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} - </style> - <style type="text/css"> - h1 { font-size: 1.3em; font-weight:bold;} - .pindent {margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0em;} - .caption {font-size: smaller; margin-bottom:.5em; max-width:90%; } - </style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's Graham's Magazine, Vol. XL, No. 4, April 1852, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Graham's Magazine, Vol. XL, No. 4, April 1852 - -Author: Various - -Editor: George R. Graham - -Release Date: August 21, 2019 [EBook #60148] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, APRIL 1952 *** - - - - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net -from page images generously made available by Google Books - - - - - - -</pre> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0000' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:1.9em;font-weight:bold;'>GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'><span class='sc'>Vol. XL.</span> April, 1852. No. 4.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'>Contents</p> - -<table id='tab1' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 25em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 1em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tab1c1-col2 tdStyle0' colspan='2'><span class='bold'><span style='font-size:larger'>Fiction, Literature and Articles</span></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#opt'>Optical Phenomena</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#age'>The First Age</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#imp'>Impressions of England in the Autumn of 1851</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#oli'>Oliver Goldsmith—His Character and Genius</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#life'>A Life of Vicissitudes</a> <span style='font-size:smaller'>(continued)</span></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#bow'>The Bower of Castle Mount</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#don'>A Reply to Dwight’s Article on Mozart’s Don Giovanni</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#true'>A True Irish Story</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#hunt'>The Condor Hunt</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#what'>What Glory Costs the Nation</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#emin'>Eminent Young Men.—No. I</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#game'>The Game of the Season</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#was'>Was the World Made Out of Nothing?</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#lit'>A Literary Gossip with Miss Mitford</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#two'>The Two Isabels; Or Coquettish Seventeen</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#rev'>Review of New Books</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#talk'>Graham’s Small-Talk</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -</table> - -<table id='tab2' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 25em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 1em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tab2c1-col2 tdStyle0' colspan='2'><span class='bold'><span style='font-size:larger'>Poetry and Music</span></span></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#fount'>The Forest Fountain</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#love'>Love</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#mem'>Memory</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#last'>The Last Song</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#april'>April</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#away'>Away</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#song2'>Song</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#mona'>Mona Lisa</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#bird'>To a Canary Bird</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#faded'>Faded and Gone</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#north'>Song of the Spirit of the North</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#art'>Sonnet.—Art</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#god'>The Autograph of God</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#ifi'>If I Were a Smile</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#miss'>To Miss Light Underwood</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#beau'>Beautie</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#vio'>Lines on Some Violets</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#sod'>The Destruction of Sodom</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#sor'>Sorrento</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#fut'>A Thought of the Future</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#hun'>The Black Huntsman</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='#isle'>Sweet Sunny Isle</a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'><a href='# '> </a></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab2c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab2c2 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -</table> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.3em;'><a href='#notes'>Transcriber’s Notes</a> can be found at the end of this eBook.</p> - -<hr class='tbk100'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:1.9em;font-weight:bold;'>GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.</p> - -<hr class='tbk101'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;'><span class='sc'>Vol. XL.</span> PHILADELPHIA, APRIL, 1852. <span class='sc'>No. 4.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk102'/> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'>THE FOREST FOUNTAIN.<a id='fount'></a></h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY IGNATIUS L. DONNELLY.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i001.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0001' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Here the sinking sun hath broken through a forest close as night;</p> -<p class='line0'>Plashing all the deepened darkness with its thick and wine-like light.</p> -<p class='line0'>Shivered lies the broad, red sunbeam slant athwart the withered leaf,</p> -<p class='line0'>Laughing back the startled shadows from their high and holy grief;</p> -<p class='line0'>Down yon dusk-pool, slant, obliquely, shoots a line like sparry splinter,</p> -<p class='line0'>As the waking flush of spring-time lightens up the eyes in winter:</p> -<p class='line0'>Dimming as it straineth downward melts the red light of the sun,</p> -<p class='line0'>Darkling pool and piercing beamlet mingling whitely into one.</p> -<p class='line0'>Fallen rays, like broken crystals, spangle thick the shadowy ground,</p> -<p class='line0'>Ragged fragments, glorious gushes scattered richly, redly round.</p> -<p class='line0'>Where the lazy lilies languish, one intruding sunbeam creeps;</p> -<p class='line0'>In the arms of slumberous shadow, like a child it sinks and sleeps;</p> -<p class='line0'>And the quiet leaves around it seem to think it all their own,</p> -<p class='line0'>’Mid the grass and lightened lilies sleeping silent and alone.</p> -<p class='line0'>Here the dew-damp lingers longest ’mid the plushy fountain moss;</p> -<p class='line0'>Here the bergamot’s red blossom leans the stilly stream across;</p> -<p class='line0'>Here the shade is darkly silent; here the breeze is liquid cool,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the very air seems married to the freshness of that pool.</p> -<p class='line0'>See, where down its depths pellucid, Nature’s purest waters well,</p> -<p class='line0'>Breaking up in curving current, wimpled line and bubbly swell;</p> -<p class='line0'>While in swift and noiseless beauty, through the deep and dewy grass,</p> -<p class='line0'>O’er the rock and down the valley, see the hurrying waters pass.</p> -<p class='line0'>Oh, how dreamy grow my senses, as I couch me ’mid the flowers,</p> -<p class='line0'>Oh, how still the blue sky looketh, oh, how noteless creep the hours;</p> -<p class='line0'>Oh, how wide the silence seemeth, not a sound disturbing comes,</p> -<p class='line0'>Save a drowsy, sleepy buzzing, that around continuous hums;</p> -<p class='line0'>And I seem to float out loosely on weak slumber’s languid breast,</p> -<p class='line0'>With a kind of half reluctance that sinks gradually to rest.</p> -<p class='line0'>Distant faces group around me, kindly eyes look in my own,</p> -<p class='line0'>And I hear, though indistinctly, voices of the lost and gone:</p> -<p class='line0'>His whose bark went down in tempest; his whose life and death were gloom;</p> -<p class='line0'>His whose hopes and young ambitions fell and faded on the tomb;</p> -<p class='line0'>Oh, again his earnest language breaks upon my dreaming ear,</p> -<p class='line0'>And I catch the tones that waking I shall never, never hear.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk103'/> - -<div><h1><a id='love'></a>LOVE.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY A. J. REQUIER.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Oh, with more than the pilgrim of Mecca’s devotion,</p> -<p class='line0'>  When he looks on the shrine which his worship endears,</p> -<p class='line0'>Is the glance which we cast at the young heart’s devotion,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Its first rose of summer—the last which it bears;</p> -<p class='line0'>Bright as a halo of sunshine reposing</p> -<p class='line0'>  At break of the morn on a billowless stream,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where the wavering shadows are fitfully moving,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Or blush of a Peri that smiles in a dream.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Thus, thus must thou dwell on each glance of affection,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Each token of love I have strewed at thy shrine,</p> -<p class='line0'>When thy bosom first heaved at the fear of detection,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And its secret alone was imparted to mine;</p> -<p class='line0'>It is linked with each thought that is born in thy waking,</p> -<p class='line0'>  It embosoms each fancy that softens thy sleep,</p> -<p class='line0'>And, if e’er it be wild as the waves in their breaking,</p> -<p class='line0'>  ’Tis the image of Heaven that breaks on the deep!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>For vainly the bosom whose pulses have throbbed</p> -<p class='line0'>  To the beat of a heart it had warmed with its fire,</p> -<p class='line0'>Seeks to freeze the remembrance of tears it has sobbed,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And to smother the anguish of pining desire;</p> -<p class='line0'>The remembrance will live, the remembrance will cling.</p> -<p class='line0'>  As the ever-green ivy encircles the oak,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the tempest may strike with its withering wing,</p> -<p class='line0'>  But together they bend and together are broke!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Bright star of my soul! thus united we stand,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Intermingled in being and blended in breath,</p> -<p class='line0'>Come fate with her darkest, her gloomiest band,</p> -<p class='line0'>  We will bend, we will break undivided in death;</p> -<p class='line0'>’Twas Heaven decreed it, ’twas Heaven that wove</p> -<p class='line0'>  The tie which has bound us in home and in heart,</p> -<p class='line0'>And this only we know, we live on but to love,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And thus loving we never, oh, never can part!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk104'/> - -<div><h1><a id='mem'></a>MEMORY.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY LYDIA L. A. VERY.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.3em;'>“ <span style='font-size:smaller'>’Tis in the morning that the church-yard of Memory gives up its dead.”</span></p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Let them rise from the heart’s tomb;</p> -<p class='line0'>Spirits, not of sadness or gloom—</p> -<p class='line0'>White-robed thoughts of Childhood’s truth,</p> -<p class='line0'>Cherished hopes that filled our youth.</p> -<p class='line0'>  Let them rise a shining band</p> -<p class='line0'>  Coming from the Spirit-Land.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Let them rise! each well-known face,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where so oft we loved to trace</p> -<p class='line0'>Smiles that beamed for us alone,</p> -<p class='line0'>Eyes o’er which Death’s veil is thrown—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Let them gather round our bed</p> -<p class='line0'>  All unheard their noiseless tread!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Let their eyes of love still speak,</p> -<p class='line0'>Let their breath be on our cheek,</p> -<p class='line0'>And their voice in our ear</p> -<p class='line0'>Murmur words we loved to hear:</p> -<p class='line0'>  Let their spirits fair and bright</p> -<p class='line0'>  Visit us at morning light.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Death, who cometh thief-like, still</p> -<p class='line0'>Taking Life’s bright gems at will;</p> -<p class='line0'>With us early, with us late,</p> -<p class='line0'>Making hearth-stones desolate—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Death, who visits all Life’s bowers.</p> -<p class='line0'>  Cannot gather Memory’s flowers!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk105'/> - -<div><h1><a id='last'></a>THE LAST SONG.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-weight:bold;'>FROM THE GERMAN.</p> - -<div class='figleft' style='width:40%'> -<img src='images/i008.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0002' style='width:60%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“When will your bards be weary</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of rhyming on? How long</p> -<p class='line0'>Ere it is sung and ended,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The old, eternal song?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Is it not, long since, empty,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The horn of full supply;</p> -<p class='line0'>And all the posies gathered,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And all the fountains dry?”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>As long as the sun’s chariot</p> -<p class='line0'>  Yet keeps its azure track,</p> -<p class='line0'>And but one human visage</p> -<p class='line0'>  Gives answering glances back;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>As long as skies shall nourish</p> -<p class='line0'>  The thunderbolt and gale,</p> -<p class='line0'>And, frightened at their fury,</p> -<p class='line0'>  One throbbing heart shall quail;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>As long as after tempests</p> -<p class='line0'>  Shall spring one showery bow,</p> -<p class='line0'>One breast with peaceful promise</p> -<p class='line0'>  And reconcilement glow;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>As long as night the concave</p> -<p class='line0'>  Sows with its starry seed,</p> -<p class='line0'>And but one man those letters</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of golden writ can read;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Long as a moonbeam glimmers,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Or bosom sighs a vow;</p> -<p class='line0'>Long as the wood-leaves rustle</p> -<p class='line0'>  To cool a weary brow;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>As long as roses blossom,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And earth is green in May;</p> -<p class='line0'>As long as eyes shall sparkle,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And smile in pleasure’s ray;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>As long as cypress shadows</p> -<p class='line0'>  The graves more mournful make,</p> -<p class='line0'>Or one cheek’s wet with weeping,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Or one poor heart can break;—</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>So long on earth shall wander</p> -<p class='line0'>  The goddess Poesy,</p> -<p class='line0'>And with her, one exulting</p> -<p class='line0'>  Her votarist to be.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And singing on, triumphing,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The old earth-mansion through,</p> -<p class='line0'>Out marches the last minstrel;—</p> -<p class='line0'>  He is the last man too.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The Lord holds the creation</p> -<p class='line0'>  Forth in his hand meanwhile,</p> -<p class='line0'>Like a fresh flower just opened,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And views it with a smile.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>When once this Flower Giant</p> -<p class='line0'>  Begins to show decay,</p> -<p class='line0'>And earths and suns are flying</p> -<p class='line0'>  Like blossom-dust away.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Then ask,—if of the question</p> -<p class='line0'>  Not weary yet,—“How long,</p> -<p class='line0'>Ere it is sung and ended,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The old, eternal song?”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk106'/> - -<div><h1><a id='opt'></a>OPTICAL PHENOMENA.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY THOMAS MILNER, M. A.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i009.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0003' style='width:100%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>It is convenient to place an indefinite title at the -head of this article, in order to notice various classes -of independent phenomena which immediately address -themselves to the eye; and which are either -plain developments of electrical action, or simply -atmospheric meteors, or appearances resulting from -its reflecting and refractive properties, or of obscure -origin, but manifested in the atmosphere. To the -former class the lightning belongs, beautifully playing -among the distant clouds, or flashing with blinding -glare and tremendous effect near the surface of -the earth, warning man and beast of the presence of -an agency able to extinguish animal and vegetable -life in a moment, and utterly inappreciable in its -swiftness, subtility and power. At the close of a -hot, sultry day, over a level country, the igneous -meteor often exhibits itself, in rapidly succeeding, -broad, noiseless, and imposing sheets of flame, lighting -up the whole range of the horizon, revealing for -the moment the contour of the distant landscape upon -which the shadows of the night have gathered, and -discovering the outline of the clouds in the dusky -sky. These displays, however startling to “the -poor Indian, whose untutored mind” is alarmed at -the slightest deviation from the ordinary aspect of -things, are always harmless, and invite by their innocuousness -and fascination the cultivated races to -watch the bounding coruscations of the elastic element, -besides contributing to render the fields of corn -ripe unto the harvest. But it is otherwise when -heat has overcharged the atmosphere with vapors, -becoming piled into clouds of gigantic dimensions -and massive architecture, which are often propelled -by antagonist currents, and in different electrical conditions. -After an unusual calm of nature, oppressive -to the animal system, during which not a movement -of the air is perceptible, and the leaves hang motionless -upon the trees, while the brute creation indicate -some intelligence of an impending change by their -restlessness, an explosion commences. The flash is -seen, the thunder heard, and the clouds open their -watery store-house, a few distant and heavy drops -increasing into a cataract of rain. Flash rapidly follows -flash, and the interval between each appearance -and the accompanying thunder peal becomes -less. The pale hue of the lightning is exchanged -for a vivid glare, in which a deep yellow, red, or -blue is the predominant color, a variety of aberrations -marking its course, the zigzag form showing -that the fearful agent is near terrestrial objects. In -this manner, “the detraction that wasteth at noonday” -is frequently exhibited, now striking man and -beast to the earth, or rending asunder the mighty -oak of the forest, or firing the vessel of the hapless -seaman, or shivering “the cloud-capt towers and -gorgeous palaces,” the fanes of religion and the fortresses -of war. Man has then a solemn sense of his -helplessness and danger; and almost every creature -sympathizes with him. The eel is restless in his -muddy bed—the horse trembles beneath his rider—the -cattle gather lowing to a covert—the eagle nestles -in the cleft of the rock with folded wings—the hart -looks wild and anxious: only the poor seal seems to -experience agreeable sensations, for he will come -out of his hiding-place in the deep, at the call of the -thunder, and repose upon some overhanging ledge, -as if calmly enjoying the convulsion of the elements.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Since the month of June 1752, when Franklin -performed the celebrated kite experiment, by which -he became the modern Prometheus, bringing down -the celestial fire to the earth, the identity of lightning -and electricity has been universally known. -The theory of the electric fluid, as it is called, is to -be sought for in philosophical treatises, our province -being to notice its distribution, phenomena, and effects. -That subtle principle which the Greeks denominated -electricity, from <span class='it'>elektron</span>, amber, because -the property was first noticed in that substance, appears -to be a universally diffused agent, its presence -having been detected in connection with the clouds, -with hail, rain and snow, with vegetation, animals, -and the interior strata of the earth. But undue accumulation -transpires—the electrical equilibrium is -disturbed; and the resulting phenomena of equalization -are lightning and thunder. Thus two clouds, -or a cloud and the earth, unequally electrified, tend -to return to a condition of equality through a conducting -medium, a metallic or moist body having -the preference as a conductor, the discharge of electricity -appearing in the form of a spark or flash, accompanied -by a loud detonation according to its -violence, the peal rebounding in echoes from cloud -to cloud, and from hill to hill. Some regions of the -globe are peculiarly subject to accumulations of electricity. -Mr. Hamilton, in his work on Asia Minor, -observes—“One of the most remarkable phenomena -which I observed in Angora, was the great degree -of electricity which seemed to pervade every thing. -I observed it particularly in silk handkerchiefs, linen -and woollen stuffs. At times, when I went to bed -in the dark, the sparks which were emitted from -the blanket gave it the appearance of a sheet of fire; -when I took up a silk handkerchief, the crackling -noise would resemble that of breaking a handful of -dried leaves or grass; and on one or two occasions -I clearly felt my hands and fingers tingle from the -electric fluid. I could only attribute it to the extreme -dryness of the atmosphere, and momentary -friction. I did not observe that it was at all influenced -by wind; the phenomena were the same, -whether by night or by day, in wind or calm. Not -a cloud was visible during the whole of my stay.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Similar striking indications of the prevalence of -electric action have frequently been observed by travelers -when near the summits of high mountains, as -by Sir W. J. Hooker on Ben Nevis, Saussure on -Mont Blanc, and Tupper on Mount Etna. The latter, -descending a field of snow, a good conductor, -felt a slight shock upon entering a cloud which -seemed electric, with a sensation of pain in the back. -The hair of his head stood erect, and upon moving -the hand near the head, a humming sound proceeded -from it, which arose from a succession of sparks. -Though a situation of great danger, yet we have -several instances of such clouds having been traversed -with impunity, when in the act of electrical -explosion. The Abbé Richard, in August 1778, -passed through a thunder-cloud on the small mountain -called Boyer, between Chalons and Tournus. -Before he entered the cloud, the thunder sounded, as -it is wont to do, with a prolonged reverberation; but -when enveloped in it, only single peals were heard, -with intervals of silence, without any roll; and after -he had passed above the cloud, it reverberated as before, -and the lightning flashed. The sister of M. -Arago was a party to a similar occurrence between -Estagel and Limoux, and some officers of engineers -likewise, during a trigonometrical survey on the -Pyrenees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The energy of atmospheric electricity appears to -decrease as we recede from the equator to the poles, -thus sympathizing with light and heat; for it is in -tropical countries that the most terrific flashes of -lightning and the loudest bursts of heaven’s artillery -occur. Awful as these manifestations are occasionally -in our temperate climate, they are but as a skirmishing -of outposts to the general engagement of -armies, when compared with inter-tropical displays. -In Hindustan, in the Indian Ocean, along the African -coast off Cape St. Verde, and in Central America, -there is often a scene exhibited, which seems a rehearsal -of the day “when the heavens being on fire -shall pass away with a great noise.” Humboldt, -during his residence at Cumana, witnessed a coincident -development of electrical action, peculiar -atmospheric phenomena, and terrestrial disturbance, -during what is called the winter of that region. -From the 10th of October to the 3d of November, a -reddish vapor rose in the evening, and in a few -minutes covered the sky. The hygrometer gave no -indication of humidity; the diurnal heat was from -82·4° to 89·6°. The vapor disappeared occasionally -in the middle of the night, when brilliantly white -clouds formed in the zenith, extending toward the -horizon. They were sometimes so transparent that -they did not conceal stars even of the fourth magnitude, -and the lunar spots were clearly distinguishable -through the veil. The clouds were arranged in -masses at equal distances, and seemed to be at a prodigious -elevation. From the 28th of October to the -3d of November, the fog was thicker than it had been -before; and the heat at night was stifling, though the -thermometer indicated only 78·8°. There was no -evening breeze. The sky appeared as if on fire, and -the ground was every where cracked and dusty. -About two o’clock in the afternoon of November -4th, large clouds of extraordinary blackness enveloped -the mountains of the Brigantine and Tataraqual, -extending gradually to the zenith. About four, -thunder was heard overhead, but at an immense -height, and with a dull and often interrupted sound. -At the moment of the strongest electric explosion, -two shocks of an earthquake, separated by an interval -of fifteen seconds, were felt. The people in the -streets filled the air with their cries. Boupland, who -was examining plants, was nearly thrown upon the -floor, and Humboldt, who was lying in his hammock, -felt the concussion strongly. A few minutes before -the first, there was a violent gust of wind followed -by large drops of rain. The sky remained cloudy, -and the blast was succeeded by a dead calm, which -continued all night. The sunset was a scene of great -magnificence. The dark atmospheric shroud was -rent asunder close to the horizon, and the sun appeared -at 12° of altitude on an indigo ground, his disc -enormously enlarged and distorted. The clouds were -gilded on the edges, and bundles of rays reflecting -the most brilliant prismatic colors extended over the -heavens. About nine in the evening there was a -third shock, which, though much slighter, was evidently -attended with a subterranean noise. In the -night between the 3d and 4th of November, the red -vapor before mentioned had been so thick, that the -place of the moon could only be distinguished by a -beautiful halo 20° in diameter. The vapor ceased -to appear on the 7th; the atmosphere then assumed -its former purity; and the night of the 11th was cool -and extremely lovely. This account, with similar -details from other observers, seems to indicate a -more intimate relation than is generally admitted between -the interior of the earth and its external atmosphere.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Among the regions peculiarly subject to electric -phenomena is the country around the estuary of the -Rio Plata. In the year 1793, one of the most destructive -thunder-storms perhaps on record, happened -at Buenos Ayres, when thirty-seven places in the -city were struck by the lightning, and nineteen of -the inhabitants killed. It is an observation of Mr. -Darwin, founded on statements in books of travels, -that thunder-storms are very common near the -mouths of great rivers; and he conjectures that this -may arise from the mixture of large bodies of fresh -and salt water disturbing the electrical equilibrium. -“Even,” he remarks, “during our occasional visit -to this part of South America, we heard of a ship, -two churches and a house, having been struck. -Both the church and the house I saw shortly afterward. -Some of the effects were curious: the paper, -for nearly a foot on each side of the line where the -bell-wires had run, was blackened. The metal had -been fused, and although the room was about fifteen -feet high, the globules, dropping on the chairs and -furniture, had drilled in them a chain of minute -holes. A part of the wall was shattered as if by -gunpowder, and the fragments had been blown off -with force sufficient to indent the wall on the opposite -side of the room. The frame of a looking-glass -was blackened; the gilding must have been volatilized, -for a smelling-bottle, which stood on the -chimney-piece, was coated with bright metallic -particles, which adhered as firmly as if they had -been enameled.” Near the shores of the Rio Plata, -in a broad band of sand hillocks, he found those singular -specimens of electric architecture, a group of -vitrified siliceous tubes, formed by the lightning -striking into loose sand. These tubes had a glossy -surface, and were about two inches in circumference, -the thickness of the wall of each tube varying -from the twentieth to the thirtieth part of an inch. -Four sets were noticed, probably not produced by -successive distinct charges, but by the lightning dividing -itself into separate branches before entering -the ground. Similar cylindrical formations have -been noticed in other places. Dr. Priestley has described, -in the Philosophical Transactions, some -siliceous tubes, which were found in digging into -the ground, under a tree, where a man had been -killed by lightning; and at Drigg, in Cumberland, -three were observed within an area of fifteen yards, -one of which was traced to a depth of not less than -thirty feet. In the temperate climates electrical -phenomena are most common, and usually most energetic -in the summer season, and the displays are -grander and more formidable in mountainous than in -level countries. As we approach the poles, they -become less striking; thunder is rarely heard in high -northern latitudes, and only as a feeble detonation; -and though lightning is more common, it is seldom -destructive. In Iceland, in the winter, it often plays -in the impressive but harmless manner which the -natives call laptelltur. This is a fluctuating appearance -of the whole sky, as if on fire, accompanied by -a strong wind and drifting snow, but inflicting no -further damage than that arising from the terrified -cattle falling over the rocks in their efforts to escape -from the phenomenon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The rapidity of lightning, as measured by means -of the camera lucida, M. Halvig estimates at probably -eight or ten miles in a second, or about forty -times greater velocity than that of sound; and according -to M. Gay-Lussac, a flash sometimes darts more -than three miles at once in a straight direction. M. -Arago distinguishes three classes of lightning: First, -luminous discharges characterized by a long streak -of light, very thin, and well defined at the edges, of -a white, violet, or purple hue, moving in a straight -line, or deviating into a zigzag track, frequently dividing -into two or more streams in striking terrestrial -objects, but invariably proceeding from a single -point. Secondly, he notices expanded flashes spreading -over a vast surface without having any apparent -depth, of a red, blue, or violet color, not so active as -the former class, and generally confined to the edges -of the clouds from which they appear to proceed. -Thirdly, he mentions concentrated masses of light, -which he terms globular lightning, which seem to -occupy time, to endure for several seconds, and to -have a progressive motion. Mr. Hearder of Plymouth -describes a discharge of lightning of this kind -on the Dartmouth hills, very near to him. Several -vivid flashes had occurred before the mass of clouds -approached the hill on which he was standing; and -before he had time to retreat from his dangerous -position, a tremendous crash and explosion burst close -to him. The spark had the appearance of a nucleus -of intensely ignited matter, followed by a flood of -light. It struck the path near him, and dashed with -fearful brilliancy down its whole length to a rivulet -at the foot of the hill, where it terminated. Analogous -to the discharges described as globular lightning -are the fire-balls so often noticed, about which -there has been no little scepticism; but the evidence -cannot reasonably be doubted, that displays of electrical -light have repeatedly occurred, conveying the -impression of balls of fire to the observer. An instance -is given by Mr. Chalmers while on board the -Montague, of seventy-four guns, bearing the flag of -Admiral Chambers. In the account read to the -Royal Society, he states, that “on November 4th, -1749, while taking an observation on the quarter-deck, -one of the quarter-masters requested him to -look to windward, upon which he observed a large -ball of blue fire rolling along on the surface of the -water, as large as a mill-stone, at about three miles -distance. Before they could raise the main-tack, the -ball had reached within forty yards of the main-chains, -when it rose perpendicularly with a fearful -explosion, and shattered the main-topmast to pieces.” -In an account of the fatal effects of lightning in June -1826, on the Malvern Hills, when two ladies were -struck dead, it is stated, that the electric discharge appeared -as a mass of fire rolling along the hill toward -the building in which the party had taken shelter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Snow Harris remarks upon the difficulty of -explaining these appearances on the principles applicable -to the ordinary electric spark. The amazing -rapidity of the latter, and the momentary duration of -the light, render it impossible that they should be -identical with it; but he conjectures that there may -be a “glow discharge” preceding the main shock, -some of the atmospheric particles yielding up their -electricity by a gradual process before a discharge of -the whole system takes place. In this view, the distinct -balls of fire of sensible duration which have been -perceived, are produced in a given point or points of -a charged system previously to the more general and -rapid union of the electrical forces—a supposition -which will apply as well to the Mariner’s Lights, or -St. Elmo’s Fire, observed during storms of thunder -and lightning at sea. Pliny mentions lights noticed -by the Roman mariners during tempests, flickering -about their vessels, to which Seneca likewise makes -allusion. By the superstitions of modern times they -have been converted into indications of the guardian -presence of St. Elmo, the patron saint of the sailor, -hence called <span class='it'>cuerpo sante</span> by the Spanish mariners. -During the second voyage of Columbus among the -West India islands, a sudden gust of heavy wind -came on in the night, and his crew considered themselves -in great peril, until they beheld several of these -lambent flames playing about the tops of the masts, -and gliding along the rigging, which they hailed as -an assurance of their supernatural protector being -near. Fernando Columbus records the circumstance -in a manner strongly characteristic of the age in -which he lived. “On the same Saturday, in the -night, was seen St. Elmo, with seven lighted tapers, -at the topmast. There was much rain and great -thunder. I mean to say that those lights were seen -which mariners affirm to be the body of St. Elmo, -on beholding which they chanted many litanies and -orisons, holding it for certain, that in the tempest in -which he appears, no one is in danger.” A similar -mention is made of this nautical superstition in the -voyage of Magellan. During several great storms -the presence of the saint was welcomed, appearing -at the topmast with a lighted candle, and sometimes -with two, upon which the people shed tears of joy, -received great consolation, and saluted him according -to the custom of the Catholic seamen; but he ungraciously -vanished, disappearing with a great flash -of lightning which nearly blinded the crew.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i017.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0004' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>Tower of St. Mark’s, Venice.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>It is a striking instance of the triumph of mind, -that by the introduction of lightning conductors into -different civilized states, the power of this most -energetic agent of nature is controled, and comparative -security provided for life and property, otherwise -in imminent jeopardy, when a severe -thunder-storm occurs. Experience has taught -the prime importance of furnishing exposed or -elevated structures with a conducting apparatus, -and has sufficiently shown that the immunity from -danger enjoyed by many an unprotected building -has been merely accidental; for when the -teeming thunder-cloud has been wafted within -reach of the edifice hitherto unscathed, the -delusion has vanished that man may carelessly -and with impunity thrust up his handiwork -into the region of storms, as if daring the fury -of the tempest, and inviting down its vengeance. -The fine tower of St. Mark’s, at Venice, rising -to the height of 360 feet, terminates in a pyramid -which was severely injured in 1388. In -1417 the pyramid was again struck, and set on -fire, having been constructed of wood. The -same event happened in 1489, when it was entirely -consumed. After being rebuilt of stone, -the fell lightning renewed its destructive stroke -in 1548, 1565, 1653 and 1745; and on the last -occasion the whole tower was rent in thirty-seven -places, and almost destroyed. It was -again ravaged in 1761 and 1762, but in 1766 a -lightning rod was put up, which has since protected -it from damage. At Glogau, in Silesia, -an interesting example of the value of conductors -occurred in the year 1782. On the 8th of -May, about eight o’clock in the evening, a -thunder-storm from the west approached the -powder magazine established in the Galgnuburg. -An intensely vivid flash of lightning took -place, accompanied instantly with such a tremendous -peal of thunder, that the sentinel on duty was -stupefied, and remained for awhile senseless, but no -disaster occurred. Some laborers at a short distance -from the magazine saw the lightning issue from the -cloud and strike the point of the conductor, which -conveyed it in safety by the combustible material. -A different result took place with reference to a -large quantity of unprotected ammunition, belonging -to the republic of Venice, deposited in the vaults of -the church of St. Nazaire, at Brescia. The church -was struck with lightning in the month of August, -1767, and the electric fluid, descending to the vaults, -exploded upward of 207,600 lbs. of powder, reducing -nearly one-sixth of the fine city to ruins, and destroying -about 3000 of the inhabitants. The Indians, whenever -the sky wears a lowering aspect, so as to threaten -a severe thunder-storm, are said to leave their pursuits -and take refuge under the nearest beech-tree, considering -it a complete protection, as it is affirmed -that no instance has occurred of the beech having -been struck by atmospheric electricity, when other -trees of the American forests have been shivered -into splinters in its neighborhood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For ages the inhabitants of the globe have seen -the lightning flash and heard the thunder rattle; and -some writers upon the occult sciences of the ancients, -as Salverte, have supposed that, tutored by -experience, without any understanding of the theory -of the subject, they possessed the secret of warding -off from their buildings the thunderbolt by a conducting -apparatus. It is certain that extraordinary intimations -to this effect may be culled from their -writings. Pliny states that Tullus Hostilius, practicing -Numa’s art of bringing down fire from heaven, -and performing it incorrectly, was struck with lightning—a -fate which Professor Richman of St. Petersburg -experienced, while performing incautiously -the sublime experiment of Franklin, measuring the -strength of the electricity brought down by a metallic -rod in a thunder-storm, being instantly killed. -Pliny likewise mentions the laurel as the only -earthly production which lightning does not strike; -hence, as a protection, these trees were planted -around the temple of Apollo. Columella, however, -mentions white vines surrounding the house of Tarchon, -the Etruscan, for the same purpose. These -expedients may provoke a smile without deserving -one; for there can be no doubt that trees sufficiently -high around a temple, or succulent plants covering a -dwelling, will exercise to some extent a protective -power, and act as a regular system of conductors. -Salverte mentions several medals which appear to -have reference to this subject, particularly one -which represents the temple of Juno, the goddess of -the air, the roof of which is armed with pointed -rods. He quotes also Michaelis, upon the temple of -Jerusalem, to show that the Jews were not unacquainted -with the art of protecting their public buildings—a -position grounded upon the following facts: -“1. That there is nothing to indicate that the lightning -ever struck the temple of Jerusalem during the -lapse of a thousand years.” This, of course, does -not make the fact certain; but when, as M. Arago -justly remarks, we consider how carefully the ancient -authors recorded the cases in which their -public buildings were injured by lightning, we may -accept the silence observed respecting the temple of -Jerusalem, as proof that it was never struck. For -three centuries the cathedral of Geneva, the most -elevated in the city, has enjoyed a similar immunity, -although inferior buildings have been repeatedly -damaged. Saussure discovered the reason of this, in -the tower being entirely covered with tinned iron -plates, connected with different masses of metal on -the roof, and again communicating with the ground -by means of metallic pipes. “2. That according to -the account of Josephus, a forest of spikes with -golden or gilt points, and very sharp, covered the -roof of this temple; a remarkable feature of resemblance -with the temple of Juno represented on the -Roman medals. 3. That this roof communicated -with the caverns in the hill of the temple, by means -of metallic tubes, placed in connection with the thick -gilding that covered the whole exterior of the building; -the points of the spikes there necessarily producing -the effect of lightning-rods. How are we to -suppose that it was only by chance they discharged -so important a function; that the advantage received -from it had not been calculated; that the spikes -were erected in such great numbers only to prevent -the birds from lodging upon and defiling the roof of -the temple? Yet this is the sole utility which the -historian Josephus attributes to them.” Upon a -sober review of these facts, it is difficult to resist the -conclusion that the ancient world had some proficiency -in the art of guiding the electric fluid from -the bosom of the clouds, conducting it in a prescribed -course, and thus disarming it of its terrors.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The subject of electrical agency is intimately connected -with that of magnetism, to which this is the -fittest place to glance—one of the most recondite -points of physical science. The relation between -the two is evident, from the notorious fact that lightning -often renders steel magnetic, and disturbs the -magnetism of the magnetised needle, so that in -thunder-storms the compass needles of a ship have -frequently been seriously injured. The magnetic -agency, like electricity, has a general distribution -over the earth, but the phenomena differ in different -parts of the world, and are subject to periodical differences -in the same place, the cause of which is -very little understood. Every one is acquainted -with the polarity of a freely suspended magnetic -needle, or its tendency to lie parallel with the earth’s -axis, pointing nearly north and south in every region -of the globe. What is called the <span class='it'>dip</span> or <span class='it'>inclination</span> -of the needle is its divergence from a perfectly horizontal -position. Thus the north pole of the needle -inclines downward in the latitude of London at an -angle of 70°, but conveyed toward the equator, the -dip diminishes, till no inclination at all appears. -Transported farther toward the south, the dip again -discovers itself, but in an opposite direction, the -south pole of the needle inclining downward. “To -understand the reason of this dip of the magnetic -needle, and of its general direction, we have only to -consider that the earth itself operates as a great -magnet, the poles of which are situated beneath its -surface. The directive property of the needle is owing -to these poles; and when the needle is on the -north side of the equator, the north pole of the earth -having the greatest effect, the needle is attracted -downward toward the north pole; hence exactly -over the magnetic pole the needle would be vertical. -Similar phenomena occur in the southern hemisphere; -but here the south pole predominates, and of -course depresses the corresponding pole of the -needle; while at the magnetic equator, from the -equal action of both poles, the needle will assume an -exactly horizontal position.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But neither the magnetic equator nor the magnetic -poles coincide precisely with the geographical equator -and poles, and this difference constitutes what is -termed the <span class='it'>variation</span> of the needle. From calculation, -the north magnetic pole had been fixed in latitude -70°, and longitude 98° 30′ west, a spot which -Commander Ross approached within the distance of -ten miles, in the year 1830, but was unable to verify -the site, for want of the requisite instruments. Upon -going through a long series of calculations afterward -himself, he concluded the above position to have -been erroneously assigned, and that the real point -lay in latitude 70° 5′ 17″ north, and longitude 96° 46′ -45″ west, a spot on the western coast of Boothia, -which he prepared to reach. On the first of June, -1831, at eight o’clock in the morning, he arrived at -the site to which his calculations pointed, and found -the same day the amount of the dip to be 89° 59′, -only one minute less than 90°, the vertical position, -which would have precisely indicated the polar station; -and the horizontal needles, suspended in the -most delicate manner possible, did not betray the -slightest movement. The spot was an unattractive -level site along the coast, rising into ridges from fifty -to sixty feet high, about a mile inland. The wish -expressed by the discoverer was natural, that a -place so important had possessed more of mark or -note, but Nature had erected no monument to denote -the spot which she had chosen as the centre of one -of her “great and dark powers.” A cairn of some -magnitude was constructed by the adventurers, upon -which the British flag was planted, and underneath, -a canister was buried, containing a record of the interesting -enterprise.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i023.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0005' style='width:90%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>Aurora Borealis—Loch Leven.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The magnetic needle has frequently exhibited -violent disturbance when the Aurora Borealis has -appeared. This has led to the surmise that these -brilliant lights are connected with the electric and -magnetic properties of the earth, though in a manner -which we cannot explain. It has been remarked -that during the appearance of the aurora the electric -fluid may often be readily collected from the air. If -a current of electricity also be passed through an exhausted -receiver, a very correct imitation of the -auroral light will be produced, displaying the same -variety of color and intensity, and the same undulating -motions. It is highly probable, therefore, that -the beautiful and fantastic meteoric display is connected -with electricity; but great obscurity rests -upon this department of meteorology.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of all optical phenomena, the Aurora Borealis, or -the northern day-break, is one of the most striking, -especially in the regions where its full glory is revealed. -The site of the appearance, in the north -part of the heavens, and its close resemblance to the -aspect of the sky before sunrise, have originated the -name. The “Derwentwater Lights” was long the -appellation common in the north of England, owing -to their display on the night after the execution of -the unfortunate earl of that name. The scene in -the illustration is a picture of the auroral light, as -observed from the neighborhood of Loch Leven—a -scene in itself admirably calculated to exhibit the -phenomenon; and to convey any adequate idea of -its magical aspect, as seen in high latitudes, the -painter’s hand and the poet’s art are needed. A native -Russian, Lomonosov, thus refers to the spectacle:—</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>    “Where are thy secret laws, O Nature, where?</p> -<p class='line0'>    Thy torch-lights dazzle in the wintry zone;</p> -<p class='line0'>  How dost thou light from ice thy torches there?</p> -<p class='line0'>    There has thy son some sacred, secret throne?</p> -<p class='line0'>See in your frozen sea what glories have their birth;</p> -<p class='line0'>Thence night leads forth the day t’ illuminate the earth.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>    “Come then, philosopher, whose privileged eye</p> -<p class='line0'>    Reads Nature’s hidden pages and decrees:</p> -<p class='line0'>  Come now, and tell us whence, and where, and why,</p> -<p class='line0'>    Earth’s icy regions glow with lights like these,</p> -<p class='line0'>That fill our souls with awe; profound inquirer, say,</p> -<p class='line0'>For thou dost count the stars, and trace the planet’s way.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>    “What fills with dazzling beams the illumined air?</p> -<p class='line0'>    What wakes the flames that light the firmament?</p> -<p class='line0'>  The lightning’s flash: there is no thunder there,</p> -<p class='line0'>    And earth and heaven with fiery sheets are blent;</p> -<p class='line0'>The winter’s night now gleams with brighter, lovelier ray</p> -<p class='line0'>  Than ever yet adorned the golden summer’s day.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>    “Is there some vast, some hidden magazine,</p> -<p class='line0'>    Where the gross darkness flames of fire supplies?</p> -<p class='line0'>  Some phosphorous fabric, which the mountains screen,</p> -<p class='line0'>    Whose clouds of light above those mountains rise?</p> -<p class='line0'>Where the winds rattle loud around the foaming sea,</p> -<p class='line0'>And lift the waves to heaven in thundering revelry?”