible how my appetite, (barometer like) rises + in proportion as my necessities make their terrible advances. I + here could say something droll about a good stomach, but it is + ill jesting with edge tools, and I am sure that is the sharpest + thing about me. You may think I can have no sense of my + condition, that while I am thus wretched, I should offer at + ridicule: but, Sir, people constituted like me, with a + disproportioned levity of spirits, are always most merry when + they are most miserable; and quicken like the eyes of the + consumptive, which are always brightest the nearer the patient + approaches his dissolution. However, Sir, to show you I am not + lost to all reflection, I think myself poor enough to want a + favor, and humble enough to ask it here. Sir, I might make an + encomium on your good nature, humanity, etc.; but I shall not + pay so bad a compliment to your understanding, as to endeavor, + by a parade of phrases, to win it over to my interest. If you + could, any night at a concert, make a small collection for me, + it might be a means of my obtaining my liberty; and you well + know, Sir, the first people of rank abroad will perform the most + friendly offices for the sick; be not, therefore, offended at + the request of a poor (though a deservedly punished) debtor. + + 'GEO. A. STEVENS.' + +AMONG the facetiae of the 'Centinel' we find a clever hit at two prominent +official characters of the name of DAY: 'TITUS, a Roman emperor, we are +told, once lamented that '_he had lost a Day_.' If the commonwealth of +Massachusetts were to _lose two Days_, it would not be the cause of much +lamentation!' A correspondent elsewhere observes, that in a procession on +a certain solemn occasion in this city, the place of the physician was +immediately before the corpse; which, he adds, was 'exactly consonant with +the etiquette observed at capital executions in ancient times; the +_executioner_ always going before!' By the way, 'speaking of STEVENS;' +perhaps the reader of good things at second-hand may not be aware how much +he is indebted to this author's '_Lectures on Heads_' for amusement and +instruction. They were very popular throughout Great Britain; and as +illustrated by the author, after the manner of 'OLD MATTHEWS,' they are +said to have been irresistible. It was in this collection that the +law-cases of 'BULLUM _vs._ BOATUM' and 'DANIEL _vs._ DISHCLOUT' had their +origin. They are familiar to every school-boy, not less for their wit than +the canine Latinity in which they abound; '_Primus strokus est provokus_; +now who gave the _primus strokus_? Who gave the first offence?' Or, 'a +drunken man is '_homo duplicans_,' or a double man, seeing things double,' +etc., etc. We annex an example or two of the writer's _individuality_. The +first is a sketch of a _nil admirari_ critic and amateur, who has +travelled long enough abroad to fall in love with every thing foreign, and +despise every thing belonging to his own country except himself: 'He +pretended to be a great judge of paintings, but only admired those done a +great way off, and a great while ago; he could not bear any thing painted +by any of his own countrymen. One day being in an auction-room where there +was a number of capital pictures, and among the rest an inimitable +painting of fruits and flowers, the connoisseur would not give his opinion +of the picture until he had examined his catalogue; when, finding it was +done by one of his own countrymen, he pulled out his eye-glass, +exclaiming: 'This fellow has spoiled a fine piece of canvass; he's worse +than a sign-post dauber; there's no keeping, no perspective, no +fore-ground, no _chiar'oscuro_. Look you, he has attempted to paint _a +fly_ upon that rose-bud! Why, it is no more like a fly than I am like an +----' But as the connoisseur approached his finger to the picture, the fly +flew away. It happened to be the _real_ insect!' Is not the following a +forcible picture of a mercurial, hero-loving Frenchman? 'Has he property? +An edict from the _Grand Monarque_ can take it, and he is satisfied. +Pursue him to the Bastile, or the dismal dungeon in the country to which a +lettre-de-cachet conveys him, and buries him for life: there see him in +all his misery; ask him 'What is the cause?' '_Je ne sai pas_; it is the +will of the _Grand Monarque_.' Give him a _soup-maigre_, a little sallad, +and a hind-quarter of a frog, and he's in spirits. 'Fal, lal, lal! _Vive +le Roi? Vive la bagatelle!'_' Here we have a Materialist proving the +affinity of matter: 'All round things are globular, all square things +flat-sided. Now, if the bottom is equal to the top, and the top equal to +the bottom, and the bottom and top are equal to the four sides, then all +matter is as broad as it is long.' But the materialist 'had not in his +head matter sufficient to prove matter efficient; and being thus +deficient, he knew nothing of the matter.' One of STEVENS'S 'heads' was +that of a heartless, devil-may-care sort of person, in some respects like +the hero of '_A Capital Joke_' in preceding pages, who is always 'keeping +it up.' He illustrates his own character very forcibly: 'I'll tell you how +it was; you see, I was in high spirits, so I stole a dog from a blind man, +for I do _so_ love fun! So then the blind man cried for his dog, and that +made me laugh; so says I to the blind man. 'Halloo, master! do you want +your dog?' 'Yes, Sir, indeed, _indeed_ I do,' says he. Then says I to the +blind man, says I, 'Go look for him! Keep it up!' I always turn sick when +I think of a parson; and my brother, he's a parson too, and he hates to +hear any body swear; so I always swear when I am along with him, just to +roast him. I went to dine with him one day last week; and as soon as I +arrived, I began to swear. I never swore so well in all my life; I swore +all my new oaths. At last my brother laid down his knife and fork, and +lifting up his hands and eyes, he calls out: '_O Tempora! O Mores_.' 'Oh, +ho! brother,' says I, 'don't think to frighten me by calling all your +family about you. I don't mind you nor your family neither. Only bring +Tempora and Moses _here_--that's all! I'll box 'em for five pounds. Keep +it up!' . . . THERE is many a bereaved heart that will be touched by the +following sad, sad lines, from the pen of JOHN RUDOLPH SUTERMEISTER, a +young and gifted poet, whose mortal part has 'been ashes these many a +year,' and whom the reader may remember as the author of a little poem +widely quoted and admired many years ago, commencing: + + 'O! for my bright and faded hours! + When life was like a summer stream, + On whose gay banks the virgin flowers + Blushed in the morning's rosy beam, + Or danced upon the breeze that bare + Its store of rich perfume along, + While the wood-robin poured on air + The ravishing delights of song!' + +To us, who are familiar with the painful circumstances under which they +were written, and the deep affliction which they deplore, they seem almost +to sob with irrepressible grief: + + A LAMENT. + + I. + + GIVE not to me the wreath of green, + The blooming vase of flowers; + They breathe of joy which once hath been, + Of gone and faded hours! + I cannot love the rose; though rich, + Its beauty will not last: + Give me--give _me_ the bloom o'er which + The early blight hath passed! + The yellow buds--give _them_ to rest + On my cold brow and joyless breast, + When life is failing fast! + + II. + + Take far from me the wine-cup bright, + In hours of revelry; + It suits glad brows, and bosoms light, + It is not meet for me: + Oh! I can pledge the heart no more + I pledged in days gone by; + Sorrow hath touched my bosom's core, + And I am left--to die! + Give me to drink of Lethe's wave, + Give me the cold and cheerless grave, + O'er which the night-winds sigh! + + III. + + Wake not upon my tuneless ear + Soft music's stealing strain; + It cannot soothe, it cannot cheer + This anguished heart again! + But place the AEolian harp upon + The tomb of her I love; + There, when Heaven shrouds the dying sun, + My weary steps will rove, + While o'er its chords Night pours its breath, + To list the serenade of death + Her silent bourne above! + + IV. + + Give me to seek the lonely tomb + Where sleeps the sainted dead, + When the pale night-fall throws its gloom + Above her narrow bed! + There, while the winds which sweep along, + O'er the harp-strings are driven, + And the funereal soul of song + Upon the air is given, + Oh! let my faint and parting breath + Be mingled with that song of death, + And flee with it to heaven! + + * * * * * + +'WHO hath redness of eyes?' This interrogative 'portion of divine +scripture' is forcibly illustrated by an anecdote, related with most +effective dryness by a friend of ours. An elderly gentleman, accustomed to +'indulge,' entered the bar-room of an inn in the pleasant city of H----, +on the Hudson, where sat a grave Friend toasting his toes by the fire. +Lifting a pair of green spectacles upon his forehead, rubbing his inflamed +eyes, and calling for a hot brandy-toddy, he seated himself by the grate; +and as he did so, he remarked to Uncle BROADBRIM that 'his eyes were +getting weaker and weaker, and that even spectacles didn't seem to do 'em +any good.' 