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>The appearances exhibited by the aurora are so -various as to render it impossible to comprehend -every particular in a description that must be necessarily -brief and general. A cloud, or haze, is commonly -seen in the northern region of the heavens, -but often bearing toward the east or west, assuming -the form of an arc, seldom attaining a greater altitude -than 40°, but varying in extent from 5° to 100°. -The upper edge of the cloud is luminous, sometimes -brilliant and irregular. The lower part is frequently -dark and thick, with the clear sky appearing between -it and the horizon. Streams of light shoot up in columnar -forms from the upper part of the cloud, now -extending but a few degrees, then as far as the zenith, -and even beyond it. Instances occur in which the -whole hemisphere is covered with these coruscations; -but the brilliancy is the greatest, and the light -the strongest, in the north, near the main body of -the meteor. The streamers have in general a tremulous -motion, and when close together present the -appearance of waves, or sheets of light, following -each other in rapid succession. But no rule obtains -with reference to these streaks, which have acquired -the name of “the merry dancers,” from their volatility, -becoming more quick in their motions in stormy -weather, as if sympathizing with the wildness of -the blast. Such is the extraordinary aspect they -present, that it is not surprising the rude Indians -should gaze upon them as the spirits of their fathers -roaming through the land of souls. They are -variously white, pale red, or of a deep blood-color, -and sometimes the appearance of the whole rainbow -as to hue is presented. When several streamers -emerging from different points unite at the zenith, a -small and dense meteor is formed, which seems to -burn with greater violence than the separate parts, -and glows with a green, blue, or purple light. The -display is over sometimes in a few minutes, or continues -for hours, or through the whole night, and appears -for several nights in succession. Captain -Beechey remarked a sudden illumination to occur at -one extremity of the auroral arch, the light passing -along the belt with a tremulous hesitating movement -toward the opposite end, exhibiting the colors of the -rainbow; and as an illustration of this appearance, he -refers to that presented by the rays of some molluscous -animals in motion. Captain Parry notices the -same effect as a common one with the aurora, and -compares it, as far as its motion is concerned, to a -person holding a long ribbon by one end, and giving -it an undulatory movement through its whole length, -though its general position remains the same. Captain -Sabine likewise speaks of the arch being bent -into convolutions, resembling those of a snake in motion. -Both Parry, Franklin, and Beechey agree in -the observation that no streamers were ever noticed -shooting downward from the arch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The preceding statement refers to aurora in high -northern latitudes, where the full magnificence of -the phenomenon is displayed. It forms a fine compensation -for the long and dreary night to which -these regions are subject, the gay and varying aspect -of the heavens contrasting refreshingly with the repelling -and monotonous appearance of the earth. We -have already stated that the direction in which the -aurora generally makes its first appearance, or the -quarter in which the arch formed by this meteor is -usually seen, is to the northward. But this does not -hold good of very high latitudes, for by the expeditions -which have wintered in the ice, it was almost -always seen to the southward; while by Captain -Beechey, in the Blossom, in Kotzerne Sound, 250 -miles to the southward of the ice, it was always observed -in a northern direction. It would appear, -therefore, from this fact, that the margin of the region -of packed ice is most favorable to the production of -the meteor. The reports of the Greenland ships confirm -this idea; for, according to their concurrent testimony, -the meteoric display has a more brilliant -aspect to vessels passing near the situation of the -compact ice, than to others entered far within it. -Instances, however, are not wanting, of the aurora -appearing to the south of the zenith in comparatively -low latitudes. Lieutenant Chappell, in his voyage -to Hudson’s Bay, speaks of its forming in the zenith, -in a shape resembling that of an umbrella, pouring -down streams of light from all parts of its periphery, -which fell vertically over the hemisphere in every -direction. As we retire from the Pole, the phenomenon -becomes a rarer occurrence, and is less perfectly -and distinctly developed. In September, 1828, -it was observed in England as a vast arch of silvery -light, extending over nearly the whole of the heavens, -transient gleams of light separating from the main -body of the luminosity; but in September, 1827, its -hues were red and brilliant. Dr. Dalton has furnished -the following account of an aurora, as observed by -him on the 15th of October, 1792:—“Attention,” he -remarks, “was first excited by a remarkably red appearance -of the clouds to the south, which afforded -sufficient light to read by at 8 o’clock in the evening, -though there was no moon nor light in the north. -From half-past nine to ten there was a large, luminous, -horizontal arch to the southward, and several -faint concentric arches northward. It was particularly -noticed that all the arches seemed exactly bisected -by the plain of the magnetic meridian. At -half-past ten o’clock streamers appeared, very low -in the south-east, running to and fro from west to -east. They increased in number, and began to approach -the zenith apparently with an accelerated -velocity, when all on a sudden the whole hemisphere -was covered with them, and exhibited such an appearance -as surpasses all description. The intensity -of the light, the prodigious number and volatility of -the beams, the grand intermixture of all the prismatic -colors in their utmost splendor, variegating the -glowing canopy with the most luxuriant and enchanting -scenery, afforded an awful, but at the same -time the most pleasing and sublime spectacle in nature. -Every one gazed with astonishment, but the -uncommon grandeur of the scene only lasted one minute. -The variety of colors disappeared, and the -beams lost their lateral motion, and were converted -into the flashing radiations. The aurora continued -for several hours.” A copious deposition of dew—hard -gales in the English channel—and a sudden -thaw after great cold in northern regions, are circumstances -which have been frequently noticed in connection -with auroral displays.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i026.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0006' style='width:90%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>Aurora Borealis.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The sky of the southern hemisphere occasionally -exhibits this strange and mysterious light, contrary -to an old opinion upon the subject; and here it must -be called Aurora Australis, the southern day-break. -Its appearance, however, is far from being so common -as in the northern zone, and is much less imposing. -Don Antonio Ulloa, off Cape Horn, in the year -1745, witnessed the first appearance of the kind upon -record in this region. Upon the clearing off of a thick -mist, a light was observed in the southern horizon, -extending to an elevation of about thirty degrees, -sometimes of a reddish color, and sometimes like the -light which precedes the rise of the moon, but occasionally -more brilliant. Captain Cook, in the same -latitudes, had more distinct views of the luminous -streamers adorning the night-sky of the south. In -the course of his second voyage he remarks, that on -February the 17th, 1773, “a beautiful phenomenon -was observed in the heavens. It consisted of long -colors of a clear, white light, shooting up from the -horizon, to the eastward, almost to the zenith, and -spreading gradually over the whole southern part of -the sky. These columns sometimes bent sideways -at their upper extremity; and though in most respects -similar to the northern lights, yet differed -from them in being always of a whitish color, -whereas ours assume various tints, especially those -of a purple and fiery hue. The stars were sometimes -hid by, and sometimes faintly to be seen -through, the substance of these southern lights, <span class='it'>Aurora -Australis</span>. The sky was generally clear when -they appeared, and the air sharp and cold, the thermometer -standing at the freezing point, the ship being -in latitude 58° south.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The history of auroral phenomena goes back to -the time of Aristotle, who undoubtedly refers to the -exhibition in his work on meteors, describing it as -occurring on calm nights, having a resemblance to -flame mingled with smoke, or to a distant view of -burning stubble, purple, bright red, and blood-color, -being the predominant hues. Notices of it are likewise -found in many of the classical writers; and the -accounts which occur in the chronicles of the middle -ages, of surprising lights in the air, converted by the -imagination of the vulgar into swords gleaming and -armies fighting, are allusions to the play of the -northern lights. There is strong reason to believe, -though the fact is perfectly inscrutable, that the -aurora has been much more common in the European -region of the northern zone, during the last century -and a half, than in former periods. A very brilliant -appearance took place on the 6th of March, 1716, -which forms the subject of a paper by Halley, who -remarks, that nothing of the kind had occurred in -England for more than eighty years, nor of the same -magnitude since 1574, or about 140 years previous, -in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, when Cambden and -Stow were eye-witnesses of it. The latter states in -his Annals, that on November 14th, “were seen in -the air strange impressions of fire and smoke to proceed -forth from a black cloud in the north toward -the south—that the next night the heavens from all -parts did seem to burn marvelous ragingly, and over -our heads the flames from the horizon round about -rising did meet, and there double and roll one in another, -as if it had been in a clear furnace.” The -year following, 1575, it was twice repeated in Holland, -but not observed in England; and as a specimen -of the tone of thought respecting the aurora, the -description of Cornelius Gemma, a professor in the -university of Louvain, may be given. Referring to -the second instance of the year, and speaking in the -language of the times, he remarks: “The form of -the Chasma of the 28th of September following, immediately -after sunset, was indeed less dreadful, but -still more confused and various; for in it were seen -a great many bright arches, out of which gradually -issued spears, cities with towers and men in battle -array; after that, there were excursions of rays -every way, waves of clouds and battles mutually -pursued and fled, and wheeling round in a surprising -manner.” This phenomenon was repeatedly observed -in the last century in Sweden, as at present; -but prior to the year 1716, the inhabitants of Upsal -considered it as a great rarity. Nothing is more -common now in Iceland than the northern lights, -exhibited during the winter with imposing grandeur -and brilliance; but Torfæus, the historian of Denmark, -an Icelander, who wrote in 1706, records his -remembrance of the time when the meteor was an -object of terror in his native island. It deserves remark, -that its more frequent occurrence in the Atlantic -regions has been accompanied by its diminution -in the eastern parts of Asia, as Baron Von -Wrangel was assured by the natives there, who -added, that formerly it was brighter than at present, -and frequently presented the vivid coloring of the -rainbow.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i030.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0007' style='width:90%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span class='bold'>Halos.</span></p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The simplest form of the halo is that of a white -concentric ring surrounding the sun or moon, a very -common appearance in our climate in relation to the -moon, occasioned by very thin vapor, or minute particles -of ice and snow, diffused through the atmosphere -deflecting the rays of light. Double rings -are occasionally seen, displaying the brightest hues -of the rainbow. The colored ring is produced by -globules of visible vapor, the resulting halo exhibiting -a character of density, and appearing contiguous -to the luminous body, according as the atmosphere -is surcharged with humidity. Hence a dense halo -close to the moon is universally and justly regarded -as an indication of coming rain. It has been stated -as an approximation, that the globules which occasion -the appearance of colored circles, vary from the -5000th to the 50,000th part of an inch in diameter. -Though seldom apparent around the sun in our climate, -yet it is only necessary to remove that glare -of light which makes delicate colors appear white, -to perceive segments of beautifully tinted halos on -most days when light fleecy clouds are present. -The illustration shows a nearly complete and slightly -eliptical ring around the sun, the lower portion hidden -by the horizon, which was distinctly observed -during the past summer in the neighborhood of Ipswich, -of an extremely pale pink and blue tint. -When Humboldt was at Cumana, a large double -halo around the moon fixed the attention of the inhabitants, -who considered it as the presage of a violent -earthquake. The hygrometer denoted great -humidity, yet the vapors appeared so perfectly in -solution, or rather so elastic and uniformly disseminated, -that they did not alter the transparency of -the atmosphere. The moon arose after a storm of -rain behind the Castle of St. Antonio. As soon as -she appeared on the horizon, two circles were distinguished, -one large and whitish, 44° in diameter, -the other smaller, displaying all the colors of the -rainbow. The space between the two circles was -of the deepest azure. At the altitude of 4° they disappeared, -while the meteorological instruments indicated -not the slightest change in the lower regions -of the air. The phenomenon was chiefly remarkable -for the great brilliancy of its colors, and for the -circumstance that, according to the measures taken -with Ramsden’s sextant, the lunar disc was not exactly -in the centre of the halos. Humboldt mentions -likewise having seen at Mexico, in extremely fine -weather, large bands spread along the vault of the -sky, converging toward the lunar disc, displaying -beautiful prismatic colors; and he remarks, that -within the torrid zone, similar appearances are the -common phenomena of the night, sometimes vanishing -and returning in the space of a few minutes, -which he assigns to the superior currents of air -changing the state of the floating vapors, by which -the light is refracted. Between latitude 15° of the -equator, he records having observed small tinted -halos around the planet Venus, the purple, orange, -and violet being distinctly perceptible, which was -never the case with Sirius, Canopus, or Acherner. -In the northern regions solar and lunar halos are -very common appearances, owing to the abundance -of minute and highly crystallized spicula of ice floating -in the atmosphere. The Arctic adventurers frequently -mention the fall of icy particles during a -clear sky and a bright sun, so small as scarcely to -be visible to the naked eye, and most readily detected -by their melting upon the skin.</p> - -<hr class='tbk107'/> - -<div><h1><a id='april'></a>APRIL.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MRS. E. L. CUSHING.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Hark to the silvery sound</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of the soft April shower</p> -<p class='line0'>Telleth it not a pleasant tale</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of bird, and bee, and flower?</p> -<p class='line0'>See, as the bright drops fall,</p> -<p class='line0'>  How swell the tiny buds</p> -<p class='line0'>That gem each bare and leafless bough,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Like polished agate studs.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The elder by the brook,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Stands in her tusseled pride</p> -<p class='line0'>And the pale willow decketh her</p> -<p class='line0'>  As might beseem a bride.</p> -<p class='line0'>And round the old oak’s foot,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Where in their wintry play,</p> -<p class='line0'>The winds have swept the withered leaves—</p> -<p class='line0'>  See, the Hepatria!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Its brown and mossy buds</p> -<p class='line0'>  Greet the first breath of spring,</p> -<p class='line0'>And to her shrine, its clustered flowers,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The earliest offering bring.</p> -<p class='line0'>In rocky cleft secure,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The gaudy columbine</p> -<p class='line0'>  Shoots forth, ere wintry snows have fled</p> -<p class='line0'>  A floral wreath to twine.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And many a bud lies hid</p> -<p class='line0'>  Beneath the foliage pent,</p> -<p class='line0'>Waiting spring’s warm and wooing breath</p> -<p class='line0'>  To deck the vernal year.</p> -<p class='line0'>When lo! sweet April comes,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The wild bird hears her voice,</p> -<p class='line0'>And through the grove on glancing wing</p> -<p class='line0'>  Carols, “rejoice! rejoice!”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Forth from her earthy nest</p> -<p class='line0'>  The timid wood-mouse steals,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the blithe squirrel on the bough</p> -<p class='line0'>  Her genial influence feels.</p> -<p class='line0'>The purple hue of life</p> -<p class='line0'>  Flushes the teeming earth,</p> -<p class='line0'>Above, around, beneath the feet,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Joy, beauty, spring to birth!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>But on the distant verge</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of the cerulean sky,</p> -<p class='line0'>Old Winter stands with angry frown</p> -<p class='line0'>  And bids the syren fly.</p> -<p class='line0'>He waves his banner dark</p> -<p class='line0'>  Raises his icy hand,</p> -<p class='line0'>And a fierce storm of sleet and hail,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Obey his stern command.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>She feareth not his wrath,</p> -<p class='line0'>  But hides her sunny face</p> -<p class='line0'>Behind a soft cloud’s fleecy fold</p> -<p class='line0'>  For a brief instant’s space,</p> -<p class='line0'>Then looketh gayly forth</p> -<p class='line0'>  With smile of magic power,</p> -<p class='line0'>That changeth all his icy darts</p> -<p class='line0'>  To a bright diamond shower.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Capricious April, hail!</p> -<p class='line0'>  Herald of all things fair,</p> -<p class='line0'>’Tis thine to loose the imprisoned streams,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The young buds are thy care.</p> -<p class='line0'>To unobservant eye</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thy charms are few, I ween;</p> -<p class='line0'>But he who roves the woodland paths</p> -<p class='line0'>  Where thy blithe step hath been,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Will trace thee by the tufts</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of fragrant early flowers,</p> -<p class='line0'>That thy sweet breath hath waked, to deck</p> -<p class='line0'>  The dreary forest bowers;</p> -<p class='line0'>And by the bursting buds,</p> -<p class='line0'>  That at thy touch unfold</p> -<p class='line0'>To clothe the tall tree’s naked arms</p> -<p class='line0'>    With beauty all untold,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Will hear thy tuneful voice</p> -<p class='line0'>  In the glad leaping streams,</p> -<p class='line0'>And catch thy bland, yet fitful smile</p> -<p class='line0'>  In showers and sunny gleams.</p> -<p class='line0'>Then welcome April, fair!</p> -<p class='line0'>  Bright harbinger of May!</p> -<p class='line0'>Month of blue skies and perfumed air—</p> -<p class='line0'>  The young year’s holyday!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk108'/> - -<div><h1><a id='away'></a>AWAY.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>B. B.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Floateth in upon my senses now the melody of brooks,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the drip of fragrant waters, far in solitary nooks—</p> -<p class='line0'>O avaunt! ye tedious tasks! O get ye gone! ye irksome books.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Why to linger pent and stifled in this chamber small and low,</p> -<p class='line0'>Through the casement on my temples thus to feel the breezes blow,</p> -<p class='line0'>Bidding me to come and follow where at liberty they go?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Why amid this noisy Babel mingle in the petty strife,</p> -<p class='line0'>In the wearying din and discord with which every day is rife,</p> -<p class='line0'>While the full, free life within me yearns to greet its kindred life?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>O, those boundless breadths of forest unrestrained to wander through,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where the lofty pine mounts upward to the firmament of blue,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where the swarth and stalwart savage paddles in his birch canoe.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>O, to hear my ringing shout of exultation echo clear</p> -<p class='line0'>In the woodland, by the moose-tramp and the covert of the deer,</p> -<p class='line0'>Or where stalk the stately bison who have never known to fear,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>On the broad and blooming pampas, with their fat and teeming soil</p> -<p class='line0'>Never marred by human culture, never by unwilling toil,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where the wild herds roam uninjured, and the gleaming serpents coil.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Or where crawls the full-fed Ganges down into his sandy bed,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the sluggish hippopotamus uprears his clumsy head,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where the beauty-bringing cestus of the torrid zone is spread.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Where many a glowing river rolls along its wealth of tide</p> -<p class='line0'>Through the tangled vines and palm-trees bending down on either side,</p> -<p class='line0'>With the orange bloom and citron, and the tall acacia’s pride.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Where the scaly cayman basking on the yellow bank is laid,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the brilliant-plumaged song-birds call in every spicy glade,</p> -<p class='line0'>There to hunt the spotted leopard in the jungle’s depth of shade.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Or beyond the spreading oceans, in some distant Paynim land,</p> -<p class='line0'>Swifter than the fiery simoom sweep across the plains of sand,</p> -<p class='line0'>On a fleet and naked barb, and wield a keenly flashing brand.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>O for days of careless gladness, days that evermore are gone,</p> -<p class='line0'>When the spirit-thrilling summons of the silver bugle-horn</p> -<p class='line0'>Roused the green-clad host of merry men at break of dewy morn.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>—Cease thy prating, foolish Fancy, Fancy wayward, unconfined,</p> -<p class='line0'>List the mighty music rushing on the pinions of the wind,</p> -<p class='line0'>’Tis the onward tread of nations, ’tis the endless march of mind.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'><span style='font-size:smaller'>Bowdoin College.</span></span></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk109'/> - -<div><h1><a id='song'></a>SONG.</h1></div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Each gentle word thy lip imparts,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Each glance of thy dear eye,</p> -<p class='line0'>Is hidden in my heart of hearts</p> -<p class='line0'>  As in a treasury.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And, though but once in life we’ve met</p> -<p class='line0'>  And ne’er may meet again,</p> -<p class='line0'>The memory of this hour, shall yet</p> -<p class='line0'>  Within my heart remain,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>As the bright tinge of crimson dye,</p> -<p class='line0'>  When the red sun descends,</p> -<p class='line0'>Long lingers in the western sky</p> -<p class='line0'>  And with the twilight blends.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Still let me cherish thoughts of thee</p> -<p class='line0'>  Till life’s sad hours are o’er;</p> -<p class='line0'>Think of me, sometimes, tenderly—</p> -<p class='line0'>  I may not ask for more.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk110'/> - -<div><h1>THE FIRST AGE.<a id='age'></a></h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY H. DIDIMUS.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>BOOK FIRST.</h2> - -<h3>SECTION I.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The broad sun, red, and with softened beams, rose -lazily upon the young earth. The wide sea, unruffled, -heaved to and fro, mirroring in its depths the -new-made canopy of azure and of gold spread by -God’s hand, from limit to limit, over water and land, -and all the stream of ocean. The herbage stood -rank, thick, heavy, tall and motionless; and covered -with vast shade mountain and valley and plain; for -not yet had the revolving seasons, and storms, with -falling rain abraded the soil, and bared rocks, and -worn acclivities; nor the breath of heaven hastened -in its course, circling the earth; nor the poles left -their place to rise and fall, vibrating; but one unending -spring ruled throughout the year. Rivers rolled—unvexed -and noiseless—toward the bosom of their -great mother; and the mountain stream scarce murmured -as it fell, whitening, from sward to sward, to -sleep in some still lake, happy with water-fowl. -Herds of cattle—of horses and of deer, the elephant -and the bison—wandered, uncared for, through fat -pastures, beautiful with flowers; and the lion roamed -at will, and crouched in every dingle, and in every -glen, and took his prey. The air was vocal with -the voice of birds, of birds innumerable, which saluted -with morning hymn the growing day; and the -hum of insects—which all night had drummed in the -drowsy ear of silence—was hushed, and folding their -wings, they slept. It is the primeval age.</p> - -<h3>SECTION II.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Chrr-oo-uh; chrr-oo-uh; chrr-oo-eh-uh; oo-ugh, -oo-ugh; chrr-oo-uh—A white pigeon stood upon the -lowest branch, heavy with foliage, of a noble oak, -planted with creation, and arched his neck, and -drooped his wings, and turned round and round, calling -to his mate. Chrr-oo-uh; chrr-oo-uh; chrr-oo-eh-uh; -oo-ugh; oo-ugh; chrr-oo-uh—And the white -pigeon looked out upon the sea, which rolled inward -with its new voice, deep and hoarse, as it rolls now, -and broke softly upon the glittering strand, just beneath -his feet; and back to the wooded mountains, -which showed blue and misty through the air, capped -with silvery clouds; and beneath the arms of the -forest trees, where the land rose gently from the -shore, carpeted with green and gold, and all colors -of the sun woven into flowers. Chrr-oo-uh; chrr-oo-uh; -chrr-oo-eh-uh; oo-ugh; oo-ugh; chrr-oo-uh—calling -to his mate.</p> - -<h3>SECTION III.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>From a deep, embowered grot—half-hidden within -a grove of oranges, and trellised with the woodbine -and the grape, clustering—came a sweet voice, singing; -not with the musical cadence and alliteration, -and returning rhyme of later days, when intellect -refined to weaken, but with the promptings of the -soul, gushing, unmeasured, finding speech as it -might.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Call, call to your mate, happy bird, and she shall -call to you again; but where is he who should call -to me, in this day of joy? Erix, my Erix, rising -like the sun in his strength, with broad shoulders, -and a brow moulded by God! And the glory of his -head, brighter than the beams of the morning; those -curls which I, with merry fingers, have so often -twisted, until they sprang from me with life and -laughter, and clung about his neck, kissingly—why -do they not dance before me, gladdening my sight? -And those arms, like twisted vines, which hold and -give every happiness—why are they not here to receive -me? And those lips, which are so used to -praise me, until I wonder at my own comeliness, -and lose my breath in their thieving—why are they -not here to bless me, with their music so subduing? -And those eyes, so large and deep, those wells of -passion, in which I live a double being, in which I -see my own blushing—why are they not here, to -kindle and to burn? Oh! Erix, my Erix, as flowers -love the earth, as the earth loves the sun, as the sun -loves its Maker, so is my love for thee, most beautiful -and most excellent!”</p> - -<h3>SECTION IV.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>And with the singing, came a fair maid, tripping -into the outer air; large, lithe of limb, like the moon -riding in mid-heaven, when seen in her full light, -paling the stars. Her hair fell, unbound, even to her -feet, covering half her shape; and about her waist -was knit a robe of sables, which flowed downward, -and concealed no excellence above the girdle. Her -form was sister to the antelope, and her face, one, -which Phidias would have chiseled for a Juno of -giant make. Her glowing eyes, blue as the ether -above them, rolled liquid as she sang, and bent the -knee, and worshiped, extending her arms, which -showed like wreaths of snow borne upon the wind, -toward the mounting day—not ignorantly, for she -was too near to God in time, to have forgotten him. -Then rising, she also looked upon the sea, smiling -in the sunlight, and loved it; for she was born upon -its shores, and, with life, its roar filled her ears. She -loved it—coming to her, from whence she knew not, -from beyond the reach of space, which to her eye -was bounded by the heavens, that bowed down and -girdled the waters—and enticed, the robe of sables -fell from her, and the glad brine received her, and -mounting, laved all her beauty. Thus swimming, -thus sporting, thus playing with young ocean, now -floating, now dipping beneath his bosom heaving -with great joy. The white pigeon left its perch, -and sought a new rest, even the fair maid’s fair brow, -rising from the wave, and arched its neck, and -drooped its wings, and turned round and round, chrr-oo-uh; -chrr-oo-uh; chrr-oo-eh uh; oo-ugh; oo-ugh; -chrr-oo-uh; calling to its mate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The white pigeon nestled in the grot, and knew -its mistress, and her caress; and when the maid -would have taken it tenderly in her hand, smoothing -its ruffled feathers, it flew upward, cleaving the air -in circles, and descending, lighted upon her wrist, -and pecked at her taper fingers, roseate with health, -and arched its neck, and drooped its wings, and -turned round and round; chrr-oo-uh; chrr-oo-uh; -chrr-oo-eh-uh; oo-ugh; oo-ugh; chrr-oo-uh; calling -to its mate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Call, call to your mate, happy bird, and she shall -call to you again; but, where is he who should call -to me, in this my bridal hour? Erix, my love, my -life, my soul’s sole hope!”</p> - -<h3>SECTION V.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The sound of merry horns, of laughter, and of -shout, came leaping through the wood, and the fair -maid started like a fawn, like a fawn tracked by the -hunter, when it first scents its pursuer in the breeze; -and hastening to the strand, she knit the robe of sables -about her waist, and it fell down as before, concealing -no excellence above the girdle. Fresh from -the wave, she stood gazing, with hope and expectation -her handmaids, who with nimble fingers adorned -her, and covered her all over with tints from the -blushing east. Her hair, long and damp, thick sown -with pearly brine, showed gemmed; and parted lip, -and flashing eye, the very tell-tales of passion, betrayed -the beatings of her heart, her fears and her -desire. When, in an after age, the poet wove this -story into mythologic fable, he called her Venus, the -Aphrodite, born of the foam of the sea; and the -sculptor caught her as she stood, her feet like flocks -of wool, the right advanced, the left raised at the -heel, rushing, moving, white, and fair.</p> - -<h3>SECTION VI.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>And now, far within the leafy vista, was seen approaching, -descending toward the strand, a troop of -maidens and young men. Crowned with chaplets -of roses and the fruitful vine, they came on dancing, -to shout and laughter, and the sound of merry horns; -and he who led them was taller than the rest, herculean; -and from his back hung a boar’s hide, and -about his loins were girded the skins of foxes and of -wolves, spoils of the chase. In his hand he held a -bow, which he drew proudly at the sun; elated with -the nearness of his supremest bliss. Child of the -forest, greater than the sun, immortal, thou shall live -when all of matter hath wholly passed away; draw -then, thy bow, aspiring, if thou wilt; it is thy soul, -conscious of its superiority, stirring within thee.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On, on; love gives fleetness to his feet. “Zella, -Zella,” calling to his mate. And again the shout, -the laughter, and the sound of merry horns; and -again, “Zella, Zella,” calling to his mate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Zella called not to him again. Her heart was -upon her tongue, and she could not speak; her -strength had left her knees, and she stood transfixed; -while “Zella, Zella,” sprang from every lip, echoed -through the wood, and died afar off, amid the murmurs -of the sea. Again, “Zella, Zella;” again the -shout, the laughter, and the sound of merry horns; -and Erix clasped the loved one to his breast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Zella!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Erix!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, may the ruler of the heavens and good -earth so bless me, as I love thee, my soul’s choice! -Closer, closer, my heart of hearts; thus twining, thus -growing, no storm shall divide us; but, with equal -step, we will move right onward through life, and -beyond life, to gather new strength and a new glory, -in a hereafter.”</p> - -<h3>SECTION VII.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The band of youths and fair maids danced around -them, hand in hand, singing, “To the Mighty Giver -of all good, praise. He sends the blossom and the -fruit, praise. From Him come all our joys, praise. -He made the day, and the night, with all her train -of ever-burning fires, the fairest labor of His hand, -praise. The sun is His servant, the moon His -daughter, praise. He gave us the earth, with all its -beauty of hill and valley, of water and of wood, -praised be forever His holy name. Oh, happy, happy -day! oh, happy, happy hour! Open, ye heavens! -and let love from on high descend upon these two, -brooding; that they may live, from generation to -generation, renewed and renewing, to the end of -time. Holy, holy, holy, is this compact instituted -in the beginning. Now are ye of one flesh; hearts -the same, wills the same, desires the same; of one -body, of one mind. Praise Him, praise Him, praise -the Mighty Giver of all good!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then hastening to the sea, they took up water, -briny water, in shells, and poured it upon the lovers, -and baptized them into a new life, and cast their -chaplets upon them and covered them with flowers; -still dancing, still singing: “The divided part has -become old, put it off; the present is bright with -every hope, enjoy it; the future shall be what you -may make it, be not wanting; oh, happy, happy, -happy pair! As ye are, so we would be; ever -drinking draughts of pleasure through each revolving -year.”</p> - -<h3>SECTION VIII.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>And now came forth the aged of the tribe, slow -descending from the wood, and embraced them and -blessed them; “Be fruitful and multiply—swear.” -And Erix and Zella stretched out their hands toward -heaven and swore, by the light, and by the orbs of -the air, and by the ocean, far-rounding, illimitable, -infinite, and by the solid earth, and by Him who -moved upon the face of the waters and begat this -glory, to be forever one. “What you receive, I will -receive; what you reject, I will reject; your breath -is my breath, and even as we are now, so death -shall find us; leaving all else to cleave unto each -other.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dance, the shout, the sound of merry horns, -pointed to the grot, and Erix and Zella led the way. -He, with head erect and willing feet, proud of his -victory; she, with downcast eyes and halting gait, -irresolute, resolved, like a coy maid, half-refusing, -like a wife, wholly trusting, while youth and maiden, -paired, in a long line, came sweeping after. And -now they sway, first to the right then to the left, -with measured step, beating upon the glad earth the -bridal-song.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Receive, receive thy children, Paradise, garden -new found, not lost to us forever.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who are these that come, beautiful with joy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Receive, receive thy children, Paradise, garden -new found, not lost to us forever.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who are these that knock, pressing to tread upon -holy ground?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thy children, father; thy children, mother; -open wide the gates that they may enter in. Praised -be thy name, oh Adam! praised be thy name, oh -Eve! these are thy offspring, joined as ye were -joined, by the hand of God; open wide the gates -that they may enter in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The grot received them, echoing; and shout, and -laughter, and the sound of many horns, held riot -over a feast of fruit, and the chase, and water from -the brook, till the day went out and night crept -slowly in, and stars spotted the sky, and the white -pigeon descended nestling, timidly, to its couch, -and arched its neck, and drooped its wings, and -turned round and round; chrr-oo-uh; chrr-oo-uh; -chrr-oo-eh-uh; oo-ugh; oo-ugh; chrr-oo-uh; calling -to its mate—and she, called to him again.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>BOOK SECOND.</h2> - -<h3>SECTION I.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Ten circles have passed; ten circles of the earth -about the sun; what are ten circles to life before the -flood! The night is just yielding to the day, and in -the farthest east streaks of gray light lie floating, -dividing the ocean from the sky. How quiet the -earth is; and seems to breathe, long and deep, in its -huge slumber, not yet awakened. The murmur of -the sea is infinite, ceaseless, and breaks, and returns, -and breaks, in regular cadence upon the shore; ever -speaking the same words—eternity and power. The -sea and silent stars, which look down, twinkling, -from heaven’s pavement, alone are watchful. How -quiet the earth is! The owl sits moping upon her -perch in some tall pine, and the wolf, whose cry, -whetted by hunger, pierced the shades of night, -gorged and reeking, has hastened to his lair. The -dew, like rain, is upon the grass and all herbage, and -hangs, globular, from every leaf. An incense rises, -the incense of the morning, and fills the air; now -known only to the wise and the poor, beloved of -God. Hour most sweet; when day salutes the -night, and night kisses day, to part and meet again.</p> - -<h3>SECTION II.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>At such an hour, Erix and Zella shook sleep from -their eyelids and came forth, ready for the chase. -Her hair no longer floated unbound, but, as became -the matron, was twisted into a knot and confined -with strings of coral, fashioned by the hand whose -soft caress she returned with joys unspeakable. -Upon her drooping shoulders, white and bare, rests -a quiver well filled; and a belt of tiny sea-shells interwoven -with fibres of the lichen, crosses transversely -her breast, now full and rounded to completion. -Sandals are upon her feet, and a tunic of -shaggy hide covers her from the waist to the knee; -all else, the morning air, invigorating, embraces. -Thus seen, the poet of an after age, changed his -story, and called her Dian, ruler of the night; and -sang her praises in verse set to the babbling of -brooks, the music of the wood, and sylvan sports. -Erix, large, erect, perfect in manly beauty, with -limbs well knit, proportional, combining activity and -strength, was less incumbered than his mate, and -carried, as his sole weapon, an ashen spear, charred -and hardened at the point by fire. His was the front -of Jove, the pagan, not yet won from mortality by -intellect, or raised above mere matter, to express the -soul’s labors and ambitions. And first, low bending, -rose the morning prayer.</p> - -<h3>SECTION III.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hail Father, Creator; Thou who gavest into our -hands the earth, with its fullness; all hail! Thy -children, fashioned after thine own excellence, we -stand, rejoicing. Greater than the earth are we; -greater than the sea, that vast stream which compasses -all land, forever proclaiming thy praises; -greater than the orbs of day and night; greater than -the elements, thy ministers; for thou didst speak -unto our fathers, and didst promise to raise the seed -of Adam higher than the angels. The thunder -serves us, obedient to thy will; and the quick lightning; -and the clouds, pregnant with rain. In the air -we find thy mercies, and every tree, and every -flower speaks of thee. Accept, accept our great -gratitude; and keep us, even as thou keepest all -else.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again low bending, and Erix and Zella, light of -foot, passed onward to the chase.</p> - -<h3>SECTION IV.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>They skirt the wood, and narrowly inspect the -dewy grass, to find new foot-prints of beast or heavy -bird, seeking, with returning light, their accustomed -food. No fairy ring, no shape of naiad or of dryad, -no gnome, no sprite, met their pure vision, to turn -them from their way; for not yet had the mind of -man built up a superstition unto itself, and peopled -the clefts of the earth, the water, and the air, giving -to nothingness forms innumerable. Truth was too -near and palpable, to be lost in imagination; to be -moulded and cast anew, so changed as not to know -itself; and poetry, the juggler and soul’s cheat, lay -hid in matter, where God placed it, to be drawn -thence for other purposes than those of error. It -was not until man forgot his origin, that he sought -out a new creator, even Beauty, the prime element -in all God’s works, and so wrought with it, as to -give strange life to all that is, and is not.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wily hunters, skilled in their life’s trade, turn -on every side, observe the lower boughs, fresh cropped, -imitate the call of birds, the cry of deer, peer -through the thick underwood which stood here and -there in clumps, and plunged into the forest upon a -trail which promised success.</p> - -<h3>SECTION V.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The sylva before the flood! Huge, aspiring, with -arms reaching outward many a rood, each monarch -stood; the traveler and man of science, he whose -name now fills the world, never found, in his many -rounds in search of knowledge, even in southern -climes, such offspring of earth, air, water, and the -sun; and Australia, with its wondrous herbage, -sometimes cloud-capped, stand dwarfed and small to -the life with which God, in his first joy, clothed his -work. The poet, too, and writer of the Comedies, -whose soul was bitter hell, saw not in heaven, nor -beneath, nor in the orb between, a wood so vast, so -majestic, and so beautiful. Trees, the growth of -many a revolving year, lay mouldering; not prostrated -by the tornado, nor driven from their seat by -floods of water and of rock, which leave their track -seamed, as one might plough a furrow in the field, -but fallen through age, and draped with moss of the -liveliest green, softer to the touch than a woman’s -lip. The vine crept from limb to limb, and threw -out its tendrils joyously; now hanging in mid air, -and now, a parasite, twisting about the trunk of -some gnarled oak, adding to strength its sister loveliness; -while flowers, broad and tall, with petals like -masts, and of a hue more delicate than that which -opens to the garish sun, spotted the ground as stars -spot the sky. The air pressed heavy, damp, laden -with aromatic odors, as to one standing beneath the -swelling arches of some old temple, raised in the -middle-age by hands whose labors Michelett has -transferred to historic prose, more lasting than the -stone which was to them a religion and a worship. -No voice broke the general stillness, save the sound -of distant water, floating upon the breathings of the -wood, just reaching the ear, now heard and now -lost, as a maid calling to her lover. Amid such excellence, -the excellence of a primeval age, before -man and the seasons had marred earth’s face, Erix -and Zella hunted.</p> - -<h3>SECTION VI.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>The two moved on, like gods, hastening to outrun -the growing light, and to make their sport before -high noon should steal its freshness from their path. -So, long after, but less large, less strong, less fleet, -and less beautiful, did the twin creations of pure -intellect, Apollo and his mate, pursue the boar in -Tempe; while the herdsman who sat afar off, upon -some high rock, watching his wealth, veiled his face -in wonder and in fear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Thus were three full leagues passed over, through -the windings of the wood; he, crushing the flowers -beneath his feet, she, just bending their drooping -heads, when Erix descried a noble stag standing -upon the bank of a sweet pool, of narrow round, -which, embosomed in the forest, slept peaceful, and -mirrored in its face the moving foliage and the blue -sky above. With head depressed, the deer had -caught his own image in the water, and stood threatening -with mimic war his shadowy antagonist, -returning thrust for thrust. Poor beast! Now strain -the nerve and put forth thy utmost speed, for no -shadows threaten at thy back, but death, with feet -swifter than the wind. With one loud shout the -forest rang, and then, clear as the notes of bugle or -of flute, played to the listening morn, burst forth the -hunter’s song; for not yet had the gin and pit, and -stealth cowardly creeping upon its prey, debased the -chase, and dishonored with cheat and trick man’s -highest sport; but room was given and a chance for -life, to the course before the flood.</p> - -<h3>SECTION VII.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>See, the east is glowing with golden-tinted light, -and the morn calls to us with the breath of youth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>See, the incense rises from every dewy leaf; and -the morn calls to us with the breath of youth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The air floats, balmy, o’er hill, and wood, and -lake; and the morn calls to us with the breath of -youth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The spear stands, impatient, by the wall; the bow, -unstrung, lies mourning at the door; while the morn -calls to us with the breath of youth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hark! The horn winds joy, and the echoes laugh, -and leap, and dance—trr, trr, trr, trr, trrwhroo, -trrwhroo—in circles of mad delight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Awake, then, awake; for the horn winds joy, and -the echoes laugh, and leap, and dance—trr, trr, trr, -trr, trrwhroo, trrwhroo—in circles of mad delight; -and the morn calls to us with the breath of youth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now press the foot, and watchful be the eye, for -the spear is in the hand, and the arrow on the string, -and the horn winds joy, and the echoes laugh, and -leap, and dance—trr, trr, trr, trr, trrwhroo, trrwhroo—in -circles of mad delight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Away, and away, in a race against the sun; -while the horn winds joy, and the echoes laugh, and -leap, and dance—trr, trr, trr, trr, trrwhroo, trrwhroo—in -circles of mad delight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of the strong, we are the strongest, and of the -fleet, we are the fleetest; while the horn winds joy, -and the echoes laugh, and leap, and dance—trr, trr, -trr, trr, trrwhroo, trrwhroo—in circles of mad delight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The game flies, scudding athwart the forest path, -while the horn winds joy, and the echoes laugh, and -leap, and dance—trr, trr, trr, trr, trrwhroo, trrwhroo—in -circles of mad delight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wolf howls defiance, and hastens to his lair; -the deer, suspicious, scents the coming storm; the -lion’s deep growl comes rolling up the glen, while -the horn winds joy, and the echoes laugh, and leap, -and dance—trr, trr, trr, trr, trrwhroo, trrwhroo—in -circles of mad delight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then press the foot, and watchful be the eye; for -the spear is in the hand, and the arrow on the string; -and the horn winds joy, and the echoes laugh, and -leap, and dance—trr, trr, trr, trr, trrwhroo, trrwhroo—in -circles of mad delight; and the morn calls to us -with the breath of youth.</p> - -<h3>SECTION VIII.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>With one bound the stag cleared the narrow pool, -and with head erect, his branching antlers resting -upon his back, fled onward; swifter than the wind -that, in winter’s dreary reign, under the stars of cold -December, drives fierce and cutting through the -gorge which, in the farthest north, divides the granite -hills sheer to their base, while the song poured -thickening upon his rear—sounds of victory and pursuit. -Thus, with nostrils wide distended and smoking -flanks, he led his foes through many a double -and straight reach, now holding to the cover of the -wood, and with sure eye, passing beneath gnarled -oaks, and through hanging vines, and boughs interlocked -blacker than night, and now, seeking the -open plain, where the sea rolled inward to find its -limit. There the voice of his pursuers no longer -urged him on, or was lost in that greater voice to -which he had fled as to a refuge; and he rested, -trembling, upon the rim of the ocean, his fetlocks -laved by its flaky foam, and looking out upon it, -sobbing, in search of a safety which the water as -the land denied. So, in the race of life, the unfortunate, -hunted by its ills, with hope crushed out, -stand upon its utmost verge, gazing, and find no joy -beyond, till death strikes them through, to perish and -be forgotten.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Short time was given, for Erix and Zella, side by -side, keeping ever, like fate, to their fixed end, soon -issued from the wood, and with voice and gesture -urged their prey to a new flight. The game, now -driven to his last shift, stilled his coward heart, -turned and stood at bay; but Zella, unwilling thus -to close the morning’s sport, drew an arrow to its -head, and sent the weapon whirring, to glance and -fall far out at sea. Enraged with such acts, the stag -sprang forward, striking on either side; and as Erix, -yielding, strove to take him by the horns, leaped -as far as Apollo’s horses leaped, in that great story -told by the Greek whose song civilized the world. -Like a bolt, winged, he sped through the whistling -air, when Zella, quick turning, with a shaft more -fleet, smote him, mid-way, quite through his bursting -heart. Upon a scented bank, deep within the wood, -mossy, curling over the stream which there, trickling, -smooth, and quiet, hastened to kiss the sea, -the poor beast fell, and groaned his life away; and -the warm sun danced and flickered, as if in very -joy of the beauty it had made, through the tall -trees, and around the climbing vines, and across the -green leaves, and upon the silent water, mocking at -death, and laughing at the spoil which changes but -to create again.</p> - -<h3>SECTION IX.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Erix took Zella’s hand in his and drew her toward -him, nothing loth, till their lips met; then praised -her skill: then pressed again her lips—then praised—then -pressed—while Zella returned the pressure -with many a toy beside. Thus rejoicing in a mutual -love, they sought, with slow step and halting, the -mossy bank, where lay in the sunlight, as if asleep, -the game of late so fleet, and sat them down to rest, -and drink new draughts of pleasure, and count over -the endless good with which Heaven had blessed the -earth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“List, dearest, list! how softly upon the ear, in -sweetest cadence, falls the song of the deep salt -sea!” said Erix.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the air which hears it, glad to be thus -freighted, floats inward, murmuring, to tell it to the -hills,” said Zella.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the hills repeat it, whispering.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the trees catch it; and through the live-long -day, and through the night, over the whole -broad land, play with it, and toss it from bough to -bough, till it has become a language of its own,” -said Zella.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is the voice of this earth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is the voice of its great joy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And has praised from the beginning, and will -praise unto the end, the hand which made it,” said -Erix.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The sunlight hears it, and moves merrily to the -measure upon every quivering leaf, now leaping -upward to gild the topmost twig, and now chasing -shadows upon the ground beneath.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“See, where it streams through the openings of the -wood, and rests upon this water, smiling! Yes, the -sunlight hears it, and grows brighter with each -draught of a music so divine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The flowers open to it; and there, upon that -slope, bending gently toward our feet, proud of their -colors penciled by the light, stand thick—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And wonder, and drink deep of the strains which -extol their beauty and their glory, as they extol the -beauty and the glory of all else,” said Erix. “Oh the -song of the sea, of the deep, salt sea, with the air -floating inward, and the hills beyond, and the trees, -and the sunlight, and the flowers thick set upon the -slope, gently bending downward toward our feet, and -this mossy bank, and the pearly brook between—upon -such a morn as this, in such a place as this, Adam -found his Eve.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And upon such a morn as this, in such a place -as this, Eve gave to Adam a love new-created, unknown -to the courts trod by angels’ feet, and which -has raised her daughters above cherub and seraph, to -do and to suffer for their soul’s choice,” said Zella.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Zella!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Erix!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now let the voice of the earth’s joy, the sun, and -herbage speaking, the mossy bank, the flowery slope, -and pearly brook between, bold revel, for a passion, -blushing like the morn, pure as the marble which -grew beneath the hands of Praxitiles, without stain -or blemish, strong as the strongest, weak as the -weakest, even love, is here present, and rules supreme.</p> - -<h3>SECTION X.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>Erix and Zella, he bearing upon his broad shoulders -a burden light—the noble game they had -hunted to its death—returned homeward along the -sounding beach, nor made deep foot-prints in the -yielding sand. Unwearied, lithe, in sheer exuberance -of life, they chased the retiring waves, then -turning, fled to be themselves pursued; till young -Ocean, pleased, shook his giant limbs, and like a -lion by a child subdued, rolled at their feet, and -roared, and beat, in his great heart, the measure to -this hymn, which they, alternating, sang.</p> - -<hr class='tbk111'/> - -<p class='pindent'>“Almighty Lord, Maker of the Earth, in loveliness -beyond compare hast thou fashioned it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Almighty Lord, the maker of our joys, in goodness -beyond compare hast thou fashioned them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thou didst build the hills, and crown them with -thy glory; and they praise forever thy holy name.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thou didst fix the foundations, and form the running -streams; and they praise forever thy holy name.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thou didst plant the forests, and clothe them with -thy beauty; and they praise forever thy holy name.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The plain is thine, with all its life, and, with voices -infinite, praises forever thy holy name.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The air is thine, and within its bosom bears bounties -innumerable, to praise forever thy holy name.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Praise in the pattering rain.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Praise in the gentle dew.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perfume and color.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Form and motion.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All praise forever thy holy name.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thine is the sea, and thou lov’st it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the sea loves thee, its Maker, in return.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The breezy morn.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The ruddy eve.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The strength of high noon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The quietude of night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All speak of thee, Almighty Lord, the furnisher of -our joys.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And praise forever thy holy name.”</p> - -<h3>SECTION XI.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>As Erix and Zella, thus singing, drew nigh unto -the grot where first their joys commingled, to flow -on through life in no divided stream, two boys, the -offspring of their love, came forth to meet them. The -elder, from beneath whose locks, curled and dancing, -reddened with the sun, full many a wild-flower -peeped, bore grapes, ripe, fresh-plucked, and clutching, -pressed the vintage with his hands. The -younger, marching with an uncertain step, just babbling -his first words, caught the generous juice in -his tiny palms, cup-shaped, and offered to his mother, -whose lips sought his, and rested, well content to -drink only of that bliss which God has planted in a -mother’s kiss. Then Erix, casting off his load, took -the elder-born to his arms, and recounted all the -chase—the scent of the perfumed morn, the song, -the flight, the pursuit through wood and open plain, -the halt by the sounding sea, the leap, the fatal shaft, -the crowning death, till the boy shouted, and every -muscle worked in mimic struggle with the mimic -game a-foot; and the white pigeon descended, hovering -o’er the group, and lighted at Zella’s feet, and -arched its neck, and drooped its wings, and turned -round and round; chrr-oo-uh; chrr-oo-uh; chrr-oo-eh-uh; -oo-ugh; oo-ugh; chrr-oo-uh; calling to -its mate.</p> - -<h3>SECTION XII.</h3> - -<p class='pindent'>And now, sweet friend, who put me to this task, -who won my love, not knowing how or why, come -tread with me the inner-chambers of my house. -This, the portal, is well passed, and other scenes, -and other pictures far, wait eyes which kindle, -though the fire be false, eyes which flow even with -the current of a fictitious wo.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-top:0.5em;'>[<span class='it'>To be continued.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk112'/> - -<div><h1><a id='song2'></a>SONG.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY WILLIAM H. C. HOSMER.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.3em;'>(Air—“Homes of England.”)</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The hallowed wells of Learning,</p> -<p class='line0'>  No wasting may they know,</p> -<p class='line0'>But sparkle, fed by lucid streams,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Unceasing in their flow;</p> -<p class='line0'>And may their waters catch no stain</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of deep and Stygian dye,</p> -<p class='line0'>Though Error for an hour hold reign</p> -<p class='line0'>  Beneath a darkened sky.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The Sacred Bowers of Learning,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Be blight afar from them;</p> -<p class='line0'>No tree grow up with serpent folds</p> -<p class='line0'>  Entwining round the stem;</p> -<p class='line0'>No bud of precious promise feel</p> -<p class='line0'>  The frost of cold neglect,</p> -<p class='line0'>And heard no solemn funeral peal</p> -<p class='line0'>  For Genius early wrecked.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The Stately Halls of Learning,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Forever may they stand,</p> -<p class='line0'>And Truth walk down the sounding aisles</p> -<p class='line0'>  With Honor, hand in hand;</p> -<p class='line0'>The columns that uphold the roof</p> -<p class='line0'>  Be men of noble mould,</p> -<p class='line0'>And beauteous daughters, armed in proof,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Stern war with wrong to hold.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The Holy Shrines of Learning,</p> -<p class='line0'>  May no polluting flame</p> -<p class='line0'>Be lighted on one altar-stone</p> -<p class='line0'>  By fiends who mock at shame,</p> -<p class='line0'>But cloudless light be shed abroad</p> -<p class='line0'>  A guilty world to cheer,</p> -<p class='line0'>And men forget to worship God</p> -<p class='line0'>  In superstitious fear.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk113'/> - -<div><h1><a id='imp'></a>IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLAND IN THE AUTUMN OF 1851.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY FREDERIKA BREMER.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is two years since I first found myself in -England. When I was in England in the autumn -of 1849, the cholera was there. A dense, oppressive -atmosphere rested over its cities, as of a cloud pregnant -with lightning. Hearses rolled through the -streets. The towns were empty of people; for all -who had the means of going had fled into the -country; they who had not were compelled to remain. -I saw shadowy figures, clad in black, stealing -along the streets, more like ghosts than creatures of -flesh and blood. Never before had I seen human -wretchedness in such a form as I beheld it in Hull -and in London. Wretchedness enough may be -found, God knows, even in Stockholm, and it shows -itself openly enough there in street and market. But -it is there most frequently an undisguised, an unabashed -wretchedness. It is not ashamed to beg, to -show its rags, or its drunken countenance. It is a -child of crime; and that is perhaps the most extreme -wretchedness. But it is less painful to behold, because -it seems to be suffering only its own deserts. -One is more easily satisfied to turn one’s head aside -and pass on. One thinks, “I cannot help that!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In England, however, misery had another appearance; -it was not so much that of degradation as of -want, pallid want. It was meagre and retiring; it -ventured not to look up, or it looked up with a glance -of hopeless beseeching—so spirit-broken! It tried to -look respectable. Those men with coats and hats -brushed till the nap was gone; those pale women in -scanty, washed-out, but yet decent clothes—it was a -sight which one could hardly bear. In a solitary -walk of ten minutes in the streets of Hull, I saw ten -times more want than I had seen in a ten months’ -residence in Denmark.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sun shone joyously as I traveled through the -manufacturing districts; saw their groups of towns -and suburbs; saw their smoking pillars and pyramids -towering up everywhere in the wide landscape—saw -glowing gorges of fire open themselves in the earth, -as if it were burning—a splendid and wonderfully picturesque -spectacle, reminding one of fire-worshipers -of ancient and modern time, and of their altars. But -I heard the mournful cry of the children from the -factories; the cry which the public voice has made -audible to the world; the cry of the children, of the -little ones who had been compelled by the lust of gain -of their parents and the manufacturers, to sacrifice -life, and joy, and health, in the workshops of machinery; -the children who lie down in those beds which -never are cold, the children who are driven and -beaten till they sink insensibly into death or fatuity—that -living death; I heard the wailing cry of the -children, which Elizabeth Barrett interpreted in her -affecting poem; and the wealthy manufacturing districts, -with their towns, their fire-columns, their -pyramids, seemed to me like an enormous temple -of Moloch, in which the mammon-worshipers of -England offered up even children to the burning -arms of their god—children, the hope of the earth, -and its most delicious and most beautiful joy!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I arrived in London. They told me there was nobody -in London. It was not the season in which -the higher classes were in London. Besides which, -the cholera was there; and all well-to-do people, -who were able, had fled from the infected city. And -that indeed might be the reason why there seemed -to me to be so many out of health—why that pale -countenance of want was so visible. Certain it is, -that it became to me as a Medusa’s head, which -stood between me and every thing beautiful and -great in that great capital, the rich life and physiognomy -of which would otherwise have enchanted -me. But as it was, the palaces, and the statues, and -the noble parks, Hampstead and Piccadilly, and Belgravia -and Westminster, and the Tower, and even -the Thames itself, with all its ever-changing life, -were no more than the decorations of a great tragedy. -And when in St. Paul’s, I heard the great -roar of the voice of London—that roar, which, as it -is said, never is silent, but merely slumbers for an -hour between three and four o’clock in the morning—when -I heard that voice in that empty church, where -there was no divine worship, and looked up into its -beautiful cupola, which was filled by no song of -praise, but only by that resounding, roaring voice, a -dark chaotic roar, then seemed I to perceive the -sound of the rivers of fate rolling onward through -time over falling kingdoms and people, and bearing -them onward down into an immeasurable grave! -It was but for a moment, but it was a horrible -dream!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One sight I beheld in London which made me look -up with rejoicing, which made me think “that old -Yggdrasil is still budding.” This was the so-called -metropolitan buildings; a structure of many homes -in one great mass of building, erected by a society -of enlightened men for the use of the poorer working -class, to provide respectable families of that class -with excellent dwellings at a reasonable rate, where -they might possess that which is of the most indispensable -importance to the rich, as well as to the -poor, if they are to enjoy health both of body and -soul—light, air, and water, pure as God created them -for the use of mankind. The sight of these homes, -and of the families that inhabited them, as well as of -the newly-erected extensive public baths and wash-houses -for the same class, together with the assurance -that these institutions already, in the second -year of their establishment, returned more than full -interest to their projectors, produced the happiest -impression which I at this time received of England. -These were to me as seed of the future, which gave -the promise of verdant shoots in the old tree.—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nevertheless, when I left the shores of England, -and saw thick autumnal fog enveloping them, it was -with a sorrowful feeling for the <span class='sc'>Old</span> world; and -with an inquiring glance of longing and hope, I turned -myself to the <span class='sc'>New</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two years passed on—a sun-bright, glowing -dream, full of the vigor of life—it was again autumn, -and I was again in England. Autumn met me there -with cold, and rain, and tempest, with the most horrible -weather that can be imagined, and such as I -had never seen on the other side of the globe. But -in social life, everywhere throughout the mental atmosphere, -a different spirit prevailed. There I perceived -with astonishment and joy, there it was that -of spring.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Crystal Palace was its full-blown, magnificent -blossom—and like swarms of rejoicing bees flew -the human throng upon the wings of steam, backward -and forward, to the great world’s blossom; -there all the nations met together, there all manufactures, -there all industry, and every kind of product, -unfolded their flowers for the observation and the joy -of all; a Cactus grandiflora, such as the world had -never till then seen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I perceived more clearly every day of my stay in -England, that this period is one of a general awakening -to a new, fresh life. In the manufacturing districts, -in Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, every -where, I heard the same conversation among all -classes; prosperity was universal and still advancing. -That pale countenance of want, which had on -my first visit appeared to me so appalling, I now no -longer saw as formerly; and even where it was seen -stealing along, like a gloomy shadow near to the tables -of abundance, it appeared to me no longer as a -cloud filled with the breath of cholera, darkening the -face of heaven, but rather as one of those clouds over -which the wind and sun have power, and which are -swallowed up, which vanish in space, in the bright -ether. . . .</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The low price of grain, the consequence of free-trade, -has produced this change: and it was universally -acknowledged. The only objection I heard -brought against the low price of corn was this, -“The people are become proud and careless; I -have seen great pieces of bread thrown out into the -streets!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet bread alone had not really done all this; a -nobler bread is required for man in order that he may -fully derive the benefit even of the outward material -bread. Nor had free-trade alone done all this -either; there is also another power besides this -which has been operative in that general awakening, -in that wholesome spirit which I perceived in -England.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If this power were to be symbolized by art, it -would present us with a female figure—a beautiful -woman with the child at her breast, is the symbol -which art makes use of, to express human love. -And, perhaps, art is right in so doing. And perhaps -it is the female principle in human nature, which, in -the present new life in England, enables the man’s -hand to accomplish the work; because from the -most remote antiquity, has a male deity been chosen -to represent trade, and navigation and mining, and -all occupation of the earth. But, so says one of the -oldest sagas of the world—when the divine life revealed -itself on the earth, a divine pair came forth. -In a lotus-flower which ascended from the waters -of the Nile, were born at the same time Osiris and -Isis, and together they went forth to bless the -earth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I saw the truth of this saga confirmed by what I -beheld in England. But in speaking of this, I shall -especially linger on the new proofs thereof, in the new -Institutions which promise a more beautiful future -to the human race; not upon the old and insufficient, -however good they may be, but upon the new, because -it is upon the new that my eye has been especially -directed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Let me linger, in the first place, on works of human -love—the female figure with the child at her -breast; because these are they which lay the foundation -of all others.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In Liverpool, I visited the so-called Ragged-Schools—the -schools where are collected from the -streets, vagabond, neglected and begging children, -who are here taught to read and so on—who here -receive the first rudiments of instruction, even in -singing. These schools are, some of them evening, -others day schools, and in some of them, “the -Industrial Ragged-Schools,” children are kept there -altogether; receive food and clothing, and are taught -trades. When the schools of this class were first -established in Liverpool, the number of children who -otherwise had no chance of receiving instruction, -amounted to about twenty thousand. Right-minded, -thinking men, saw that in these children were -growing up in the streets, those “dangerous classes” -of which so much has been said of late times; these -men met together, obtained means to cover the most -necessary outlay of expense, and then, according to -the eloquent words of Lord Ashley, that “it is in -childhood that evil habits are formed and take root; -it is childhood which must be guarded from temptation -to crime;” they opened these ragged-schools -with the design of receiving the most friendless, the -most wretched of society’s young generation—properly, -“the children of rags, born in beggary, and for -beggary.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I visited the Industrial Ragged School for boys, -intended for the lowest grade of these little children, -without parents, or abandoned by them to the influences -of crime. There, I saw the first class sitting -in their rags, upon benches in a cold room, arranging -with their little frost-bitten fingers bristles for the -brush-maker. The faces of the boys were clean: -many of them I remarked were handsome, and almost -universally they had beautiful and bright eyes. Those -little fingers moved with extraordinary rapidity, the -boys were evidently wishful to do their best; they -knew that they by that means should obtain better -clothing, and would be removed to the upper room, -and more amusing employment. I observed these -“dangerous classes”—just gathered up from the -lanes and the kennels, on their way to destruction; -and was astonished when I thought that their countenances -might have borne the stamp of crime. -Bright glances of childhood, for that were you never -designed by the Creator! “Suffer little children to -come unto me.” These words, from the lips of -heaven, are forever sounding on earth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the upper room a great number of boys were -busy pasting paper-bags for various trades, confectioners, -etc. who make use of such in the rapid sale -of their wares; here, also, other boys were employed -in printing upon the bags the names and residences -of the various tradesmen who had ordered them. -The work progressed rapidly, and seemed very -amusing to the children. The establishment, for their -residence and their beds, were poor; but all was -neat and clean, the air was fresh, and the children -were cheerful. The institution was, however, but -yet in its infancy, and its means were small.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Half-a-dozen women in wretched clothes sat in the -entrance-room with their boys, for whom they hoped -to gain admittance into the school, and were now, -therefore, waiting till the directors of the establishment -made their appearance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These gentlemen kindly invited me to be present -at the examination of these mothers. The women -were brought in one at a time, and one and all were -made to tell her history and explain her circumstances. -The examination was carried on with -earnestness and precision. The result of all, however, -was, that there was not one of the women now -present who had a right to the assistance which they -desired. On one or two occasions I could not help -admiring the patience of the directors. Above all, -it seemed to me, that these mothers needed to go to -school even more than their children. When will -people come to regard in all its full extent the influence -of the mother upon the child? When will -people come to reflect on the education of mothers -in its higher sense? My conductor in Liverpool, -Mr. B——, the noble and kind Home Missionary,<a id='r1'/><a href='#f1' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[1]</span></sup></a> -recognized one of these women, and related to me the -history of herself and her husband—a horrible history -of drunkenness, which had almost ended in suicide.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Later in the day I visited the evening school for -girls, also of the ragged class, and heard there a remarkably -sweet and beautiful song. Later still I -accompanied my friendly conductor to a temperance -meeting, held in the same building, and which meets -every Thursday, and where the Missionary was accustomed -to meet and converse with the poorest -brethren of his congregation. The wind blew and -the rain poured down. I was astonished, however, -to see when we entered, that the room was filled -with people who evidently had not much to defend -themselves with from the wind and rain. The -benches were filled both with men and women. It -became crowded and very hot. Mr. B—— opened -the meeting with a speech about the dangers and -consequences of drunkenness, and as he warmed in -his subject he related, yet without mentioning any -name, the history of the mother whom he had this -day seen, beseeching that public charity would take -charge of her son. The assembly, which during the -moral treatise they had just heard had evidently become -somewhat drowsy, woke up at once during -the relation of that story, and when the narrator -arrived at the catastrophe, in which the intoxicated -woman, urged on by the madness of thirst, drank up -half a bottle of oil of vitriol, a general expression of -horror might have been heard, especially from the -lips of the women.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When this relation, which was full of strong vitality, -was ended, Mr. B—— read a poem written by -a working man in praise of temperance, which had -the effect of again lulling the auditors—and myself -even—into an agreeable doze. We all woke up -again, however, when Mr. B——, in a jocular manner, -begged of Mr. J—— to stand up and tell us -something about “that Great Exhibition in London,” -which he had lately been to see. Mr. J—— did not -however, stand up, because Mr. K—— wished to -speak first. Accordingly, being encouraged to do so -by Mr. B——, a stout-built man of about sixty came -forward; he was dressed in coarse, but good clothes, -and had an open countenance, over which played a -smile of humor. He mounted the platform, and was -greeted by the assembly with evident delight. He -related his own history, simple, but full of the warmth -of life, in that strong-grained, wit-interspersed style -of popular eloquence, full of heart and humor at the -same time, which our cultivated orators would do -well to study, if they wish to make a living impression -on the people. He related how he, in his -younger years, never tasted brandy, but he became -a seaman, and began to drink, that he might look -manly among his fellows; how, by degrees, he acquired -the power of swallowing more strong liquor -than any of them all, fell into crime, misery and shame; -how he became converted and again temperate, and -how he had not now for fifteen years tasted spirits, -and had ever since remained in good health and -good circumstances.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was the substance of his story; but how the -narrative was interspersed with merry conceits, -which excited universal amusement, and with energetic -proverbs—to which Mr. B——, beyond any one -else, gave the highest applause—how cleverly “Mr. -Halcohol” was brought in, and how contemptuously -“the long-necked gentleman, Mr. Halcohol in the -bottle,” was treated, and with how much animation -all this was done and received—must have been -heard to have been fully imagined. The speech -was concluded by recommending “total abstinence” -as the only means for insuring a perfect change of -life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After this there entered a little throng of children -with joyful faces, the same whom I had already -heard sing in the upper room of the house; these -children <a id='were'></a>were the so-called “Band of Hope”—children -who had taken the pledge to abstain from -all strong drinks themselves, and to promote the advancement -of temperance by all the means in their -power, for which they received printed cards containing -their pledge, together with symbolical devices, -proverbs, etc. That little “Band of Hope” -struck up with their clear voices, fresh as the morning, -various songs, among which one in particular, -“The Spindle and Shuttle,” was received with great -delight, all present joining in the chorus. Hymns -and patriotic songs were also sung by “The Band -of Hope,” and now and then the company joined in -with the children. Before the assembly separated -this evening, several went forward and took the -pledge. Among these was a man and his wife. -They took each other by the hand. The woman -with her other hand held her handkerchief over her -left eye; it might be seen, nevertheless, that this eye -was black, probably from the husband’s fist.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What had influenced them to this? What had -operated upon these rude natures?—induced them -to break loose from habits of drunkenness—to turn -from the pleasures of hell to those of heaven? What -was it that had operated on all here so awakeningly, -so livingly? Could it be the discourse they had -heard? could it be the poem in praise of temperance? -Nothing of the kind. I saw them go to -sleep during these. I became sleepy myself. No, -that which operated here so livingly—was the life -itself. It was that living narrative of the unhappy -woman; it was the sailor’s history of his own life, -his battles with “Mr. Halcohol;” it was the songs -of the children, the pure, dewy-fresh voices of the -little “Band of Hope.” All these it was which had -operated upon, which had awakened their minds, -had animated their brains, warmed their hearts; this -it was which had impelled the husband and wife, -hand in hand, to come forward and consecrate themselves -to a new marriage, to a better life. Individual -experience of suffering, of joy, of sin, of conversion, -of love and happiness, must be told, if the -relation is to have any power over the human heart; -life itself must be called into action if we would -awake the dead.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I could not but remark at this meeting, how cordial -and familiar an understanding seemed to exist -between the leader, Mr. B——, and the assembly, -and which arose in part from his own peculiar character, -and in part from his intimate acquaintance -with his hearers. In the same way, his continual -intercourse with those people, and his knowledge of -their every-day life, is an excellent help to him in -giving force to the sermons which he preaches -among them. I shall not forget the effect produced -by his story of the woman and the bottle of -vitriol.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A few days later I visited, with the same friendly -man, some different classes of poor people—namely, -the wicked and the idle; they who had fallen into -want through their own improvidence, but who had -now raised themselves again; and the estimable, -who had honorably combated with unavoidable poverty. -In one certain quarter of Liverpool, it is -that the first class is especially met with. Of this -class of poor in their wretched rooms, with their -low, brutalized expression, I will not speak; companion-pieces -to this misery may be met with every -where. Most of those whom I saw were Irish. It -was a Sunday noon, after divine service. The ale-houses -were already open in this part of the town, -and young girls and men might be seen talking together -before them, or sitting upon the steps.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of the second class I call to mind, with especial -pleasure, one little household. It was a mother and -her son. Her means of support, a mangle, stood in -the little room in which she had lived since she had -raised herself up again. It was dinner-time. A -table, neatly covered for two persons, stood in the -room, and upon the iron stand before the fire was -placed a dish of mashed potatoes, nicely browned, -ready to be set on the table. The mother was waiting -for her son, and the dinner was waiting for him. -He was the organ-blower in a church during divine -service, and he returned whilst I was still there. -He was well dressed, but was a little, weakly man, -and squinted; the mother’s eyes, however, regarded -him with love. This son was her only one, and -her all. And he, to whom mother Nature had -acted as a stepmother, had a noble mother’s heart to -warm himself with, which prepared for him an excellent -home, a well-covered table, and a comfortable -bed. That poor little home was not without its -wealth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As belonging to the third and highest class, I must -mention two families, both of them shoemakers, and -both of them inhabiting cellars. The one family -consisted of old, the other of young people. The old -shoemaker had to maintain his wife, who was lame -and sick, from a fall in the street, and a daughter. -The young one had a young wife, and five little -children to provide for; but work was scanty and -the mouths many. At this house, also, it was dinner-time, -and I saw upon the table nothing but potatoes. -The children were clean, and had remarkably -agreeable faces; but—they were pale; so was also -the father of the family. The young and pretty, but -very pale mother, said, “Since I have come into -this room I have never been well, and this I know—I -shall not live long!” Her eyes filled with tears; -and it was plain enough to see that this really delicate -constitution could not long sustain the effects of -the cold, damp room, into which no sunbeam entered. -These two families, of the same trade, and -alike poor, had become friends in need. When one -of the fathers of the family wanted work, and was -informed by the Home-Missionary who visited them -that the other had it, the intelligence seemed a consolation -to him. Gladdening sight of human sympathy, -which keeps the head erect and the heart -sound under the depressing struggle against competition! -But little gladdening to me would have been -the sight of these families in their cellar-homes, had -I not at the same time been aware of the increase of -those “Model Lodging-Houses,” which may be met -with in many parts of England, and which will -remove these inhabitants of cellars, they who sit in -darkness, into the blessing of the light of life—which -will provide worthy dwellings for worthy -people. But of this I shall speak somewhat later, -in connection with other new institutions for the advancement -of the health, both of body and soul, of—all -classes.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“For no one for himself doth live or suffer.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>For myself, I was well provided for by English -hospitality, and enjoyed an excellent home in the -house of the noble and popular preacher, J. M——. -With him, and his wife (one of these beautiful, motherly -natures, who through a peculiar geniality of -heart is able to accomplish so much, and to render -herself and every thing that is good twofold, in quite -another manner to that of the multiplication-table, -which merely makes two and two into four)—with -them and their family I spent some beautiful days -amid conversation and music. There, in the neighborhood -of their house, I saw also one of those -English parks, whose verdant, carefully-kept sward, -and groups of shrubs and flowers, give so peculiar -and so attractive a charm to the English landscape. -Add to this a river-like sheet of water; swans, -groups of beautiful children and ladies feeding them -on the banks, the song of birds every where amongst -the shrubs; scattered palaces, and handsome country-houses—and -every thing looking so finished, so -splendid, so beautiful and perfect, as if nothing out -of condition, nothing in tatters or shabby was to be -found in the world. Such was the impression produced -by the Prince’s Park, which was laid out by -a wealthy private gentleman, Mr. J——, on the birth -of the Prince of Wales, the eldest son of Queen -Victoria, and thrown open to the public with only -this single admonition exhibited, in large letters, in -various parts of the park, “it is hoped the public -will protect that which is intended for the public -enjoyment.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But I must leave this enchanting Idyll, and hasten -into the manufacturing districts; and, first of all, -to Manchester:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In my imagination Manchester was like a colossal -woman sitting at her spinning-wheel, with her enormous -manufactories; her subject towns, suburbs, -villages, factories, lying for many miles round, spinning, -spinning, spinning clothes for all the people on -the face of the earth. And there, as she sat, the -queen of the spindle, with her masses of ugly houses -and factories, enveloped in dense rain-clouds, as if -in cobwebs, the effect she made upon me was gloomy -and depressing. Yet even here, also, I was to breathe -a more refreshing atmosphere of life; even here was -I also to see light. Free-trade had brought hither -her emancipating spirit. It was a time of remarkable -activity and prosperity. The work-people were -fully employed; wages were good, and food was -cheap. Even here also had ragged-schools been -established, together with many institutions for improving -the condition of the poor working-classes. -In one of these ragged-schools the boys had a perfectly -organized band of music, in which they played -and blew so that it was a pleasure—and sometimes -a disadvantage, to hear them. The lamenting “cry -of the children” was no longer heard from the factories. -Government had put an end to the cruelties -and oppressions formerly practiced on these little -ones by the unscrupulous lust of gain. No child -under ten years old can now be employed in the -factories, and even such, when employed, must of -necessity be allowed part of the day for school. -Every large factory has now generally its own -school, with a paid master for the children. The -boys whom I saw in the great rooms of the factories -and with whom I conversed, looked both healthy -and cheerful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two ideas were impressed upon my mind at this -place: how dangerous it is, even amid a high degree -of social culture, to give one class of men unrestrained -power over another; and how easily a free -people, with a powerful public spirit, and accustomed -to self-government, can raise themselves out -of humiliating circumstances. This spirit has done -much already in England, but it has yet more to do.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Upon one of those large, gloomy factories in Manchester, -I read, inscribed in iron letters, “<span class='sc'>The -Great Beehive</span>;” and in truth, a good name for -these enormous hives of human industrial toil, in -which people have sometimes forgotten, and still -forget, that man is any thing more than a working-bee, -which lives to fill its cell in the hive, and die. -I visited several of these huge beehives. In one of -them, which employed twelve hundred work-people, -I saw, in a large room, above three hundred -women sitting in rows winding cotton on reels. -The room was clean, and so also were all the women. -It did not appear to be hard work; but the -steadfastly-fixed attention with which these women -pursued their labor seemed to me distressingly wearisome. -They did not allow themselves to look up, -still less to turn their heads or to talk. Their life -seemed to depend upon the cotton thread.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In another of these great beehives, a long, low -room, in which were six hundred power-looms, represented -an extraordinary appearance. What a -snatching to and fro, what a jingling, what an incessant -stir, and what a moist atmosphere there was -between floor and ceiling, as if the limbs of some -absurd, unheard-of beast, with a thousand arms, had -been galvanized! Around us, from three to four -hundred operatives, women and men, stood among -the rapid machinery watching and tending. The -twelve o’clock bell rung, and now the whole throng -of work-people would go forth to their various mid-day -quarters; the greatest number to their respective -dwellings in the neighborhood of the factory. I -placed myself, together with my conductor, in the -court outside the door of the room, which was on -lower ground, in order that I might have a better -view of the work-people as they came out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Just as one sees bees coming out of a hive into -the air, two, three, or four at a time—pause, as it -were, a moment from the effects of open air and -light, and then with a low hum, dart forth into space, -each one his own way, so was it in this case. Thus -came they forth, men and women, youths and girls. -The greater number were well dressed, looked -healthy, and full of spirit. In many, however, might -be seen the expression of a rude life; they bore the -traces of depravity about them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As labor is now organized in the factories at Manchester, -it cannot easily be otherwise. The master-manufacturer -is not acquainted with his work-people. -He hires spinners; and every spinner is master of a -room, and he it is who hires the hands. He is the -autocrat of the room, and not unfrequently is a severe -and immoral one. The operatives live in their -own houses, apart from every thing belonging to the -master-manufacturer, with the exception of the raw -material.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the country it is otherwise; there the master-manufacturer -may be, and often is, a fatherly friend -and guardian of his people. And where he is so, it -is in general fully acknowledged. The character -which each manufacturer bears as an employer, even -in Manchester, is perfectly well known. People -mention with precision the good, the worthless, or -the wicked master. I visited factories belonging to -some of these various characters, but perceived a -more marked difference in the manners and appearance -of the masters themselves, than in the appearance -and condition of the work-people. At the -present moment the difference could not be very -perceptible, because the general demand for hands -causes the circumstances of the lower classes to be -generally good. But, as before remarked, the patriarchal -connection between master and servant, with -its good, as well as its evil consequences, no longer -exists in the manufacturing towns of England. Employer -and employed stand beside each other, or -rather opposed to each other, excepting through the -requirements of labor. The whole end and aim of -the Manchester manufacturer—when he is not subjected -to machinery, and lives merely as a screw, or -portion of it—is, to get out of Manchester. He spins -and makes use of all means, good or bad, to lay by -sufficient money to live independently, or to build -himself a house at a distance from the smoky, restless -town, away from the bustle—away from the -throng of restless, striving work-people. His object -is to arrive at quiet in the country, in a comfortable -home; and having attained this object, he looks upon -the noisy, laboring hive, out of which he has lately -come, as a something with which he has no concern, -and out of which he is glad to have escaped -with a whole skin. Such is the case with many—God -forbid that we should say, with all!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two subjects of conversation occupied the people -of Manchester very much at this time. The one -was the question—a vital question for the whole of -England—of popular education. The people of -Manchester had begun to take the subject into serious -consideration, and had come to the conclusion -that there might at once be adopted a simple system -of education by which, as in the United States, every -one should receive in the people’s school practical -and moral instruction, and that religious instruction -should be left for the home or for the Sunday teaching. -The willingness to thus act in concert which -has been shown by the clergy of the Established -Church in Manchester, is a good omen to the various -religious sects united in this work. All things -considered, it seems to me that there is at this moment -in England the most decided movement toward -a new development, a new life as well in theoretic -as in practically popular respects; and it is more apparent -in the Established Church than in any other -religious body.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The second great subject of conversation, as well -in Manchester as in Liverpool, was Queen Victoria’s -expected visit. The Queen had announced -her intention of visiting the great towns of the manufacturing -districts, in company with Prince Albert, -in the middle of the month, and they were accordingly -expected in a few days. Several of these -towns had never before seen a crowned head within -their walls, and this, in connection with the great -popularity of the Queen, and the liking and the love -which the people have for her, had perfectly enchanted -the inhabitants of Manchester. They were -preparing to give a royal reception to their lofty -guests. Nothing could be too magnificent or too -costly in the eyes of the Manchester people which -could testify their homage. The whole of the district, -now that the Queen was expected, was said to -be “brimful of loyalty,” and the whole of England -was at this time, both in heart and soul, monarchical. -Opposition against the royal family exists no -longer in England; the former members of this opposition -had become converted. On all hands there -was but one voice of devotion and praise. Wonderful! -yes, incomprehensible, thought I, when I was -informed that the Queen had requested not long since -to have a grant from Parliament of 72,000<span class='it'>l.</span> for the -erection of new stables at her palace of Windsor, -and the same year 30,000<span class='it'>l.</span>, for Prince Albert to repair -his dog-kennels, and now, again, just lately, -17,000<span class='it'>l.</span> for the erection of stables at a palace which -the Queen has obtained for her eldest son, and of -which he will take possession on attaining his -majority. Thus 119,000<span class='it'>l.</span> for stables and dog-kennels.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>What? 119,000<span class='it'>l.</span> for stables and dog-kennels; for -the maintenance of fine horses and dogs, and that at -a time when Ireland is perishing of hunger or emigrating -in the deepest distress; when even in England -so infinitely much remains to be done for humanity, -so much untold good might be effected for -the public with this sum. Queen Elizabeth was -accustomed to say, that she considered her money -best put out when it was in the pockets of her subjects, -and she scorned to desire any great project for -her own pleasure. Queen Victoria desires, year -after year, immense grants for her stables and kennels; -desires this of her people, and yet, for all this, -is homage paid to her—is she loved and supported by -the people in this extraordinary manner! Parliament -grumbles, but consents to all that the Queen -desires, fully consents without a murmur, because it -loves her. Such projects would otherwise be dangerous -to the power of the monarch. Such projects -overturned the throne of Louis Philippe—have undermined -many thrones. But the light foot of this -Queen—a well-beloved little foot it ought to be—dances -again and again on the brink of the dangerous -abyss, and it gives not way. But how is this possible? -What is it that makes this Queen so popular, -so universally beloved by the people, spite of the desire -for stables and dog-kennels, unnecessary articles -of luxury, when hundred thousands of her subjects -are in want even of the necessaries of life; want -even the means to secure a home and daily bread?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Thus I asked, and thus they replied to me:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The English people wish that their royal family -should live with a certain degree of state. They are -fond of beautiful horses and dogs themselves, and it -flatters the national pride that the royal personages -should have such, and should have magnificent dwellings -for them. The character of the Queen, her domestic -and public virtues, and the influence of her -example, which is of such high value to the nation, -causes it to regard no sacrifice of money as too great -for the possession of such a Queen. England is -aware that under the protection of the throne, under -the shadow of the sceptre of this Queen, and the -stability which it gives to the affairs of the kingdom, -she can in freedom and peace manage her own internal -concerns, and advance forward on the path of -democratic development and self-government, with -a security which other nations do not possess.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hence it is that the reigning family now upon the -English throne presents a spectacle extraordinary -upon this throne, or upon any throne in the world. -The Queen and her husband stand before the people -as the personation of every domestic and public virtue! -The Queen is an excellent wife and mother; -she attends to the education of her children, and -fulfills her duties as sovereign, alike conscientiously. -She is an early riser; is punctual and regular in great -as well as in small things. She pays ready money -for all that she purchases, and never is in debt to any -one. Her court is remarkable for its good and beautiful -morals. On their estates, she and Prince -Albert carry every thing out in the best manner, establish -schools and institutions for the good of the -poor; these institutions and arrangements of theirs, -serve as examples to every one. Their uprightness, -kindness, generosity, and the tact which they under -all circumstances display, win the heart of the nation. -They show a warm sympathy for the great interests -of the people, and by this very sympathy are they -promoted. Of this, the successful carrying out of -free-trade, and the Exhibition in the Crystal Palace, -projected in the first instance by Prince Albert, and -powerfully seconded by the Queen, furnish brilliant -examples. The sympathies of the Queen are those -of the heart as well as of the head. When that noble -statesman, the great promoter of free-trade, Sir -Robert Peel, died, the Queen shut herself in for -several days, and wept for him as if she had lost a -father. And whenever a warm sympathy is called -forth, either in public or in private affairs, it is -warmly and fully participated by Queen Victoria and -Prince Albert.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In confirmation of this opinion regarding Queen -Victoria and Prince Albert, which I heard every -where, and from all parties in England, a number of -anecdotes of their life and actions were related to me, -which fully bore it out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This universal impression, universally produced -by the sovereign, who, properly speaking, can govern -nothing—because it is well known that the monarch -of England is merely a nominal executor of the -wishes of the people, a hand which subscribes that -which the minister lays before it in the name of the -people; this great power, in a Queen, is without -any political power.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Monarchs and their people no longer bear the same -relation to each other as in the time when, for example, -Charles the Ninth put forth his demands, with -the addition,—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do it, and be off with you!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This injunction to do a thing, and then take themselves -off, can no longer be given to the people by -the King, but by reason. The people have arrived -at years of discretion, and the monarch is the executor -of their laws and their wishes. He is so in -England, it is said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From Manchester I traveled to Birmingham. I -saw again the land of the fire-worshipers, their -smoking altars, in tall columns and pyramids, towering -above the green fields; saw again the burning -gulfs yawning in the earth, and, saw them now with -unmixed pleasure. I heard no longer, amid their -boiling roar, the lamenting cry of the children; I -heard and saw them now only as the organs of the -public prosperity, and rejoiced over them as proofs -of man’s power over fire and water, over all the -powers of nature; the victory of the gods over the -giants!