'I'll tell thee friend,' rejoined the Quaker, 'what I think. I +think if thee was to _wear thy spectacles over thy mouth_ for a few +months, thy eyes would get sound again!' The 'complainant' did not even +return thanks for this medical counsel, but sipped his toddy in silence, +and soon after left the room, 'uttering never a word.' . . . THERE have +been various surmises, and sundry contradictory statements, in relation to +the work superscribed '_Count D'Orsay on Etiquette_,' which we noticed at +some length in our December issue. Mr. WILLIS, of the 'New Mirror' weekly +journal, seems to question its having been _written_ by the COUNT, but +expresses his belief that he may have loaned his name to the publishers +'for a consideration;' and this may possibly have been the fact with the +latest London edition. The author of the work in question, however, is Mr. +CHARLES WILLIAM DAY, an English gentleman, whose acquaintance with the +usages of the best European society is personal and authentic; who has +observed and travelled much; and who is moreover an artist of a high +order; painting in miniature, and sketching with admirable skill. An +esteemed friend and correspondent of this Magazine writes us from Boston, +that the manner of the fraud is somewhat as follows: 'Mr. DAY is the +author of a Journal of Travels, which Messrs. LONGMAN AND COMPANY of +London proposed to publish. As they treated him, however, in a +dishonorable manner, he withdrew his MSS. from them and came to America. +In retaliation, they sent orders to this country to have a spurious +edition published of his work on 'Etiquette,' which they had formerly +brought out, and which they truly supposed he designed to reprint in +New-York or Boston. It has passed through more than twenty editions in +London; a fact which I know, from having seen the Messrs. LONGMANS' +letters and accounts with the author. His own edition is now in press in +Boston; and I learn that he has added some 'Hints' with an especial eye to +Yankee manners.' We have also received a letter from Mr. DAY himself, in +which, while he 'forbears at present to make any comments on the conduct +of the Messrs. LONGMAN,' he proves beyond a doubt that 'the Count D'ORSAY +is _not_ the writer of the 'Hints on Etiquette,' but that he himself is +'the real, true author,' past all peradventure. . . . A FRIEND lately +returned from the west, relates among other matters the following +anecdote: 'On board of one of the steam-boats on the Mississippi, I +encountered a deck-hand, who went by the name of BARNEY. Like many of his +class, he was a drinking, reckless fellow, but warm-hearted, good-natured, +and generous to a fault. In early life he was in easy circumstances; was a +husband, and the father of several children. But one night during a +violent storm the house in which he resided was struck by lightning, and +the whole family, save himself, were instantly killed. His own escape was +considered a miracle at the time, not even a hair of his head having been +singed. From that time, however, he took to drinking, and so sank lower +and lower until he became what I found him. When I had heard his story, I +felt somewhat interested in the man, and one day managed to draw him into +conversation. He told me his early history with much natural pathos; and +finding him in the 'melting mood' I endeavored to lead him to some serious +thoughts upon the subject of his misfortunes, and especially of that one +which had bereft him in so awful a manner of his wife and children. +'BARNEY,' said I, 'don't you think it was a signal mercy that you alone +should have escaped unharmed from the bolt which destroyed all else you +loved upon earth? Was there not at least something _singular_ in the +fact?' 'That's what I said myself,' replied BARNEY, in a tremulous voice; +'I always thought it was _very_ sing'lar. But the fact I suppose was this, +Mr. WHITEHAT. The lightning, you see, was afraid of _a man_, and so like a +d----d sneak, it went twisting about to scorch women and little children!' +. . . BLACKWOOD has proclaimed in a late number, the '_Characteristics of +English Society_,' in language of truth and soberness, which goes +explicitly to confirm the reports of nearly all American and other +'foreigners' who have visited England. We subjoin an extract contrasting +English with French society: + + 'WE should indeed be sorry if our demeanor in those vast crowds, + where English people flock together, rather, as it would seem, + to assert a right, than to gratify an inclination, were to be + taken as an index of our national character: the want of all + ease and simplicity, those essential ingredients of agreeable + society, which distinguish these dreary meetings have long been + unfortunately notorious. Too busy to watch the feelings of + others, and too earnest to moderate our own, that true + politeness which pays respect to age; which tries to put the + most insignificant person in company on a level with the most + considerable--virtues which our neighbors possess in an eminent + degree--are, except in a few favored instances, unknown among + us; while affectation, in other countries the badge of ignorance + and vulgarity, is ours, even in its worst shape, when it borrows + the mien of rudeness, impertinence, and effrontery, the + appendage of those whose station is most conspicuous, and whose + dignity is best ascertained. There is more good breeding in the + cottage of a French peasant than in all the boudoirs of + Grosvenor square. . . . 'Frivolity and insipidity are the + prevailing characteristics of conversation; and nowhere in + Europe, perhaps, does difference of fortune or of station + produce more unsocial or illiberal separation. Very few of those + whom fortune has released from the necessity of following some + laborious profession are capable of passing their time agreeably + without the assistance of company; not from the spirit of gaity + which calls upon society for indulgence; not from any pleasure + they take in conversation, where they are frequently languid and + taciturn; but to rival each other in the luxury of the table, or + by a great variety of indescribable airs, to make others feel + the pain of mortification. They meet as if to fight the + boundaries of their rank and fashion, and the less definite and + perceptible is the line which divides them, the more punctilious + is their pride. It is a great mistake to suppose that this + low-minded folly is peculiar to people of rank; it is _an + English disease_.' + +No doubt of it; and the question naturally arises, 'Are not these the +proper people to talk about men and manners and society in America?' . . . +'NEVER mind, my dear,' says Baron POMPOLINO, while endeavoring to fit the +fairy slipper of the lovely CINDERELLA upon the long splay foot of one of +his ungainly daughters, 'never mind, my dear, _she is not at all like +you_!' The doting father, it will be remembered, gives this verdict as a +flattering compliment. We have sometimes been amused, where the _quo +animo_ was apparent, with similar compliments at the hands of reciprocal +critics of literature. Pleasant examples in this kind have been furnished +lately. A very voluminous critic, very far 'down east,' spoke recently in +a metropolitan journal of GOLDSMITH's '_Deserted Village_' as 'a very +common-place poem, at the best, and only saved from utter and most +contemptuous forgetfulness by two or three pleasantries about 'broken +tea-cups,' etc., and by one single passage that smacks of sublimity!' Of +the poetry however of the author of '_Man in his Various Aspects under the +American Republic_,' he expresses in the same columns quite a different +opinion. 'There has been,' he writes, 'no English poetry better than his, +within the memory of man!' A writer in the last number of the '_Southern +Literary Messenger_,' likewise voluminous in prose and verse, if we +rightly surmise, exhibits contrasts of judgment somewhat kindred with the +foregoing, although certainly less violent. The author of 'Man in his +various Aspects,' he tells us, 'has a _boldness_ that attracts;' his are +the 'strong and struggling conceptions which seek utterance in new and +original forms.' He dares 'to shun the beaten paths,' and is not afraid to +be obscure. His is not the poetry 'which takes the popular ear without +tasking the popular thought,' like 'the simple common-places of +LONGFELLOW.' Such 'criticism' as this we have cited must needs 'make the +judicious' laugh merely, being too impotent to make them 'grieve.' It is +not perhaps assuming too much to suppose, that GOLDSMITH's 'Deserted +Village' and LONGFELLOW's 'Psalms of Life,' _simple_ though they be, will +live and be cherished in generations of human hearts, when the volumes of +our critics and their client that yet survive the recollection of any save +their publishers, shall be 'forgotten and clean out of mind.' . . . IT is +related of the celebrated clergyman, JOHN MASON, that sitting at a +steam-boat table on one occasion, just as the passengers were 'falling to' +in the customary manner, he suddenly rapped vehemently upon the board with +the end of his knife, and exclaimed: 'Captain! is this boat out of the +jurisdiction of GOD ALMIGHTY? If not, let us at least thank HIM for his +continued goodness;' and he proceeded to pronounce 'grace' amidst the most +reverent stillness. It is to be hoped, however, that his 'grace' was not +like the few set words handed down from father to son, mumbled without +emotion, and despatched with indecent haste, which one sometimes hears +repeated over country repasts. 'Bless this portion of food now in +readiness for us; give it to us in thy love; let us eat and drink in thy +fear--for CHRIST's sake----LORENZO, _take your fingers out of that +plate!_' was a grace once said in _our_ hearing, but evidently not in that +of the spoilt boy, 'growing and always hungry,' who could not wait to be +served. We should prefer to such insensible flippancy the practice of an +old divine in New-England, who in asking a blessing upon his meals, was +wont to name each separate dish. Sitting down one day to a dinner, which +consisted partly of clams, bear-steak, etc., he was forced in a measure to +forego his usual custom of furnishing a 'bill of particulars.' 'Bless to +our use,' said he, 'these treasures hid in the sand; bless this----' But +the bear's-meat puzzled him, and he concluded with: 'Oh! LORD, _thou only +knowest what it is_!' . . . A FAVORITE correspondent of this Magazine, who +appears in the pages of the present number for the first time in several +months, accompanies his excellent paper with a letter, from which we take +these sentences: 'Since you last heard from me, I have experienced a +severe domestic affliction in the loss of my father, who died during the +last summer. Day after day and night after night for two months I sat by +his bed-side, hoping in vain for his recovery, until life's star was +extinguished in the darkness of the grave.' Our cordial sympathies are +with our correspondent; but sympathy for affliction such as his can carry +with it little of consolation to the bereaved: + + ----'A FRIEND is gone! + A FATHER, whose authority, in show + When most severe, and must'ring all its force, + Was but the graver countenance of love; + Whose favor, like the clouds of spring, might lower, + And utter now and then an awful voice, + But had a blessing in his darkest frown, + Threat'ning at once, and nourishing the plant.' + +Perchance our friend may now think with COWPER, that 'although he loved, +yet not _enough_, the gentle hand that reared him.' 'The chief thing that +I have to reproach myself with,' writes one who laments a kindred +dispensation of the SUPREME, 'is a sort of inattention to my father's +feelings, occasionally, arising merely from the disparity of years between +us, which I am sensible must at times have interfered with his enjoyments. +I would gladly recall now, if I could, many opportunities I suffered to +pass, of being more in his company, and more in the way of his advice and +instruction.' But he adds: 'When I reflect on these things, it appears to +me one of the strongest natural arguments for the immortality of the soul, +and the renewal of our earthly relations in a world to come, that even +where the greatest possible attachment subsists between parents and their +children, the mere disparity of years inevitably prevents that complete +association of feelings, and intimate fellowship of heart and soul, which +is the cement and prerogative of all other friendships: in a world to +come, but no where else, such attachments must receive their full +completion.' . . . PROFESSOR GOURAUD, well known among us for his devotion +to the interests of art and science, has perfected a _System of +Remembrance_, which he designates by the term '_Mnemotechny_,' and which +we venture to predict will prove of the greatest service to nearly every +class of society. No system of modern mnemonics bears any resemblance to, +or comparison with it. Such is the astonishing effect of the plan, that +young masters and misses, after a brief study of it, can with ease answer +_any_ question from score after score of close-printed pages, involving +every variety of events, and all kinds of information. We 'speak but the +things which we do _know_,' in this matter, for seeing is believing. As +the scene of Prof. GOURAUD'S operations is for the present the city, and +as the daily journals have made his merits widely known to the community, +we forbear farther comment at this time upon the useful art which he has +brought to such wonderful perfection. New classes organize, we understand, +at the Professor's residence, No. 46, Second-street, on the fourth +instant. They will be filled at once, and speedily followed by others. . . +. THERE is an article in the last number of the Edinburgh Review upon +'_Theatres and the Drama_,' which is replete with wisdom, and evinces a +thorough mastery of the theme. In alluding to the appeals which are now +made to the eye by elaborate scenery, machinery, etc., less than to the +mind and imagination by superior intellectual personation, the reviewer in +effect remarks, that the first attempt at positive reality is fatal to +pleasurable illusion. Every person in the pit is aware that the stage _is +a stage_, 'and all the men and women merely players.' In 'As you Like It,' +at Drury-Lane, an attempt was made to imitate the notes of birds. 'Suppose +the imitation had been so close as to deceive the audience into the belief +that there were birds there singing; would not the contrast with trees of +painted canvass have been revolting? These were not the conceptions of +SHAKSPEARE, when he made his chorus say: + + 'CAN this cockpit hold + The vasty fields of France? or may we cram + Within this wooden O the very casques + That did affright the air at Agincourt? + O pardon! since a crooked figure may + Attest, in little place, a million; + And let us, ciphers to this great accompt, + On your imaginary forces work: + Suppose within the girdle of these walls + Are now confined two mighty monarchies: + Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts; + Into a thousand parts divide one man, + And make imaginary puisance. + Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them + Printing their proud hoofs in the receiving earth; + For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings-- + Carry them here and there.' + +Advice as necessary at the present day as then; for we may enlarge our +stages, increase our supernumeraries, and engage 'real horses;' but we can +never make any one believe the stage is other than the stage. The audience +can realize for themselves. This trust in the all-sufficiency of +imagination is precisely that acted on by children in their daily sports, +where from the boundless wealth of the imagination, the rudest materials +supply the place of the costliest. Whoever watches boys 'playing horse,' +making a pocket-handkerchief dangling behind to represent the tail, and +sees them stamping, snorting, prancing, and champing the imaginary bit, +witnesses the alchymy of the imagination, an alchymy out-stripping all the +wonders and out-weighing all the treasures of the prosaic positive +chemistry, so longed for by the present generation. The child 'supposes' +the handkerchief a tail, and it becomes a tail. He has but to say to his +companion: 'This shall be a whip and this shall be the harness,' and the +things are there; not as matters of literal fact, but of imaginative +truth. He plays for the enjoyment of the game and the exercise of his +imagination; and therefore the handkerchief serves every purpose. This is +the procedure of nature. But the modern parent, anxious to realize for the +child, and to instil a love of accuracy into his mind, gives him a superb +horse-hair tail, bidding him at the same time be careful not to spoil it. +What is the result? The child's attention is called from the game, to the +consideration of or delight in the tail, which, originally meant as a +collateral aid, now takes the first place. The boy no doubt is delighted +with his horse-hair tail; but (if it be not altogether superfluous,) it +will soon destroy his game, so that the exercise, both of frame and +imagination, is lost; the end becomes subordinate to the means. This is +precisely what takes place with the drama. Observe also one important +point: The tail is _real_; accuracy is attempted: but though the tail be +real, the horse is not; the horse is played by a boy, and only by a boy; +it is in this mimicry that the enjoyment consists. But how absurd to put a +real tail on an unreal horse! How revolting this mixture of imagination +and fact! It is equalled only by that ludicrous practice of placing the +face of a _real_ watch in the place of a church-clock in a landscape; +where one may not only see the time of day, but may also hear it _struck_, +and that amidst painted trees and houses! This effect, except to the most +literal and prosaic minds, is revolting and discordant. But this the +modern drama is strenuously endeavoring to produce. 'In opera, ballet, and +spectacle, scenery and illustrations must be effective, because they form +elements of the piece. In the drama, where the source of entertainment is +intellectual, they are merely accessories, and should be used in such wise +as to keep up the harmony of effect, but never so as to distract attention +from the drama to themselves.' Here is a passage which is not less +applicable in America than in England: 'A few years ago it was not +uncommon to see several performers of rival excellence supported by others +of ability, all playing in the same piece. It is now a rare thing for +rivals to play together. A single good actor, among a dozen bad, is deemed +sufficient. Are we then to wonder that the regular drama does not pay?' . +. . OUR readers will remember the order given by the Chinese Emperor to a +corps of Mandarins, who were to exterminate the 'barbarian Englishers' in +the harbor of Canton, by going down to the bank of the river in the night, +and then and there 'dive straight on board those foreign ships, and put +every soul of them to death!' Subsequently however the red-bristling +foreigners managed to land, when, as it since turns out, it became +necessary to adopt more sanguinary measures. The Emperor called up one of +his 'great generals,' and gave him his dreadful orders: 'You must dress +your soldiers,' said he, 'in a very frightful manner, painting their faces +with the most horrid figures, and depicting dragons and monsters on your +banners: you must then rush upon the barbarians with fearful outcries, and +terrify them so that they will fall down flat on their faces; and when +they are once down,' said the Imperial potentate, '_their breeches are so +tight that they can never get up again_!' . . . 'I give you five minutes +every day to look at the stars, but don't particularize; for some in those +far-off places send down their light long after they have been knocked out +of existence, and you may be looking at a blank.' So wrote 'JULIAN' in +this department of our last number. Prof. OLMSTEAD, of Yale-College, in a +recent lecture before the 'Mercantile Library Association,' described the +difficulty of ascertaining the distance of the stars from each other and +from our earth; yet, he remarked, it had been done. The nearest star's +distance from us had been measured, and by the aid of light, by which it +could alone be accomplished. That distance, he said, was immense, +requiring ten years for light to traverse it! The planets, he had no +doubt, were inhabited. Of what use was the reflection of the sun's rays +upon them, if there were no eyes there to behold it? What was the use of +moons, which the planets certainly have? He spoke also of the fixed stars, +which seem by the aid of a telescope to be innumerable. What was their +purpose?--for a guide to mariners? No; for a very small portion of them +could be seen by the unassisted eye. They were suns like our suns, to +worlds like our worlds! To the inhabitants of those fixed stars our sun +appears as a star, and the planetary system revolving around it, of which +the earth is one, are unseen by them, as are those of theirs by us! Great +GOD! 