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In Birmingham I visited a steel-pen manufactory, -and followed from room to room the whole process -of those small metal tongues which go abroad over -all the world, and do so much—evil, and so much -good; so much that is great, so much that is small; -so much that is important, so much that is trivial. I -saw four hundred young girls, sitting in large, light -rooms, each with her little pen-stamp, employed in -a dexterous and easy work, especially fitted for women. -All were well dressed, seemed healthy and -cheerful, many were pretty: upon the whole, it was -a spectacle of prosperity which surpassed even that -of the mill-girls in the celebrated factories of Lowell, -in America.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Birmingham was at this time in a most flourishing -condition, and had more orders for goods than it -could supply, nor were there any male paupers to -be found in the town; there was full employment -for all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In Birmingham I saw a large school of design. -Not less than two hundred young female artists studied -here in a magnificent hall or rotunda, abundantly -supplied with models of all kinds, and during certain -hours in the week, exclusively opened to these female -votaries of art. A clever, respectable, old woman, -the porter of the school-house, spoke of many -of these with especial pleasure, as if she prided herself -on them in some degree.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I saw in Birmingham a beautiful park, with hot-houses, -in which were tropical plants, open to the -public; saw also a large concert-room, where twice -in the week “glees” were sung, and to which the -public were admitted at a low price: all republican -institutions, and which seem to prosper more in a -monarchical realm than in republics themselves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I met with a surprise in Birmingham; that is to -say, I was all at once carried back fifteen centuries -into the Syrian desert of Chalsis, and there lived a -life so unlike Birmingham and Birmingham-life, that -just for the sake of contrast, it was very refreshing. -The thing was quite simple in itself, inasmuch as -one evening I accompanied an amiable family, who -resided in Birmingham, to a lecture, which was -given by a young, gifted preacher, on the old Church-father, -Saint Jerome (Hieronymus.)</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The subject of the lecture, which was extempore, -and delivered with much ease and perspicuity, was -evidently not intended to recommend to his auditors, -but rather to repel them from an ascetic and contemplative -life. Saint Jerome was delineated as a -noble fool, a curiosity in human nature, and was to -be deplored as a sacrifice to perverted reason, by no -means to be imitated. The true end of humanity -was not to be attained by flying from city life, and -burying one’s self in a desert for study and self-mortification; -that end was rather to be attained in the busy -city, than in the isolated existence of the wilderness; -and so on. Such was the lecturer’s moral. But upon -me his arguments made an impression considerably -antithetical to that which he intended. I saw this -warrior of the third century devoured by a burning -thirst of light and knowledge, of purity for his whole -being; saw him wander out, seeking the wells of -life; saw him, separating from the agreeable circles -of city existence, roam on amid catacombs and the -tombs of martyrs; saw him seeing in Gaul, and on -the Rhine, and there finding—Christianity. Saw -him there, after being baptized, with his Bible under -his arm, retire into the deserts of Syria, and there, -in the burning sands of Chalsis, bury himself for a -number of years, amid exegetic studies and severe -deeds of penance. I heard him, even at the time that -he, according to his own words, “watered his couch -with his tears,” and while he was given over, and -regarded as a fool by his friends, still reproach those -friends for having chosen the worse part, that of the -life of enjoyment in the city, and break forth in transport, -“O! silent wildernesses, flower-strewn by Jesus -Christ! O! wild solitudes, full of his spirit!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I saw him, after his conflict was accomplished, go -forth out of the desert with his Bible, enter Rome -publicly, and unsparingly chastise the crimes of the -proud city. I saw the haughty ladies of Rome first -start, then bow themselves to the severe judgment -of the teacher; saw Marulla and Paula renounce the -dissipated life of Rome, and follow the preacher; -found convents and Christian institutions in accordance -with his views; saw him grow in the combat -with the spirit of the age, till he stood as a founder -of the greatest power on earth—that of the Christian -Church. The <span class='it'>fool</span>, who had buried himself in the -sands of Syria, and done battle with himself during -solitary days and nights.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ah! this fool, this glowing sun of the desert, as he -now stood forth to view, through the veil of fifteen -centuries, grew greater and greater in my eyes, till, -finally, he expanded himself over the whole of -Birmingham, with all its factories, workshops, -steel-pens, and the like, as a colossus above an -ant-hill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Birmingham is almost entirely of the class of what -are called Chartists; that is, advocates of universal -suffrage. They are this, through good and through -evil; and the resistance which their just desire to be -more fully represented in the legislative body has -met with from that body, has brought them more and -more into collision with the power of the state, more -and more to base their demands in opposition, even -to the higher principles of justice; for they overlook -the duty of rendering themselves worthy of the -franchise by sound education. But the fault here, in -the first place, was not theirs. Growing up amid -machinery and the hum of labor, without schools, -without religious or moral worth; hardened by hard -labor, in continual fight with the difficulties of life, -they have moulded themselves into a spirit little in -harmony with life’s higher educational influences, -the blessings of which they had never experienced. -Atheism, radicalism, republicanism, socialism of all -kinds will and must flourish here in concealment -amongst the strong and daily augmenting masses of -a population, restrained only by the fear of the still -more mighty powers which may be turned against -them, and by labor for their daily needs, so long as -those powers are sufficing. And perhaps the Americans -are right where they say, in reference to this -condition of things;—“England lies at our feet—England -cannot do without our cotton. If the manufactures -of England must come to a stand, then has -she a popular convulsion at her door.” Perhaps it -may be so; for these hosts of manufacturing workmen, -neglected in the beginning by society, neglected by -church and state, look upon them merely as exacting -and despotic powers; and in strict opposition to them, -they have banded together, and established schools -for their own children, where only the elements of -practical science are admitted, and from which religious -and moral instruction are strictly excluded. -In truth, a volcanic foundation for society, and -which now, for some time past, has powerfully -arrested the attention of the most thinking men of -England.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But into the midst of this menacing chaos light has -already begun to penetrate with an organizing power; -and over the dark profound hovers a spirit which can -and will divide the darkness from the light, and prepare -a new creation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From Birmingham I traveled, on the morning of -the 4th of October, by a railway to Leamington, and -thence alone in a little carriage to Stratford-on-Avon.</p> - -<hr class='footnotemark'/> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_1'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f1'><a href='#r1'>[1]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>A minister paid by the community for devoting himself -exclusively to its poor, and one worthy of the confidence -reposed in him.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk114'/> - -<div><h1><a id='oli'></a>OLIVER GOLDSMITH—HIS CHARACTER AND GENIUS.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY A NEW CONTRIBUTOR.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>In wit a man, simplicity a child.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:0em;margin-bottom:0.75em;'><span class='sc'>Pope.</span></p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>For over half a century after Goldsmith’s death, the -world continued in a state of uncertainty concerning -his writings and himself. The greater part of the -task-work he had performed for the booksellers was -unknown, and Oliver spoken of, in a traditionary -sort of way, as the author of the Vicar of Wakefield -and the Deserted Village, and a man of laughable -eccentricities. The majority of his readers—and no -poet had more of them or enjoyed a wider English -popularity—never thought he was other than an -Englishman; and those who knew the country of -his birth differed about the place of it—some asserting -he was born at Lissoy, in Westmeath, and -others contending for other localities. Even Dr. -Johnson, who has set down his native place—Pallas, -in Longford—correctly in his epitaph, makes a mistake -of three years in his age. All this is remarkable -of the cotemporary of Johnson—one who ranked -with that literary colossus in his time and was so -closely connected with Burke, Reynolds, Percy and -the other celebrities of that period. Resembling, in -some measure, Butler, in the obscurity of his personal -history and the popularity of his works, Goldsmith -seemed to be vaguely merging into the Vicar -of Wakefield, or the Good Natured Man—just as the -poet of the Restoration had come to be confounded -with his Roundhead hero—when Prior’s life of him, -twenty years ago, first threw a fair light upon the -past; indicated the great mass of his writings (poorly -compensated, anonymous and plagiarized, in his life-time,) -and cleared away a large amount of the misconceptions -and fallacies that had been gathered -about his fame.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There has hardly been any author in modern -times, or perhaps in the ancient, whose personal -character contrasts—is made to contrast—so much -with the genuine celebrity he has achieved. He -would seem to have been laughed at a good deal, -and treated with a want of consideration and respect, -even by those who loved him and wept at his -death; and the impression generally conveyed is, -that his manners were uncouth and his conversation -ridiculous. Those who have helped to create such -a character for Oliver, think they have compounded -with their consciences when they have admitted he -was a charming writer, and a simple, honest soul, -who had no harm in him, and always meant well. -Nevertheless, but one half of their portrait can be -received. There were no such violent contrarieties -in the elements that went to compose Oliver Goldsmith. -His biographers—to make the most lenient -estimate of them—knew him imperfectly and found -it much easier to produce their effects by glaring -contrasts than by the patient and loving discrimination -due to the truth of every man’s character—especially -that of a man like Goldsmith—so marked by -peculiarities of education, and so severely tried by -circumstances.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The literary character is sure to suffer, more or -less, in contact with society. Men of letters who -spend half their time with the dead are not exactly -the people to be <span class='it'>au fait</span> of all the ways of the living; -and have not always the good sense of Thomas -Baker, who, for that very reason, refused, long ago, -to be introduced to the Earl of Oxford and the polished -people of his acquaintance. They generally -offend against the conventions and are not pardoned -in their biographies, which are sometimes writ by -men of the world, and which, when even written by -authors, who may be supposed capable of sympathizing -more with the literary character, still show -how the jealousies and prejudices of the craft will -stand in the way of honest criticism. A man’s -character depends very much on his historians—and -Goldsmith, a literary adventurer, a bookseller’s hack, -and an Irishman, was particularly—perhaps, necessarily—unfortunate -in his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There have been crowds of distinguished literary -men whose peculiarities were almost as much ridiculed -as those of Goldsmith, but who have found a -more dignified appreciation, by virtue of fairer biographers. -Socrates was laughed at more than any -man in Athens. But his immortal pupil has rescued -his fame from those wits and satirists who used to -loiter about the porches, and go, of a morning, to applaud -the Clouds of Aristophanes. Socrates was an -ugly little man—in the midst of the fine-faced men -of Attica—generally threadbare and slovenly; and -even Plato has been obliged to allow that his honored -master was like an apothecary’s gallipot, painted -outside with grotesque figures, but containing balm -within. He was as much laughed at as Goldsmith; -but nobody can think Socrates a laughable old fellow. -There was the Emperor Julian. When he -sojourned at Antioch, he was ridiculed and lampooned -by the citizens for his careless dress and -beard, and his simple manners. Whereupon, instead -of treating them as Sulla did those facetious -Greeks who said “his face was a mulberry sprinkled -with meal,” the philosophic apostate wrote a book -against them, called “Misopogon,” in which he pleasantly -satirized himself for his literary peculiarities, -justified his critics, and happily admitted that he did -not, indeed, resemble in any thing those witty and -fashionable people who made merry at his expense. -If these Antiochans were Julian’s biographers, he -should cut but a silly figure in the eyes of posterity. -As it is, he has hardly fared much better in another -point of view. La Fontaine was voted intolerably -stupid in society. The gay Parisians said he -merely vegetated—and he was called the Fable -Tree—bringing forth fables! Poor Burns complained -that though, when he wished, he could make himself -“beloved,” he could not make himself “respected.” -He confessed that he wanted discretion—was -prone to a <span class='it'>lapsus linguæ</span>, and very apt to offend -the sense of the society he was in—in this, -somewhat like Goldsmith. We could cite a score -of instances showing that famous men have been -barely tolerated in society and very much exposed -to the ridicule of it. But their biographers have -done their better qualities justice, and they are not -remembered in any remarkable degree in connection -with the peculiarities which excited the satire of -their cotemporaries.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A great many things worked unfavorably for -Goldsmith. His face was very plain-favored in expression, -he spoke with a brogue and hesitated a -little in his utterance. In his nature he was shy, and -his manners in society had all the simplicity and unguarded -impulse of his earlier years. Such a man, -living in comparative retirement, might have passed -through the world without any disparagements. -But Goldsmith was thrown upon the great stage of -London, and into the society of the most fastidious -critics and gentlemen of the age. Here his ordeal -was a severe one—as the result showed. Boswell, -Hawkins, Cumberland, Northcote, Thrale and the -rest of those who either wrote memoirs or furnished -reminiscences of our author, have proved how -little they could sympathize with the plain, blunt -Irishman—who was only a simple child of nature -and of genius.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Among those who have most contributed to lessen -the prestige of Goldsmith’s name was James Boswell, -Dr. Johnson’s literary henchman and biographer. -In all that Boswell writes of Oliver he exhibits -his desire to disparage him. It is true he sometimes -expresses partiality for Goldsmith’s conversation. -But he, doubtless, intends this as a show of -frankness to obtain the more easy credence for his -general opinions of the poet. One great cause of -this feeling on Boswell’s part was his reverent attachment -to the fame of Dr. Johnson, and his jealousy -of any one who came or seemed to come into -rivalry with that Ursa Major of the British literary -firmament. Boswell had the little soul of a parasite, -and always felt offense at any exhibition of independence -toward Johnson—such having the effect -of rebuking his own absurd obsequiousness. Goldsmith, -though the easiest and kindliest of men, still -kept up that frank, irrespective manliness of disposition -which belongs to genius, and could not sympathize -with Boswell’s extreme notions of worship. -The poet must have felt the folly and impoliteness -of trumpeting Johnson in season and out of season—often -in presence of better men than the lexicographer—and -must have been offended with it, too. On -one occasion, indeed, he said to Boswell, with his -usual point and good sense—“Sir, you are for making -a monarchy of that which should be a republic.” -He respected Dr. Johnson, but never bowed down -to him, nor to any one else. And the son of a Scottish -lord, who venerated on all-fours, could not forgive -the poor Irish scholar for standing erect in presence -of the grim idol—as Johnson too often was, in -his austere moods. Along with all this, Boswell -probably knew very well the opinion which Goldsmith -had of himself. In conversation with some -one who called Boswell a Scotch cur, Goldsmith -remarked—“Not so—he is only a Scotch bur: Tom -Davies (the publisher) threw him at Johnson and he -sticks to him.” A saying which, of course, found -its way to the <span class='it'>bur’s</span> ears. All these things are sufficient -to account for the animus palpably exhibited -against Goldsmith in Boswell’s Life of Johnson.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When his book appeared, he was sharply and universally -condemned for his treatment of the dead -writer. Lord Charlemont expressed his indignant -astonishment how James Boswell could affect to -undervalue a man of such genius and popularity. -Burke said to Lady Crewe, on the subject—“What -sympathy could you expect to find, my dear madam, -between an Irish poet and a Scotch lawyer?” -Wilkes swore two such characters were moral antipodes. -Sir Joshua Reynolds, who knew Goldsmith -like a brother, and who had heard from report -how Boswell meant to depict the poet, remonstrated -earnestly with him on the subject before the biography -of Johnson came out. Bishop Percy, Mr. -Stephens, Mr. Malone and others denied that Goldsmith -was guilty of the fooleries and grimaces and -unworthy feelings attributed to him by Boswell, and -protested against the low estimate he had made of -Oliver’s genius and character. And yet with all -Boswell’s earnestness in the attempt to lessen Goldsmith, -it is remarkable how little he is really able to -injure him in the long run. He has created an unfavorable -impression of the poet’s manners it is true; -but this is wearing away; and the fact is, that, not -only the silly Boswell himself, but the austere doctor -whom he delighted to honor, and wrote every thing -to glorify, seems to be more reflected on than Goldsmith, -in most things that have been recorded to the -disparagement of the latter in connection with -Johnson.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One of Boswell’s first anecdotes of Johnson and -Goldsmith will show the paltry, parasitical spirit in -which he was in the habit of making his notes and -comments. They three had been supping at the -Mitre tavern, when Johnson got up to go home and -take tea with his blind dependent, Miss Williams. -“Dr. Goldsmith,” says Bozzy, “being a privileged -man, got up to go with him, strutting away and -calling to me, with an air of superiority, like that of -an esoteric over an exoteric disciple of a sage of antiquity, -‘I go to Miss Williams.’ ” He says he -envied this “mark of distinction,” but soon had the -same honor himself! Boswell always betrays himself. -For, without a grain of Oliver’s genius, he -shows himself to be as thoughtless and absurd as he -would have us think the poet to have been. If the -latter did really exhibit any thing like exultation on -the occasion alluded to—the canny Scot mistook it; -he could not enter into the humorous vein of the -author of the Citizen of the World, who never let -any opportunity of pleasantry of any kind escape -him, and who, doubtless, with a playful impulse, -would, slily and aside, for Boswell’s behoof, put on -a comic air of loftiness, at the idea of his own privilege. -Such little <span class='it'>traits</span> were very characteristic of -Oliver Goldsmith, at all periods of his life; and neither -his own dignity nor that of any one else was -much thought of, whenever his funny “Cynthias of -the minute” came across him. With all his respect -for Dr. Johnson, he had still—though Boswell does -not seem to admit it—a very strong sense of what -was odd, petulant and <span class='it'>grandiose</span> in the doctor’s -manners, and could sport with it, too, to the bear’s -face, with a rare and child-like temerity. For instance, -once at Jack’s Coffee-house, where the pair -were dining on rumps and kidneys, Johnson said—“These -rumps are pretty things; but a man must -eat a great number of them.” Goldsmith assented -with pleasantry, and then, under the easy, unawed -impulse of his nature, and carried away by the -thought that he was not at his dreary desk, but at -dinner with his friend, pushed on with—“But how -many of them would go to the moon?” Johnson -had, doubtless, said such small matters did not <span class='it'>go far</span>—a -common expression, which would have provoked -Oliver’s pun—though the story says nothing -of this.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To the moon?” replies Johnson; “I think that -exceeds your calculation.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not at all, sir,” cries Goldie—looking ludicrously -prepense, at the terrible, grave face opposite—“I -think I could tell.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, sir,” rejoined Ursa Major; whereupon -the other comes out with:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One, if it was long enough!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Johnson growled angrily, and said he was a fool -to provoke such an answer. Not a fool, however, -but a solemn bear, whose very grimness, contrasted -with the absurdity of the solution, was Goldsmith’s -irresistible temptation. We must, in fact, justify -Oliver’s fun—though we did not see Johnson’s face. -The thing was laughter-compelling. Goldsmith -had no undue feeling of deference in his nature at -all, though he used certainly to go on all-fours to -amuse the children. His irrespective and somewhat -careless humor often irritated Johnson, who -generally supped full of flattery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Doctor,” said Johnson one day, “I have not -been quite idle; I lately made a line of poetry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Instead of holding up his hands reverently, Goldsmith -cried out with his customary levity—“Come, -sir, let us hear it; we will try and put a bad one -to it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, sir,” replied the petted monster, drawing in; -“I have forgotten it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Boswell’s attempts to depreciate Goldsmith are -blunderingly made. He always admits enough to -betray his own unfair spirit. Johnson having had -in 1767, an interview with the king in the library of -St. James’s Palace, the thing was greatly talked -of. Boswell says, that once at the house of Sir -Joshua Reynolds, the doctor was, by request (the -henchman’s of course), induced to repeat the circumstances -of the meeting, and that during the recital, -Goldsmith was observed to be silent and <span class='it'>inattentive</span>. -He says, the latter was envious of Johnson’s -luck, but he goes on to state that at last the frankness -and simplicity of his nature prevailed, he advanced -to Johnson and told him, he acquitted himself -admirably—that he (Goldsmith), “should have -bowed and stammered through the whole of it.” No -sign of any very deadly envy in all this, surely. -Johnson himself, though he mostly made a point -of defending Goldsmith against attacks, could not -help feeling a little pique and jealousy toward the -wit, who never refrained from arguing the matter -with him, comically or keenly as he saw fit. Johnson -was truculent at times, and would speak rudely -to Goldsmith in company. One of the surly moralist’s -formulas, whenever Goldsmith would say, -“I don’t see that,” was—“Nay, my dear sir, why -can you not see what everybody else sees?” On -such occasions, Goldsmith’s independence, or want -of tact was against him. Johnson at times, used to -put him down in this way. During an argument, -Goldsmith having been several times contradicted, -“sat in restless agitation,” says the veracious Boswell, -“from a wish to get in and shine.” No easy -matter when Johnson was cloudy. “Finding himself -excluded,” he goes on—“he had taken his hat to go -away, but remained for some time with it in his -hand. Once, when beginning again to speak, he -was overpowered by the loud voice of Johnson, who -was at the opposite end of the table, and did not notice -the attempt. Thus disappointed, Goldsmith -threw down his hat in a passion, and said—‘take it’—looking -angrily at Johnson. Then Toplady was -about to speak, Oliver hearing Johnson growl something, -and thinking he was about to go on again, -begged he would let Toplady proceed, as the latter -had heard Johnson patiently for an hour. ‘Sir,’ -roared Johnson, ‘I was not going to interrupt the -gentleman. Sir, you are impertinent!’ Goldy said -nothing, but continued in the company for some -time. When they all met in the evening at the club, -Johnson said aside to Boswell, ‘I’ll make Goldsmith -forgive me:’ and then aloud—‘Doctor Goldsmith, -something passed between us, where you and I -dined: I ask your pardon.’ Goldsmith answered -placidly, ‘It must be much from you, sir, that I take -ill.’ After which,” says Boswell, “Goldsmith was -himself again, and rattled away as usual.” All this -exhibits the usual animus of Boswell, the coarse tyranny -of Johnson, and the fine disposition of Oliver, -in a fair light. Goldsmith knew Johnson intimately—<span class='it'>intus -et in cute</span>—and used to say of him, with -that happiness of thought and fancy which his bashfulness -could, not entirely mar—“there is no arguing -with Johnson; when his pistol misses fire, he knocks -you down with the but-end of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Johnson talked for victory—Goldsmith for enjoyment. -The former came armed at all points into -the argument—the latter was but too glad to fling off -all lettered restraint, remove his harness as it were, -and enjoy himself in the midst of what he loved so -cordially, the sight of happy human faces. Johnson -generally entered into conversation like an athlete or -a bull into an arena. He once said to Boswell, after -some literary reunion—“we had good talk to-night.” -“Yes, sir,” returned the admiring disciple, “you -tossed and gored several persons.” A pleasant affair, -truly, one of those conversations on philosophy -and polite literature must have been in the Johnsonian -times. Poor Goldsmith was disposed to be -light, discursive, and unaffected in genial society—or -if affected at all, it was in the desire to contrast -his own open pleasantry with the dread gravity of -Johnson, and those who stood in awe of him. Oliver -was out of his element, in fact, among the generality -of those with whom he came into contact at -the club and elsewhere. He should have lived in -the days of the loud-laughing Jerrold, and Hunt, the -old boy at all times, and the pun-elaborating Lamb; -he should have known Moore, the gayest of wits, -and Maginn, who also <span class='it'>stammered</span> forth “his logic -and his wisdom and his wit.” The simplicity of his -disposition, and the Irish impulses of his nature, led -him to desire a hearty enjoyment of his social hours -in the midst of his friends. He would have quips -and cranks, and a spice of that happy frivolity which -comes as easy to the finest geniuses as their more dignified -inspirations. But such he was not to have at the -Literary Club, where Jupiter-Johnson took the chair—or -rather the field, and “glowering frae him,” kept -himself perfectly ready to “toss and gore,” as usual.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“While all the clubbists trembled at his nod.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>A great deal of pedantry and paradox was mixed -up with the literature of Goldsmith’s time; men’s -minds were apt to be as stiff as their costumes, and -<a id='auth'></a>authors were considered to have a certain professional -dignity to support.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oliver, as we have said, was out of his element -in the midst of such circumstances; he did not admire -the gravity which is too often a mysterious -carriage of the body to cover the defects of the mind, -but was disposed in company</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“To rattle on exactly as he’d talk</p> -<p class='line0'> To any body in a ride or walk.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>In mixed society he seemed very unequal. He very -often sat silent, and the shyness of his disposition -was thought to be an affectation of dignity. But -when the occasion grew more festive, as at after-dinner -times, and the poet’s temperament had received -the stimulus of aliment and wine, he would -overflow with pleasant paradoxes, jests and all sorts -of unguarded hilarity, believing that those about -him who were aware of the intrinsic wit and worth -of his intellect, would justify him against any thought -of ridicule or disparagement. In such moods, and -before the most fastidious wits of the day, he would -come out intrepidly with—“When I used to lodge -among the beggars in Axe Lane.” The effect of -this on his hearers (we believe it was spoken at one -of Sir Joshua Reynold’s dinners) was something -like that produced on the discomposed sovereigns -sitting round the table at Tilsit, or Erfurth—we forget -which—by Napoleon’s reminiscence, beginning—“When -I was a lieutenant in the regiment of La -Fere!” These sayings seem to show a kindred -consciousness of something beyond the conventions -of rank and name. Goldsmith was not to be laughed -at for that sally—which Socrates or Zeno would -have enjoyed very much. But the cankered and -fastidious Walpole, who was present on some such -occasion, and found the Irishman very blunt in his -mode of argument, and very unconcerned at the -rank or pretensions of Walpole himself, could not -tolerate such franknesses, and with his usual affectation -of point, called Oliver “an inspired idiot;” just -as Chesterfield had called Johnson “a respectable -Hottentot”—but indeed with greater justice; for the -moralist’s manners at table, particularly his modes -of eating, were rather savage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Goldsmith was certainly apt to blunder. But it -was when in the simple frankness of his nature he -thought he was among friends and good fellows in -such moods and moments. He put his trust in those -whose conventionalities he would offend, and who -must have felt the inferiority of their own powers -when in contact with his. Disraeli, the elder, has -made some just remarks on the wrong to which -such men expose themselves very often in society. -He says: “One peculiar trait in the conversation of -men of genius which has often injured them when -listeners are not acquainted with the men—are certain -sports of a vacant mind; a sudden impulse to -throw out opinions and take views of things in some -humor of the moment. Extravagant paradoxes and -false opinions are caught up by the humblest prosers: -and the Philistines are thus enabled to triumph over -the strong and gifted man, because in an hour of -confidence and the abandonment of his mind, he laid -his head in their lap and taught them how he might -be shorn of his strength.” All this is extremely applicable -to the case of Oliver Goldsmith.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Almost all the stories told of him to show his absurdity -or jealousy are palpably false and must be -looked on as failures. Northcote very gravely set -down how the doctor was offended, when on his -route to Paris, accompanied by Mrs. Horneck and -her daughters, to find the young ladies receive more -notice and admiration than he himself at a French -hotel. This was a stupid misconception, to say the -least of it—as Miss Horneck afterward stated, wondering -at the same time how such could ever have -arisen from the fact. Goldsmith, who was always -ready to laugh at himself, for the pleasantry of the -thing, in any of his playful moods, seeing his companions -pleased by the admiration they excited, and -wishing to amuse them, said, with an affectation of -wounded self-love, that doubtless produced the effect -he intended—“Very well, ladies; you may find -somebody else in vogue, very shortly, as well as -yourselves.” Such sallies furnish a key to most of -those things cited to the ridicule of Goldsmith. -Another story is told by Col. O’Moore. Burke and -O’Moore going to the club to dine, saw Oliver -among others looking at some foreign women in a -balcony in Leicester Square. Arrived at the club, -Burke affected to be offended with Goldsmith and -being questioned, said he could hardly think of being -friendly with a man who could say what the doctor -had just uttered in the public street. Goldsmith -eagerly asking to know what it was, was told he -expressed surprise that the crowd should look at -these women, while he, a man of genius, was passing -by!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Surely, I did not say so,” says Oliver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How should I know it then?” replies Burke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“True,” admits Goldsmith, “I thought, indeed, -something of the kind; but I did not think I uttered -it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All this is merely clumsy and incredible—just the -sort of anecdote for the colonel to tell. Just as preposterous -was the story of Goldsmith asking Gibbon, -who came into his room while he was writing the -History of Greece, “What king was that who gave -Alexander so much trouble in India?” and on being -informed it was Montezuma, writing it down at -once! Then, there is Beauclerc’s funny thing—how -Goldsmith, being once conversing with Lord -Shelburne (termed “Malagrida” by some political -opponent,) told his lordship he wondered they called -him Malagrida, <span class='it'>for</span> Malagrida was an honest man! -Such were the false and stupid reminiscences that -went to compose the memory of poor Goldsmith—a -man of the finest perceptions and most excellent -judgment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Exaggerated stories are also told of his love of dress -and his personal vanity in other matters. His peach-colored -coat is thought to be a good jest. It is indeed -true, that he was somewhat expensive in dress; -but a man who frequented the politest society of the -time was obliged to pay attention to his wardrobe. -And if his taste in the matter of coats and cocked-hats -was not so true as it ever was in literary matters, -it may be stated that Aristotle also underwent -the rebuke of Plato for his foppishness. A great deal -is made of the fact that Goldsmith once attempted to -leap from the bank to a little island in a pond, at -Versailles, and fell into the water. This is all natural -enough, if we refer it to his usual playfulness -and the remembrance of the active habits of his -youth. It amounts to no more than the gravest man -may have to answer for, if all his doings were -chronicled. Johnson, when quite an old man, used -to make such heavy attempts to be lively. Mrs. -Thrale (we believe) says that one day, approaching -her house, the philosopher flung himself in sport over -a gate that lay in his way, and was very much elated -by his own agility.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With all his dignity and philosophy Johnson felt a -little jealous of Goldsmith, at times, and used to express -disparaging opinions of him. He said—“His -genius is great, but his knowledge is small. As they -say of a generous man—it is a pity he is not rich; -so we may say of Goldsmith—it is a pity he is not -knowing.” He also said no one was more foolish -than Goldsmith when he had not a pen in his hand, -or wiser when he had, thus parodying the saying -applied to Charles the Second—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Who never said a foolish thing,</p> -<p class='line0'> And never did a wise one.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>In expressing these opinions, Dr. Johnson seems to -forget what he himself has elsewhere said, very -justly—to the effect that a great deal of the truth and -correctness of a sentiment is sacrificed to the point -of it. He also says, amusingly enough—“Goldsmith -should not be always attempting to shine in -conversation,” (certainly not—this would be a sort -of contumacy in Johnson’s presence!) “he has not -temper for it.” (Johnson’s own was of such a -meek, philosophic stamp!) Even when the dignity -of Goldsmith’s doings was more questionable than -that of his sayings or writings, the doctor could not -help entertaining some little pique. When Oliver -had chastised Evans, the publisher, for printing some -offensive observations, Johnson remarked to his <span class='it'>fidus -Achates</span>: “Why, sir, this is the first time he <span class='it'>has</span> -beaten; he may have <span class='it'>been</span> beaten before. This is a -new pleasure to him.” He alluded to a white-bait -dinner at Blackwall, where Goldsmith, denouncing -obscene novels and the indelicacies of Tristram -Shandy, created a warm argument among the feasters, -whence they fell into personalities; then into -an uproar, and thence to fisticuffs, in the midst of -which, it is said, Oliver got a smart share of what -was going—before they broke up this feast of reason—pretty -fairly expressed by the <span class='it'>Irish</span> participles, -<span class='it'>bait</span>, beating, beaten! The affair was very laughable, -to be sure. But Johnson should have remembered -that he himself had knocked his own publisher -down—Osborne. He should have commented more -leniently on poor Goldie. The old feuds between -authors and publishers were as lively in those times -as they were before or have been since. Goldsmith -wrote a very dignified public letter, to justify the -beating, and showed that there were certain rascalities -which called for the imposition of violent hands -upon them, and that the punishment of them was -sanctioned by the sense of society, though against -the letter of the law. But, as we were saying, -Johnson permitted himself on many occasions to -disparage Goldsmith. Still, in the main, he has -stood up strongly for the fame of his friend—thereby -showing that such opinions as the foregoing were -not very just or generous. When his conscience -got the better of his occasional feelings, as was -usually the case—for his nature was intrinsically -good (he “had nothing of the bear but the skin,” as -Goldsmith used to say,) he would do Oliver justice. -In this, to be sure, he had a consoling sense of the -superiority and patronage which belong to such a -championship; and, in maintaining the cause of his -friend, he could argue vigorously for himself—for, -their fortunes were very much alike. He could -express his own feelings of scorn for the conventions -or misconceptions of society, in defending the character -of a man of genius. Be this as it may, he has -left on record sentiments highly honorable to himself -as well as to Goldsmith; and has had some of -them graven in his epitaph on the poet, dramatist -and historian</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>                                  “Who ran</p> -<p class='line0'>Through each mode of the pen and was master of all.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Goldsmith, in society, was not the oddity he is -represented to be by Boswell, Walpole and the -others. There is no such contradictory monster as -they would have us think him. The man who was -“inspired” with such true genius—who drew the -Vicar of Wakefield—could not have been the -“idiot” that the artificial Walpole would depict -him. Nor could any man who “wrote like an -angel” ever come to “talk like poor Poll,” as Garrick -says with such antithetical fallacy. The fact -was, Oliver’s broad Westmeath accent, his stammering -mode of speaking, and the careless impulses -of his thoroughly Irish temperament gave his manners -a strange, it may be said an intolerable originality, -in an age of forms and observances in literature -and life. It was only in a stiff, artificial age, -like that in which his lot was cast, that Goldsmith -would have been so rudely treated and ridiculed. It -is felt that it was not Julian but the polished Antiochans -which were ridiculous. We also know that -though they laughed at Socrates he was not <span class='it'>laughed -at</span>, as he himself expresses it. Absurdity was the -cant word of Goldsmith’s day for the good-nature, -generosity, originality and independence which he -brought with him, along with that <span class='it'>Shibboleth</span> of his -from the simple and honorable home of his childhood, -and which he never lost in all the mazes and -trials of the great metropolis.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His absurdities, as they termed them, did not, after -all, prevent Goldsmith from being well received in -the best society of London—a very strong proof, in -itself, that the doctor was as much a gentleman in -demeanor as he was by his birth and education, and -could mingle with the polite and the fashionable on -very easy terms and without any violence to his -habits. His sayings in company—such as have been -remembered—are full of point and pleasantry, and -show that he could command, even with his shy -utterance, much of the happy spirit of his written -style. He was once explaining to a friend, in Johnson’s -presence, that in fables where inferior creatures -are interlocutors, these should be made to speak in -character—that animals on land, for instance, should -converse differently from little fishes. This idea, -which is, after all, only that which Shakspeare has -so beautifully realized, with a difference, in his -elves of a Midsummer Night’s Dream, his Caliban -and his Ariel, set Johnson a-chuckling at its childishness, -which Goldsmith perceiving, he retorted -very happily—laughing, too—“You may laugh, -doctor, but if <span class='it'>you</span> had to make little fishes speak, -they would talk like whales!” A palpable hit at -the sesquipedalian moralist.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If we come to consider Goldsmith’s influence upon -the literary character of his age, we will probably -agree that it was second to that of no other author. -Indeed, it must be considered superior to that of him -who was supposed to sway most authoritatively the -world of letters. Doctor Johnson’s style, to be sure, -was very impressive, and created a host of imitators—the -most remarkable of whom was Gibbon, who -surpassed his model in a certain measured splendor -of rhetoric—which is, nevertheless, very wearisome -at times. But Goldsmith’s many modes of a very -simple and lucid style produced then, and since, a -more permanent effect. He wrote the best poem, -the best comedy, the best novel, and the best history—at -least, the best written history of the day. Johnson -preferred his historic manner to that of Hume or Robertson. -Though Goldsmith’s literature had not the -marked effect of Doctor Johnson’s grand Latin idiom; -yet being more varied, it reached the wider popularity, -such as time has confirmed and increased. -Goldsmith kept to the ancient ways of the vernacular, -trod by Addison, Swift, Hume, etc.; and contributed -not a little to neutralize the Johnsonian mode—which, -after all, was recognized to be a corrupt rhetoric, and a -weakening of the genius of the Anglo-Saxon tongue. -Goldsmith’s, “racy of the soil,” was secured against -fluctuations of taste, and the charm of it is as fresh to-day -as it was eighty years ago. His comedies abolished -the mawkish sentimentality which—derived -partly from the Richardson school—dulled the spirit -of the stage, and asserted, very happily, the old comic -claim of setting audiences in a roar. The change -was heartily welcomed; the Londoners crowded to -the comedy to be merry, and a respected household -tradition, now especially recalled for the sake -of the dear old narrator of it, has more than once informed -us how George the Third, his fresh-colored -English face, full of merriment, and the plain, little -cock-nosed Charlotte by his side, in the royal box, -both joined in the hilarity of the audience during one -of the first performances of “She Stoops to Conquer,” -at Covent Garden Theatre; but, at the story of “Old -Grouse in the Gun-room,” where everybody laughed -on the stage, his majesty fairly chimed in with Mr. -Hardcastle, and laughed as loud as any one in the -house. Thus, in the words of Mr. Colman—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Thus, cheered, at length, by Pleasantry’s bright ray,</p> -<p class='line0'> Nature and mirth resumed their legal sway,</p> -<p class='line0'> And Goldsmith’s genius basked in open day.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Goldsmith’s prose is the sweetest and most harmonious -in the language. His narrative and historical -manner is easy and expressive—more so than -Hume’s. And here, we may remark how odd it -was to see a pair of provincials—an Irishman and a -Scotchman, each with the brogue or the burr upon -his tongue, and in his manner—vindicating the native -purity of the Anglo-Saxon against the subversive genius -of two of the foremost English writers—Johnson -and Gibbon—and finally overcoming them on their -own ground. Goldsmith, in short, as Johnson said -very well, ornamented whatever he touched, and -some of the dryest disquisitions become in his hands -as interesting as a Persian tale. An honor of another -kind belongs to Goldsmith.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Among the authors of England none did more than -himself to support the dignity and independence of -British authorship, the honor of which was so sadly -smirched by the dedications of Dryden and Locke, -as well as by others before and after them. Oliver -instead of thinking of the high nobility, set a fine example -to all writers—he dedicated “She Stoops to -Conquer,” to Doctor Johnson; “The Deserted Village” -to his other friend, Reynolds; and “The Traveler”—his -first poem—to his brother, all exhibiting -the affectionate manliness of his disposition. And -with reference to his brother, we have a trait of -Goldsmith’s character which is worth the Vicar of -Wakefield. He was once invited to call on the Duke -of Northumberland, when that nobleman was going to -Ireland, as Lord Lieutenant. Sir John Hawkins, -who was leaving the duke’s presence as Oliver was -going in, tells the story with indignant reprobation -of the poet’s fatal absurdity. His grace having complimented -Goldsmith on his writings (he had just -written Edwin and Angelina to amuse the duchess), -said he was going to Ireland, and would be happy to -promote the doctor’s interests in any way, etc. -Whereupon the doctor told the duke that the publishers -were treating him pretty well just then; but -that he had a poor brother in Ireland, a curate on -forty pounds a year, with a large family, and begged -his grace to remember <span class='it'>him</span>, etc. “In this way,” -groans Sir John Hawkins, “did Goldsmith dispose -of his chance of patronage and fortune.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As a poet, Goldsmith at once took the rank which -posterity has almost unanimously confirmed. The -finest critics in the language have honored the claims -of the poet of Auburn. Lord Byron says, “where -is the poetry of which one half is good? Is it Milton’s? -Is it Dryden’s; or any one’s except Pope’s -and Goldsmith’s, of which <span class='it'>all</span> is good?” There is -no need at this time of day, to speak of the nature, -pathos and elegance of Goldsmith’s muse. In stateliness -he sometimes approaches Dryden; as in those -noble verses which Johnson could not read without -a tremor and tears of pride:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Stern o’er each bosom reason holds her state,</p> -<p class='line0'> With daring aims, irregularly great:</p> -<p class='line0'> Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,</p> -<p class='line0'> I see the lords of human kind pass by.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>But there is one respect in which we think his poetry -has not been appreciated as it ought.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The great change which has taken place in poetry -from the classic rhythmus and Cæsural canons of -Pope’s school, to the nature and fresher phraseology -of our modern period has been commonly dated from -the rise of Wordsworth and Coleridge—sometimes -traced to the effect of Bishop Percy’s ballads. -There is generally an incorrectness in any attempt -to fix mutations of taste and fashions of style down -to chronology. Instead of thinking the old poetic -spirit of England was revived at the close of the -eighteenth century, we believe it had not died at all; -but had lived on, in exile, while a foreign influence -bore sway—as the line of Edgar Atheling lived long -ago; destined, however, in the fullness of time to be -restored to its ancient supremacy. Bishop Percy’s -ballads were a manifestation of that spirit, not a -cause of it—though he might not have known it—a -necessary reaction of the national mind. At the time -of their appearance Goldsmith’s poetry was exhibiting -the first tokens of the coming change. The -theme of it was human nature, with its common -feelings, hopes, and sufferings; and pouring the -warmth, pathos and earnestness of his own heart into -it, he rendered it attractive and popular. His -verse had all the vernacular ease and grace of his -prose, with a polish only inferior to Pope’s. In his -original hands the heroic couplet was not “the clock-work -tintinnabulum of rhyme” beaten by the Cawthornes, -Darwins, and Hayleys of the day. In his -prose criticisms he wrote against the cumbrous use -of epithets, and discarded it in his own verse. He -amused himself occasionally among his friends, by -reciting the lines of several popular authors, with a -dissyllable omitted. He would read the opening of -Gray’s Elegy in this way:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The curfew tolls the knell of day,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The lowing herd winds o’er the lea:</p> -<p class='line0'>The ploughman homeward plods his way</p> -<p class='line0'>  And leaves the world to gloom and me.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>In this respect he must have been rather hard on Johnson, -whose poetry in many respects is “the hubbub -of words,” which Wordsworth so scornfully terms -some of it. The first couplet of the doctor’s great -satire has one superfluous line—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Let observation, with extended view,</p> -<p class='line0'>Survey mankind from China to Peru—</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>The poem would have started better from “Survey.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Johnson, indeed, used to ridicule the taste that -came up with the Percy Ballads. They had “a false -gallop of verses,” in his opinion, and he said he could -go on making such stanzas for an hour together, -thus:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>As with my hat upon my head,</p> -<p class='line0'>  I walked along the Strand,</p> -<p class='line0'>There I met another man</p> -<p class='line0'>  With his hat in his hand.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>But in this, as in a great many other matters of literature, -morals, and taste, Johnson did not prove himself -an infallible doctor. Goldsmith’s taste, of a -genuine <span class='it'>vates</span>, led him at once to appreciate the -simple lyrics of Percy’s collection; and his charming -ballad of the Hermit shows how he felt the fresh -spirit of them. This excellent poem was written for -the Countess of Northumberland. And here we -may remark that three of the most attractive modern -English poems were composed especially for ladies -of high rank—or at their suggestion:—The Lay of -the Last Minstrel, at the wish of Lady Anna Scott, -daughter of the Duke of Buccleuch; The Sofa, for -Lady Hesketh; and Goldsmith’s Ballad for the -Countess.