'When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and +the stars, which thou hast ordained; what is _man_, that thou art mindful +of him, and the son of man, that thou visitest him!' . . . OUR +correspondent who writes of '_The Country_,' in preceding pages wields a +facile pen. His allusion to the choice of _names_ for a country-seat +reminds us of the pleasant satire of '_Thinks-I-to-myself_' upon this +theme: 'We lived, you must know,' he writes, 'in a _Hall_; not when I was +born, however, nor till long afterward. My sister happened to have a +correspondent at school near London, who finding it essentially necessary +to the support of her dignity among her school-fellows, always directed +her letters so; for the parents of one she found, lived at something +HOUSE; and of another at What's-its-name PLACE; and of another at +Thingummy _Lodge_; of another at the _Grange_; of another at the _Castle_; +of another at the _Park_; Miss BLAZE, the daughter of a retired +tallow-chandler, whose father lived at Candlewick-Castle, was continually +throwing out hints that not to live at a 'Castle,' or a 'Park,' or a +'Place,' or a 'House,' or a 'Lodge,' unequivocally bespoke a low origin!' +Is this folly altogether indigenous to England? Let the high-sounding +names of scores of painted pine palaces not a thousand miles from this +metropolis make answer. . . . 'IT don't weigh as much as I expected, and I +always _thought_ it wouldn't!' We were reminded of this remark of a person +who desired a certain result, but was at the same time unwilling to +relinquish his pride of opinion, by the note of our Mississippi +correspondent, to whose long communication we alluded in our last number. +We _have_ 'taken its measure,' as we promised, and find it quite beyond +our compass. . . . OUR friend the _Poetical Englishman_ is somewhat severe +upon the godly inhabitants of 'BOTOLPH'S TOWN;' yet we see nothing in his +epistle that is not justified by recent occurrences in the 'Literary +Emporium.' It is lamentable that Boston should be robbed of a decent +theatre by an epidemic of pseudo-sanctity. MACREADY was compelled to play +a recent engagement at a second-rate house, down in the 'Wapping' end of +the town, whither all the beauty and fashion crowded nightly through the +mud to see him. It strikes us that the '_Purification Hymn_,' alluded to +by our correspondent, must have been a choice production of some MAWWORM +of the day. Its reasoning is highly pellucid, and its dignity is past all +question. 'Mimic scenes, and mirth and joy,' it would seem, 'allure souls' +to endless perdition! Now against the licentiousness and drunkenness of +the theatre too much cannot be said; but for 'mimic scenes' dragging men +to ----. But _cui bono_? 'Your dull ass will never mend his pace with +beating.' By the by, we are well pleased to see our English friend's +preference for mind over matter, in the way of _dramatic_ personations. +Yet England has little reason to boast. What says 'the VISCOUNT' to the +Chevalier (d'industrie) PIP? 'What's the good of SHAKSPEARE, PIP? I never +read him. What the devil is it all about? There's a lot of feet in +SHAKSPEARE'S verse, but there ain't any legs worth mentioning in +SHAKSPEARE'S plays, are there, PIP? Juliet, Desdemona, Lady Macbeth, and +all the rest of 'em, whatever their names are, might as well have no legs +at all, for any thing the audience know about it. I'll tell you what it +is; what the people call dramatic poetry is a collection of sermons. Do I +go to the theatre to be lectured? No; if I wanted that, I'd go to church. +What's the legitimate drama, PIP? Human nature. What are legs? Human +nature. Then let us have plenty of leg-pieces, PIP, and I'll stand by you, +my buck!' This is 'the ticket' in London, as well as in 'BOTOLPH his +town.' The 'legs have it' there as well as here. Meanwhile the sometime +gallant Thespian is in a sad plight, from having little to do and little +pay for it. Admirers fall off, one after another, under such +circumstances; and even the gentle sex forget their old enthusiasm: + + 'Oh! once again we met, but no bandit-chief was there; + His rouge was off, and gone that head of once luxuriant hair: + He lodges in a two-pair back, and at the tavern near + He cannot liquidate his 'chalk' nor wipe away his beer. + I saw him sad and seedy, yet methinks I see him now, + In the tableau of the last act, with the blood upon his brow.' + +And thus he goes on, following his 'occupation' in one sense, and +gradually sinking lower and lower; until at length: + + 'ALAS! poor rat! + He has no cravat; + A seedy coat, and a hole in that! + No sole to his shoe, no brim to his hat; + Not a change of linen, except his skin: + No gloves, no vest, + Either second or best; + And what is worse than all the rest, + No light heart, though his breeches are thin! + + * * * * * + +IS not the following illustration of '_The Affections_,' by Rev. GEO. B. +CHEEVER, 'beautiful exceedingly?' 'On a bright day in summer, while the +west wind breathes gently, you stand before a forest of maples, or you are +attracted by a beautiful tree in the open field, that seems a dense clump +of foliage. You cannot but notice how easily the wind moves it, how +quietly, how gracefully, how lovingly, the whole body of it. It is simply +because it is covered with foliage. The same wind rustling through its dry +branches in winter, would scarce bend a bough, or only to break it. But +now, softly whispering through ten thousand leaves, how gently the whole +tree yields to the impression! So it is with the affections, the feelings. +They are the foliage of our being, moved by the spirit of GOD.' . . . THE +annual _Festival of Saint Nicholas_, beloved of all good KNICKERBOCKERS, +was celebrated on the sixth ultimo at the City Hotel, by a crowded +assemblage of the members of the Society, and their invited guests. The +new President was invested with the orange-badge and venerable cocked-hat +of his 'illustrious predecessor,' and new subordinate officers were +installed into their several stations; after which ceremony a sumptuous +repast, served in the well-known style of Messrs. JENNINGS AND WILLARD, +was discussed with universal _gout_. For the toasts regular and volunteer, +and speeches voluntary and involuntary, we must refer the reader to the +daily journals 'of that period;' while we simply add, that from soup to +Paaes eggs, _schnaaps_, and pipes, every thing passed off with unwonted +hilarity and spirit. May we live to see fifty kindred gatherings of the +votaries of our patron saint! . . . 'YOU don't like smokin', 'taint +likely?' asked a lank free-and-easy Yankee, as he entered a room where +four or five young ladies were sewing, puffing a dank 'long-nine.' 'Well, +_we do not_,' was the immediate reply. 'Umph!' replied the smoker, +removing his cigar long enough to spit, '_a good many people don't!_'--and +he kept on smoking. We know of _one_ reader of the KNICKERBOCKER, a +thousand miles from the hand that jots down this anecdote, who will enjoy +it hugely; and indeed it is mainly for him that we record it. . . . THIS +is _Thanksgiving Evening_ in the Empire State; and as there is a +fair-haired, hazle-eyed little boy pulling at our 'sword-arm,' (too +fatigued with writing to offer any resistance) suppose we read to you, +while he sits 'throned on his father's knee,' this timely and admirable +passage from the pen of CHARLES HOOVER, Esq., of New-Jersey, a fine +scholar, and a writer of as pure Saxon English as the best among us: + + 'THERE is much in the aspect of Divine Providence at the present + time, both toward our own country and the world, to awaken + gratitude and thoughtful joy. An unexampled spectacle is + presented in the current history of the world. It is moving on + almost without a ripple. The changes of time are taking place as + noiselessly as the ordinary changes of nature. The decay of old + and injurious social and political systems is going on like the + crumbling of ruins in a desert, by the force of inherent + tendency rather than by external violence; and milder and more + benignant systems are appearing, not like those islands sprung + by volcanic shocks above the bosom of the deep, but like the + beauty of spring, or the glory of summer, by a natural and + imperceptible growth. Within the memory of many yet living there + was a very different state of things. Scarcely a month then + passed without a shock, a press and medley in human affairs that + amazed and bewildered men, and kept anxiety on the stretch. Such + was the history of Europe. Every change was a concussion; every + fear a storm; every revolution a convulsion. Not less in motion + is society now, but it is like the motion of the spheres, grand + and silent; and that silence is the emblem and the evidence of + greatness and power in the present movement of Providence in + human affairs. The once apparently random and divergent lines of + that Providence now seem to be flowing to a common point, and + terminating in one great result--the improvement and happiness + of our race. Abating much of what has been extravagantly vaunted + about the march of mind and the perfectibility of human society, + it is still visibly true that the general condition of the world + is improved and improving. Vast accessions have been made to + science; knowledge has been diffused over a wider surface, than + was ever before known; ignorance is felt to be a calamity if not + a crime; truths that were formerly contemplated only in the + closet of the sage, have become familiarized in the cottage and + the common mind; the rights of men are better defined and + understood; the power of rulers is swayed within juster limits, + and is every where abandoning its old apparatus of racks and + halters and dungeons as the means of governing immortal mind, + and is silently conceding to it its alienable prerogative of + free thought.' + + * * * * * + +WE have little to chronicle of _The Drama_ proper this month. _Music_, +vocal and instrumental, has kept this branch of the fine arts somewhat in +the back-ground. We have had the pleasure to see Mr. MACREADY once only at +the Park, on which occasion he personated the character of MELANTIUS in +'_The Bridal_' with transcendent power. We have seen this fine actor in no +part, if we except perhaps that of Werner, in which his genius shone so +conspicuous. He was admirably supported by the scarcely subordinate +characters represented by WHEATLY, RIDER, Miss CUSHMAN, and Mrs. H. HUNT. +Mr. WHEATLY has evidently much of 'the heavy business' at the Park upon +his broad shoulders, for he appears in two or three pieces almost every +night. On the occasion alluded to, no sooner had the curtain risen after +'The Bridal,' than we found him making Stentorian love ('in a horn') to +the 'Dumb Belle' of the evening, in which he excited shouts of uproarious +laughter. At the BOWERY THEATRE, as well as at the CHATHAM, '_The +Mysteries of Paris_' has run a most successful career. The OLYMPIC has +been crowded nightly by the mingled attractions of opera and travestie; +while the BOWERY AMPHITHEATRE and ROCKWELL'S Circus at NIBLO'S, have +shared abundantly in the favor bestowed now-a-days upon popular +entertainments. . . . 'DRESS always and _act_ to please your partner for +life, as you were fain to do before the nuptial-knot was tied.' This is an +old maxim, and here is 'a commentator upon it.' A newly-married lady is +suddenly surprised by a visit from a newly-married man, when she +straightway begins to apologize: 'She is horribly chagrined, and out of +countenance, to be caught in such a dishabille; she did not mind how her +clothes were huddled on, not expecting any company, there being nobody at +home but her husband!' The husband meanwhile shakes the visitor's hand, +and says: 'I am heartily glad to see you, JACK: I don't know how it was, I +was almost asleep; for as there was nobody at home but my wife, I did not +know what to do with myself!' . . . THE beautiful lines by Mrs. M. T. W. +CHANDLER, elsewhere in the present number, illustrate, or are illustrated +by the following passage from WARREN HASTING'S eloquent reflections upon +the changes to which the SOUL is destined hereafter: 'When the hour is at +hand which is to dissolve the mortal tie, the soul parts without regret +with those delights which it received from its sensual gratifications, and +dwells only, dwells with a fond affection, on the partner or pledges of +its love; or on friends from whom it seems to be cut off for ever; and if +it looks, as it must look, to futurity, these are the first objects of its +wishes connected with it, and the first ingredients in its conceptions of +celestial felicity. For my own part (and on a subject like this, where can +we so properly appeal as to ourselves?) although my reason dictates to me +the hope of a future happiness, whatever may be the mode of it, yet my +heart feels no interest in the prospect when viewed as a scene of +solitary, selfish enjoyment. It recoils with horror at the thought of +losing the remembrance of every past connexion, and even of those whom it +loved most dearly, and of being forgotten by them utterly and for ever. Is +this too, it asks, one of the delusions of life? No; for all its other +passions expire before it; but this remains, like hope, 'nor leaves us +when we die.'' . . . THE '_Anglo-American_' literary journal has just +issued to its subscribers one of the finest counterfeit presentments of +WASHINGTON that we have ever seen. It is a print almost the size of a +full-length cabinet portrait in oil, engraved in a masterly manner by +HALPIN after GILBERT STUART'S celebrated picture. If this superior +engraving is a sample of what the patrons of the 'Anglo-American' are +hereafter to expect from its publishers, it is easy to foresee that that +spirited journal has entered upon a long career of popularity. . . . 'T.'S +'_Stanzas_' await his order at the publication-office. They are far from +lacking merit, but are in parts artificial and labored. Lines eked out +with accented letters, in which + + ----'all the syllables that end in ed, + Like old dragoons, have cuts across the head,' + +always seem to us to come rather from the head than the heart. We shall +expect, nevertheless, to hear from our friend again, according to promise. +. . . WE 'stop the press' to announce that Mr. PUNCH has just dropped in +from England, bringing the latest intelligence from 'the other side.' He +has lately visited several places on the continent, not so much to see +them as to be enabled to say, like other English travellers, that he _had +been there_. 'Mr. PUNCH, having arrived at Rouen late at night, left it +very early the next morning, much impressed with the institutions of the +city, both civil and architectural, as well as its manners, customs, and +social life, which he is about to embody in a work called '_Six hours and +a half at Rouen_,' to be brought out by a fashionable publisher.' From the +reports of one of the learned societies, we derive the following important +scientific information: 'Mr. SAPPY read a paper, proving the impossibility +of being able to see into the middle of next week, from known facts with +regard to the equation of time. He stated that, supposing it possible for +a person to ascend in a balloon sufficiently high for his vision to +embrace a distance of seven hundred miles from east to west, he would then +only see forty minutes ahead of him; that is, he would see places where +the day was forty minutes in advance of the day in which he lived. Thus he +might be said to see forty minutes into futurity. It has also been proved +that, in sailing round the world in one direction, a day's reckoning is +gained; so that the sailor on his return finds himself to be 'a man in +advance of his age' by one day. This one day, however, is the farthest +attainable limit; and it is therefore impossible to see into the middle of +next Week!' 'Mr. TITE, proprietor of the 'Metropolitan Bakedtatery' +brought forward his new 'Low Pressure Potatoe-Can,' upon an improved +principle. It was constructed of tin, and warranted to sustain a pressure +of twenty potatoes upon the square bottom. Mr. TITE explained that the +steam had nothing to do with the warmth of the fruit, but was quite +independent of it.' 'Mr. FLIT brought forward his new and improved Street +Telescope for looking at the moon. It was most ingeniously constructed, +being to the eye a fine instrument of six feet long. Mr. FLIT explained, +however, that the telescope itself was only an eighteen-inch one, the case +being manufactured to increase its importance, in which the real glass was +enclosed. The chief merit of this invention was, that the moon could be +seen equally well on cloudy nights, or when there was none at all, the +case enclosing an ingenious transparency of that body, behind which a +small lamp was hung. Mr. FLIT could always command a view of any of the +celestial bodies by the same means.' Here are a few items of law from +'_The Comic Blackstone_:' 'The statute of EDWARD the Fourth, prohibiting +any but lords from wearing pikes on their shoes of more than two inches +long, was considered to savor of oppression; but those who were in the +habit of receiving from a lord more kicks than coppers, would consider +that the law savored of benevolence.' 'Unlawfully detaining a man in any +way is imprisonment; so that if you take your neighbor by the button, and +cause him to listen to a long story, you are guilty of imprisonment.' +PUNCH'S idea of '_Woman's Mission_' differs somewhat from other reformers +of the times: 'To replace the shirt-button of the father, the brother, the +husband, which has come off in putting on the vestment; to bid the +variegated texture of the morning slipper or the waistcoat grow upon the +Berlin wool; to repair the breach that incautious haste in dressing has +created in the coat or the trowsers, which there is no time to send out to +be mended; are the special offices of woman; offices for which her digital +mechanism has singularly fitted her.' Apropos of '_Missions_:' we perceive +that DICKENS understands this vague verbal apology for eccentricity or +humbugeousness, if we interpret aright his frail and tearful MODDLE; 'who +talked much about people's 'missions,' upon which he seemed to have some +private information not generally attainable,' and who, 'being aware that +a shepherd's mission was to pipe to his flock, and that a boatswain's +mission was to pipe all hands, and that one man's mission was to be a paid +piper, and another man's mission was to pay the piper, had got it into his +head that his own peculiar mission was to pipe his eye, which he did +perpetually.' . . . A CURIOUS volume has recently appeared in Paris, +entitled '_Poesies Populaires Latines anterieures au Douzieme Siecle_;' +and as sequels to the work, are certain satires upon the avarice and +corruption of the papal government in the twelfth century, among which is +the following curious parody: + + + '_Here beginneth the Gospel according to Marks of silver._--In + that time the pope said to the Romans: When the son of man + cometh to the seat of our majesty, say ye first, Friend, what + seekest thou? But if he continue knocking, and give you nothing, + cast him out into utter darkness. And it came to pass that a + certain poor clerk came to the court of our lord the pope, and + cried out, saying, Have pity on me at least you, O gate-keepers + of the pope, for the hand of poverty hath touched me. Verily I + am needy and poor; therefore, I pray ye, relieve my calamity and + my wretchedness. But they, when they heard him, were very wroth, + and said, Friend, thy poverty be with thee to perdition! get + behind me, Sathanas, for thou art not wise in the wisdom of + money. Verily, verily I say unto thee, thou shalt not enter into + the joy of thy lord until thou hast given thy last farthing. And + the poor man departed, and sold his cloak and his coat and all + that he had, and gave it to the cardinals and to the + gate-keepers; and they said, What is this among so many? And + they cast him out before the doors; and he went out, and wept + bitterly, and might not be comforted. Then there came to the + court a certain rich clerk, great and fat and swollen, who in a + riot had slain a man. He gave first to the gate-keeper, secondly + to the chamberlain, thirdly to the cardinals; but they thought + among themselves that they should have received more. And when + our lord the pope heard that the cardinals and ministers had + received many gifts of the clerk, he became sick unto death. But + the rich man sent him a medicine of gold and silver, and + immediately he was cured. Then our lord the pope called to him + the cardinals and ministers, and said to