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Goldsmith certainly took the initiative in the -change which was followed and aided by “the -manly and idiomatic simplicity of Cowper”—before -Wordsworth and Coleridge were heard of. He -effected his share of the reform quietly; he wrote no -doctrinal prefaces, but went and did what he meant. -In teaching and practicing a new mode, he did not -make the noise of a reformer. He was rather more -favorable to the style of Dryden and Pope than to -some of the ballad enthusiasts that talked and wrote -in extremes. He reformed without any affectation -of apostleship in the matter of words and syllables—was -no literary red-republican. Thirty or forty -years later Wordsworth cried, <span class='it'>Heureka</span>! as if something -were then first done or found. He announced -his theories in long didactic prefaces, laid down doctrines -which the genius of Goldsmith and Cowper -had already suggested or acted on, and fell into extravagancies -which they never dreamed of—exhibiting -his muse in a very <span class='it'>sans culotte</span> condition; -the term (having a masculine reference) is somewhat -inapplicable—or should be in a well-regulated state -of society—though Mrs. Bloomer is of a contrary -opinion. But, Wordsworth, in his love of unadorned -Nature, used, in fact, to pull off her <span class='it'>garments</span>, along -with her <span class='it'>ornaments</span>, as if he thought, with those -other honest fanatics, the early Quakers, that a state -of nudity was a state of grace! Coleridge and -Southey were his disciples, but not such mighty prosers; -and Coleridge was a far superior spirit to the -two others, in all subtle thought and lofty expression, -though some of Wordsworth’s lines are truly fine. -As for Southey, we are disposed to justify Lord -Byron in his contempt of the man and his poetry. -He was of an overweening and splenetic nature; -there was nothing in his character to neutralize the -impression made by the “Vision of Judgment” and -“Don Juan” respecting him. With regard to Oliver -Goldsmith, Southey is convicted of a willful injustice -to the memory of a more genuine poet and -better man than himself. In his Life of Cowper, -speaking of the poets that came after Pope, he never -once alludes to the author of The Deserted Village! -He says “the school of Pope was gradually losing -its influence,” in proof of which, “almost every -poem of any considerable length which obtained any -celebrity, during the half century between Pope and -Cowper, was writ in blank verse. With the single -exception of Falconer’s Shipwreck, it would be in -vain to look for any rhymed poem of that age, and -of equal extent, which is held in equal estimation -with the works of Young, Thompson, Glover, -Somerville, Dyer, Akenside and Armstrong.” We -all know that one cause, at least, of this studied -omission of Goldsmith’s name, was Byron’s favorable -opinion of his poetry. This deliberate wrong -to the memory of a great departed poet, because of -a vehement hatred of a living one, shows Southey’s -disposition to be as ungenerous, we may say as contemptible, -as his hexameters are coldly manufactured, -and surely fated to be dry upon the popular -palate to the end of time. He affects to rank Oliver -among the followers of Pope and the imitators of his -style. But there is as little resemblance between -Pope’s terse and splendid rhetoric, and the graphic -simplicity and nature of Goldsmith’s poetry, as between -the blank verse of Wordsworth or Southey -and the noble rhythmus of Paradise Lost. Goldsmith -scorned as much to fashion his verse after the -mode of Pope as he did to detract from the great -merit of that author. He cultivated the elegance and -rhyming periods of the classic school, and so identified -these with his own original spirit, that he recommended -anew what, in themselves, are genuine -graces of English poetry. They truly belong to the -genius of it—as his fine taste must have taught him—and -must continue to do so, in spite of all the sprawling -Thalaba hexameters of Southey. The heroic -rhyming couplet is capable of as much force, flexibility, -and beauty, as any other form of English -verse, and is never monotonous in original hands—whether -of Chaucer, Dryden, Crabbe, or Keats. -Southey, in thus pretending to shut his eyes to the -claims of the author of The Traveler, must have still -felt (for he was not without a critical sense of the -genuine in the Anglo-Saxon) that the great mass of -his own poetry, so like a <span class='it'>hortus siccus</span>, with its -elaborated fancies and exotic imagery, must mainly -lie upon the shelves of libraries, while Goldsmith’s -is fated to be found upon all book-stalls, and to go -about to the households and hearts of the people—to -be printed in innumerable editions, ornamented with -costly engravings, and be found in all parts of the -world where the English language is spoken—read -by yet unborn generations on the banks of the Burrampooter, -the Mississippi, or the Swan River, as -freshly and as feelingly as it was, at first, and still -continues to be, on those of the Thames and the -Tweed and the Shannon. And so it is; and thus, as -the clown in Twelfth Night says, “does the whirligig -of time bring in his revenges.” Somebody, we -forget who, says the praise of the people is a finer -thing than the homage of the critics: and, in this way, -the ghost of Oliver must be satisfied to see how posterity -vindicates him against the early and the latter -detractors. He was a true English poet with an -Irish heart; and Sir Joshua Reynolds evinced the -genuine prescience of genius (though the world said -it was only friendship or flattery) when he gave the -ugly face of Oliver that classic <span class='it'>tournure</span> which should -best suit his destined rank in the peerage of Parnassus.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Goldsmith had left his mark upon the literature -of his age, and plainly indicated the character of that -which was to come, when he quitted his painful -desk forever, in 1774, being then about forty-five -years old. At that age Cowper was still unmentioned -in the world of letters, but was preparing to -carry out the salutary innovations which the other -had begun. Goldsmith died £2000 in debt. The -booksellers had advanced him money for works to -be written. Everybody trusted him. “Was ever -poet so trusted before?” says Dr. Johnson. Burke -wept when he heard Oliver was dead. Such tears -were as eloquent as Johnson’s epitaph. The eyes of -the latter were moistened, too; and in a sonorous -Greek tetrastich, he called on those who cared for -Nature, for the charms of song, or the deeds of ancient -days, to weep for the historian, the naturalist, -and the poet. Poor Goldie died when he had a -chance of liberating himself, in another way, from -the task-work of publishers. “Every year he lived,” -says Dr. Johnson, “he would have deserved Westminster -Abbey more and more.” But Goldsmith’s -true Westminster Abbey is the <span class='it'>volitare per ora</span> and -the keeping of his honest memory by the <span class='it'>oi polloi</span>, -at their firesides, along with the <span class='it'>lares</span>—when, as -Macaulay would say, a traveler from the empire of -Van Diemans Land may probably be sketching the -ruins of that British Santa Croce from a broken arch -of London Bridge:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Nothing to them the sculptor’s art,</p> -<p class='line0'>The funeral columns, wreaths or urns;</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>as Halleck so well says respecting Robert Burns, in -one of the finest of his lyrics.</p> - -<hr class='tbk115'/> - -<div><h1><a id='mona'></a>MONA LISA.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MRS. MARY G. HORSFORD.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Leonardo de Vinci is said to have been four years employed upon the portrait of Mona Lisa, a fair Florentine, -without being able, after all, to come up to the idea of her beauty.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>Artist! lay the brush aside,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Twilight gathers chill and gray;</p> -<p class='line0'>Turn the picture to the wall—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thou hast wrought in vain to-day.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Thrice twelve months have hastened by</p> -<p class='line0'>  Since thy canvas first grew bright</p> -<p class='line0'>With that brow’s bewitching beauty,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And that dark eye’s melting light.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Yet the early sunbeam shineth</p> -<p class='line0'>  On thy tireless labors yet,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the portrait stands before thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Till the evening sun has set.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Faultless is the robe that falleth</p> -<p class='line0'>  Round that form of matchless grace;</p> -<p class='line0'>Faultless is the softened outline</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of the fair and oval face.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Thou hast caught the wondrous beauty</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of the round cheek’s roseate hue;</p> -<p class='line0'>And the full red lips are smiling,</p> -<p class='line0'>  As this morn they smiled on you.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>To that lady thou hast given</p> -<p class='line0'>  Immortality below,</p> -<p class='line0'>Wherefore, then, with moody glances</p> -<p class='line0'>  Dost thou from thy labor go?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>From the living face of beauty</p> -<p class='line0'>  Beams the soul’s expressive ray,</p> -<p class='line0'>And, with all thy god-like genius,</p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>This</span> thou <span class='it'>never</span> canst portray!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Of the countless throng around me,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Each hath labors like to thine;</p> -<p class='line0'>Each, methinks, some Mona Lisa</p> -<p class='line0'>  In his spirit’s inmost shrine.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Visions haunt us from our childhood</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of a love so pure, so true,</p> -<p class='line0'>Seraphs unawares might envy</p> -<p class='line0'>  As their white wings fan the Blue;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Visions that elude forever,</p> -<p class='line0'>  As the silent years depart,</p> -<p class='line0'>Some unhappy ones and weary—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Mona Lisas of the heart!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Dreams of a divine completeness</p> -<p class='line0'>  That we struggle to attain,</p> -<p class='line0'>’Mid the doubts and toils harassing</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of our earthly life in vain;</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Poet fancies we endeavor</p> -<p class='line0'>  To imprint upon the scroll,</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet for worded utterance failing—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Mona Lisas of the soul!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk116'/> - -<div><h1><a id='bird'></a>TO A CANARY BIRD.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY WILLIAM GIBSON, U. S. NAVY.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>          Sweet little faery bird,</p> -<p class='line0'>          Gentle Canary bird,</p> -<p class='line0'>Beats not thy tiny breast with one regret?</p> -<p class='line0'>          Is it enough for thee</p> -<p class='line0'>          Ever, as now, to be</p> -<p class='line0'>Caged as a prisoner, kissed as a pet?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>          Gay is thy golden wing,</p> -<p class='line0'>          Careless thy caroling,</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou art as happy as happy can be;</p> -<p class='line0'>          Singing so merrily,</p> -<p class='line0'>          Hast thou no memory</p> -<p class='line0'>Of thy lost native isle o’er the sea?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>          Not the Hesperides,</p> -<p class='line0'>          Floating on fabled seas,</p> -<p class='line0'>Nothing in Nature, and nothing in song,</p> -<p class='line0'>          Match with the magic smile,</p> -<p class='line0'>          Which, from thine own sweet isle,</p> -<p class='line0'>Hushes the heaving wave all the year long.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>          Summer and youthful Spring,</p> -<p class='line0'>          Blooming and blossoming,</p> -<p class='line0'>Hand-in-hand, sister-like, stray thro’ the clime;</p> -<p class='line0'>          There thou wert born, amid</p> -<p class='line0'>          Fruits colored like thee, hid</p> -<p class='line0'>In the green groves of the orange and lime.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>          Then was the silver lute</p> -<p class='line0'>          Of the young maiden mute,</p> -<p class='line0'>When, from the shade of her own cottage-eaves,</p> -<p class='line0'>          Rang first thy joyous trill,</p> -<p class='line0'>          While, with a gentle thrill,</p> -<p class='line0'>Tho’ the breeze stirred them not, shivered the leaves.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>          Thou, like a spirit, come</p> -<p class='line0'>          From thy far island-home,</p> -<p class='line0'>Seemest of spring-time and sunshine the voice.</p> -<p class='line0'>          Light-hearted is thy lay,</p> -<p class='line0'>          As, on the lemon spray,</p> -<p class='line0'>Love, little singing bird, made thee rejoice.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>          For, from thy lady’s lip,</p> -<p class='line0'>          Oft is it thine to sip</p> -<p class='line0'>Sweetness which dwells not in fruit or in flower;</p> -<p class='line0'>          And when her shaded eye</p> -<p class='line0'>          Rests on thee pensively,</p> -<p class='line0'>Moonlight was ne’er so soft silv’ring thy bower.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>          Likest to thee is Love,</p> -<p class='line0'>          Never it cares to rove,</p> -<p class='line0'>When its wild winglets feel Beauty’s control.</p> -<p class='line0'>          Would, little bird, that I</p> -<p class='line0'>          Might to thine island fly,</p> -<p class='line0'>All, all alone with the girl of my soul!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>          There should’st thou sing to us,</p> -<p class='line0'>          Tender and tremulous,</p> -<p class='line0'>Our hearts happy with love unexpressed.</p> -<p class='line0'>          Sweet little faery bird,</p> -<p class='line0'>          Gentle Canary bird,</p> -<p class='line0'>How would’st thou be by that dear girl caressed.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk117'/> - -<div><h1><a id='life'></a>A LIFE OF VICISSITUDES.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'><span style='font-size:smaller'>[Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by <span class='sc'>George Payne Rainsford James</span>, in the Clerk’s -Office of the District Court of the United States for the District of Massachusetts.]</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;'>(<span class='it'>Continued from page 279.</span>)</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>A STRUGGLE WITH THE WORLD.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>A period of wandering and of danger, of flitting -from place to place, and land to land, of difficulties -and distresses, of almost daily peril, of constant uncertainty -as to the future, would seem to furnish -matter enough for memory; but yet the period immediately -succeeding my separation from Father -Bonneville, is very dim and obscure to remembrance. -I staid so short a time in any place, one -event trod so fast upon the heels of another, that -neither scene nor event had time to fix itself firmly -in memory, before, like the grass upon a public pathway, -it was trodden down by passing feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At this time, I could speak three languages with -almost equal facility: English, French, and German; -but English perhaps, I understood most thoroughly—at -all events, I know, I generally thought in that -language. This facility was of very great advantage -to me, and I notice it on that account, as I could -pass wherever those tongues were spoken for a native -of the country. It is true, I had not soon occasion -to see France again; but I wandered through -many parts of Switzerland, where French was in -common use.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The terrible dissensions and frightful bloodshed -that were going on in that once fair and peaceful -land, soon drove me forth, however, though I anxiously -continued my inquiries for Father Bonneville, -as long as there seemed a chance of success. -My steps were then turned toward the North of -Germany, without object; and more directed by accidental -circumstances, than by any predetermination -of my own, I walked on foot the whole way; -for the hundred louis afforded but small means, and -I had learned the necessity, and the mode of economy. -Fifty of those hundred louis I put by with the -resolution never to touch them except in the last extremity; -and no one can tell the amount of distress -and privation I submitted to, rather than violate that -resolution. Every thing I could part with, I disposed -of before I set out: my beloved rifle amongst -the rest. I had a good many little trinkets, which I -had purchased in the foolish vanity of youth, but I -got rid of them all, and only retained my watch, -with a seal bearing a coat of arms attached to it, -(which seal I had possessed as long as I could remember -any thing) and the ring and little gold chain -which had been given to me by Madame de Salins. -My clothes were all compressed into a knapsack, -and in my hunter’s garb, with thick, coarse shoes -upon my feet, I plodded on my weary way, over -mountain and moor, through field and forest, in the -town and in the country, seeking wherever opportunity -seemed to present itself, for some employment, -but finding none. All I could offer to do was to -teach, and the whole of Europe was so overloaded -with persons in the same situation, who had been -driven forth from France by the Revolution, that it -was hardly possible to find any profitable occupation -of that kind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Often, often at peasant’s hut, or farmer’s house, I -have begged a morsel of black bread, and a draught -of water. Perhaps this was not very right, when I -had actually money in my pocket, but yet it is a -common custom in that country, and almost every -artisan, before he becomes a master in his trade, -spends some years in what is called <span class='it'>fechting</span> or in -other words, begging his way from place to place. -The assistance was almost always readily given, and -sometimes the charity of woman would add a drink -of milk, or a few kreutzers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was within sight of the town of Hamburgh before -any chance of occupation presented itself, and -then it came about in rather a singular manner. I -was walking on at a quick pace, at about three miles -from the city, on the same side of the Elbe, when I -saw from a little garden gate, close by a small summer-house, -an elderly gentleman come forth, of -somewhat peculiar appearance. He was exceedingly -thin, brisk and active-looking, with powdered -hair and a thick queue, an enormous white cravat, a -vast frill, and a bluish-gray cloak, somewhat threadbare. -There was a keen, sharp look about his eyes -and mouth, which was not very promising, and I -walked on without taking much notion of him. His -pace, however, was as fast as my own, and we kept -nearly side by side for about half-a-mile, without -speaking, till we came upon a long wooden bridge, -which every one who has been in Hamburgh must -recollect. He had eyed me, I perceived, with great -attention, and at length he burst forth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, young man,” he said, “I think you might -have given me good time of day, at least.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do not know you,” I answered, “and do not -like to take liberties with strangers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mighty modest,” rejoined he. “What’s your -trade?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I explained to him, that I was seeking employment -as a teacher, having been driven out of my -own country by Revolution. That seemed to touch -him; for he had a great abhorrence of Revolutions, -and he asked me what I could teach.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I told him that I was competent to give instruction -in Latin, Greek, Mathematics, French, English and -German.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hundert tausand!” he exclaimed, “the lad is an -Encyclopædia. Let us see what you can do;” and -immediately he poured forth a passage of Euripides, -with which I was quite familiar. I rendered it at -once into German, and he then made me give it him -in French, which I did as well as I could, in that -meagre tongue. He rubbed his hands all the time, -saying—“Ha—ha.” He spoke to me in English, -too, such as it was, and though his pronunciation -would have made a dry salmon laugh, yet I found -that he had a very thorough acquaintance with all -the works of the best authors of England. The conversation -soon became interesting to us both, and we -went on chatting and discussing till we reached the -gates of the town. There he suddenly paused, and -looking at me from head to foot, exclaimed—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So you want employment—you are poor, I dare -say—very poor?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I replied, that it was hardly possible to be poorer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, then, you must not lodge in dear inns,” he -said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I told him I did not know where to lodge, as I was -a stranger in the town.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll tell you,” he answered, “I’ll tell you. You -must lodge in the lower town—in the Hardt-Gasse—number -five—with Widow Steinberger.” He repeated -the direction over three times, and then added—“She -should board you for two dollars a week—don’t -give her more. Everybody asks too much, in -expectation of being beaten down—a bad system, but -universal.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All this time he had been continually turning himself -round upon his right leg, between each two or -three words, as if intending to go away, and I perceived -no inclination upon his part to help me to employment; -but when he came to the end of his directions, -he drew out a little note-book, wrote something -in it with his usual rapidity, tore out the leaf, -and gave it to me saying—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come to see me—come to see me. I’ll think of -what can be done. We’ll find you employment, -Polyglot,” and away he turned and left me. I then, -with better hope than I had hitherto had, inquired -my way to the street which he had indicated, without -having curiosity enough to look at any thing but -his name, which I found to be “Herman Haas.” I -was a long time in finding the Hardt-Gasse, and before -I did so, I plunged into many a dark and gloomy -street of tall, old houses, and warehouses. At length, -the end of a little lane was pointed out to me, the -appearance of which was more in harmony with the -state of my finances, than my desires. But I found, -on walking up it, that the houses must, at one time, -have been of some importance, judging by the size -of the doors, and the ornaments which clustered -round them. At number five, I stopped; and finding -neither knocker or bell, opened the door and -went in.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who’s there?” screamed a voice from the right, -and entering a large, dim, old-fashioned room, I -found myself in the presence of a stately dame, engaged -in the dignified occupation of cooking, who -instantly demanded what I wanted. I found that -this was no other than Madame Steinberger, herself, -but before she would enter into any negociations in -regard to boarding and lodging me, she insisted upon -knowing who had sent me there. When I showed -her the paper, however, she exclaimed—“Professor -Haas! Oh! that is another matter;” and our arrangements -were soon effected. As the professor had -anticipated, she asked more at first than she was inclined -to take, but his dictum was all powerful with -her, and I was soon installed in a comfortable little -room, with the advantage of a large sitting-room besides, -when I chose to use it, for which accommodation, -with three meals in the day, I was to pay -two dollars a week.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the following morning, at the hour which my -landlady told me would be most convenient, I went -to call upon the professor, whom I found in his study; -though how he contrived to study at all, I cannot -make out; for he was in a state of continual movement—the -most excitable German I ever saw. -During the greater part of the time he was talking -to me, he was taking down one book and putting up -another, turning over papers upon the table, dipping -a pen in the ink and wiping it again, with other -operations to carry off his superfluous activity. He -must have been quiet at some time; for he certainly -was a very learned man; but I never could discover -when it was. At length, after having asked a great -number of questions, he said—“I have got one pupil -for you, to make a beginning—Come, I’ll show her -to you;” and leading me into another room, on the -same floor, he presented me to a young lady, who -sat there embroidering, as his daughter. “There,” -he said, “teach her English, and any thing else you -can. I have no time—she is a good girl, but -slow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The young lady looked up in his face with a calm, -placid smile, saying, “If there were two such quick -people as you in the house, my father, they would -always be running against each other.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“True,” replied the old man, “true, and philosophical. -Nature loves contrasts as well as harmonies. -Opposing forces counteract each other. You, -my Louise, are my <span class='it'>vis inertiæ</span>. Without you I -should get on too fast. But come, young gentleman—what -is your name?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Louis de Lacy,” I replied.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I like that, I like that,” answered the old man -“The <span class='it'>De</span>, speaks blood and good political principles—but -come—we will settle the terms in my own -room, and will try to get you something more to do -by and bye.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I found the good professor had as accurate a knowledge -of making a bargain, as he had of Greek or -Latin. He calculated the worth of my services to a -pfennig, and, as I found afterward, if I had made -the slightest opposition, would have beaten me down -still lower; for he had a pleasure in such sort of -triumphs. I let him arrange it all his own way, -however, and left to his own generosity, he probably -added a little to the sum which he had intended to -give. It was agreed that I was to teach his daughter -two hours during the day, and as soon as all this -was settled, he pushed me by the shoulders toward -the door, saying, “There, go, begin at once. You -have three hours before dinner. I must go to my -recitations.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I found the way back to the room where Louise -Haas was seated, and where I passed two hours of -every day, for nearly nine months, and generally the -greater part of every Sunday. She was a pretty -creature, with small, well-shaped features, a very -graceful form, though plump and rounded, and a -bright, clear complexion, which varied a good deal -under different emotions. Her mother had died, I -found, some four or five years before, of that pest of -northern countries, consumption. There was nobody -in the house but herself, her father, and two -women servants: hardly any society was admitted -within the doors, but grave old professors, with long -hair, not very well combed; and thus tutor and pupil, -like Abelard and Heloise, were left alone together -for many an hour—I having her father’s -commands to teach her English, and any thing else -I could. Father Bonneville’s good lessons, however, -some knowledge of the world, and many hard experiences, -together with other feelings, which I -cannot well describe, prevented me from even thinking -of taking any unfair advantage of my situation. -It was natural, however, that in such circumstances, -young acquaintance should speedily ripen into intimacy, -and intimacy into friendship. Nay, it was not -unnatural that little marks of kindness and tenderness -should pass between us; for though very calm -and gentle, she was of a loving and caressing disposition. -I found her far from dull—a very apt scholar; -but sometimes there were things she could not comprehend, -and then she would look smiling in my -face, and ask if she was not very stupid, and let her -hand drop into mine and rest there, as a messenger -sent to beseech forbearance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We were both very young; she not more than -eighteen, and I about twenty, and strange new feelings -began to come over my heart toward her. I -will not even now say that it was love; and then, I -would not inquire what it was, at all. It was a tenderness—a -feeling of gentle, quiet affection—a fondness -for her society—a pleasure in seeing those soft -eyes, look into mine, and a gratitude for the kindness -she ever showed, and took every opportunity -of showing. What she felt, I learned afterward; -but let me turn once more to the course of my life -in Hamburgh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By the kind offices of the good old professor, I obtained -several other pupils, and I had the great happiness -of finding my income exceed my expenditure. -I threw off my traveling garb; I brought out from -my knapsack the clothing which I had so carefully -saved: I gained admittance into some of the society -of the town, and though I do not think I was ever -very vain, whatever vanity I had, received some -encouragement. But my favorite resort was still -the professor’s house. He and his daughter were -my first friends in the city, and I became more and -more intimate with him every day. He was pleased -with the progress his daughter made, and he was -also pleased with the little assistance which I gave -him, from time to time, in different works he was -compiling. While I wrote for him, or looked out -passages for him, he could fidget about the room at -his case, and get into every corner of it in five -minutes. At the end of a month, I had a general -invitation to spend my evenings there whenever I -pleased—and I did please very often. Then, after a -while, I was sent with Louise to church; for she -went regularly, although I can’t say that the professor -ever wore out the steps of any religious edifice, -and I took care not to allow my Roman Catholic -education to prevent my joining a Protestant -congregation, with my pretty little pupil. Indeed I -was hanging at this time very slightly by the skirts -of the garments of Rome. I had been reading the -Bible a great deal lately. I read some Romanist -books also, but I found that the two did not agree, -and I liked the Bible best. Besides all this, as -spring succeeded to winter, and days lengthened, -and suns grew warm, there was every now and then -a moment of very sweet, spring-like happiness, -when after attending the church, Louise and I took -a farther walk, till the hour of the good professor’s -dinner. Sometimes we had another walk, too, in -the evening, and sometimes he accompanied us to -his little garden with the summer-house, near the -gate of which I had first met him. It was all very -delightful; and my ambition, which had once been -strong and wide, had by this time shrunk to very -small proportions. I could have been contented to -linger on there, with every thing just as it was, for -an indefinite period of time. But it must be remembered, -that not one word, regarding love, ever passed -between Louise and myself, except when it occurred -in passages of books. I am afraid, however, that -those passages, about this time, occurred very often. -Louise was fond of them, and I turned them up -easily for her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Thus it went on—for I must not dwell upon details—for -about eight months, when it so miserably -happened that an aunt of the professor’s, somewhat -younger than himself in years, but screwed up by -ancient maidenhood to the sharpest and very highest -tone of the human instrument, arrived. She was all -eyes, ears and understanding. God knows, she might -have heard every word that passed between Louise -and myself, and seen all that we did too—if looks were -excepted. But it so happened that at this time the -influence which France exerted over Prussia was so -great, that the Protectorate of the latter power over -the northern circles became a mere tyranny exercised -for the purposes of the French Republic, principally -for the persecution of emigrants. The position -of such persons as myself became very dangerous; -and the necessity of my removal from -Hamburgh was more than once talked of at the -professor’s table, where I now dined frequently. It -was even suggested that I should engage a passage -in a vessel which was about to sail in a couple of -months for the United States of America.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I could not help remarking that Louise turned -very pale when these things formed the subject of -conversation, and during six weeks of fluctuating -anxiety, I saw with sincere apprehension that she -lost health and spirits. I dared not, I could not venture -to take the idea to my heart that that dear, -amiable little creature suffered on my account; but -still I did my best to cheer and comfort her, and perhaps -became a little more tender in manner and fond -in words, than I had ever dared to be before. It -was now always, “dear Louis” and “dear Louise;” -but I do not think we went any further than that. -Often, often would she ask me questions regarding -my past history, and as much was told her as I knew -myself. She seemed to take a deep interest in it; -but as it was a subject of deep interest to me, that -I looked upon as natural. However, things had gone -on in this way for some time, my pretty Louise still -failing in health, not losing, but rather increasing her -beauty by the daily walks which she now forced -herself to take.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One day, at length, the explosion came. I met the -old professor at the top of the stairs, and instead of -turning me over at once to Louise, he beckoned me -into his own study, and then in a very excited state -flew from corner to corner of the room, glancing at -me angrily, but saying nothing. This conduct, -became so painful, that I at length broke silence, -saying, “You wish to speak with me, Herr -Haas.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ay, sir, ay!” he replied with vivacious sharpness, -“Have I not cause to speak?—have I not -cause to feel anger? Here, I took you in as a beggar, -and trusted you as a friend, and you have betrayed -my trust by winning my daughter’s affections -under the pretence of giving her instructions. Answer -it how you may, sir, it is a bad case.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As to winning your daughter’s affections, my -dear sir,” I replied, “I think you must be mistaken; -for I can boldly appeal to her to say, whether I have -once spoken on the subject of love toward her, or on -any other to justify the imputation you cast upon -me. I have always respected your hospitality, and -owing you so much as I do, I should have conceived -myself base indeed to seek her affection without -your consent. We have been thrown much together -and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But nothing would satisfy the old man. He interrupted -me hastily, catching at my words, and saying, -“that the only way of proving my sincerity was -to quit Hamburgh at once; that his aunt, who inhabited -a country-mansion, not many miles distant, -had pointed out to him—in the course of a morning -lecture which she gave him, before her departure -that day—all that was going on between Louise and -myself; that a ship would soon sail for America, and -that if I really entertained the honorable sentiments -I expressed, I would take my passage in her, and -leave his household to recover its peace.” He -asked me, in a taunting tone, if I knew that his -daughter was his heiress, and ended by forbidding -me the house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I retired gloomy and desponding, and although he -had said nothing to lead me to such a conclusion, I felt -almost certain that he had spoken to Louise, before -his conversation with myself. There was a sort of -gloomy consolation in this conviction, and I hesitated -as to whether I should quit Hamburgh, or remain -in the hope of some change of feeling upon his -part. There is such a thing as half-love, and I -knew—I felt—that I could make the dear girl happy, -and could be very happy with her myself. The remembrance, -however, that I had nothing on earth—that -I was an outcast—a beggar, in reality, and that -she was probably rich, decided me. I went down -to the wharf. I took my passage. I paid a part of -my passage-money, but I learned—with a strange -mixture of feelings—that the sailing of the packet -was put off for a whole month, which made nearly -seven weeks from that day. The master took pains -to inform me, that this delay was occasioned by apprehension -on the part of his owners, of the English -cruisers, which, at that time, were behaving as ill -to neutral vessels, as they were behaving well in -combats with the enemy. I cared little for the reasons, -however, but went away, not knowing whether -to be pleased or sorry for this respite.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I could not quit Hamburgh without feelings of -regret—I could not leave Louise without a bitter -pang—I had done what was right—my conscience -approved; and if accident kept me in the town, and -fortune favored me with any change of circumstances, -Hope might plume her wings without any -self-reproach.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I little knew with how much anguish that period -of delay was to be filled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Good Madame Steinberger had evidently heard -something of what had occurred at the professor’s -house. She had been very kind to me, and was -kind still; but her reverence for Professor Haas -somewhat jostled with her regard for her young -lodger. I would sit for hours in the evening, dreaming -of the past, thinking of Louise, dwelling upon -happy hours that were never to return. And then -Madame Steinberger would come and attempt to -comfort me, saying, that it was mere boy and girl’s -love, and would soon pass away: that I and the -young lady would both soon forget, and that she -doubted not to see us both happy parents.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If she had taken up a red-hot skewer, and thrust -it into my heart, she would not have produced -more wretchedness than she did by her mode of -consolation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No consolation—no thought—no philosophy was -of any avail. It was a period of intense bitterness, -filled with many varied emotions, but all of them -most painful. Had my love been more ardent, -more vehement than it was, my condition would -probably have been less sad. I should have striven—I -should have resisted—but a dark and gloomy -feeling took possession of my mind, that all who -loved me, all who felt an interest in me were destined -to be lost to me, almost as soon as I felt the -blessing of their sympathy and kindness. I was -more miserable than I can describe: there was nothing -to stimulate: to spur on endeavor: to rouse up -dormant energy. It was all dull, blank, monotonous, -melancholy inactivity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Three weeks had passed in this manner, when -one evening, as I was sitting in the larger room, -where good Frau Steinberger had kindled a fire, -with my feet upon the andirons, my head leaning on -my hand, and a book which I had vainly endeavored -to read, fallen on the floor by my side, there was a -step in the passage and the door opened. I took no -notice: I cared for nothing: I was without hope -or expectation: I was once more cast upon the -world—the fragment of a wreck upon the wide -ocean.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly a voice sounded near me, which I knew -right well. “Louis,” it said. “Louis, can you -forgive me? Louis, will you save me—will you -save my child?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I started up, and gazed upon the figure before -me. I could hardly believe it was my old friend -the professor, so pale, so worn, so sorrow-stricken -was his look.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I instantly clasped his extended hand in mine. -“My dear, good friend,” I said, “what have I to -forgive? I never sought to bring sorrow or discomfort -to your door—I would rather have died. That -is all I have to say. Tell me what I have to do—tell -me what you would wish, and I am ready to -do it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come to Louise,” he said, wringing my hand -hard. “Come to Louise—I have been a fool—a -madman—a mercenary wretch. You only can save -her—Come to her—come to her at once!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I trembled violently, but I snatched up my hat, -exclaiming, “let us go,” and rushed out of the house -before him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We flew along the streets, running against every -body—seeing nobody—heeding nobody. I asked no -questions. I knew there was something terrible; -but I was going to Louise, and felt that I should -soon know all. All houses stood upon the latch in -Hamburgh in those days. I opened the door—I -went in—I rushed up the stairs—I heard him cry -“stop, stop”—but the trumpet of an angel would -not have called me back. I entered her sitting-room. -She was not there. I heeded not. I knew -her bed-room lay beyond. I passed on and opened -the door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was seated in a chair, with all the bright color -gone from her cheek, except at one point. A physician -stood beside her, with a glass in his hand. -One old maid-servant was kneeling at her feet, wrapping -them in flannel. A handkerchief, dyed with -blood, was at her lips. Could I pause? No, had -it killed both her and myself. In an instant I was -across the room, at her feet, and my arms around -her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Louise, my own Louise,” I cried.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked at me with surprise—then gazed beyond -me to her father, who followed close—then -cast her arms round my neck, and leaned her head -upon my shoulder, saying in a faint voice, “Louis, -dear Louis, you have saved me—I feel—I am sure, -I shall live to be your wife.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hush, hush,” said the physician. “You must -not speak at all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You shall be his wife; you shall be his wife!” -cried her father eagerly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am very happy,” said Louise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I must have perfect silence,” said the physician, -“all will go well now; but every one must -quit the room.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No one shall tend her but myself,” I said; “but -I will be as still as night. She is mine—mine by the -deepest and the holiest ties, and I will not leave her -till this is staid.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nor did I; but through the live-long night, with -the physician and the fond old servant, I remained -silently watching, aiding, comforting, supporting her. -From time to time the spitting of blood returned; -but, at length, ice was thought of and procured. -That checked it effectually. Two hours passed -without the slightest return of that direful symptom, -and lifting her in my arms, as a father might a child, -I placed her in her bed. Then seating myself on a -little footstool at the side, I laid my head upon the -same pillow. I thought she would sleep more happily -so. Her heavy eyes closed quietly; her breathing -became calm and gentle; she slept; and ere -many minutes had passed, I slept beside her.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>THE FADING OF THE FLOWER.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The hemorrhage returned no more. Louise and I -awoke at nearly the same moment, just as the morning -light was streaming in through the windows, and -she smiled sweetly to see me there, with my head -upon her pillow, and the good old servant sitting fast -asleep at the foot of her bed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Poor girl, she fancied that all danger was passed; -that she would soon be well, and that we should be -very, very happy. But, alas! grief and disappointment -too frequently shoot with poisoned arrows, and -the venom remains in the wound, after the shaft has -been extracted. She was not suffered to rise that -day, and was forbidden to speak more than a monosyllable -at a time. The good physician quoted the -Bible to her, saying—“Let your communication be -yea, yea, nay, nay, for of more cometh evil.” On -the following day, however, she rose, and gradually -was permitted to talk more and more, without any -evil effect being produced. Then for a short time -we were very happy. The good, old professor did -all that he could to make up for his previous harshness, -consented to any thing that we wished. Spontaneously -promised two thousand dollars to set -Louise and myself off in life, although we were to -make our abode with him, and talked of obtaining a -professorship for me in the university. Luckily his -avocations kept him from home a good deal each -day, otherwise his daughter’s health would have -suffered more, from his continually running in and -out of the room. She made some progress during -the first week after I returned, regained strength in -a certain degree, and I was full of hope for her, although -she had an unpleasant cough, very frequent, -though not violent. We talked of the coming days, -and of our marriage, as soon as she was quite well, -and I measured her finger for the ring, and kissed the -little hand on which it was to be placed. Oh, they -were very, very pleasant dreams, those; and I felt -that I could be exceedingly happy with that dear, -gentle girl—nay, I fancied that our happiness was -quite assured; for when I looked into her eyes, they -were so full of light and life, that one could hardly -fancy they would ever be extinguished in death and -darkness. Her bright color did not come back into -the cheek indeed, except at night, and then it was -not so generally diffused. Nevertheless, she felt -herself so well—we all thought she was so well—that -our wedding-day was fixed for about three -weeks afterward. As the time approached, however, -she was not quite so well again. The -weather changed, and two or three days of cold, -damp wind succeeded, which seemed to affect her -very much. It was judged expedient that our marriage -should be delayed for a fortnight; for she felt -the least breath of air. Nevertheless, we kept up -our spirits well for a little while, and she talked confidently -of regaining health, and being just as well as -ever. But as the days went on, I perceived with -anxiety and alarm, that she grew weaker. I used to -take her out whenever the air was soft, and the sun -shone warmly, for a little walk, in the hope that it -would restore her strength, and I soon found that she -could not go so far, without fatigue, as at first; that -to climb even the little slopes which exist in Hamburgh, -rendered her breathing short, and increased -her cough. Our walks became less and less, till, -at length, she went out no more. A change, hardly -perceptible in its progress, was gradually wrought -in her. I saw little difference between one day and -that which preceded; but when I looked back to a -week or a fortnight before, and compared the present -with the past, I could not close my eyes to the conviction -that she was worse—much worse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After a while, she took her breakfast in bed; but -made an effort to rise as early as she could, in order -to come and join me in the sitting-room. She ever -spoke cheerfully, too, and seemed to have no thought -of danger. But her father was in a terrible state; for -he couldn’t close his eyes to her situation, and I do -believe, that if the sacrifice of his life by the most -painful kind of death would have purchased his -child’s recovery, he would have made it without a -hesitation. I deceived myself more than he did. I -had heard of the effect of change of air, and I had -talked to Louise so often about her recovering -strength, and going with me for a short time, to -some milder climate, that I had almost persuaded -myself, against conviction, that it would be so. I -fancied, too, that I could make her so happy, she -must needs recover; for I knew what a blessed -balm happiness is, and thought it must be all-effectual.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As she could no longer go to church, the good -minister of the parish came several times to see her, -and as he had a friendship for me, he would often -talk with me afterward—not that I liked his conversation -now as much as formerly; for it was very -gloomy, and he strove evidently to fill my mind with -the dark anticipations which occupied his own. The -rays of religious hope, he endeavored to pour in too; -but it was earthly hopes I then clung to, and I did not -like to have them taken away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One morning, after he had been with Louise, I -found some tears upon her cheek, when I went in to -see her; for by this time she did not rise till very -late in the day, and all painful restraint being removed, -I used to go and sit by her bedside, and read -to her for some hours each morning. I was half angry -with the old man for depressing her spirits; but -she soon recovered her cheerfulness, and it was not -till two days afterward, that I learned he had told her -she must die.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was sitting beside her, with my arm fondly cast -round her, as she sat propped up by pillows, and I -was indulging in those dreamy hopes of the future, -which I still entertained, and thought she entertained -likewise. I talked of our proposed journey to the -South, and of escaping the cold, winter weather of -Hamburgh, and of myself and her father—for he -was to go with us in this dream—nursing her like a -tender plant, till the bright summer came back again -to restore her to perfect health.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She turned her sweet eyes upon me, with a gentle -but melancholy smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you know, dear Louis,” she said, “I begin -to think that time will never be?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I looked aghast, and laying her hand tenderly in -mine, she added—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nay, more, love, I fear I shall never be your -wife, unless—unless you can make up your mind to -take me as I am now, and part with me very -soon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O, Louise, Louise!” I cried, pressing her to my -heart, with the dreadful conviction first fully forced -upon me, by words such as she had never used before. -“Do not, do not entertain such sad fears. Be -mine at once, dear girl, and let me take you away -from this bleak place—by slow, easy journeys—by -sea—any how.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A single large tear rose in her eyes, and leaning -her head upon my shoulder, she said in a low, hesitating -voice—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will own, it would be very sweet to be your -wife, were it but for a day—yet what right have I,” -she added, “to ask you to make me so, in such a -state as this—to leave you so soon, so young a widower?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let not such thoughts stop you for a moment, -Louise,” I answered. “It will be a blessing and a -comfort to me. I can then be with you always—never -leave you—nurse you by night and day, and if -the fondest cure can save you, still keep my little -jewel for my life’s happiness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She pressed her lips fondly upon my cheek, and -asked—“Do you really feel so, Louis?