them, Brethren, see + that no one seduce you with empty words; for I give you an + example, that as I myself receive, so receive ye.' + +The corruptions of this era are equally well illustrated by a very amusing +anecdote of 'a handsome Italian friar, _teres atque rotundus_, about +thirty, and extremely bold and eloquent;' doubtless one of that class so +felicitously limned by THOMSON: + + 'A little round, fat, oily man of GOD + Was one I chiefly marked among the fry; + He had a roguish twinkle in his eye + And shone all glittering with ungodly dew, + If a tight damsel chanced to trippen by; + Which when observed he shrunk into his mew, + And straight would recollect his piety anew.' + +One day at a remote confessional of the church he declared an unholy and +forbidden passion to a young and beautiful married lady, whom he had long +'followed with his eyes,' and begged permission to visit her at her +residence. Struck with surprise at this new revelation of his character, +she evaded reply, being secretly minded to inform her husband, when she +returned home, which she did, word for word. He told his wife to contrive +to let the friar come, alone and in secret, the next evening, which +chanced to be that of Saturday, and the night before the Sunday of Saint +Lazarus, on which occasion the friar was to preach. The appointment was +made; the friar came, true to the late hour which had been designated; was +received at the door, and shown into the lady's bed-room by a servant, who +informed him that she had desired him to request the good man to retire to +rest, and to say that 'she would be with him straight.' The friar prepared +to comply with the direction, and was about stepping into bed, when the +door opened suddenly, and the lady entered in great apparent trepidation, +exclaiming: 'My husband is knocking at the door! For heaven's sake slip +into that chest,' showing him a double one in the apartment, 'and lie +there until I see what may be done! Meanwhile I will hide your clothes +somewhere or other, as well as I am able. Heaven knows I fear more for +your holy person than I do for my own life!' The unfortunate wretch, +seeing himself reduced to such a pass, did as the worthy lady desired; +while the husband, presently coming in, retired to rest with his wife, who +had first locked the friar safe in the chest. The poor prisoner uttered +sundry involuntary noises in the course of the night, and was in the +direst terror at the inquiries which they awakened on the part of the +husband. Daylight at length came, and the church-bells began to ring for +prayers, which greatly annoyed the captive, who was to preach at the +cathedral. The husband having risen, ordered two servants to carry the +chest to the church and place it in the middle, saying they were ordered +to do so by the preacher; and that unlocking the chest without raising the +lid, they should leave it there; all which the fellows did very neatly. +Every body stared, and wondered what all this could mean; some said one +thing and some another. At last the bell having ceased to ring, and no one +appearing in the pulpit, or any other part of the church, a young man rose +and said: 'Really, the good friar makes us wait quite too long; pray let +us see what he has ordered to be brought in this chest.' Having said this +much, he before all the congregation lifted up the lid, and looking in, +beheld the friar in his shirt, pale, almost frightened to death, and +certainly appearing more dead than alive, and as if buried in the chest. +Finding himself discovered, however, he collected his mind as well as he +could, and stood upright, to the great astonishment of all present; and +having taken his text from the Sunday of Lazarus, he thus addressed his +congregation: 'My dear brethren: I am not at all astonished at your +surprise in seeing me brought before you in this chest, or rather at my +ordering myself to be brought thus: ye know that this is the way in which +our holy church commemorates the wonderful miracle our LORD performed on +the person of LAZARUS, in raising him from the dead who had been buried +four days. I was desirous in your favor to present myself to you as it +were in the form of LAZARUS, in order that seeing me in this chest, which +is no other than an emblem of the sepulchre wherein he had been buried, +you might be moved more effectually to the consideration of what +perishable things we are; and that seeing me stripped of all worldly +decorations, thus in my shirt, you may be convinced of the vanity of the +things of this world, the which, if only duly considered, may tend greatly +to the amending of our lives. Will you believe that since yesterday night +I have been a thousand times dead, and revived as LAZARUS was; and +considering my dreadful situation, remember (as it were with the memory of +a similar penance in your hearts) that we must all die, and trust to HIM +who can bestow upon us life eternal: but first ye must die to sin, to +avarice, to rapine, to lust, and all those sinful deeds to which our +nature prompts us.' In such language, and in such manner, did the friar +continue his sermon. The husband, astonished at the extraordinary presence +of mind which he displayed, laughed heartily at his success; and in +consideration of the adroitness of the culprit, did not attempt any +farther revenge; 'but,' it is added, 'he took very good care to shut his +door in future against all such double-faced hypocrites.' . . . READER, +what are you thinking of at this moment? 'Nothing.' Indeed! and so were +we, and of how much a clever man once said upon the subject; observe: +'Philosophers have declared they knew nothing, and it is common for us to +talk about doing nothing; for from ten to twenty we go to school to be +taught what from twenty to thirty we are very apt to forget; from thirty +to forty we begin to settle; from forty to fifty, we think away as fast as +we can; from fifty to sixty, we are very careful in our accounts; and from +sixty to seventy, we cast up what all our thinking comes to; and then, +what between our losses and our gains, our enjoyments and our inquietudes, +even with the addition of old age, we can but strike a balance of +ciphers.' Happy are they who amidst the variations of nothing have nothing +to fear; if they have nothing to lose, they have nothing to lament; and if +they have done nothing to be ashamed of, they have every thing to hope +for. . . . SENTENTIOUSNESS, let us inform 'S.' of Cambridge, and +antitheses, do not consist of short sentences and inversion of words +_merely_; and even the most felicitous examples in each case often +sacrifice the sound to the sense. Here is an instance which is +unobjectionable: 'I knew the old miser well. He amassed a fortune by +raising hemp; and if he had had his deserts, would have died as he lived +by it.' . . . JUST as the sheets of this department were passing to the +press, we received the announcement of a public exhibition of two +collections of pictures, which we have seen, and to which we cannot resist +the impulse of directing the public attention. At the rooms of the +National Academy, corner of Broadway and Leonard-street, may be seen Mr. +COLE'S allegorical pictures of 'The Voyage of Life,' heretofore noticed at +length in these pages; '_Mount AEtna, from Taormina, Sicily_,' one of the +most noble paintings that ever came from this eminent artist's pencil; +'Angels ministering to Christ in the Wilderness;' 'The Past and the +Present;' 'A View of Ruined Aqueducts in the Campagna di Roma,' and other +pictures; altogether, an exceedingly fine collection. Indeed, the superb +view of AEtna alone, with its vast and sublime accessories, is of itself an +exhibition worth twice the price of admission. At the rooms of the APOLLO +ASSOCIATION, nearly opposite the Hospital, in Broadway, Mr. HARVEY'S +series of _Forty Historic or Atmospheric American Landscape Scenes_ are to +be seen for a short time. It needed not the high patronage of Queen +VICTORIA, the praises of English royalty and nobility, nor the warm +encomiums of ALLSTON, SULLY, MOORE, and others, to secure attention to +these graphic sketches from nature. They are their own best +recommendation. Trust our verdict, reader, and go and _see_ if they are +not. . . . 'TERPSICHORE' is the title of a very spirited satirical poem +read at the annual dinner of the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Cambridge +University in August last, by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES, and copied in +'_Graham's Magazine_' for January. We subjoin a passage which although +abundantly poetical contains yet more truth than poetry. It 'bases' upon +the DICKENS dinner: + + HE for whose sake the glittering show appears + Has sown the world with laughter and with tears, + And they whose welcome wets the bumper's brim + Have wit and wisdom--for they all quote him. + So, many a tongue the evening hour prolongs + With spangled speeches, let alone the songs; + Statesmen grow merry, young attorneys laugh, + And weak teetotals warm to half-and-half, + And beardless Tullys, new to festive scenes, + Cut their first crop of youth's precocious greens; + And wits stand ready for impromptu claps, + With loaded barrels and percussion-caps; + And Pathos, cantering through the minor keys, + Waves all her onions to the trembling breeze; + While the great Feasted views with silent glee + His scattered limbs in Yankee fricassee. + + Sweet is the scene where genial friendship plays + The pleasing game of interchanging praise; + Self-love, grimalkin of the human heart, + Is ever pliant to the master's art; + Soothed with a word, she peacefully withdraws + And sheaths in velvet her obnoxious claws, + And thrills the hand that smooths her glossy fur + With the light tremor of her gentle pur. + + But what sad music fills the quiet hall + If on her back a feline rival fall! + And oh! what noises shake the tranquil house, + If old SELF-INTEREST cheats her of a mouse! + + Thou, O my country! hast thy foolish ways, + Too apt to pur at every stranger's praise: + But if the stranger touch thy modes or laws, + Off goes the velvet and out come the claws! + + And thou, Illustrious! but too poorly paid + In toasts from Pickwick for thy great crusade, + Though while the echoes labored with thy name + The public trap denied thy little game, + Let other lips our jealous laws revile-- + The marble TALFOURD or the rude CARLYLE; + But on thy lids, that Heaven forbids to close + Where'er the light of kindly nature glows, + Let not the dollars that a churl denies + Weigh like the shillings on a dead man's eyes! + Or, if thou wilt, be more discreetly blind, + Nor ask to see all wide extremes combined; + Not in our wastes the dainty blossoms smile + That crowd the gardens of thy scanty isle; + There white-cheek'd Luxury weaves a thousand charms, + Here sun-browned Labor swings his Cyclop arms; + Long are the furrows he must trace between + The ocean's azure and the prairies' green; + Full many a blank his destined realm displays, + Yet see the promise of his riper days: + Far through yon depths the panting engine moves, + His chariots ringing in their steel-shod groves, + And Erie's naiad flings her diamond wave + O'er the wild sea-nymph in her distant cave: + While tasks like these employ his anxious hours, + What if his corn-fields are not edged with flowers? + Though bright as silver the meridian beams + Shine through the crystal of thine English streams, + Turbid and dark the mighty wave is whirled + That drains our Andes and divides a world. + +Under the similitude of a _German-silver-spoon_, 'used by dabblers in +aesthetic tea,' we have the annexed palpable hit at the small-beer +imitators of CARLYLE, and copyists after the external garb of the German +school, who have occasionally shown themselves up in the pages of 'The +Dial,' a work which formerly 'indicated rather the place of the moon than +the sun:' + + SMALL as it is, its powers are passing strange; + For all who use it show a wondrous change, + And first, a fact to make the barbers stare, + It beats Macassar for the growth of hair: + See those small youngsters whose expansive ears + Maternal kindness grazed with frequent shears; + Each bristling crop a dangling mass becomes, + And all the spoonies turn to Absaloms! + Nor this alone its magic power displays-- + It alters strangely all their works and ways; + With uncouth words they tire their tender lungs, + The same bald phrases on their hundred tongues; + 'Ever' 'The Ages' in their page appear, + 'Alway' the bedlamite is called a 'Seer;' + On every leaf the 'earnest' sage may scan, + Portentious bore! their 'many-sided' man; + A weak eclectic, groping, vague and dim, + Whose every angle is a half-starved whim, + Blind as a mole and curious as a lynx, + Who rides a beetle which he calls a 'Sphinx.' + + And O what questions asked in club-foot rhyme + Of Earth the tongueless and the deaf-mute Time! + Here babbling 'Insight' shouts in Nature's ears + His last conundrum on the orbs and spheres; + There Self-inspection sucks its little thumb, + With 'Whence am I?' and 'Wherefore did I come?' + Deluded infants! will they ever know + Some doubts must darken o'er the world below, + Though all the Platos of the nursery trail + Their 'clouds of glory' at the go-cart's tail? + +We should exceedingly like to hear Mr. A. BRONSON ALCOTT'S opinion as +touching the _faithfulness_ of the foregoing. . . . THERE is a fearful +lesson conveyed in the annexed communication from a metropolitan +physician, who assures us that it is in all respects an accurate statement +of an occurrence to which he was an eye-witness: 'Duty impels me, Mr. +EDITOR, to lay before you one of the little incidents which my situation +as a medical man has brought to my notice. There is no class of men who +are led with keener perceptions to investigate human nature than +enlightened practising physicians. They have a hold upon the affections +and confidence of every class of society; and for this reason they should +feel it incumbent upon themselves to act the part of _moral_ as well as +_physical_ agents. For myself, I think it would be well if medical men +were so far constituted missionaries, as to make it a duty to point a +moral whenever it would be likely to be well received. I am aware that +attempts of this sort with many persons would be vain or injudicious, and +sometimes nauseate perhaps, like the accompanying drugs; but eventually it +might prove salutary to the soul; and although cursed for good advice, is +it not in the end a blessing? But to my story: I was called a short time +since to a youth about twenty years of age: he had been only a few months +in the city, and I had occasionally seen him, but had little acquaintance +with him, being much his senior. When I entered, one of his fits of +raving, occasioned by fever, was just coming on. I approached and took his +hand: 'What do you want?' said he; 'you look so mild and yet so +penetrating. I have not got any.' 'Any _what_?' said I. 'Any money,' he +replied; 'the drawer was locked, and I could not get any without being +seen; so go away!' 'I came to cure you, not to take your money,' I +replied. 'Ah!' said he, 'did I not take some from you? Look! look! There +they come! sixpences, shillings! See! see! how they tumble from the wall! +Look! there is a piece of gold! See! look! there they keep coming! I +never took all this!--at first I only took enough to get a cigar with, now +and then. See! the room is filling! I shall suffocate!' 'What does this +mean, young man?' said I; 'be calm.' 'Did they not tell you to _come and +feel my pulse and see if there was not a sixpence in it_?' 'No, no; I came +to make you better.' 'Better? _better_? BETTER? Here, hide these; don't +let my friends know of them; they were stolen! I cannot look at them now. +Ha! ha! ha!--I cannot!' I was induced to remain until the frenzy of the +fever had passed off, and found the young man had intervals of reason. He +was now in deep despondency. I inquired his name. He had dropped it, he +said; he could not debase it. 'Debase it?' said I. 'Yes!' he answered, +with a groan like a howl. The next day the young man sent for me again. He +appeared much altered; said that he did not wish to live; that he had '_a +gnawing at his soul_.' I remarked that he was very young to be tired of +life; that if he had been guilty of any crime he should desire to live to +expiate it. 'No,' he replied, 'the stain will always last!' I told him, +not so; that if he heartily repented and turned to the right source for +consolation, it would be vouchsafed him. 'I feel that I cannot live,' he +replied, 'and my friends will be better satisfied to know that I am +repentant in my last moments, and that I am gone, than they would be to +think of me as a vagabond, let loose upon society: they will at least feel +that I shall 'cease from troubling.' I have not the excuse that many +delinquents have pleaded, early initiation into vice. My childhood was +passed with pious relatives, who labored to instil religious principles +into my mind; but I 'would none of their reproof.' My friends not being +wealthy, I was left at a proper age to my own resources. I found a +situation where my talents were appreciated by my employer, and perhaps +too highly estimated by myself. I had a brother who was ten years my +senior, whom I loved and esteemed--may Heaven keep him in blessed +ignorance of my fate!--but I thought less highly of his intellect when I +saw him excited by some sublime hymn, which angels might listen to, than I +did of my own, when I turned from the devotions of the Sabbath to join my +idle companions. In the situation I held, I might have gained +respectability; but my besetting sin betrayed me so often, that the kind +indulgence of a good master could no longer conceal my crimes. I now see +that the sting inflicted by vice must and _will_ remain! We may repent, we +may be forgiven; but the mind will not part with its bitter +recollections!' I was here called away for a few moments, and when I +returned, the unhappy young man was in the land of spirits! I learned that +he was engaged to a highly amiable young lady, who relinquished him, and +shortly afterward died of a broken heart. _Her_ sad fate threw him into a +brain-fever, and as you perceive, decided _his_ likewise. Incidents like +these I am aware have often been narrated; yet if the tragedy which I have +depicted should be blessed to the use of any young man abandoned to +temptation and addicted to small crimes, and lead him to reflection, it +will be a gratification to feel that my feeble effort, with Heaven's help, +has proved 'a word in season.'' . . . THERE are inequalities of merit in +the '_Dirge_' of 'D. D.' of Hartford, though the _spirit_ of the verse is +tender and touching. We annex a few stanzas, in illustration of our +encomium: + + THRUST him in his narrow bed, + Heap the cold earth on his head, + But be sure no tear ye shed-- + Not a tear for him! + + Bitter toil was his from birth, + Dearly bought his homely mirth, + While his master was of earth-- + Now he's of the sky. + + Death knocked at his door at night, + With his crushing hand of might, + Woke him to that morning light + Which can know no noon! + + When that sacred morning beam + Wakes his spirit, life shall seem + But a dreary changeful dream-- + Soon o'er, and not too soon! + + Patiently for few long years, + Struggling with earth's giant fears, + With hands too busy to wipe tears, + Met he life's long shock. + + Yet not all blank and desolate + Was this poor man's earthly state; + Hope, toil, content, can soften fate, + As the moss the rock. + + O! lost Brother! still and cold, + Sunk like rain into the mould, + Silently, unseen, untold-- + Thou 'rt a GOD-sown seed! + + +It is a sad sight to look upon the corpse of a laborer, cut down in the +midst of a toilsome life; his hard, knotty hands clasped upon the still +breast, and the strong limbs laid in serene repose. And yet how happy the +change! No longer does he ask leave to toil; no longer is he at war with +poverty, for death has made it a drawn battle. He 'rests from his labors' +where the rich and the poor meet together, and he hears no more the voice +of the oppressor. . . . PERHAPS our readers will have observed that the +_Sketches of East Florida_ are from no common pen. The description which +has been given by the writer, of the delicious climate in that sunny +region, may to many 'Northeners' seem exaggerated; but such is not the +fact. A friend writing recently from St. Augustine, thus playfully alludes +to the effect which the climate produces upon a New-Yorker: 'If a +business-man could be caught up from the whirl of Broadway, and dropped in +a warm climate, say that of St. Augustine, and left under a fig-tree to +his own reflections, his first thought doubtless would be for an omnibus +'right up.' 