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“From my heart,” I answered. “There is no -blessing—no comfort I desire so much. Let it be -this very day—may I speak to your father?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you will,” she answered with a bright smile, -and I know not that I ever in life felt such satisfaction -as in seeing the happiness and relief I had bestowed -upon that dear girl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The old professor was ready to grant every thing -we could desire. He was now the complete slave -of her will; but the marriage could not take place -that day, for some few formalities had to be gone -through and arrangements to be made. It was appointed -for the next evening, however, and when -Louise awoke upon her wedding-day, she sent the -maid to tell me that she felt much better.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She knew what happiness that news would give -me, and I was soon by her side to confirm the assurance -with my own eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was better. She looked better. She had -rested well, and she was able to rise an hour earlier -than she had done before. The incorrigible liar, -Hope, whispered her false promises in the ears of -both, I believe, and the hours passed more brightly -during that afternoon, than they had done for many -a day before.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At eight o’clock the Protestant minister came, and -with him a notary. The physician was the only -other person present, except Louise, her father, and -myself. The irrevocable words were soon spoken, -the contract signed, and the ring upon her finger; -but as I put it on, a cold, sad feeling came upon my -heart. It had been somewhat tight when I first -bought it, and now it was very loose. We were -even obliged to wind some silk round it the next day, -to prevent it from falling off.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For three days, happiness seemed to have all the -effect that I had ever attributed to it in my brightest -fancies. Louise was certainly better, and she looked -so happy, so cheerful, walked up and down the passage -hanging on my arm, with a step so much lightened, -that even the old professor caught the infection -of our hopes, and began to talk of future days.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The medicine soon lost its power over the invincible -enemy. We had been married just six days, -and during the three last, Louise had been feebler -again, and very restless at night. The sixth day was -a warm, sunny one. The light shone cheerfully into -our room, and she talked to me of the sweet aspect -of the summer, and made me open the window to -let in the gentle air.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One room of the old professor’s house looked out -upon the ramparts, planted with trees. It was a -large room, seldom used; but Louise asked me to -go in there, and open the windows before she rose, -saying, that she should like to sit and look at the -green leaves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her father came in before she was dressed, and -when she was ready, we took her out of her room, -with a hand resting on the arm of each, and led her -into that saloon. I had placed an arm-chair for her -near the window, and she approached feebly and seated -herself in it. The air was very balmy: a clear, -sparkling sunshine brightened the foliage: the sky -beyond, was as deep and blue as her own eyes, and -she gazed for an instant, with a look of intense -thought upon the scene before her. Then looking -up in my face as I stood beside her, she placed her -hand in mine, and said—“Very beautiful!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were her last words. The next instant, a -strange, vacant expression came into those deep -thoughtful eyes, a slight shudder passed over her: -she leaned more and more toward me; and I had -just time to kneel by her side, and catch her head -upon my shoulder. I felt one faint breath fan my -cheek—and Louise was gone.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:0.5em;'>(<span class='it'>End of part first.</span>)</p> - -<hr class='tbk118'/> - -<div><h1><a id='faded'></a>FADED AND GONE.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MISS S. J. C. WHITTLESEY.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Faded and gone are the Summer’s sweet flowers,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Strewn by the wintry winds o’er the dark mould!</p> -<p class='line0'>Smilers, when sunlight stole through the soft hours,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Down from yon azure their leaves to unfold.</p> -<p class='line0'>Bright were their beauties when breezes swept on</p> -<p class='line0'>  O’er the blue waters to gather perfume;</p> -<p class='line0'>Whisperers lovely, now faded and gone!</p> -<p class='line0'>  Slumberers lonely ’mid dullness and gloom!</p> -<p class='line0'>Oh! but the Spring-time will come o’er the plain</p> -<p class='line0'>Wooing the whispering blossoms again,</p> -<p class='line0'>With its soft tread o’er the emerald lawn—</p> -<p class='line0'>Then we’ll not mourn for the faded and gone!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Faded and gone are the ones that we cherished,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Fondly and true, in our bosoms of yore!</p> -<p class='line0'>Slumbering buds may awake o’er the perished,</p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Their</span> faded hearts shall unfold here no more!</p> -<p class='line0'>Sweet is the music that Memory flings</p> -<p class='line0'>  O’er the oasis of Life’s early love,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where flew the Angel on fluttering wings,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Bearing our lost through the starlight above;</p> -<p class='line0'>Oh! there’s a land where the perished ones bloom,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where cometh never a shadow of gloom!</p> -<p class='line0'>Fadeless and fair is that glorious dawn—</p> -<p class='line0'>Then we’ll not mourn for the faded and gone!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Faded and gone are the sweet dreams of childhood,</p> -<p class='line0'>  When the young wings of the Spirit were free,</p> -<p class='line0'>Folded or furled ’mid the shadowy wildwood—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Sweeping the surface of life’s sunny sea.</p> -<p class='line0'>Time’s fading finger hath sullied the leaf,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Stainless and lovely in childhood’s pure years;</p> -<p class='line0'>Pages of beauty once brilliant, yet brief,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Wear its deep impress of changes and tears!</p> -<p class='line0'>Oh! but the blossoms of childhood will bloom</p> -<p class='line0'>Brightly again, o’er the shadowy Tomb!</p> -<p class='line0'>Infinite gladness flow endlessly on—</p> -<p class='line0'>Then we’ll not murmur for the faded and gone!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk119'/> - -<div><h1><a id='bow'></a>THE BOWER OF CASTLE MOUNT.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>A REMINISCENCE OF HEIDELBERG.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY AELDRIC.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was early in the June of 184-. I had been sitting -in a German railroad-car since early morning, -vainly trying to amuse myself in discovering a degree -of singularity in some one of the many passengers -that were picked up at the different stations -between Kehl and Heidelberg. I had taken a seat -in the third class car, expecting there to find a miscellaneous -mingling of the busy classes of Germans; -but, alas, for my entertainment! it was one class too -high—I should have taken the fourth. After I had -chosen a seat as near comfortable as the wooden -benches would admit of, I perceived, to my disappointment, -that I was surrounded by that class of -people, neither high enough nor low enough to be -interesting; every one seemed completely wrapped -up in himself. There was scarcely any conversation, -and each face soon settled in the repose of quiet -German thoughtfulness. Meerschaums ere long -made their appearance out of the depths of profound -side-pockets; and, as far as dependence on my fellow-passengers -was concerned, there was none, to -beguile the tedium of a long journey. A long, heart-felt -pull, a quiet wink of satisfaction thereat, a -somewhat varied fingering of the pipe-bowl to press -the ashes—that was all. Diagonally across the car -and nearly facing me, sat a very pretty girl whom, -from the timid wandering of her deep-blue eyes, I -judged to be unmarried. I watched her some time -to observe where she recognized a protector, but her -eye rested nowhere particularly; it seemed uneasy, -searching, and I concluded she was going but a short -distance, and alone. Just as the train was moving, -a handsome young man stepped in the door, looked -around the car, was recognized by a calming of the -uneasy eyes, and took his seat before them, in the -middle row, turning his back toward me. As he -bent toward her and whispered, she did not smile, -her face seemed too thoughtful; she only gazed in -his eyes and spoke not a word. Ha! thought I, I -see how it is, and settled myself to enjoy a morsel -of sentimentality. My gentleman soon finished his -first course, and then leaned back in his seat to chew -the cud at his leisure. I thought he relished it very -much, for it was full twenty minutes before he made -another motion; during all which time the young -lady did little but gaze at him, it appeared to me, -with perfect satisfaction. After a time the gaze of -satisfaction changed to a look of concern, and finally -of marked uneasiness. She leaned forward, spoke to -him, yet he heeded her not. She arose suddenly, -and I was so absorbed in anxiety that I almost arose -with her. He started as from a lethargy, and darted -to the vacated corner, whilst she quietly took his -seat and I saw her face no more. I still saw the -same blue eyes in the corner, “yet I saw them but -a moment,” for the lids soon closed over them, and I -knew that the kind sister had given up her corner -for the lazy brother to sleep in. “Corn-cobs twist -his hair,” said I, for I was doubly provoked, first, at -his deception, and then, I saw the pretty face no -more. I did not indulge in romance again, but -turned my eyes and my thoughts to the outer world. -The monotony of the company made me stupid; the -prolonged, premeditated winks over the smoking -bowls made me drowsy, and the flitting lights and -shadows of the varied scenery seemed to beckon me -to dreamy lands of wine and song and ghosts and -chivalry. Beyond the green slopes to the eastward, -the Black Forest stretched afar to an immeasurable -distance; mysterious outlines swelled and dwindled -in the darkness; a huge head peered over the tree-tops; -another and another; the ghouls stared at us, -it seemed to me, “more in sorrow than in anger.” -I could not tell why, but their malignity seemed forgotten -in fear and wonder. There was a scream, a -terrific scream—of the locomotive—and pell-mell, -helter-skelter, heels up, head down, away they -darted like a squad of frogs before a bouncing poodle. -I was fully awakened to the surprising loveliness of -the landscape around me, but I had little time to -enjoy it—another scream, a rumble, a series of -jerks, and we were at the—terminus, in Heidelberg.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was soon in the good care of mine host of the -Hoff, who certainly possesses one of the most desirable -locations and establishments for entertainment -in the world. Close by the railroad depot, it is -about a mile from the town, and a beautiful avenue -leading all the way, is lined with elms and lindens -on either side. On the ascent of a steep hill which -rises abruptly from the town, and about mid-way to -the summit, is the celebrated ruined castle of Heidelberg, -whose lords once swayed the feudal sceptre -over all the surrounding country. The gay conversation -at the <span class='it'>table d’hôte</span> was in strong contrast with -the, not moodiness but apathy, of the railroad car. -A large <span class='it'>musical-box</span>, upon the plan of our pocket -toy of that name, but as large as a good-sized wardrobe—discoursed -sweet music the while. The -company which I found introduction to, was sufficiently -entertaining to withhold me from my contemplated -walk toward the ruins that evening, and the -beautiful promenades in front of the hotel were quite -gay. Early next morning with an agreeable English -party I set out for the castle. As we neared it -along the straight avenue, we advanced farther and -farther from a flank view. The front came slowly -out with its red towers and crumbling battlements, -and the vast structure grew in the majesty of its -ruins. As we approached the foot of the mount, a -road crossed the avenue, leading toward the river to -the left, to the right leading up the mountain. We -ascended a considerable time after having lost sight -of the castle, and as yet, so early was the hour, we -had seen no one astir. No habitation of any kind -was along this road, which, before us, appeared to -descend from the solitude of the hills. We clambered -up, up, up, until at last, said one:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We surely are as high as the castle, and I do believe -we ought to have taken this left-hand road just -below us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no!” said another, “let us go on and trust -to fortune; for in so beautiful and romantic a place -we cannot go amiss—maybe that we shall make -some grand discovery, too, and then we will jointly -write a book to put it before the world.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The conversation was cut short by a noise up the -road; we looked, and there stood a man leaning -against a tree by the road-side, waiting for his oxen -and cart which were moving slowly down the road -above him. He called to his cattle in a loud voice, -and hummed an air as he leaned back against the -tree again. Just at that moment the piping cry of -a lark rang through the wood, and ere it died away -he peeled forth in boisterous answer—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Ho! for the deep where the sea-bird sings!</p> -<p class='line0'> Ho! for the bowers where his merry voice rings!”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Here, as he perceived us, he halted in his strain and -walked demurely by his cart. In a few words it -was determined among us that we should inquire of -him the road to the castle; but as each one declined -the honor of gaining the information, upon the plea -that perhaps his style of German might be unintelligible -to the unpolite ears of the rustic, I volunteered -the undertaking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good morning, my friend?” I hailed him. “Be -so good as to tell us the way to the castle.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you wish to see the castle?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is what we have come especially for.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O, ’tis a magnificent sight!” (and he gazed -fixedly on one of the ladies, a gay young beauty, as -he spoke.) “O ’tis a magnificent sight! No one -can tell better than I how beautiful it is. I have -seen it in the morning when the sun was rising on -it, making its red walls look like gold. I have seen -it in the day, in the evening, and (I’ll tell you) I -have seen it by the bright moonlight when—O, I -have loved every old stone of it dearer than I do my -life! But if you wish to see it, keep the right-hand -road at the first fork, and follow it as far as you can, -and when you come to the bower—Ah, I’ve seen -it in the dark nights, too, curse it! curses on it!</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Ho! for the bowers where his merry voice rings!</p> -<p class='line0'> Ho! for the billows where——”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Here I lost the words of the boisterous music as -he swung off and hurried to overtake his cart, leaving -us all not a little astonished.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What an eccentric person!” whispered Miss -Thornton to me, the lady who had attracted his gaze -in so marked a manner, and the only lady in the company -who understood German.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah! I see,” said I, “that admiration is never -lost upon a lady, no matter from how humble a -source it come. He was put beside himself, poor -fellow! no wonder he appeared eccentric.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was not that,” she said. “Did you not see -how he changed when he spoke of the arbor, as if -some remembrance associated with it excited him? -No—I think there is or was some one that I look -like. I <span class='it'>would</span> like to see any one that looks like -me, no matter who she be. It’s so unusual, is it -not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Vain puss!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then how merry he got again,” she continued, -unheeding me. “No, I don’t understand such sudden -changes—without any cause, too. He’s remarkably -fine-looking for one in his condition—I -beg pardon, sir, I wonder what bower he can mean; -I never heard of any on the way to the castle.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nor I, but we shall surely find one; and when -we do, I fear this little incident will engage my imagination -more than the historic associations of the -castle.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We journeyed on higher and higher, until we -came to the fork of the road. Here nearly all were -inclined to bear away to the left, around the mountain, -fully satisfied that we were high enough. I -explained that the young German had been very -precise in his directions to keep to the right, and all -yielded to him, rather to banter fortune than from -persuasion that we were going the right road. On -we toiled, and the road at last came to an abrupt -termination upon the very summit. A high-road -bore off to the right, that we could trace a mile or -two over the hills, and only a tangled path led toward -the west. Leaving the company to await the -result, I proceeded to explore the path, and soon -came in view of the town lying in the plain below. -I stood enchanted with the scene. A gently sloping -country receded several miles to the Rhine; meandering -all the way through fields and forests, the -legend-consecrated Neckar glistened in the morning -sun, and beyond, the vine-clad hills of France, the -country of the Moselle, crowned the horizon. Far -away to the south could be traced the winding -Rhine almost to its native mountains, and to the -north it was lost among the hills of the Odenwald, -as it widened and straightened onward toward the -plains of Holland. I hailed the party as it came up, -all were amazed at the magnificent landscape, and -each avowed he was well repaid for the toilsome -journey. A few steps farther brought us to a rugged -stair of broken stones, and some ten or twelve -feet below, on a small natural terrace, was an over-grown -<span class='it'>bower</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O, the bower! the bower!” exclaimed every -one. There it was; and as we reached it, a full -view of the dismantled towers and crumbled walls -of the castle opened below us, almost beneath our -feet. The German was right. He thought we -wished to <span class='it'>see</span> the castle, not to go to it, and we had -gained the finest view of the finest ruin in the North -of Europe. It is not my intention that my pen shall -wander among those most interesting testimonies of -grandeur passed away. Suffice it to say, we returned -home well sated with pleasure, to recruit our -humanity by a very late breakfast at twelve o’clock. -We had walked fasting from six.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From that day the bower became one of my favorite -haunts during the few weeks of my stay in -Heidelberg. One day, with a view to further exploration -of the heights to the eastward of the bower, -a region I had often tried to get a view of from the -Castle Mount, I set out on horseback, and after -reaching the summit, took the road that we had seen -over the hills on our first visit to the castle. For -two or three miles it was nothing but steep hills and -narrow valleys. Not a sound was heard save the -twittering of birds and the tumbling of waters; not -a particle of verdure was to be seen but the dark, -distant forests, and near, the quivering foliage of the -vine as it climbed up, up to the very pinnacles of the -terraced heights. Beyond, the country spread out -into fields and meadows and grass and waving grain. -Farm-houses and villages were clustered about. -Vineyards lingered upon the knolls, and scarce ventured -a distance down the sunny slopes. After a -long day’s ride I was approaching the bower by another -road: the sun was about setting; I was tired -and thirsty; when I was tempted to dismount by a -little streamlet that fell into and ran down the road-side. -An orchard extended from a small cottage to -the road, and the gate was only upon the other side -of the way. I led my horse over, and after hitching -him to the gate-post, was about reaching a harvest-apple -that hung near me, when my attention was -drawn by a small group in front of the cottage door. -An old gray-haired man was sitting upon a bench -watching a young child that was rolling on the grass, -when my appearance put an end to his occupation. -He looked at me with no expression of pleasure, -evidently not relishing so unceremonious an attempt -upon his orchard. I resigned my thieving intention, -and covered the manœuvre by an advance straight -up to the door. A young woman arose and picked -up the child, and then resumed her seat upon the -grass-plat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good evening, my friend,” said I, for his silence -was awkward—“I am very tired and warm with a -long ride, and was tempted by that cool spring and -your shady trees to dismount and take a moment’s -rest. I am glad to take my rest in such good company.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are welcome,” said he. “I perceive you -are a stranger; an Englishman I suppose?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I am not an Englishman; I am come from -a land much farther off than England, and have seen -a great many Germans in my country. I am an -American.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s that he says, Mary?” cried a voice -from within the house. “Tell him Roderick is not -at home; tell him he wont be at home till to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hush! do, mother! The gentleman has not -come for Roderick.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O, yes he has. He knows Roderick has got -money and wants to spend it. You know—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do hush, mother! It’s a stranger, and what’s -more, it’s an American.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What does he say about Karl? Ask him when -Karl is coming back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The tears started to the young woman’s eyes; -and as I saw her press her babe to her bosom, I -knew who Karl was. She seemed to struggle with -the question that rose to her lips:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You said, sir, that you have seen many Germans -in America: did you ever see anybody there -from Heidelberg? Did you ever see Karl Wagner -there?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I told her, I never saw Karl Wagner there, and -asked her if Karl might be her husband; which fact -I knew, however, before I asked. She answered, -that he was; that he was living at a place called Buffalo, -and had lately sent her money to take her to another -place called New York, where she would meet -him. Her father was anxious that she should go, but -her mother, who was now doating, would resent the -very mention of it, and was always expecting Karl -to <span class='it'>come home</span>. Her brother Roderick, she said, had -been unfortunate, and was bent on going with her; -but of this, her mother knew nothing. They were -afraid to tell her, her reason was so weak that they -feared she would sink into utter imbecility.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sun was set, and night was drawing on. I -arose to resume my journey, for I was anxious to -reach the foot of the mount before dark; but the old -man offered me a plate of the harvest-apples that had -tempted me, and pressed me to take some supper -with them. If I would only be so kind—they wished -to ask me so many questions about America. I am -not sure that I should have accepted their invitation -had not my eye, as I arose, fallen upon a picture -hanging against the opposite wall of the little room. -A second glance showed the marked and benevolent -features of the old man, looking out from the canvas.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ha—ha!” said he, “that is a fine picture. Step -in the door, and you will see more of them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I did so, and to my surprise, beheld four others -hanging wherever space enough could be found to -contain them. One was the portrait of the old woman -whom I now saw for the first time; another of -Mary, and the remaining two were, a young man apparently -thirty years of age, and a boy of sixteen. -The old man followed me with his eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ha—ha!” said he. “I see you admire them. -Poor Roderick! There are few who can beat him -in his art—but you would not think so to see him -now. These are the last he ever made. He paid his -last tribute to those he loved best.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The old man spoke in a very sorrowful tone. I -began to feel a deep interest in Roderick, whatever -his misfortunes might be.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is not Roderick your son?” I asked, supposing -that I must have made a mistake.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes—that one I suppose you don’t know; that’s -Karl Wagner, that’s Mary’s husband—a good son he -is. And that’s Tommy, that’s our Tommy—sturdy -Tommy, as they call him. That’s the last one Roderick -ever made.” And the old man brushed his -eyes with his shriveled hands as he spoke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where does Roderick live?” I asked. “Is he -married?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hush—here!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why is it, that a young man of such talent gives -up a glorious art, when it opens a field to him to enable -him to rise above his condition, to gain wealth, -honor, fame?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hush!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go, ask Count Reisach!” cried the old woman, -starting up. She was in a frenzy. Her eyes glared, -her bent form trembled from head to foot, her hands -were clenched, but hung dangling at her side, and -she seemed to make superhuman efforts to raise -them. They were paralyzed. Tears coursed each -other down her cheeks as she cried—“Go ask Count -Reisach! Go find him! Go ask poor Father Klaus! -Go down and ask Almighty God why he let—oh!” -she cried, sinking on her knees—her voice choked; -sobs, spasms convulsed her frame; still her face was -raised, it seemed to me in prayer, but her hands -clasped not, they seemed to weigh her to the earth, -as they hung lifeless beside her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mein Got! O, mein Got!” cried the old man, -as he took her in his arms. “O, my poor frau—would -to God thy poor spark of reason would go -out, that I might see this heavy burden off thy -soul!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He raised her tenderly as a child, repelling my assistance, -and when he had placed her in her arm-chair, -left her to Mary’s care, and came to resume -his seat upon the bench, outside the door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She never grieved so for herself, and she has had -her own troubles too. But she knows not all yet—O, -mein Got! mein Got! who will tell her—for he -must, he must, he must!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He closed his eyes—as it were—to shut out so near -a view of misery. A loud voice was heard approaching -in the road, and as it became more distinct, I -started as I recognized the words—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Ho for the deep where the sea-bird sings!</p> -<p class='line0'> Ho for the bowers where his merry voice rings,</p> -<p class='line0'> Ho for the billows, the billows, the billows!”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Here the gate flew open, and my acquaintance of -castle memory stalked up the path, followed by a -sturdy lad.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Father, it’s all arranged,” he bawled. “It’s all -arranged. I’ve made up my mind. There are three -in Heidelberg—”</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Ho for the billows where the storm-king dwells!”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stop, Roderick. You know your mother. See, -too, here is a stranger.” He paused, saluted me as -though he had never seen me before, and turned to -the youth who followed him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where are the cattle, Tommy? That’s right—you -must be smart, you know; remember what’s on -your shoulders!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Tommy said he knew, and was going to be smart. -Mary appeared at the door and invited us to supper. -The mother was gone, and the old man seemed relieved -when he missed her, for he looked around the -room, and the cloud left his brow, ere he asked a -blessing on his humble table. After supper he lighted -his pipe; Tommy took his hat and disappeared, and -Roderick touched my arm as he moved toward the -door. His boisterous humor was gone, and he calmly -and mannerly asked me to be seated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is worse to-night,” he said. “They have -sent Tommy for <span class='it'>him</span>.” After a moment, he continued; -“I recognized you at first, and for my rudeness -I must plead the state of mind I was in. The -truth is, I have this day arranged my departure for -America, to take my sister to her husband; and the -relief from the burden of suspense I had long been in -made me quite forgetful of myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do not know,” said I, “that you are doing best -in taking this course. You are an artist, and I must -bear witness to the promise of success you make in -your art; but, as I begin to feel a deep interest in -yourself, your family, and—I think I may say with -truth—in your sorrows, for some strange misfortune -seems to brood over this house, I feel at liberty to -remonstrate with you for abandoning what seems to -me your duty to yourself, and your father’s family. -I could not give you hope of better success where -you purpose going than you would probably meet -with here. The best of our own artists reside in Europe, -for we have no models at home. Have you -always lived here with your parents?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Until within the last few weeks I spent most of -my time in the town; my occupation kept me very -much from home. Of late, I have done nothing but -assist my father here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It seems to me that you might assist him more -with your brush than with your ox-goad.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I could use it perhaps I might; but I can paint -no more here. I am going, and Tommy and I have -trimmed his vines and sown his crops, and when -Tommy shall be able to take care of the vines himself, -I shall be gone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is where I cannot excuse you. You are -not suffering from poverty; you are not driven to -emigrate; and it is in leaving your infirm parents -when they are bowed down by affliction that I think -you do not do your duty by them. They both seem -proud of you, and still—you appear to love them -as you ought.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The affliction is mine! You were at the bower?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I could go there with you, and tell you a -tale of sorrow that you would never forget. You -cannot judge. I know that my father and my poor, -fond mother grieve—it is for me; but what is their -grief to mine? It is but the reflection of mine; it is -like the cold, borrowed light of the moon—mine, the -scorching sun. I am plunged from heaven into hell! -This spot is to me, now, of all the world, like the -deepest abyss of infernal misery; and, but for Father -Klaus, our good old priest, this shadow of hell had, -ere this, been bartered for the reality. He has kept -alive a spark of reason in me, that I hope may yet -guide me through the world. Here he is—I see they -have sent Tommy for him. She always forgets her -own sorrow, when she sees him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well Roderick, my son,” said the old priest, as -he paused at the door, “I fear you have been imprudent -again. These outbursts of yours will bring -the poor old mother to the grave. You have heard -something since, and it has set you beside yourself, -poor boy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, Father, I have heard nothing since I told you -Count Reisach was in Cologne; that is three weeks -ago, and from that time I have sought no news but -for your sake. The only news I have to tell you is, -that my departure for America is determined upon; -I have made up my mind to go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s right; that’s right!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will tell her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Leave it to me. God will surely temper the -wind; but not to-night, not to-night!” And he -sighed as he entered the house and left us alone -again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The moon was just rising, and as I pressed the -poor fellow’s hand (<span class='it'>poor fellow</span>, I knew he was a -<span class='it'>poor fellow</span>. I pitied him sincerely, but I knew not -why), he returned the pressure warmly, and asked -permission to visit me the following day. I appointed -an hour, and galloped over the hilly road toward -home. As I approached the end of the path that led -off to the bower, I could not help turning my eyes -thither, my mind was full of Roderick, and I could -not disconnect the idea of him from the idea of the -bower. Had I known his story then as I do now, I -could have sighed with the sighing trees, that shook -and sighed all night on the gloomy Castle Mount.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I knew that I had a treat in store for Miss Thornton. -I knew what fresh interest I would awaken, -when I should tell her that the rough peasant was an -accomplished artist. That evening and the next -morning, it was a subject she always recurred to -when we were alone, she would talk of nothing -else, and frequently sought opportunities of conversing -apart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next day, Roderick appeared at the appointed -hour, but his garb was changed. He wore no longer -the coarse clothes of a peasant, and I could not but -observe that his altered exterior harmonized much -better with his bearing, and his intellectual features. -Several of the party who had made with me the -morning excursion to the Castle Mount were still at -Heidelberg, and as we frequently met on our rounds -upon the promenade, <span class='it'>she</span> was the only one, of all, -who recognized my companion. His object seemed -to be to learn, as far as my judgment extended, the -probable prospects that awaited him in the United -States, in the prosecution of his art. He dwelt upon -the subject calmly, and was perfectly self-possessed -until we approached Miss T., when he stopped, and -regarded her with the same fixed gaze that I had remarked -upon our first interview. From that moment -he was a changed person. A strange uneasiness -seemed to take possession of him. His face was -pale, and at last he turned abruptly down the avenue. -I followed him, and cast one look back at her, ere I -started. She and her companion had paused; he -was speaking to unheeding ears, for her gaze was -fixed on us, her face was pale, and wore the expression -of sudden alarm. He led me hastily along the -avenue; I followed, I scarce knew why: but he -could have led me anywhere. After a while—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I cannot tell you,” said he, “until we reach the -bower.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And we began to ascend the mountain. At last, -we pushed aside the briars that blockaded the little, -descending path that led to the bower. The magnificent -ruins appeared spread out below us, and I half -forgot the sorrows of my eccentric friend in lively -feelings of pleasure. After a pause, which I was unwilling -to interrupt (for I saw in his countenance, in -his whole bearing, evidence of a severe interior -struggle), he said—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When I am able to reflect, I know that I am imposing -on your generosity in some way, but I scarce -know how. It is only your goodness which has -prompted you to undergo all this fatigue and trouble; -and now I feel bound, I wish to open my heart to -you, but it seems as though all I can tell you cannot -compensate you. At any rate, it will be a relief to -me, and hereafter it may help the vividness of your -recollections of Heidelberg. I thought I should never -tell this story, or speak this name again; but that lady -recalled, in so many ways, so lively an image of my -lost Ella, that I <span class='it'>must</span> unburden my heart of its excess. -She was the niece of Father Klaus. Her parents -died when she was very young, and the good -old man took her into his own charge. No parent -could have loved her more, or watched over her -with more tender solicitude than he did. As she -grew up, he taught her many things which, but for -him, would have been entirely beyond her reach; -but she repaid him, for an apter scholar never learned, -and never had man a child who loved him more. -She grew to be very beautiful, and was talked of for -her beauty all the country round; but I had won her -heart when it was a child’s, and as we grew up -my only fear in life was for that, and all my efforts -were only for <span class='it'>that</span>. Father Klaus knew how matters -stood nearly as soon as we, and was contented. -When we grew up, he ratified and blessed our betrothal, -and turned his attention to my own prospects. -Through his influence with the old Count Reisach, -I was enabled to enter the academy of Heidelberg, -and, thanks to the count’s generosity and patronage, -I had laid up nearly enough to gain Father Klaus’s -consent to our marriage. The day was fixed; but -nearly a year distant, and the good old man was to -perform the ceremony himself. Often, and often, as -I returned home from town have I turned down this -path, and here was Ella waiting for me, to sit -a while, and then stroll home together. Here -we built this very bower, when we were children, -with our own hands. She chose the place. Here -we would sit and watch the setting sun; and I, as a -proud young artist, would descant to her upon the -harmony of the glowing colors, scarce brighter than -her own bright eyes and glowing cheeks. Here -would we come and spend hours together—she would -bring her needle, and I would sketch the castle, the -mountain, the town, the plain, the forest, and every -object that could afford a pretext for remaining. -Sometimes, when she was very busy, I would gaze, -and gaze into her sweet face and forget every thing -but that. Then she would look up and smile, and -come and bend her head over my shoulder to see the -progress of my sketching, and find the whole sheet -covered over with images of herself, and Ella, Ella, -Ella, scribbled in every form, and ornamented with -every possible device. Then she would steal her -little hand over my eyes, and say I was a ‘lazy, lazy -boy.’ Perhaps, sir, you cannot know why I speak -of these little things, and you may deem them trifling; -but, sir, it is a true saying that life is made up of trifles. -It was so that she wound about me a web that -could not be unwound; all these endearing trifles cannot -be reversed, one by one, and the web uncoiled. -There is but one method of release, and that is, by a -mighty effort to burst the whole fabric—even then, -the shreds will hang about, and float in every breath -of memory. Here, time after time, we repeated our -vows of love and fidelity, and eagerly looked forward -to the day that would crown our happiness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In the meantime Count Reisach died, and his son, -a youth of some twenty years, succeeded to the -estates. He was known ere that time, through all -the land, for his boldness, courtliness and generosity, -courted and sought by all the nobility and gentry—for -he was handsome and rich. Moreover, he was a -connoisseur in almost all the fine arts. I was often -employed by him in copying his paintings for presents -to his friends. Once he induced me to part -with a portrait of Ella, which I was very proud of, -and which he had seen at Father Klaus’s. I often -saw him there. One evening last April, as I was -returning from town, I turned down the path, for I -knew I should meet Ella here. I was startled by a -shriek. I cried, Ella! Ella! In a moment I was -here upon the spot, and she rushed into my arms, -weeping and frightened. To all my questions as to -what had alarmed her, she only sobbed. I seated -her, and examined all about the bower; I thought -of serpents, and searched under rocks, peered over -the bushy precipice, but could discover nothing. -We could not sit and enjoy that evening—she was -agitated, and I led her home. She did not go often -to the bower after that. One evening, it might be -a fortnight after, upon appointment, I came here -again to meet her, and I found her weeping. As -before, I took her home. Another time, she was -not weeping, but seemed silent, thoughtful, depressed. -We went home again. I was puzzled, -pained; I knew not what to think or do, and she -revealed nothing to all my entreaties. She would -not go to the bower any more. At times she wore -a deadly paleness for days, and again she would glow -with a flush, as though a fresh impulse were given -to her life. She was evidently declining. All the -neighbors watched and pitied “poor Ella;” they -pitied Father Klaus, but none knew the extent of -the agony I nursed in secret. When I would beg -her to walk with me to the bower that her and my -childish hands had built, and where we always were -so happy, she would turn pale and tremble—I dared -not speak to her of the bower any more. Frequently -I would detect her eye resting upon me as if in pain, -as though <span class='it'>she</span> pitied <span class='it'>me</span>; a starting tear would glisten -in her eye for a moment, and she would turn away; -immediately she would be as composed as before. -I was pained, shocked; and a presentiment of some -awful calamity seized me. One evening I was detained -in town later than usual. I had been for -several days employed in restoring a painting for -Count Reisach, and the next day would see it -finished. ‘It is not finished yet,’ he whispered. The -count had hurried me to work early and late. It -was a relief to be so busily employed. As I wended -my way up the mountain, I thought of Ella all the -way—I must go to her that evening, tired as I was. -When I came to the end of the path, I could not resist -a moment’s visit to the bower; for since pleasure -there seemed to be henceforth forbidden fruit to -me, I longed for a moment even of its pain. It was -growing dark, and as I brushed past yonder bush, I -thought I saw something move, just where you sit. -I stopped, and distinctly saw the cloaked figure of a -man disappear down that precipice. I rushed forward, -for thoughts of some dark crime crowded -upon me, and I nearly fell upon the prostrate form -of a woman at my feet. I knelt, and raised the head -upon my knees; it was bare, and the dark locks uncoiled -upon the ground.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Here he paused. I never before or since beheld -such a mute picture of agony. He lowered his head -upon his hands, and the big drops fell fast upon the -ground. He tried not to restrain them. At length he -raised his eyes inquiringly, and I feared not to say,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>It was Ella.</span>”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He nodded. After a few minutes, which I indulged -him in without a question or remark, he continued—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I bounded, as if stung by a serpent, and I hurried -to Father Klaus. I told him, I know not what. -Then I hurried home; and for days, they told me, I -raved. When I recovered I learned that they -were gone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Count Reisach. No traces of them could be -found until within three weeks, when we learned -that they had been in Cologne.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Were they—” I could not finish; he gave me -an inquiring look, and I thought his severe part was -going to be acted again. I had not the heart to -<span class='it'>think</span> of it more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“From that time my poor mother has been a -paralytic, and now we fear her reason is almost -gone. Father Klaus is an older man, but his feelings -are all for others; he is constantly with <span class='it'>her</span>. -Now, do you wonder that I hate this spot, and all -that I can see from here? Here have I known my -happiest and bitterest moments. From this day I -see you no more!” exclaimed he, starting to his -feet, and gazing on the work of his hands: “Here -I bid <span class='it'>an eternal</span>, an eternal farewell to you and—” -He took his pencil and wrote (he would not speak -it)—I looked—“Ella Corbyn.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Her father was an Englishman,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I pressed his hand—“Adieu!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Adieu!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To meet again?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To meet again,” said I; and we parted. As he -disappeared over the brow of the hill, I could hear -the poor fellow trying to lighten his crushed heart -with his boisterous sea-song. The next morning -Mr. Thornton and his daughter left for England.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A few weeks after that I was in Paris. Months -rolled by; September was come, and Roderick’s -story had nearly slipped from my mind. One fine -evening I was sauntering along the Champs Elysées, -where one is sure to see at that time, all the notables -that may be luxuriating in the French capital; when -I recognized in a gay equipage the beautiful features -of Miss Thornton. She was paler than when -I had seen her last, but still very beautiful. I watched -her some moments, to catch her eye; and when she -did look toward me, I took the liberty of saluting -her. She flushed, and turned her head aside, but did -not acknowledge the salutation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So much for my impudence,” said I; and I -saluted no one else that evening.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A day or two after, I was dining with some friends -at Vantini’s. Opposite us at the table d’hôte, were -two vacant chairs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are unfortunate to-day,” said my friend, -“for I was anxious you should see a very pretty -English girl who sits opposite. Clara,” said he, -turning to his wife, “what is the name of our little -beauty across the table? I never can think of it, for -I can’t help calling her Miss Mary.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh,” said Mrs. F., “I wish you to know them—so -agreeable; and going on a tour through the -United States. They are a Mr. and Miss Thornton—father -and daughter; and as you are going soon, I -do wish you could go together.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So, so!” thought I; “here is a little bit of adventure -if they only come in.” And I consoled myself -with the thought that I could not come out -of it worst. Soon a couple of servants ushered a -lady and gentleman along the hall, and Mr. and Miss -Thornton appeared before me, she glowing with -health and beauty. They both greeted me warmly, -which somewhat astonished my friends as well as -myself. I was taken aback, but I had been not a -little nettled, and was determined not to be outdone, -so said as little as I could.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why!” said Mrs. F., “you are old friends, -then! All my anxiety was thrown away!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I supposed we were,” said I, “until last Tuesday -evening.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Last Tuesday evening!” exclaimed Miss T. -“Why, what happened? You puzzle me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Merely that I took the liberty of recognizing <span class='it'>an -old friend</span>, and was <span class='it'>cut</span>—that’s all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You puzzle me still more. Where were you at -the time?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Below the place d’étoile.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you sure it was on Tuesday?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perfectly sure.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She burst into a laugh, and her father smiled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It must have been the longest cut I ever gave -in my life. I only wish I <span class='it'>could</span> cut that far off—I -know some who should suffer”—and she laughed -again. “It’s the first time I ever heard of a sane -gentleman, standing in the Champs Elysées, to take -off his hat to a lady in Brussels.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The laugh was decidedly against me, and we were -soon on the best of terms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That night a new train of thoughts engaged me. -Poor Roderick’s story returned, and the memory of -his grief with all its thrilling intensity. <span class='it'>Had I seen -Ella?</span> It must be. That pale, thoughtful, <span class='it'>hiding</span> -countenance could be only hers. Poor Roderick! -I feel for you deeply! I wonder if your sorrow feels -any alleviation in your new country! I fear not.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next day I made sufficient inquiry to certify -me that I had seen Count Reisach, and with him, -Ella. I saw them once again, it was for a moment, -and she seemed paler still; as I gazed, again she -turned her face away. Poor Ella! how she shrank -from the eyes of men! There was a deep remorse -preying upon that wasting beauty; a secret sorrow -and shame blighting every bud of pleasure and of -hope. How bitter will thy end soon be, poor trusting, -fragile daughter of Eve!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I saw them no more. I walked every day with -Miss Thornton to show her the lady that she so -closely resembled; but we did not see them. They -were probably seeking new scenes to beguile her -short life of its fleeting days.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A few weeks after, we were in Havre, awaiting -the sailing of the first packet ship for New York. -We had determined to “go together,” as Mrs. F. -had desired, and our rooms were taken in the -Zurich, one of the fleetest of the line. At that time, -a line of French government steamships was plying -between Havre and New York; and one, which -was advertised to sail on the day we arrived, was -to be detained some ten days, to undergo a repairing -of machinery. Havre is the great port of emigration -for the French, German, and Swiss emigrants; -and the French steamships, offering low fares and -speedy passage, generally sailed with their between-decks -well filled with emigrant passengers. On this -occasion, some two hundred poor creatures had engaged -passage upon the detained vessel, and few had -the means to await in Havre her postponed day of -departure; consequently there was a rush upon the -office of the sailing packets. We went aboard about -3 o’clock, P. M. The lower deck was crowded -with steerage-passengers; and a single glance sufficed -to show that they were three-fourths Germans. I -could not help wondering how many of the two -hundred poor emigrants below me, I might have -seen before, as I journeyed through their country a -few months ago. Many a one, I thought, I might -have seen before his cottage door, or through the -window of his work-shop, ere poverty had <span class='it'>at last</span> -decreed, that he <span class='it'>must</span> go to the land beyond the -seas, far from his fatherland.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The ship was moving from the dock. The crowds -upon the piers cheered us on. The stars and stripes -sprung into the breeze. O, how my heart bounded -to feel again the protection of my country’s flag! -The first time, for years, did the feeling of <span class='it'>home</span> -thrill through my bosom: and tears of patriotic love -and pride rushed to my eyes. <span class='it'>I</span> was going <span class='it'>home</span>;—there -<span class='it'>they</span> stood in melancholy groups, gazing -their last on land contiguous to their own, upon the -receding shores of the old world. The tri-colors in -the distance soon faded into one indefinable hue. -The green hills of Normandy came forth once again; -but “twilight gray soon in her sable livery all things -clad;” and we were away, away upon the sea. -After tea, we all came upon deck. The last loom -of the land was fading away; and my thoughts and -feelings, memory and fancy, were busy with home -before, and the friends and associations I was leaving -behind—perhaps forever. I was overflowing -with expectation and regret. Miss T. stood beside -me, kindly hearkening to my outpouring feelings. -The emigrants were all below, save a few scattered -ones, and a larger group gathered about the fore-mast. -They were leaving country, home, kindred, -all, to seek a refuge in a foreign land: I was leaving -friends that I had made in many lands; countries -and scenes made dear to me by long and intimate -association; returning to a home wherein death had -made sad changes during my long sojourn: she was -going on a trip of pleasure, and present enjoyment -was her occupation. Suddenly I heard an exclamation—“Oh!” -and I thought she was taken ill. I -looked, and she was pointing to the group around -the mast; I saw and recognized a face I could never -forget. We continued to gaze in astonishment. -The few women who were there were all in tears; -one, whose head was bowed upon her knees, sobbed -violently. The men were drinking farewell to Fatherland, -and many an absent friend and fair, was -pledged by name. Then there was a cry for “a -song!” “a song!”—“Let’s have a song from Roderick!” -Immediately there pealed out those boisterous -but musical tones that I had heard before, far -away from there. My heart thrilled as I listened. -Every voice hushed. Even the sailor, as he trod -the deck, paused to listen to that fine, deep voice, as -it rang through the ship.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>        THE EMIGRANT’S SONG.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Ho for the deep where the sea-bird sings!</p> -<p class='line0'>Ho for the bowers where his merry voice rings!</p> -<p class='line0'>Ho for the billows where the storm-king dwells!</p> -<p class='line0'>Ho for the winding of the merry-maids’ shells!</p> -<p class='line0'>Ho for the storm where the lightning’s flash!</p> -<p class='line0'>Ho for the fury of the merry waves’ dash!</p> -<p class='line0'>The spray and the roar and the thunder’s crash!</p> -<p class='line0'>Ho for the breeze that shall cling to the mast!</p> -<p class='line0'>Ho for the day when the storms shall be past!</p> -<p class='line0'>Then hail to the home that the outcast sighs for!</p> -<p class='line0'>Hail to the liberty the patriot dies for!</p> -<p class='line0'>Hail to the great who will ne’er cast scorn to us!</p> -<p class='line0'>Hail to the land where the free shall be born to us!</p> -<p class='line0'>But alas for the friends that we leave far away!</p> -<p class='line0'>And alas for the tears when there breaks another day!</p> -<p class='line0'>Alas for the wo that shall bow the hoary heads!</p> -<p class='line0'>And alas for the home where another step treads!</p> -<p class='line0'>Alas for the murmuring hill-side rills!</p> -<p class='line0'>And alas for the shadow on the ever-green hills!</p> -<p class='line0'>Alas for the weeping of the purple-crowned vine!</p> -<p class='line0'>And alas for the glory of the golden-rimmed wine!</p> -<p class='line0'>Farewell to the land where our forefather’s sleep!</p> -<p class='line0'>And we’ll hie to our rest on the wide-spread deep.</p> -<p class='line0'>Farewell to the vine, to the home, and the tears!</p> -<p class='line0'>And we’ll dream of the land where the good ship steers!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>As the last sound died away upon the water, the -singer caught sight of me, and the fair girl beside -me, and disappeared from the deck. The listeners, -as they dispersed to their several meditations, took -up the words of the song; each one whatever best -suited his feelings at the time. It was strange to -read the various echoes as they rebounded spontaneously -from the hearts of the emigrants. When the -air of the song was forgotten the words were not, -and each sang or mumbled them to music of his -own—sometimes wild and pretty, sometimes discordant -enough. One would long for</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“The deep where the sea-bird sings,”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>and I knew he had not many regrets for what he -left behind. Another, a drunken wretch, yelled</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“For the fury of the merry waves’ dash,</p> -<p class='line0'> The spray and the roar and the thunder’s crash.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>An old man, as he stole away, uttered a plaintive -moan</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“For the home that the outcast sighs for;”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>and I thought I could read in his furrowed face -traces of a life of penury and suffering. He was -going with a lightened heart, transplanted in his decaying -age. But by far the greater part dwelt upon -the memory of their forsaken homes and kindred; -their thoughts were gazing afar upon “the shadow -on the ever-green hills.” Ere long they had nearly -all disappeared, gone to their crowded chamber to -be rocked asleep. Only a few women remained -beneath the suspended lantern, seated by the mast. -The one I had noticed weeping, had not raised her -head during all this time. When she did raise it, -she looked up to heaven and her face shone with religious -fervor. The tears still flowed as she breathed -her heart-felt prayer. I could see every movement -of her lips, and I alone perhaps, of all who saw, -could tell the source of every tear that flowed. I -felt awed, unconscious of myself. My whole being -seemed merged in the intensity of hers. A supplication -sprang unbidden to my lips for the paralytic -mother, for the gray-haired father, in their utter, -utter loneliness; for it was Mary with her baby on -her bosom. She spoke calmly, slowly, solemnly.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>       “THE WOMAN’S PRAYER.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Let us bow, lowly now, ere we seek forgetfulness</p> -<p class='line0'>In the blest balm of rest, of trial-worn spirit’s fretfulness,</p> -<p class='line0'>Let us call, first of all, pity on our parents’ age,</p> -<p class='line0'>For they’re chastened, for they’re hastened on their ending pilgrimage.</p> -<p class='line0'>O be mild to them, child to them, gentle son of Bethlehem!</p> -<p class='line0'>Never suffer that their rougher path bring sooner death to them!</p> -<p class='line0'>O remember that December passes cheerlessly away—</p> -<p class='line0'>Let their sorrow, on the morrow, mind thee of its Christmas day!</p> -<p class='line0'>And leave us not, grieve us not, Father of the wandering!</p> -<p class='line0'>Care for us, spare for us, now while time is squandering!</p> -<p class='line0'>We are going, far, unknowing, strangers into stranger land—</p> -<p class='line0'>But with thee only we’re not lonely, resting in thy hollow hand!”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This was the woman’s prayer—and I devoutly -responded “Amen,” as I wiped my eyes and went -below. I thought of the poor old man, the helpless -mother, Tommy, the bower, all, and I became unconsciously -an actor in the scene before me, as I -prayed—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“O remember that December passes cheerlessly away!</p> -<p class='line0'> Let their sorrow, on the morrow, mind thee of its Christmas day!”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The next day Roderick did not appear upon the -deck; in truth there were very few who did. After -indulging him a few days, which I charged to account -of sea-sickness, and still not seeing him, I -found my way into the steerage, and found the poor -fellow more sick in mind than in body. He had -spent the greater part of his money in trying to -drown his grief; and now that he thought he had -nearly succeeded, he looked none the better for the -success. That face, he said, so like <span class='it'>hers</span>, he could -not escape from now; he must remain near it for -days, weeks. He could almost curse the ill-favored -steamship, whose delay had not only doomed him -to the crowded steerage of the packet, but to weeks -of torture he could not escape from. He would not -appear at all upon deck, and the air of the between-decks -was almost poisonous. In a few days he was -confined to his berth with a burning fever. I had -confided to Miss Thornton every thing, except the -history of Ella, which I disguised in such a way as -not to diminish her sympathies for the invalid. One -day, to my great astonishment, she had, with her -father, gone to minister to him, and spoke with gladness -of the better condition she had left him in. He -talked to her very tenderly of Ella. They went, -she and her kind father, to visit him every day. I -saw how the fire was consuming him, and endeavored -to interpose. I told Mr. Thornton every thing, -all; but they did not see his condition as I did. -Whenever I would go, strange! he would always -beg me not to let them delay coming; but he was -so exhausted with fever, that I attributed this wonderful -change, rather to imbecility or delirium, than -to a change of resolution. Poor Mary was always -by her brother’s side: even her poor babe lay neglected -for him. More than a fortnight he lay in this -miserable condition; yet I was more than sorry -when I felt in his pulse the returning slow beat of -health, and saw his eye calm into quiet enjoyment -of the congratulations which poured in upon him. -I was shocked. It is true a mountain of misery -was moved away, but his <span class='it'>reason was gone</span>. -Miss Thornton went once again to visit him, only -once: and I shall never forget her look of agony and -self-reproach as she returned rather hastily to her -room. I never knew what passed at that interview. -Perhaps she saw for the first time, that while she -deemed she was soothing his misery by her presence, -she had fed it to madness. He rapidly recovered -and seemed happy, for he always smiled -when he asked me why the captain kept Ella -locked up in the cabin and sent her tender messages—<span class='it'>which -I dared not give</span>. The last I ever saw of -him was in New York, when I was about to leave -the ship. A young man came aboard as we hauled -up to the wharf, and I knew from the portrait I had -seen <span class='it'>in the cottage in Germany</span>, that it was Karl -Wagner. He soon found them; and the last I saw -of poor Roderick, as I went ashore, he was unfolding -to the astonished Karl a scheme he had to get -Ella away from the captain, whilst poor Mary hung -upon her husband’s arm, her heart bursting with joy -and grief.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;'>——</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>ELLA CORBYN.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Be it remembered that Roderick, in speaking to -me on the Mount of Heidelberg Castle, said—“Her -father was an Englishman.” It was true. He was -the younger son of a noble English house, though -Ella lived until her twentieth year unconscious of -the fact. She knew he was an Englishman, she -knew he had been a soldier, but of his family she -knew nothing. Better far had it been for her had -she remained forever in ignorance of every circumstance -of her ancestral distinction, or had she had -some other instructor than he who craftily sowed -the seeds of pride and discontent, that he might reap -a glowing harvest of the charms of a lovely woman, -to her soul’s utter desolation. By night and by -stealth, like the Evil One, did he sow tares among -the richest grain, among a perfect luxuriance of womanly -virtues; by day, too, like the husbandman -when the time of the harvest comes, did he pluck -up weed and fruit, did he trample on pride and virtue, -and cast them forth together to wither under -the scorching solstice of remorse and shame. He -tore away the flower and left the stem to die. Poor, -poor Ella! the only jewel of both soul’s and body’s -inheritance was charmed away—what wonder then -that both should droop in poverty, or that, making -common friendship from common desolation, these -mutual foes, the only ones religion ever made, should -compromise to each other the loss of both health -and principle, in fatal reconciliation and despair!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The father of Ella Corbyn, an officer in the British -army, was disabled in action during the Peninsular -war, and after the peace of 1815, retired to the -continent, where he married the beautiful Katrina -Klaus, supported himself and Katrina many years on -his half-pay, until about the period of Ella’s birth, -when he and the half-pay departed together. His -daughter, of course, had no recollection of him, and -never possessed more than the one single article of -his property, a miniature on ivory, of a lady, young, -but by no means beautiful. She never knew who -it was; her mother could not tell her when she first -gave it into little Ella’s tiny hands, but supposed it -was some one of Mr. Corbyn’s family, probably a -sister—and so the matter rested for the while. The -neighbors could tell her scarcely any thing of her -father; they had seen him when he first came into -the neighborhood, but his marriage with his beautiful -wife, and subsequent removal to a neighboring -village, followed so quickly, that they could give no -account of him, nor further description than that of -his personal appearance. Of the circumstances attending -his death all they knew was, that two -strangers stopped one afternoon at the public-house, -that Mr. Corbyn spent part of the evening with -them and went home early; the next morning he -was shot in a duel, but the old captain who stood his -friend in the affair, thought it no business of his to -inquire what the difficulty was about. He left no -property of any value, and his widow supported -herself and Ella on her little patrimony four years -longer, when she, too, died and left the child a helpless -orphan. This was the time for her uncle, the -priest, to come to her assistance. He took her into -his care and provided for her early education by consigning -her to the Sisters of Charity in Cologne. -Here she remained five years; and when her good -uncle, deeming that he could, with better justice to -his finances, superintend her further progress at -home, took her back, she displayed so much ability -and judgment that she soon reigned, a little queen, -over his modest household.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ella was in truth a lovely child. In her earlier -days, when she played alone by the road-side, before -the priest’s lawn, not a stranger passed but stopped -to take a second look at that bright, spiritual little -face, gazing half-smilingly, half-pensively, half-hidden -beneath dark ribbons of straying locks. Her -complexion was exceedingly fair, not blonde; her -features, not classical, were <span class='it'>petits</span> and regular; her -face sufficiently full, but playful every where—a -pretty child: but from almost infancy the striking -characteristic of her face was <span class='it'>soul</span>; never did it appear -inanimate, never did it lack character—even in -her sleep the marked corners of the softly-closed -lips and little, dimpled brow, betokened self-possession; -but when she smiled, a perfect sunshine of -thought and feeling overspread her countenance, and -she was irresistibly beautiful. As might be expected, -the five years’ tuition she had enjoyed had -developed the intellectuality of her beauty apace -with the cultivation of her mind, and wherever and -whenever a childish passion lay suppressed by growing -religious principle, its disappearance gave place -upon her countenance to the sublime, triumphant -sentiment that crushed it. Mr. Klaus, or as he was -termed by his parishioners, Father Klaus, was passably -skilled in music; and under his systematic instruction -Ella soon became the most accomplished -vocalist in his country-choir. The old Count Reisach -had, in church, frequently heard and appreciated -the superior qualities of her voice, and after -a few Sundays, called at the parsonage to pay his -compliments in person to the young singer whom -fame had already made so conspicuous. Little -Ella, when summoned into the presence of the -count, made her courtesy modestly but not diffidently, -and he, charmed with the graces of her person -and behavior, took pains immediately to win upon -her confidence, so that she soon sang to him all her -prettiest songs; whilst Father Klaus sat smiling by, -perfectly happy in the joy of his triumph. When -the old nobleman arose to depart, he stood with his -hand upon the child’s glossy head, and declared he -never <span class='it'>saw</span> such a singer; then, as he turned up to -his gaze that little face so beaming with beauty and -intelligence, he promised by the faith of his knighthood -that next Sunday should see her talent well -rewarded. Next Sunday afternoon arrived a large -case for Ella. How she danced to see it opened! -and when it was opened, how she danced and clapped -her hands around one of the prettiest harps that -ever was seen! This was an era in her life. Every -day would see her and her uncle before the parlor -window blundering over the harp-strings, often in -vain attempts to puzzle out an accompaniment. It -was a new instrument to him as well as to her. -Time, however, and perseverance can conquer all -things, and ere two months were past, Ella might -be seen every evening seated beneath a linden that -shaded the cottage door, gracefully sweeping her -harp in accompaniment of the wildest songs of her -Fatherland; anon would she lift her melting eyes to -heaven as she touched the trembling chords to the -softer melody of a Virgin’s evening hymn. The old -priest would be absorbed in his breviary, as he paced -the graveled walk; he had long since given up the -race, and the little scholar had left him immeasurably -behind. It was not wonderful that Ella became -the admired of all the country around even at that -early age: but she bore her honors so becomingly, -with so much modesty and simplicity, that—wonderful -to say—there was not one among her companions -who did not love her. She was so gentle -and so good.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the <span class='it'>Bower of Castle Mount</span>, I said that Roderick -told me that Father Klaus was aware of the -growing attachment between him and Ella, almost -as soon as themselves. In this, two circumstances -may seem strange—first, that she, educated, accomplished, -admired, courted, should fancy a poor, plain, -hardy country-lad like Roderick; and secondly, that -her uncle should approve and encourage her in such -a fancy. Roderick’s family was very humble, -scarcely above a peasant’s condition; but in this -regard she placed herself upon a perfect equality -with him, and never gave the matter much consideration. -The truth is, she had loved him with a -childish love before she knew that there existed any -other. The first summer after she returned from -Cologne, regularly every Saturday afternoon or festival -eve, would he come to help her gather flowers -for the altar. This office of decking the altar is -only performed by the hands of virgins, and when -one enters into the state of matrimony she no longer -takes her place among the servants of the sanctuary. -Our young pair (he was but four years older than -she) would wander off to the woods together, and -Roderick would climb the highest rocks for moss, or -some stray flower blooming alone; and carry the -heavy basket. At times he would strip off his shoes, -and, Paul and Virginia-like, stagger with his beloved -burden across the streams. When evening approached, -he would mock the squirrels, the partridges, -the wood-robins and the katy-dids, and put -the whole forest in tune before its time, to Ella’s -ineffable delight. Often, when he had doffed his -jacket and thrown it down for her to sit upon, would -he recline upon his arm, his hat drawn over his -brow, pensive and melancholy; and sometimes a -tear would trickle down, as the truth forced itself -upon him, that, despite their intimacy, fortune, and -fortune only, had placed an insurmountable barrier -between him and the idol of his thoughts and dreams. -He would beg her to love him, and she would readily -answer that she did love him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Better than all the other boys?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, better than all the other boys.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still he was not satisfied. He felt that she did not -mean the same kind of love that he did; he was -doubtful even if she knew any thing about it. How -should he ascertain? He could not ask her if she -would marry him: no, that would be breaking the -ice of a new and unfathomable current, and he might -lose the tenure of the ground he then possessed; -besides, he felt a secret, indefinable shame, and -could not proffer the words. He looked very wo-begone. -Ah! he had it at last.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He did not mean <span class='it'>like</span>, he meant, did she <span class='it'>love</span> him -better than all the other boys?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yes, she loved him better; she said so before.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The secret of his new discovery was burning; he -blushed. At last it came.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Did she love him better than all the <span class='it'>girls</span>?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The poor boy was breathless.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yes, she thought she loved him better than all the -<span class='it'>girls</span>?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The mighty weight had turned out a feather; he -knew no more than he did before. Many a time -did the poor fellow try to hit the mark from afar off, -but always with the same success. He persevered -with the same affectionate devotion, her very slave; -and it was not until several years after, when he became -assured of more than one suitor’s rejection, that -he summoned courage to address her plainly, and -received an answer to his heart’s content.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That Father Klaus approved the betrothal of Roderick -and his niece, may not seem wonderful. He -knew him to be the son of pious parents, a boy of -good principle and good capacity. He had often -seen at his father’s house, pasteboard horses, cows, -cottages, and even pencil sketches, that he amused -himself with, when once recovering from a severe -illness. When the boy recovered he frequently -brought into request his newly-discovered capacity, -and improved very much in his rough sketching. -He had no idea of prosecuting his ability any further. -All this was not lost on the priest, who felt -assured that he could command the necessary influence -to enter Roderick in the academy of Heidelberg, -and enable him to become the master of an -honorable and lucrative art. He knew that capacity -is more unfailing, and possesses more resources -than wealth; he knew Roderick’s substantial worth -and undoubted probity, and felt that he had neither -right nor inclination to thwart his niece’s predilection.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was during one of these flower-hunting excursions -that Roderick and Ella first conceived the idea -of weaving the bower on the Castle Mount. They -were accustomed frequently to extend their rambling -to the ruined castle, in the old garden of which -a variety of flowers were still cultivated by the -guardian of the place; and by the time they had -clambered up to the terrace on their return, were -fain to sit down and repose awhile. They soon -began to feel a partiality for the place; and no -wonder, for there was not so fine a view, even to -childhood’s eyes, to be found in the whole country. -Their childish hands there twined the bower whose -strange demolition I, in after years, witnessed. There -they spent many of their happiest hours; there they -first plighted their troth; there they renewed it over -and over again; and there poor Roderick first saw -the—beginning of the end.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It were useless to attempt to say how proud the -poor boy was of his betrothed, and of her accomplishments. -The fact that he never felt a pang of -jealousy during four long years, frequently under -most trying circumstances, that his trust in his beloved -never for a moment wavered till his heart -was wrung, and his brain was crazed that eventful -evening at the bower, loudly testifies to his ingenuousness, -and the priest’s correct estimate of the man. -A neighboring Curé, who had in former years been -a fellow-student of Father Klaus in Italy, frequently -rode over to spend half a day. On such occasions -Ella was entertained with metaphysical disquisitions, -which, unknown to her entertainers, her deep, psychological -nature eagerly drank in, in draughts as great -as her capacity would admit. To their theological -discussions she was a silent, attentive listener; subjects -which her uncle never upon any other occasion -spoke of in her presence, were argued with an -earnestness that made him forgetful of the indirect -injury they might work upon her mind. She began -to propound questions to herself, and to attempt the -solution of them, of herself. She remembered many -delicate cases of morality determined by learned -heads; pondered over the principles upon which -those decisions were based; constructed new cases -for the application of similar principles; in short, -became a blundering casuist before she knew it. -A new light was dawning upon her mind; she saw, -for the first time, that laws can be stretched to very -tension, and not broken. She did not reflect that -principle is firm as a rock, and lasting and unchanging -as eternity itself—that there is no going and returning -there. She knew not that he who ranges -about to strain the utmost limits of law, has wandered -far from the moral centre of gravity—principle. -She knew not that we do not always stand guiltless -in the forum of our own conscience, though no other -living being dare censure us, even in his inmost -mind. The world may judge a man for what he -does and dares; he alone, for what he does <span class='it'>not fear</span>. -Ella was precisely in that unfortunate state of mind, -in which one knows just too much or too little; in -which a certain degree of knowledge necessarily requires -more to prevent its running astray. There -is a degree of pride which renders one ridiculous, -contemptible; a greater degree checks its manifestation—governs -it. One is vanity; the other despises -vanity. Such a relation did Ella’s science -bear to true philosophy as vanity does to pride;—<span class='it'>and -she played with it</span>. One must, one will destroy the -other. Had her uncle known her infatuation, one -word would have dispelled every shadow of it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oftentimes the college friends would turn their -conversation to days long past, to reminiscences of -their sojourn in Italy. The lore of classic and romantic -associations of that wonderful country; the -graphic illustrations of life, and scenes, and elegance, -and delights, in that delicious clime, enchanted their -young listener. Dissertations on the political changes -there enacting; surmises of changes impending, -necessarily drew forth a detail of social, historic and -scenic minutiæ, that expanded her young mind to -poetic conceptions; distance lent its enchantment to -the view, and her rich fancy glowed with the beauty -of its imaginings. A longing, secret and subtle at -first, then craving and irrepressible, to taste the -sweets of forbidden fruit, took possession of her. -She was betrothed at that time; she knew that with -Roderick she could not enjoy those pleasures; she -ought and did know that this longing would breed -discontent;—hence the subtle manner of its entering -on possession of her heart. Long she repelled it; -principle forbade it; her reasonings were very nice; -and lax as she may have become speculatively, she -nourished a high-minded honor that would have -done credit to any child of Adam. Soon she thought -it no harm to enjoy the victory she had, with so -great an effort, gained over herself; frequently she -did so. Then her sophistry came to the attack; she -might have regrets in secret, she thought, and they -might not be at all detrimental to her husband’s happiness; -hers would be the only loss, the only pain, -if pain there were;—and she let her longing take its -way. Still, she loved her betrothed as much as ever, -none the less on that account; it is true she became -a shade more thoughtful, not quite so light-hearted -as she was, but she did not notice any change. If -her heart lost any of its feeling, her harp did not. -She took it more rarely; her touch was bolder, and -still more delicate; a beautiful originality undulated -more in her modulations, and she played more without -the words than she ever did before. Her spirit -was more self-dependent. There was something -of the wild energy of insidious despair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>About this time the younger Reisach was summoned -from England to attend his father, who was -very ill. Soon the good old count died, and his -heir entered upon the title and estates, in a manner -so becoming and consistent with filial affliction, that -every one said the young count was quite equal to -the old one. The rougher field sports he had been -accustomed to in England were now abandoned, and -he lent his mind to the more quiet and refined German -tastes. Study, poetry, music, painting, sculpture, -divided his attention; he aimed at conciliating -and winning all, the little as well as the great, and -no undue ostentation had place in the details of his -establishment. Regular and attentive at church, he -gained the confidence and esteem of pastor as well -as flock. Refined and delicate in his speech, no -virtuous peasant-girl shrunk from his attention whenever -he thought proper to bestow it. To the <span class='it'>reunions</span> -at the mansion the Curé had a standing invitation; -and in return, the young nobleman strolled -out upon many a welcome call at the parsonage. It -would be harsh, it would be unjust, to say that Count -Frederick commenced his attentions there with any -deliberate design of wrong. Ella’s harp and voice -were frequently brought into request for his passing -entertainment, and he was not sparing of his eulogiums -upon them. He soon began to experience deeper -and more lasting sensations than the momentary -pleasure she intended; no one could do otherwise. -In his presence Ella conversed little, but that little -was full of refinement, of thought and taste. He felt -it difficult to smother his feelings or restrain them; -and although he strictly maintained the distinction -in their conditions, in his intercourse with her, and -knew that a violent death must await all his more -tender sentiments toward her, still he was unwilling -to deprive himself of the pleasure he enjoyed in her -presence. He was deeply in love with her, and he -knew it; yet supposed that, like many other impressions -he had experienced, it would soon pass away, -that he might as well enjoy it whilst it lasted;—no -one would ever be the wiser in the end.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was before, and about this time, that Roderick -and Ella were accustomed to spend their hours, and -almost days together, at the bower. She had grown -into womanhood, had entered into her twentieth -year; and it was on her last birth-day, that she and -Roderick had knelt before her uncle, to receive his -blessing on their betrothal. Roderick had finished -his course in the academy, and had already acquired -his quota, both of fame and money, in painting. -Ella sincerely loved him; and despite the admiration -she felt for the young count, would have been -supremely happy could she have been promised the -realization of her imaginary enjoyments by his side. -She loved him more when in his presence than when -away. Absence threw no enchantment around him; -it was in the sunshine of his tenderness and devotion -that she felt the full glow of her affection for him; -at other times she would feel the chilly mingling of -her regrets. Had they been married then, they -would have been very happy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I said, Count Frederick deemed his love for Ella -to be harmless, and that he felt no scruples in giving -full play to it. It was only when, in his frequent -rides, he caught a glimpse of the lovers enjoying their -honest happiness under their own vine and fig-tree, -as one might say, that the demon of envy, then of -jealousy, took possession of him. There are few -who can look unmoved on the unalloyed happiness -of others, nor feel one pang of envy; that can see -the appropriation by another of a secretly-coveted -object, even an object one has no right or title to, or -expectation of, and feel no sting of jealousy. Thus -was it with Count Frederick: from the window of a -mansion he frequently visited in Heidelberg, he -could look right up to the bower. In the recess of -that window he frequently sat; and with glass in -hand, following with his eye every movement of the -doomed pair, he conjured up a host of demons to torment -him. He knew that her faith was given to -another; he was aware and resolved that he could -not marry her; yet, the long and constant dwelling -of his thoughts upon her, the enlistment of his feelings -and affections for her, seemed, in his disordered -mind, to invest him with an indefinable title; he felt -the outrage done to it, and casting full rein to both -anger and passion, vowed to wreak his vengeance -on what he thenceforward dreamed to be his mistress, -and her lover.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Alone, and in secret, did he plot his plans to circumvent -them. Lost now to every feeling of shame -and honor, he repelled no scheme, however base, -that presented itself; and though the better and more -manly exercise of his faculties drooped and withered -under his scorching passion, a deeper, deadlier cunning -than he ever knew before, sweltered and forged -unceasingly the most crafty implements for his hellish -purpose. He would trust not an iota to the assistance -of other hands, but assumed the whole burden of -contriving and executing upon himself. Not a breath -did he breathe of his infamous design to human ears. -His demeanor in public possessed all the semblance -of urbanity and good feeling that he once felt; but -his interior Vulcan reposed not from his craft. -Every piece of information that he could unsuspectingly -acquire concerning either poor Roderick or -Ella, he stored up and revolved in his aristocratic -mind, digesting it with his moral venom, as a viper -would revolve and masticate with poison its loath-some -morsel. He learned from many sources, partially -from herself, the particulars of Ella’s history, -as far as was known; and contrasting several portions -with certain circumstances that had fallen under -his observation when in England, was astonished -at the result of his machinations, which now doubled -upon himself, to involve him too in their fatal entanglement. -Thus far he had stood apart, aloof, as it -were, upon a height above his contemplated victims. -His baser passions had thrown aside the drapery of -virtue and honor which once veiled the lovely woman -from the gaze of rude thought, and he could -look down upon her very graces as an object of his -intended prey; but when the artful interlocking of -his web and woof turned up to his astonished eyes, -in gathered forms, the whole and real picture of his -contemplated deed; when his study brought to -light the astounding fact that Ella could claim -close kindred with the proudest titles of the -British peerage, his craven spirit of profligacy -slunk away, for the time awed, but not quelled, by -the air of reverence, and veneration that breathed -upon it. At its return, elevated, softened, warmed, -but not purified, by its admixture of romance, he felt -his sternest anger giving way, his haughtiest pride -tottering, his very soul melting into admiration and -love; he reeled from his position aloof, and writhed -a whole burnt offering among the other victims to -his passion. His subtle ingenuity soon brought to -the crucible the extraordinary change in his sentiments -toward the unconscious girl, and the analysis -did not dispel the new charm that enveloped her. -He saw it was perfectly natural, and the only fruit -of his discovery was a resolution to bring the charm -to operate upon her own mind—it would open the avenue -to a secret discontent with her present position, -unfold a vast and snare-beset field to the vagaries of -a romantic imagination, and bring her feelings to a -sympathetic appreciation of the fellowship of caste -that existed between her and himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Full of this dark resolve, Count Frederick went -forth alone one afternoon. He had designedly employed -the unsuspecting Roderick to restore some -old paintings that had accumulated the dust of ages. -They were in a studio in town. There Roderick -had labored busily all the day, and when evening -drew near he was still detained by some management -of the count, in order to give his lordship the -opportunity for his coveted interview with Ella. -He had learned at what hour she would probably -be at the appointed rendezvous, and timed his evening -excursion accordingly. It was a beautiful -afternoon in April. From the castle heights, the sun -was seen slowly creeping down the skies of France, -and the changing tints of the glittering clouds, were -gorgeously reflected by the distant waters of the -Rhine, and the intermediate mirrors of the Neckar. -Villages, hamlets, cottages, spread over the plain, -rolled their black smoke in heavy volumes against -the green mountains, about whose feet the lights -and shadows already had begun to sketch fantastic -tableaux. How naturally did the words of the Mantuan -poet’s pastoral seem to spring to Count Frederick’s -lips, as he stood within a few paces of the -bower, gazing abroad upon the scene, observed by -the startled inmate, and feigning not to observe -again. Ella understood perfectly well the words of -the text, and as they were feelingly and eloquently -poured forth, as though spontaneously, by the handsome -youth, as he threw himself upon the turf, lost -her surprise in the appropriate beauty of the poet’s -effusion—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Hic tamen hac mecum poteris requiescere nocte,</p> -<p class='line0'>Frondes super virides; sunt nobis mitia poma,</p> -<p class='line0'>Castaneæque molles, et pressi copia lactis.</p> -<p class='line0'>Et jam summa procul villarum culmina fumant,</p> -<p class='line0'>Majoresque codunt altis de montibus umbrae.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>The last two lines he rapturously repeated several -times, then turning his eyes, as though perchance -toward the bower, he hastily arose, and in a moment -stood blandly before Ella, apologizing for his intrusion, -and in the same breath requesting the favor of -one of her pastoral songs. She challenged him for -a repetition of the verses, and he uttered them in so -off-hand, theatrical a way, that they both burst into -a laugh. The ice was broken. Never before had -he so far descended from his dignity in her presence. -There and alone with him, she felt the charm of -this novelty, and bandied words with him willingly, -for she supposed that Roderick would soon come, -and she thought it would be fine to pique his jealousy -a little, only to reward it the better afterward with -the sweetness of perfect tranquillity. He gradually -drew forth from her own lips what little she knew -of her father’s history and family, and artfully beguiled -away the key to her enjoyments and her regrets. -He had been intimate, very intimate, he told -her, with a nobleman in England, whom he now -knew must be her uncle. The identity of her father’s -history, even to his fall in a duel, with that of a brother -of Lord B.; the same name, even a perceptible -resemblance of Ella to him, rendered his assurance -doubly sure. Then followed many particulars -which completely set Ella’s willing mind at rest in -regard to the nobility of her parentage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So far, all was well. As he anticipated, the disclosure -was to her astounding and pleasing at the -same time. The shadows of incredulity that for a -moment hovered before the citadel of her happiness, -flitted away before the march of pleasurable emotions. -Her first feelings were those of gratitude, -and in the liveliness of her satisfaction, as he poured -into her ears the minuter details of her family history, -she could have smiled almost any thing, looked -almost any reward for him who bore her the welcome -tidings. She divined the emotion that quivered -on his lip, fathomed the eloquence that sparkled in his -eye, suffusing his whole face with its light, and trembled, -trembled like an aspen, with momentary terror: -but, as his glowing speech expatiated on the time-honored -and world-worshiped glory and privileges of -the <span class='it'>noblesse</span>, the spirit of high-toned chivalry that -begot, that chose, that ever ornamented the knightly -order of Christendom, her terrors flew to the winds, -and left her trembling frame a play-thing in the frenzied -hands of wilder discord than her bosom had -ever known. She no longer shunned his gaze; their -eyes met again and again; a shadow, as of a dream, -passed over her faculties; phantoms of law and duty -and religion sprang up, to clamor for their rights; -hastily she breathed an acquiescence, and then -spurned them away as phantoms, as disturbers of -the serenity of her soul. For the first time in all -her life she felt the thrill of passion; the sorcerer beheld -it, and closer and closer did he wind his web -around them both, until, convulsed by the mighty -battery within, he leaped from his seat, folded her -resistless form in her arms, imprinted one passionate -kiss upon her lips, and disappeared down the precipice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she recovered a little self-possession, her -mind soon comprehended all; she felt and knew that -passion had taken possession of her, and that love -was gone; but never for a moment did she advert -to any fault of her own. If conscience arose, she -hastily repressed it, and despite what she inmostly -<span class='it'>felt</span>, declared in her own mind that she could not see, -measuring by laws of right and possession, wherein -she had transgressed. Then stepped in pride. She -transgressed! Oh! that one idea condemns the -cause. She, who never had sinned, even in thought, -against womanly decorum! yet, though her face -burned with indignation at the thought, it was her -own unerring conscience that accused, and against -which she turned in so virtuous a scorn. Poor Ella! -the great sin was already done. The loose rein she -had given to her ideas, had permitted the birth, the -growth, the <span class='it'>manifestation</span> of what she felt, consequently -the encouragement of Count Frederick’s -excited passion. What would strict principle have -done? Trembled, and crushed the serpent in the -egg. It had glided in and twined itself around her -bosom so gently and unconsciously that she scarcely -felt its presence; so brilliant and changing were its -deadly eyes in their repose, so yielding its soft and -graceful neck, that, trusting to its tameness, she -nursed its strength and venom there. At once she -felt a tightening of the coils. Who, but one willfully -deceived, would not have felt death! She did not; -she saw no death, but felt she could not cast her -visitant aside, felt that she might have to struggle -on and bear her burden triumphantly along. What -harm if no positive evil came of it? It was her own -burden; might she not bear it if she could? Thus -she beguiled her better reason; she did not reflect -that whosoever loveth danger shall perish in it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The reaction from the state of excitement she had -been in, was powerful, and she was just recovering -from it, when Roderick came and found her at the -bower, “pensive and melancholy,” as he termed it; -and, since they could not enjoy the evening together, -tenderly and affectionately led her home. This was -the first night of Roderick’s grief and Ella’s unhappiness. -One great effort would then have shaken -off her enemy forever, and restored the serenity of -her mind; but she did not see the necessity, the obligation; -it could be done at any time. Her pillow -was bedewed with her tears, but she attributed them -to the agitation of her feelings. All night, that one -moment of delirium was prolonged to hours in rapturous -dreams. She awoke weary and pale. She -was not responsible for her dreams, she reasoned; -probably she was not; but I would not answer for -the pleasure of them, for whenever her broken slumbers -were dispelled by consciousness, through the -night, she acknowledged the unlawfulness of dwelling -upon that pleasure then, and she courted sleep -as a means to enjoyment in irresponsibility. Her -harp lay untouched all day. Her daylight reveries -were but shadows of her midnight dreams; more -she did not dare. To her uncle’s somewhat anxious -inquiries she replied, that she had perspired so, all -night;—it was true. The next evening was quite -as charming as the preceding one. There was no -reason why she should not take her accustomed -stroll to the bower; it was her castle, as it were; she -had built it, and it was her almost daily haunt; she -saw no obligation to discontinue her visits there; -if any one came, it would be his intrusion, not hers. -Besides, if she did not meet Roderick there, he -would be hurt, and probably suspect her of growing -indifference. Step by step had she advanced so far -in blinding herself, as to be deceived by such a -transparency; in the days of her innocence it would -have shocked her. Her very duty to her betrothed -she converted into a pretext to betray him. Still, -call her not traitress. Like one who begins to believe -his oft-told lie to be the truth, a penalty for his -deceit, she more than half trusted her shallow sophistry. -No human power now, no stand of honor -or pride, can save her now; she has let the enemy -within the citadel to parley, and whilst she prates in -whispered, cowering tones, of future peace or victory, -he quietly possesses himself of every avenue and -stronghold, and nothing less than power divine can -lend the least effective aid. Will she ask it? Well -would she wish to do so, but the mighty effort of instantaneous -renunciation (the only condition for -God’s help) is too great; and with an ungrounded, -forlorn, despairing hope, she still thinks some impossibility -<span class='it'>may</span> come to pass, to save her soul. She -went earlier than usual, and long sat trembling in -her accustomed seat. When at last Count Frederick -appeared, she was not surprised; but an unaccountable -dread seized her, and she would have fled, had -he not gently detained her. She stopped; he saw -all at a glance, he knew every thought that was -agitating her mind; he understood her sudden impulse, -that it was a last effort of expiring virtue, and -he understood, too, that he possessed the power to -overrule it. He knew it was an issue of life or death, -and that either way, he held the hat in his hand. -Neither spoke. He stood, holding the unresisting -arm, gazed on her shrinking form, her imploring -eyes, her lips parted in sudden terror, upon her every -feature yielding in despair to the agony of a struggle -for her very soul; the loud beating of her heart -struck upon his ear with unearthly sound; he thought -of the affrighted lamb before the altar, felt that in -his hand gleamed the keen knife his beautiful victim -shrank from; his eyes drank in her exceeding loveliness, -his heart melted, and he burst into tears. He -sat upon the bench, half turned from her, his elbow -resting on the trellis, and his face buried in his handkerchief, -overcome by the storm of his feelings. At -this moment, the better nature in both, had a strong -game. There is something fearful to behold when -a strong man bends his head to tears. When a woman -weeps, it is the drops from a fleeting cloud, an -April shower, or, at times, the ceaseless pouring of -a settled rain—a deluge; but there is the flash, and -the storm, and the fitful blast that groans and yaws, -and bursts through all control. No woman can pass -on and not feel the cloak of her human sympathy -draw close around her, as if to impel her to go forth -and pour the unction of her tenderness upon the -troubled heart. And there Ella stood beside him; -one hand lay gently on his quivering shoulder, whilst -the other pushed back the scattered curls from his -noble brow. Oh, what a powerful language there -is in the human heart, without words! In all this -interview, since first they met, neither had spoken a -word. It was a pantomime in real life; yet, what -terrible converse they had held! Neither had ever, -in all their lives, spoken to the other one word of -love; and such a scene!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I intended,” said he, at length, as he pressed her -hand to his lips; “I intended to beg your forgiveness -for my extreme rudeness on yesterday. I was overcome, -beside myself; and now, when I would utter -the words of my supplication, they stick in my -throat. I am tossed like a leaf, before you; and -here I sit trembling like a child, beneath your touch. -I feel in my inmost heart the sweetness of your sympathy. -I go, and but for the treasure of that sweetness -my heart would wither in its desolation. I dare -not speak to you of love, for your troth is another’s. -At least, in mercy, vouchsafe to me one glimpse of -the Elysium denied me!” He folded her once more -to his heart; indistinctly she heard in spasmodic -whispers: <span class='it'>life—soul—dearest</span>—and he was gone. -The nobler nature was triumphant; and Ella, overcome -by his generosity and her now unquenchable -love, wept long and bitterly. She turned from side to -side in her loneliness, gazed into the heavens, upon the -wide landscape, until the tears blinded her. Then -she bent her head upon the trellis where he had -leaned; her dark hair hung in loose locks upon the -branching vines, and she moaned in very bitterness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That night she thought of Roderick, and for a moment -compared him with Count Frederick. What -a contrast! His very name, his only inheritance -from his forefathers, was essentially plebeian, rustic. -Ackerman! Roderick Ackerman, the husbandman! -She had never thought of that before! She, the -daughter of a noble house, could never bear that -name! Her dreams were not those of pleasure only, -for Roderick stood all night, a horrid phantom, between -her impatient love and its unlawful object. -Next morning she did not quiet her mind with the -reflection, that she was not responsible for her -dreams; and her midnight dreams, pleasure and displeasure, -were her daylight reveries.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Roderick’s society still possessed a singular charm -for her. In his presence she became more like her -former self. She still loved him with a calm, settled -love, which nothing on earth could ever destroy. -When he turned his mournful gaze toward her, -there was so much of tenderness and truth, so much -of ill-concealed anxiety and trust, that tears of anguish -and of pity would gather upon her eyelids, and -she would turn her head, to brush them away unseen. -There was no selfishness in her love for him; -it was virtuous and sincere, unshaken; yet, in his -absence her thoughts continually recurred to the all-absorbing -passion that possessed her. Day after day -would she go to the bower, but she found no pretext -now, in duty to Roderick, for she always returned -before it was time for him to be there, and he never -knew she went. He said to me on the mount, when -relating this portion of his history—“She never went -to the bower any more.” Count Frederick did not -come again. He secluded himself at home more -closely than ever—and let us not trespass upon the -sanctuary of a penitent heart. Poor Ella might have -been seen day after day, as evening drew near, wandering -alone over the hill, watching, with intense -anxiety, the path which Count Frederick would take -in case he <span class='it'>should</span> go out upon his evening walk. -A mournful, restless spirit of solitude she seemed, -ever wending her silent way among the evening -shadows, never venturing upon the sun-lit green. -At last her daring steps would turn toward the -manor, and she would take its circuit, on her way -to the bower. Once she passed, muffled and trembling, -through the very lawn. O! could she have -seen herself as others would have seen her, she -would have sunk into the earth for very shame. -How strange—that he who had been the ruthless -tempter, in heart and mind the fell destroyer, should -now, whilst retiring in virtuous seclusion, become -the tempted! How strange, how passing strange—that -she, poor victim, should become tempter, persecutor! -Yet so it was: and such is man.