'Rather queer!' he would say; 'a hot sun, sandy street, and +not a carriage to be seen! There's a man out in his slippers, and a woman +with her head tied up in a handkerchief--may-be a night-cap; probably some +old Dutch settlers that went to-sleep with RIP VAN WINKLE. Wild turkeys, +as I live, all about the market!--and oh, LORD! there's a little nigger +with only a shirt on! Halloo there! you little nigger! tell me the way to +the Broadway coaches! No coaches? no omnibii? Well, where's your +five-o'clock boats?--where's your Harlaem rail-road? I want to go back to +town!' Such would probably be his first go-off; and the next impulse would +be to run, shout, cry fire! or murder!--any thing to produce a sensation; +but unless very soon about it, he would find himself yielding to some +strange influence hitherto unfelt; and it would be amusing to notice how +soon the fretting restless man of the forty-second latitude would be tamed +down in the thirteenth to the equanimity of a child asleep. The climate +enters within the man, and brings out one by one some hidden and better +impulse, at the same time laying a gentle hand upon his rougher humors; so +that when he would shout, he hums, and when he would laugh, he smiles +only; and in undertaking to run, he is caught about the waist; and goes +floating smoothly around in the ground-swell motion of the Spanish-dance.' +. . . WE perceive that the _Copy-right Question_ has been thus early +brought before the National Legislature. From the present aspect of things +we may indulge a well-grounded hope that authors who have worn themselves +out in making other people happy, will not hereafter be left to perish +amidst age and infirmity, unrelieved by the fruit of their labors. There +is one argument exceedingly well illustrated in the recent address of the +'Copy-right Club.' In allusion to the floods of trash which have for +months inundated the Atlantic cities and towns, the writer, addressing +himself to American citizens, observes: 'In all other circumstances and +questions save that of a literature, you have taken the high ground of +freedom and self-reliance. You have neither asked, nor loaned, nor +besought, but with your own hands have framed, what the occasion required. +Whatever stature you have grown to as a nation, it is due to that sole +virtue; and by its exercise may you only hope to hold your place. In +almost any other shape than that of silent books you would have spurned +the foreign and held fast to the home-born; but stealing in quietly at +every opening, making themselves the seemingly inoffensive and unobtrusive +lodgers in every house, they have full possession of the country in all +its parts; and another people may promise themselves in the next +generation of Americans, (as the question now goes,) a restored dominion +which their arms were not able to keep. The pamphlet will carry the day +where the soldier fell back.' . . . WE derive the annexed stanzas through +a Boston correspondent. He assures us that the work of art which they +commemorate is most honorable to the genius of the sculptor, who has been +winning laurels ever since his removal to the tasteful city: + + +LINES + +WRITTEN ON COMPLETING A MARBLE BUST OF THE LATE WASHINGTON ALLSTON. + +BY M. A. BRACKETT. + + UPWARD unto the living light + Intensely thou dost gaze, + As if thy very soul wouldst seek + In that far distant maze + + Communion with those heavenly forms + That lifting to the sight + Their golden wings and snowy robes, + Float on a sea of light. + + Anon far, far away they glide, + Shooting through realms of bliss, + Till from the spirit's eye they fade + In heaven's own bright abyss. + + Such are the visions thou dost wake, + Such are the thoughts that rise + In him who 'neath thy upturned brow + Beholds thy spirit-eyes. + + There is no stain upon that brow; + Pure as thy holy life + Serene and calm, thy heavenly face-- + Within, no wasting strife. + + How strangely have the swift hours flown + As o'er the shapeless pile + I poured the full strength of my soul, + Lost to all else the while! + + When fell the last faint stroke which told + That thou and I must part, + That all of life that I could give + Was thine, how throbbed my heart! + + Yet to this form that I have reared + Should aught of praise belong, + Not unto me the merit due, + But Him who made me strong: + + Who with his ever fostering care + My wayward steps did guide, + Through paths of flowers, in beauty cloth'd, + Along life's sunny tide. + + Semblance of him, the great, the good, + Whose task on earth is done; + Of those that walked in beauty's light + Thou wert the chosen one! + + * * * * * + +WE should like to see in some appropriate journal a sketch of the +_Progress of Mechanics in the United States_. Without any question, the +Americans are, in respect of that branch of science, behind no nation or +people on earth. And yet no longer ago than 1791, a clock-maker from +London, after public advertisement of his arrival from England for that +purpose, visited our scattered cities and towns to repair clocks! 'Yankee +ingenuity' was not then as now synonymous with the accomplishment of _any_ +thing that can either be fabricated or 'fixed'. . . . WE have no +remembrance of the communication referred to in a note from a +correspondent at Albany, in which we find the following sentences: 'If +received, I hope it was not amenable to the censure in a late number of +the KNICKERBOCKER, of certain correspondence, for having been written 'too +carefully.' Now I do flatter myself upon so _writing_, that compositors +can have no excuse for blunders, though I am well aware that to be +esteemed a Genious, one's chirography should very nearly approach +unintelligibility. If this be true, the patience and good nature of an +Editor must be severely tried; but I incline to the opinion that a man of +Genious need not model after BYRON's facsimile,' and so forth. Our +correspondent _does_ write a good hand; so good indeed, that we lament, as +we gaze at it, that he does not know how to _spell_. A man may certainly +be a '_Genious_' without being able to write a clerkly hand; but a man who +is _not_ a 'Genious,' ought at least to be able to spell the word. As to +writing 'too carefully,' our censor has mistaken the letter for the spirit +of our remarks. . . . THE lines '_To my Mother_' are replete with the +poetry of _feeling_. Their literary execution however is marred by +deficiencies, which although slight, require amending. Our correspondent +we are sure has the true poetical vein; and we shall not despair of +hearing from her again. . . . A VERY 'inquiring' correspondent desires to +know 'whether there is any thing below a _quartette_, in music?--a +_pintette_ or a _gillette_?' He is also anxious, he says, to 'ascertain +whether PUFFER HOPKINS is any relation to the pious poet who was in +partnership in the psalm and hymn way with old Uncle STERNHOLD, a great +many years ago.' Moreover, he considers it 'a little curious' that a black +hen should lay a white egg; and states that he 'would give something +handsome to be certain whether or no NEBUCHADNEZZAR'S hands, when he was +out on grass, grew six-penny or ten-penny nails!' His remaining queries +are profane; indeed, the last one goes somewhat too near the edge. . . . +'EVER anxious to please,' as the advertisements have it, we have placed +the original department of the KNICKERBOCKER in a larger type; and it +seems to us that we may ask with some confidence whether our readers ever +saw a Magazine in a neater garniture than 'this same?' Only have the +consideration to _reciprocate_ our endeavors to please you, good PUBLIC, +and you 'shall see what you shall see.' There are certain delinquents upon +our books, to whom we would venture to insinuate, in the most delicate +manner conceivable, that 'it is high time somebody had a sight of +somebody's money.' . . . A NEW style of frames for drawings, engravings, +paintings, looking-glasses, etc., has recently been brought to great +perfection, and into very general favor, by Mr. WEISER, at No. 43 +Centre-street, near Pearl. They are composed externally of +_glass-veneerings_, beautifully painted and shaded, so as to resemble +different-tinted woods, tortoise-shell, or indeed any other colors that +may be desired. These are painted on the inner side of the glass, which is +so firmly cemented to the wood-frames as to be little liable to injury +from jarring or even falling. With a gilt beading, they have a very +beautiful appearance, by reason of the admirable lustre of the glass, +which gives to them a polish finer than that of the most susceptible +woods. They are, in short, exceedingly handsome, easily kept clean, always +new and fresh, and what is worthy of mention, much cheaper than wood or +gilt. + + * * * * * + +.*. WILL our readers have the kindness to exhibit the ADVERTISEMENT OF OUR +TWENTY-THIRD VOLUME to their friends? It will be found on the second and +third pages of the cover of the present number; and they can testify to +the accuracy of its unexaggerated statements. Many articles in prose and +verse await examination or insertion, and a more particular reference +hereafter. Notices are in type of new publications from the presses of +Messrs. BURGESS AND STRINGER, M. W. DODD, J. WINCHESTER, the LANGLEY'S, +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, M. H. NEWMAN, WILEY AND PUTNAM, and of the +'Columbian Magazine,' which we are reluctantly compelled to defer to our +February issue. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Knickerbocker, or New-York Monthly +Magazine, January 1844, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KNICKERBOCKER *** + +***** This file should be named 19383.txt or 19383.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/3/8/19383/ + +Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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