—And such -is woman—when she falls.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One day, from his chamber window he beheld her -retreating form slowly disappearing in a little copse -near the manor. The whole truth flashed like lightning -on his mind: that he was not the only tempter; -that not with him lay the damning guilt he had supposed; -that he was sought; that she could be gained. -The whirlwind of passion came again. The reflection -that he had too unjustly accused himself, stifled -every breath of remorse; and he went forth, in heart -a demon, worse than ever. He soon gained her, and -heaven-attesting vows were exchanged of never-dying -love. All that was honorable and fair for -man to do he promised. Their interviews thenceforward -were frequent and clandestine; her health -was failing in a perpetual struggle, and matters were -drawing to a crisis. She never told her uncle what -was done; she feared, she felt in her own heart, -that it was not honest love. Count Frederick, I -said, had promised all that was honorable for man to -do; that promise he did not intend to keep. The -more he thought over it, the more fully was he persuaded -that she was not sanguine of its observance. -After a lengthy consideration his plot was laid, and -he appointed a time with Ella for an interview at -the bower. It was Roderick’s eventful evening, the -one he alluded to when he said: “I could not resist -a moment’s visit to the bower, for, since pleasure -there seemed henceforth to be forbidden fruit to me, -I longed for a moment, even of its pain.” They -were both punctual to the appointment. Count -Frederick was paler than usual; she noticed his -agitation, and he, to cover it, took out his Virgil and -read her several beautiful passages. He turned to -the Æneiad, and wrought upon her mind and her -sympathies with the loves and sorrows, the struggles -and the fall, of the queenly Dido. She caught -the incendium, and as he repeated over and over, -with increasing gusto, the more inflammatory passages, -in the words of the poet, like Dido herself she -sat “<span class='it'>pendesque iterum narrantis ab ore</span>.” At -last, as he closed the book, he gazed intently on her, -trembling with the very burden of his task. He -took her hand; she smiled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ella,” said he, “dost thou love me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She took the book, and marked a passage with her -pencil. He read:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>              “Est mollis flamma medullas,</p> -<p class='line0'>Interea et tacitum vivit sub pectore vulnus.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The glow of her features attested the truth. He -continued:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wouldst thou be happy to wander the wide -world over by my side, to revel in the gayeties of -Paris, to stand amid the awful ruins of Athens and -Palmyra, to tread the hallowed spots of Palestine, -and bask in the sunny skies of Italy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“With thee and honor, anywhere.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ella, thou hast a picture; let me see it? Who -gave it thee?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My mother.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When?—dost thou remember?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, when I was a tiny child. She gave it in -my hands and said it was all I had from my dear father -but his name.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thou hast his name. Dost thou know, Ella, -who this is?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never knew.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know. I have seen her: she is living yet, and -bears but a slight resemblance now to this young -face.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell me of her; is she my father’s sister?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No; but wouldst thou know indeed?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Listen then—thy father’s wife.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sat stupefied; her bosom heaved convulsively.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Couldst thou marry Roderick, now?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She started to her feet. “Fiend! I understand -you,” she shouted. Her eyes flashed, her form dilated, -her outstretched arm quivered with the -strength of her indignation; whilst her melodious -voice raised in tones of inspiration, rang through the -evening stillness with the poet’s terrible imprecation:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Sed mihi vel tellus optem prius ima dehiscat,</p> -<p class='line0'> Vel Pater Omnipotens adigat me fulmine ad umbras,</p> -<p class='line0'> Pallentes umbras Erebi, noctemque profundam”—</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>she turned away, and sinking upon one knee, raised -her clasped hands and streaming eyes—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Ante pudor quam te violem, aut-tua-jura re-solvam.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>And she fell lifeless upon the ground. A step was -heard. The count launched himself down the precipice. -Roderick came, saw, and flew off on the -wings of the wind, with a crushed heart and raving -brain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Ella’s first act of returning consciousness was to -recognize herself reclining in the arms of Count -Frederick. The swaying to and fro, the heavy -lurch, the crackling stones, the dashing tramp, soon -brought home to her mind the terrible certainty that -she had departed from Heidelberg forever. How -far she was away, whither she was going she knew -not: she only knew that she was lost beyond redemption. -Her body and her mind were powerless, paralyzed -in utter imbecility: she could not, would not -will: but as the reality of the world and her existence -in it stole on her awakening senses, every power of -her soul rushed to the view of her prostration; her -heart struggled in very anguish, her reason staggered -from side to side in the mazes of a darksome labyrinth; -night had gathered around, and heavy dews -swept through the carriage windows; terrors, strange -and indefinable, fell like a death chill on her sickened -soul, and she clung with frenzied grasp to the form -beside her. Words of love, of courage, of hope, -breathed into her ears another life, and she abandoned -her whole being to the power of its inspiration. -Ere morning dawned they were far away, and -the second nightfall beheld them in Cologne.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before I proceed any further, let me make a little -necessary explanation concerning Ella’s picture. -What Count Frederick said concerning her “father’s -wife,” he knew to be utterly false. The miniature -was that of a lady Mr. Corbyn had been affianced to -in England, and whom he forsook for another, more -to his liking. As the engagement had become notorious, -and he felt the extent of the injury he was indicting -upon her and her family, he retired into as -great obscurity as possible, on the continent, and -married Katrina. Ere many years he was discovered -in his retreat, and the arrival of the strangers in -his village, his fall in a duel with a brother of his -former betrothed, were consequent upon that discovery. -Ella’s birth was honorable as birth could -be. The mystery which hung about the picture had -prepared her mind to become the easy dupe of a well-told -lie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Many days Ella lay consuming beneath the fire of -a raging fever, whilst a sad and anxious watcher, -night and day, moved ever silently about the darkened -chamber. This was the most trying period of -Count Frederick’s life. Ever and anon the low murmuring -of troubled dreams would fall like heavy -curses on his cowering heart; and as he would gently -move aside the curtains and bend his ear to feel the -parching breath, words fraught with the odor of -youthful innocence would ascend. Now the light -of childhood’s golden hours would beam softly on -her mind, and smiles of love and tenderness and purity -would gently play about her mouth, dimpling her -beautiful features with holy pleasure as she would -whisper: “Yes, dear mother, Ella knows, listen—‘God -keep little Ella from all sin.’ ” Then there would -be some uneasy motion, some momentary contortion, -as from a sudden pang, and then a low, trembling -sigh, scarce rising with its burden of despair. O, -how he shook in very agony! Then all was still. -Her degradation, though she was unconscious of its -existence, seemed, like an unknown and unfelt medicinal -application, to extend, by some inappreciable virtue -of its own, its subtle influence unceasingly through -the system. Soon, names most familiar in her joyous -girlhood, brief snatches of song or hymn that none -but ecstatic moods of happiness or devotion ever -called forth from her stores of melody; even the -name of Roderick, accompanied with a tender relaxation -and softened whisper, rose up like threatening -spectres in Count Frederick’s night of mental darkness. -He gazed and gazed on her pallid loveliness, -watched every quiver of her parted lips, and could -have rejoiced in the life of their occasional smile or -tranquillity; but, that the hidden, lightless eyes, and -the ever “chill, changeless brow”—for it never -changed in all her emotions—appalled with the coldness -of some fearful death: and he turned away. He -would have prayed, if he could, for that poor being, -but his heart was void; it was his brain that ached, -for he knew that all that melancholy ruins had -fallen from a sublime structure by his fell utterance -of a lie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It behooves me now to hasten this lengthy history -to a close. As soon as possible our wanderers hastened -off to Paris, to restore their sunken spirits amid -the pleasures and gayeties of the <span class='it'>beau monde</span>. There -it was I saw them, as they took their evening airing -along the Champs Elysées. They had been there -several months, and poor Ella’s looks and manner -both told the inefficiency of worldly pleasure, to -lighten the heavy burden of a guilty soul. The gayety -of France was like the smart of sparkling wine on an -ulcerated sore, and away they wandered into distant -lands. The still, death-like aspect of the Grecian -shores seemed like the languor of cold sympathy -with her own silent sorrow; and as the startling -semblance rose up before her, and she viewed in -every phase and feature that all that was elevating -and life-giving was passed away, she shuddered at -her own kindred desolation. She would venture -upon the rocky cliffs and gaze into the troubled sea, -where—as now in her own mind—the lights of Heaven -were pictured in flitting and uncertain forms; -she would look abroad upon the unspotted blue, -where not a coming or departing sail broke the distinct -horizon, and she would reflect how the powers -of her soul were mouldered away, and brought no -more back to her enjoyment the riches and the fruits -of other climes, the luxuries from nature’s and religion’s -overflowing bounty. Then she would wander -upon the lonely strand, and the splashing of the -journeyed waters, whose tempest roar was spent in -low, last murmurs at her feet, reëchoed the wild -moanings of a dying spirit. Oh! how she sat and -cried. Had her tears been those of repentance and -return, they would have hallowed for ever a spot that -was only classic, and her groans would have lifted -the vault of Heaven; but the bitter drops, wrung by -degradation and despair, were swept away by the -encroaching wavelets—and the sighs were borne afar -by the winds, to swell that everlasting <span class='it'>ROMOR</span> of anguish -that never reaches God.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the Roman Colosseum, the blood-stained arena -of the martyrs seemed to burn her very feet, and she -looked not upon a stone, nor an herb, in that sanctuary -of Christendom but returned a look of withering -reproach, as if by express command of Heaven. -There was no peace. Like Jonah, had she tried to -flee from the wrath of God, and find ease and security -in sin; and now that she found it not, she longed -for death—but dared not court it—as the oblivion of -all her being.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again our fugitives sought the resources of Paris. -Ella was fast failing in health, and both knew that -she must soon die. She possessed no longer any -gayety, and Count Frederick secretly rejoiced in -her decline, as the only means of ridding himself of -a burden now become almost insupportable. Still, -her death would not have occurred without inflicting -upon him one severe pang; for her intellect, increasing -in beauty and brilliancy as the body faded, -held him in a spell that seemed to involve his very -life. A short time after their arrival in Paris, the -revolution of February put all Europe in a commotion. -It was a God-send to Count Frederick, for a -field now opened to him for the employment of his -faculties; something at last, if not repose, at least a -breathing spell to ease him in his tired struggle with -a sleepless, unflagging remorse. He plunged into the -under-revolutionary current, heedless of whence it -flowed or where it came to light. All manner of -impure ultraïsm gathering in its way, formed the -nuclei of innumerable vortices that eddied and -whirled at every turn of his onward progress, hurling -him along with strange fits of semi-delirium, -until the following June, when the whole concentrated -power bubbled in red volumes to the surface, -and the streets of Paris ran with human blood. -Count Frederick became a willing tool in crafty -hands, and shrank not from offices of most imminent -danger. All night and all day did he lend his wealth, -his influence and his labor to the construction of -barricades for the defense of the populace: he became -a leading spirit, and on several occasions his -sword was foremost in the fray. His attire, his -repose, his ordinary food, all was forgotten. Once -he stood tired and worn, within a new barricade -not far from the barrière St. Martin; his hat and coat -were thrown aside, his dress all torn and begrimed -with sweat and dirt; in one hand he held a naked -sword, whilst the other grasped the stock of a pistol -that was still unmoved from his leathern belt. Upon -this arm hung poor Ella, still clinging through toil -and danger to him she could not but love. Her -bonnet was thrown aside; a soiled cambric handkerchief -tied beneath the chin, had kept in check -her unbound hair, but it was now in places loose -and disheveled; one dark lock swung around her -neck, and as it reposed upon her bosom, the curled, -purple extremity appeared in fearful contrast with -the snowy field it lay upon. Woman to the last, -she bore upon her person many a mark of blood, -and many dying lips within the last few hours, had -breathed a blessing upon the unknown and beautiful -angel of mercy that bent above them. Upon a stove, -that had been carried into the middle of the street, -stood a popular demagogue, gesticulating wildly, -and thundering anathemas against the provisional -government, that were horrible for ears to listen to; -whilst around him stood some hundreds of the armed -and excited populace, venting, at almost every gesture -of the frantic orator, vows of eternal vengeance -on what they deemed the recreant soldiery. Some -one had just arrived to announce that the military, -in force, were marching upon them. The shadow -of the hand of death seemed already to rest upon the -multitude, and not an eye was there that did not -dwell upon eternity. Soon the military, in serried -ranks and with bristling bayonets, wheeled into -view far down the street, and then commenced the -steady advance upon the barricade. The orator -grew wilder and wilder, and every heart in that vast -multitude quivered in awful expectation. The street -was cleared, not a soul moved upon the side-walks; -and the measured tread of the soldiers, with now -and then a groan or shriek from out some chamber, -was all that broke the silence as they marched along. -Soon the note of death sounded in the rear, then the -noise of changing muskets, at the word of command—and -immediately was heard from out the barricade, -trembling in solemn melody, low sounds as of -some unearthly dirge; and the words, “<span class='it'>Mourir pour -la patrie</span>”—arose with many a mingled yell. With -the gallop of the words—“<span class='it'>c’est la mort la plus -belle</span>,” all rushed to action, and when the first great -burst of the murderous fire was past, the last words -of the death-song still rang o’er piles of bleeding -men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The attack on this barricade was long and bloody. -At the second discharge, Count Frederick rolled -from the mound of curb-stones upon which he had -leaped to replace a fallen red-republican ensign, and -was borne into a neighboring house; there all assistance -ceased. As he lay bleeding upon the floor, in -a state of almost insensibility, Ella knelt beside him, -striving to staunch with her handkerchief, her dress, -her hair, the exhaustless spring of blood that welled -up from a bullet wound in his chest. Not a word -escaped her lips, not a tear fell from her eye, but -she bent all the faculties of her mind to the faithful -accomplishment of her stupendous task. His breathing -became weak and weaker; she heeded it not. -The veil of eternity was settling upon him, and the -dim vision of mortality was being illumined under -its shadow; the heinousness of his damning crime -shone out in perfect distinctness; but one reparation, -he thought, and that a slight one, remained; but -how could he ever summon courage to speak it -there? She seemed to him, in truth, an angel, as he -turned his glazing eyes toward her; she would not -yield to despair. He made the sacrifice; collected -all his strength of body and of mind, and told to the -wretched girl the story of his deception. It fell -upon her like a thunderbolt. For the first time she -became aware of the stupendous depth of her fall. -Her only stay, her only consolation, her only anchor -of future hope, upon her troubled sea, had rested on -the excuse of natal degradation: now that was taken -away. She sunk upon the floor; but in a moment, -with frantic energy she bounded to her feet, and -seizing the flag-staff from the dying hand, rushed into -the street. The combat still raged; leaping over the -dead and dying, with a bound she reached the breast-work.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The French journals, in describing the assault -upon, and the carrying of this barricade, illustrated -the enthusiastic patriotism of the insurgents, with -the story of a young and beautiful girl, who, in the -hottest of the fight, leaped upon the ramparts, flag in -hand, and waving it gallantly above her head, shouting—<span class='it'>liberté</span>—fell, -pierced by a hundred bullets, outside -the barricade. It was Ella Corbyn.</p> - -<hr class='tbk120'/> - -<div><h1><a id='north'></a>SONG OF THE SPIRIT OF THE NORTH.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY WILLIAM ALBERT SUTLIFFE.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='dramastart'><!----></div> - -<p class='dramaline-cont'>Midnight was brooding o’er the Arctic highlands</p> -<p class='dramaline'>  Midnight, the dim, and faint, and strangely cold;</p> -<p class='dramaline'>When on an iceberg, ’mid the icy islands,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>  Sat the chill Northern Spirit, weird, and cold.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>          Her floating tresses hung,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>            Wailing unto the blast;</p> -<p class='dramaline'>          Her vapory vestment swung</p> -<p class='dramaline'>            As the wind hurried past:</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And ever and anon she moaned, and sung,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>  With tremulous voice, such as the tempest leaf</p> -<p class='dramaline'>In piny woods, and then again she flung</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Her slender fingers o’er a harp, and wept,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>  And wailed unearthly music, as when grieves</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And sings a fallen angel, then it slept</p> -<p class='dramaline'>A moment in the rude arms of the blast—</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The snowy-footed madly rushing past—</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And then sprung up again, as when o’erleap</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Rich showers of harmony Heaven’s rampart steep,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And, star-like, from on high</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Far-trailing down the sky,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Strike mortals mad, or wild:</p> -<p class='dramaline'>So the pale Boreal Child</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Sang to the soul of Naught, that brooded o’er</p> -<p class='dramaline'>  Lone semi-annual nights, and days as long,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>An icy ocean, with an icy shore,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>  And icy islands, sparsely thrown among</p> -<p class='dramaline'>A yest of icy waves; and all was ice,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>  By sempiternal Winter wrought</p> -<p class='dramaline'>To many a quaint device.</p> - -<p class='dramaline-cont'>And then again, when the cold North-wind kissed</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Her pallid lips, up to the amethyst</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Of the far heaven she raised her spirit eyes,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Then beat, and wept, while ever grim Surprise</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Wondered that she should weep, and then she played</p> -<p class='dramaline'>  A prelude to her harp, then sung, then paused,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>While symphonies filled up the gaps she made,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>  And Echo woke applause.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Wondrous the sadness of her floating strain!</p> -<p class='dramaline'>  The icebergs thrilled unto their heart of hearts,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>  And Ocean’s breast rose with convulsive starts;</p> -<p class='dramaline'>While from her eyes the tearful-beaded rain</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Froze into gems upon her vapory dress,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Embroidered loveliness.</p> - -<p class='dramaline-cont'>O Loneliness, O Nothingness, O Death!</p> -<p class='dramaline'>  O Dreariness around me, I must weep!</p> -<p class='dramaline'>  Would that my very soul were tears to steep</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The wind with, that, at every breath,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>With weeping, I might spend my soul so fast</p> -<p class='dramaline'>My agony’s last throb would soon be past.</p> - -<p class='dramaline-cont'>O Desolation, wild, and gaunt, and grim!</p> -<p class='dramaline'>  O hopeless absence of all glad and bright!</p> -<p class='dramaline'>O horrid shapes fantastical, what hymn</p> -<p class='dramaline'>  Of mine, alas! can tell such shapes aright</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Would ye but strike me mad,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>I should indeed be glad,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>I now can pass the dark hours but in weeping;</p> -<p class='dramaline'>  And could my soul but freeze,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>  Like the breast of the seas,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>How rapturous would be my silent sleeping.</p> - -<p class='dramaline-cont'>      Thou cold and icy moon,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Thou dost not pity me!</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Six long months hast thou seen</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      My weary soul, each year,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Since Earth began, nor wept.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Away, thou’rt hateful now!</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Away, for I am mad!</p> - -<p class='dramaline-cont'>      And Earth, detested orb,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      How long must thou exist?</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Each throb of thy vast pulse</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Strikes keenest agony</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Into this soul of mine.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      If thou hast loveliness,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      It ne’er was shown to me.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Come, let us die together!</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Hurry thy steeds, O Time!</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Bear us into the dark</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Of that Eternity,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Whose shadows are so deep</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      We cannot pierce them yet.</p> - -<p class='dramaline-cont'>      Ye icebergs, that have seen</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      My wildest misery,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Do ye know sympathy?</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Then melt ye down in tears,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      And in a sea of grief</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Flow round me with sweet sound!</p> - -<p class='dramaline-cont'>      They feel not, know not, aught!</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      My misery is full!</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      I must unto my bower—</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      My bower of chillest ice—</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Would that it were my tomb</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Ye smile on me in scorn,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Ye that do see my grief!</p> - -<p class='dramaline-cont'>      Then spreading out her wings,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Toward the extremest North</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      She took her liquid way.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      The moon withdrew, and wept;</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      The stars died out with grief;</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      The icebergs thrilled again</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Unto their icy hearts.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      All things were sad for her,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>      Saddened by her wild song.</p> - -<hr class='tbk121'/> - -<div><h1><a id='art'></a>SONNET.—ART.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY WM. ALEXANDER.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Art! what were mankind destitute of thee?</p> -<p class='line0'>  Religion’s handmaid oft do we thee find,</p> -<p class='line0'>  As to thy polished car seek’st thou to bind</p> -<p class='line0'>True elegance with sweet utility—</p> -<p class='line0'>Long, wide, extensive is thy magic sway,</p> -<p class='line0'>  O’er matter all inanimate and mind,</p> -<p class='line0'>  E’en savage man thou teachest to be kind,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And charmest his rude soul with thy harmony;</p> -<p class='line0'>Cross seas the ship by thy good guidance goes;</p> -<p class='line0'>  Fields arable, rich gardens, sacred grove,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Town, temple, feel the influence of thy love;</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy sacred power the mind immortal knows,</p> -<p class='line0'>Nor can thy empire, universal, end</p> -<p class='line0'>Till Nature’s forces all in sweet subjection bend.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk122'/> - -<div><h1><a id='don'></a>A REPLY TO DWIGHT’S ARTICLE ON MOZART’S DON GIOVANNI.</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>This is the title of a long and prominent article in -Graham’s February number: the writer is but a -wordy plagiarist. He has received many rebukes -already for his cool appropriation of the ideas of -others, but Aristabulus Bragg fashion, he still goes -on, in the calmest, most approved style, perfectly -unblushing. A year or eighteen months ago an article -of his in Sartain’s Magazine was pointed out to -us as containing some clever thoughts on a very -original idea, “the Musical Trinity.” Oh, we exclaimed, -this is not original, the whole idea is stolen -from the German; then we turned to Goethe’s correspondence -with a child, Bettina von Arnheim, and -found several passages on the same subject in conversations -with Beethoven and Schlosser. Some time -after we read in <a id='sar'></a>Saroni’s Musical Times that the -editor had also detected the plagiarism in this article, -and pointed out another author, book and page; saying -with great good-nature that he would not have -noticed it, had Mr. Dwight only written his article -as clearly and concisely as the original; “but to rob -an author first and then murder him,” says the editor, -“is more than we can bear.” The author alluded -to by Mr. Saroni, is the German Marx, and he tells -us that the fourth paragraph in Sartain’s article -is an almost literal translation of a paragraph in -Marx’s “<span class='it'>Komposition-shlere</span>,” second edition, p. 24.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We have waded through this last article of Mr. -Dwight’s on Don Giovanni, partly from curiosity, -partly for amusement. We wanted to see the extent -to which he would go: and then it amused us -to detect the little pilfered thoughts, trigged out in -the Boston transcendental clothing until their parents -would have scarcely recognized them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It opens with quite a flourish, trying to decorate -the story and hero as the German Hoffman did long -ago, but though the whole of the first part is a spun-out -translation of the German critic’s description, it -is so mingled with his own crude, half-educated -thoughts, as to require some little skill in separating -Hoffman from Dwight. He has made an attempt -to improve upon the German, and we can not say -we admire the Boston imitation. Judge for yourself -by the following comparison:</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>DWIGHT.</h2> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>The true conception of -Mozart’s Don Giovanni is -that of a gentleman, to say -the least, and more than -that, a man of genius: a being -naturally full of glorious -passion, large sympathies -and irrepressible energies, -noble in mind, in person and -in fortune; a large, imposing, -generous, fascinating -creature. He is such as we -all are—“<span class='it'>only more so</span>,” to -borrow an expressive vulgarism. -He is a sort of -ideal impersonation of two -qualities or springs of character, -raised as it were to -the highest power projected -into supernatural dimensions—which -is only the -poet’s and musician’s way -of truly recognizing the -element of infinity in every -passion of the human soul, -since not one ever finds its -perfect satisfaction.</p> - -</div> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>HOFFMAN.</h2> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>Nature had provided for -Don Giovanni, one of her -dearest children, all that -could elevate a man above -the crowd which is condemned -to be, to do, and to -suffer: she had lavished on -him the gifts which bid the -human nature approximate -to the divine. She had destined -him to shine, to conquer -and to rule. She had -animated with a splendid -organization that vigorous -and accomplished frame: -had inspired that breast -with a celestial spark: had -given to him a soul of deep -feeling, quick and penetrating -intelligence.</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>We think Hoffman’s description of Don Giovanni -a little exaggerated, but the Boston imitation is what -may be called a “free translation,” <span class='it'>very</span> free. All that -duality business—“<span class='it'>that ideal impersonation of two -qualities or springs of character</span>,” is decidedly an attempt -to amplify, if not to improve the German criticism, -and is in the usual moral-defying style of the no-principle -school of Harbinger and Phalanx writers. In -olden times our grand-parents, when they saw any -thing particularly broad or free in expression or action, -were apt to say, with a proper shrug of the -shoulders, that it was “<span class='it'>very French</span>.” At the present -day, when we see any thing questionable in -morals or opinions we exclaim, “<span class='it'>transcendental, -mock German</span>, and, <span class='it'>very Boston;</span>” and thus we say -of this attempt of Mr. Dwight’s to idealize the very -sensual, commonplace libertine of the opera.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We will now give another comparison.</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>DWIGHT.</h2> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>Excessive love of pleasure, -helped by a rare magnetism -of character, and -provoked by the suppressive -moralism of the times, -have engendered in him a -reckless, roving, unsatiable -appetite, which intrigue -excites and disappoints until -<span class='it'>the very passion in which -so many souls are first -taught the feeling of the infinite</span> -becomes a fiend in his -breast, and drives him to a -devilish love of power that -exults over woman’s ruin, -or rather, that does not -mind how many hearts and -homes fall victims to his -unqualified assertion of the -every where rejected and -snubbed faith in Passion.</p> - -</div> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>HOFFMAN.</h2> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>In truth, there is nothing -on earth which more elevates -a man in his own -opinion than love, that love -whose vast and conquering -influence gives light to the -heart, and gives it at once -happiness and confusion. -Can we be surprised if, -when Don Juan hoped to -appease by love the passions -which rent his breast, -that the devil spread a net -for him? It was he who -inspired Don Juan with the -thought that by love and -the society of woman we -may accomplish on earth -<span class='it'>those celestial promises -which we bear written in -the deepest recesses of our -hearts, that intense desire -which from our earliest -days brings us most closely -to heaven</span>.</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The principal difference Mr. Dwight makes in his -rendering of this passage of Hoffman’s is, that where -the German, in a very old-fashioned manner, attributes -Don Juan’s wickedness to the influence of the -Spirit of Evil, Mr. Dwight, by some slight of hand, -metamorphoses the Passion of Love into an evil -demon, and then gives a <span class='it'>fling</span>, as he would express -it, at the religious discipline of the times to -which he applies the very lucid epithet, “<span class='it'>suppressive -moralism</span>.” We wish we had some of that -“<span class='it'>suppressive moralism</span>” at the present day to exercise -a little wholesome discipline over the authors -of this</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'><span class='it'>Phalanx Socialist Literature</span>.</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>After this piece of borrowing and altering from -Hoffman, the writer talks a great deal about “<span class='it'>the -old theme and under-current of Opera—the Body -and the Soul—the liberty of Passion in conflict -with the Law intensely narrowed down by social -custom from God’s great law of universal harmony</span>,” -and such like rubbish, and then informs us -in a note, with his usual precision, by way of illustrating -this “<span class='it'>under-current</span>” of “<span class='it'>Body and Soul</span>” -in “<span class='it'>Old Opera theme</span>,” that, strange to say, the first -Opera <span class='it'>he</span> reads of, and which was produced at Rome -in 1600, bore the name of “<span class='it'>Rappresentatione <a id='del'></a>di -Anima e di Corpo!</span>”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now if this were so, it is puzzling to know what -it would have to do with all his talk about “<span class='it'>the -under-current of Body and Soul</span>” in Don Giovanni: -but it is not true. The first Opera on record is -<span class='it'>Euridice</span>, the libretto composed by the poet Rinuccini, -the music by the composer Peri. It was presented, -as he says, in 1600, but not at Rome—at -Florence, on the occasion of the marriage of Mary -di Medici with Henri Quatre of France.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In 1600, Emilio del <a id='cav1'></a>Cavalieri, of Rome, brought -out an <span class='it'>Oratorio</span>, which was sung in a church in that -city, which bore the title <a id='anima'></a>“<span class='it'>Dell Anima e di Corpo</span>;” -and the invention of <span class='it'>Recitative</span> dates from these -two compositions—the opera <span class='it'>Euridice</span> of Peri, and -the <span class='it'>Sacred Oratorio</span> of <a id='cav2'></a>Cavalieri. But it answered -his purpose to imagine this the other way, and with -his usual want of accuracy he applied it—or he was -ignorant, and with true transcendental presumption, -took it for granted no one knew any more than he -did.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such reviews as this we now write of would be -scarcely worth noticing, if it were not for the fact, -that they are accepted by the uninstructed, for real -<span class='it'>bona fide</span> musical criticisms, founded on actual -knowledge. One might have expected that Mr. -Saroni’s rebuking exposure of his Musical Trinity -Article, would have startled the author into something -like modesty; and when one sees how reckless -he is, it makes one wish that Mr. Saroni would -carry his threat into execution, and publish those -“certain articles” on Mozart’s Don Giovanni, which -bear such a remarkable similarity to Mr. Dwight’s -lectures.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>M. Bombert says, in his “Life of Mozart,” when -speaking of this Opera of Don Giovanni—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He (Mozart) shines in the awful accompaniment -to the reply of the statue—a composition perfectly -free from all inflation or bombast—it is <span class='it'>the style of -Shakspeare in music</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now for Mr. Dwight’s patch-work—straightway -he snatches up this idea of M. Bombert, and makes -use of it thus:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The splendid sinner’s end is rather melo-dramatic -in the Opera, and yet there is a poetic and moral -truth in it—and <span class='it'>the spectre of the commendatore is a -creation fully up to Shakspeare</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This is literary murder as well as literary theft. -Now any one who knows any thing of this Opera -will see that the “<span class='it'>creation of the commendatore</span>” -has nothing remarkable in it, but the <span class='it'>Orchestral Accompaniment</span> -is one of the grandest things ever composed. -Mozart cared very little for the stage part -of the affair; and this is proved by the finest music -in this Opera being given to the Orchestra. We -have heard—we cannot give the authority—but we -have read somewhere, that a contemporary critic -said that Mozart had put his statue in the Orchestra, -and left only the pedestal on the stage—and this is -true.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Dwight gives such an exaggerated, spun-out -account of this famous Opera, endeavoring at the -same time to gloss over the gross, vulgar, immorality -of the plot, with all that confused mysticism -peculiar to this Harbinger and Phalanx style of composition, -that we will sketch a short matter-of-fact -outline of it. Mr. Dwight, with the usual insane -transcendental desire to apply an epithet, and make -a speech, says, in a short sentence, which he thinks -very comprehensive, that it “<span class='it'>is an old middle age -Catholic story</span>;” making a sort of defense for the -shocking immoralities in it, by accusing, impliedly, -the strict discipline of the church for the libertine -hero’s licentiousness, to whom he applies another -string of expletives. In the opening, Mr. Dwight -calls him “<span class='it'>a large, imposing, generous, fascinating -creature</span>.” Now he has him “<span class='it'>an elegant, full-blooded, -rich, accomplished, and seductive gallant</span>.” -A sort of “<span class='it'>a love of a man</span>” according to -Mr. Dwight’s ideas.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The subject of the story of Don Giovanni was a -favorite one in the 17th century—“<span class='it'>the middle age -Catholic times!</span>” Mr. Dwight talks of, in his off-hand -sentence characterizing the story, was a little -earlier than that, we think, a trifle of two or three -hundred years or so—but let that pass. French, -Italian, and Spanish writers all used it. Moliere -wrote a famous play on it, “<span class='it'>Festin de Pierre</span>,” and -from Moliere’s play Da Ponte prepared his libretto.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The story is a decided failure; and a great deal -of time, and paper, and manufactured sentiment have -been wasted in endeavoring to excuse and even to -discover hidden philosophy and a good moral in it. -Mr. Dwight is not the first one at this piece of business. -If the wish is to make operatic music elevate -and refine the public taste, by contributing to the -moral purity of our people, composers should not -select immoral and wicked plots; and no matter -how beautiful the music may be, no audience should -tolerate such a degrading story as Don Giovanni. -It is full of all sorts of unnatural and disgusting scenes. -The opening is very fine, and leads one to expect -something tragic and grand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Don Giovanni, a wicked, reckless libertine, has -entered at midnight the house of an old military -officer, and is seen at the rising of the curtain rushing -out of the door, followed by the beautiful daughter -of the commander, who he had intended to add to -the list of his victims. A beautiful, rapid duet ensues -between this daughter, Donna Anna, and Don Giovanni, -she endeavoring to discover the bold ravisher. -During this, her old father comes out, sword in hand—a -combat ensues—Don Giovanni kills the old officer, -and escapes. Then follows a beautiful <span class='it'>scena</span>, one -of the gems of the Opera, between Donna Anna and -her lover, Ottavio. She expresses her grief in heart-rending -notes, and with frantic earnestness calls on -her lover to avenge the murder. All this promises -well, and one would imagine from so grand a commencement, -something magnificently tragic was -surely to follow. But the whole of the middle part -of the Opera is flat and insipid—we are speaking -now only of the story—filled with disgusting scenes -of Don Giovanni’s gallantries. With a hard and -sensual heart, he betrays alike the high and the low—the -lady and the maid; he stains the palace and -pollutes the peasant’s cot with his wanton treachery -and crimes. He goes to a village festival, and selects -for another victim, a poor village girl, a bride—Zerlina. -This character was one of Madam Malibran’s -famous parts, as Donna Anna was of Sontag’s. -Zerlina, though properly the second Donna’s character, -occupies more room in the Opera than the -first soprano, Donna Anna. The famous duet, “<span class='it'>La -ci darem la mano</span>,” is sung by Don Giovanni and -her; and her little <span class='it'>coquetries</span> with the libertine lord, -and seductive coaxing scenes with her peasant -bridegroom, occupy a large portion of the middle -part of the Opera.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A Donna Elvira, a discarded wife or mistress it -seems to matter little which—of Don Giovanni comes -in also. A trying scene ensues between her and Leperello—the -impudent, buffoon valet of Don Giovanni—the -<span class='it'>buffo</span> character of the opera, during which, he -tells her of his master’s conquests, while the poor -Elvira has to stand mute, and listen to his long, -comic piece; which—if she is not a better actress -than is generally cast in a third-rate character—makes -it very absurd in representation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After the grand opening scene of the first Act, -Donna Anna and her lover Ottavio dwindle down into -insignificance. All their frantic declarations of revenge -end in nothing, and they content themselves -with following the licentious nobleman about in -masquerade; once in a while picking him up in the -streets, unmasking, and entertaining themselves in -berating him. They sing a beautiful trio with Elvira, -just before the banquet scene; which is about -the only good and useful thing they do in the Opera. -For it serves a double purpose—as an English critic -suggests—besides pleasing the audience, it gives -time to have the stage prepared for the banquet-scene.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Don Giovanni, after flirting with and seducing fine -ladies and humble peasant maidens, at last meets -with his punishment; but not at the hands of the injured -fair ones, or at the more probable ones of the -outraged lovers; that would be too reasonable for -this most unnatural story, but the grave must yield -up its dead, and the infernal regions disclose their -horrible secrets. At midnight, again he enters upon -the stage—the scene represents a square, containing -a marble monument, erected by Donna Anna to the -memory of her murdered father. Leporello is with -him, frightened to death at the sight of the grave by -moonlight, and he declares to his reckless master -that the statue moves its head. The bold libertine -scoffs at the valet’s cowardice, and by way of bravado, -invites the marble statue to sup with him. -To his amazement the Statue answers “Yes,” “<span class='it'>Si</span>,” -and here is that beautiful passage in the <span class='it'>music</span> which -M. Bombert considers the Shakspearian style in music—it -is the <span class='it'>Orchestral Accompaniment</span> to the -simple <span class='it'>reply</span> of the Statue. A little startled, Don -Giovanni leaves the stage. But in the next scene he -appears as abandoned as ever. What a capital transcendental -critic he would have made. He is supping -alone, and seems to eat with great <span class='it'>goût</span>. During -his solitary banquet the Statue enters, according to -the engagement. Don Giovanni can scarcely credit -his senses; but, bold to the last, receives his remarkable -guest with great ceremony. The Statue tells -him he has come on a mission of warning, and that -he has yet a chance for repentance. Don Giovanni -scoffs at the offer, and overcoming his awe, takes the -extended hand of the Statue. In an instant, he is -struck with the death-pangs—the Statue disappears—and -he dies in a vision of endless torments, which -is generally represented on the stage by a display of -fireworks, giving the vulgar idea of the infernal regions; -a place made for the devil and his angels.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now it is this shameless, coarse libertine that Mr. -Dwight in his article, following in the wake of others, -strives not only to excuse, but to idealize and elevate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We have done with the story: let us return for a -few moments to Mozart’s part of this Opera—the -music. Off of the stage, in a <span class='it'>salon</span> or concert-room, -the effect of this Opera is most beautiful; for on the -stage the immoral, vulgar story, low buffoonery and -farce-like appearance of many of the scenes, are -sadly at variance with the elevated and almost religious -tone of the music, and disgust even a hearty -admirer, if he is candid enough to admit it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Let us here take leave of this subject and of Mr. -Dwight: begging of him in future, if he is not able -to be original, to at least copy good models of style -and morals, and not inflict upon the community his -own exaggerated, loose-principled, Boston notions. -Luckily, however, his style is so confused and mystified, -that much of the injurious effect is lost. We -have heard these Boston non-religionists talk, and -we know with what <span class='it'>goût</span> they “<span class='it'>defy the moral</span>” of -any matter, to use Mr. Dwight’s own words; then, -how can one expect better principles, where such -laxity of morals are avowed. The closing sentence -in this Don Giovanni article is a pretty fair specimen -of this anti-religious, moral-defying kind of literature; -indeed, the whole article is—for “<span class='it'>passion life</span>,” -“<span class='it'>innate gospel of joy</span>,” and such English run-mad -expressions dance through the whole article, enlivened -and varied, once in a while, with some of -the fire-engine vernacular.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Shame! shame upon such literature! Mr. Dwight -talks of the “<span class='it'>divine good of the senses and the passions</span>,” -and longs for that “<span class='it'>pure and perfect state</span>,” -when these grosser parts of our nature “<span class='it'>shall be—not -dreaded, not suppressed; but regulated, harmonized, -made rythmical and safe, and more than -ever lifesome and spontaneous, by Law as broad -and as deep themselves</span>.” A pretty state of affairs -we should have in such a hereafter as these -people long for. All this is entirely foreign to our -old-fashioned notions of Heaven and a hereafter. It -may be the Heaven of an Agapedome, or a Woman’s -Rights Convention, but it is not the Heaven of a -Christian. And they will find out, sooner or later, -that there is a real hereafter—a solemn, and stern -judging hereafter; and though they may imagine -that their transcendental “<span class='it'>Souls, with their capacity -for joy and harmony, is of that godlike and asbestos -quality</span>,” as to defy punishment, punishment -will come, and pretty effectual it will be, and they -will see all this “spiritual asbestos quality”—why not -<span class='it'>gutta percha</span>, just as well—of little account, when -they are found with lamps untrimmed, and talents -buried in the earth.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-top:0.5em;'><span class='sc'>Mount Edgecumb.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk123'/> - -<div><h1><a id='god'></a>THE AUTOGRAPH OF GOD.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY GEORGE W. BUNGAY.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The thirsty earth, with lips apart,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Looked up where rolled an orb of flame</p> -<p class='line0'>As though a prayer came from its heart</p> -<p class='line0'>  For rain to come; and lo! it came.</p> -<p class='line0'>The Indian corn, with silken plume,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And flowers with tiny pitchers filled,</p> -<p class='line0'>Send up their praise of sweet perfume,</p> -<p class='line0'>  For silver drops the clouds distilled.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The modest grass is fresh and green—</p> -<p class='line0'>  The fountain swells its song again;</p> -<p class='line0'>An angel’s radiant wing is seen</p> -<p class='line0'>  In every cloud that brings us rain.</p> -<p class='line0'>There is a rainbow in the sky,</p> -<p class='line0'>  It spans the arch where tempests trod;</p> -<p class='line0'>God wrote it ere the world was dry—</p> -<p class='line0'>  It is the <span class='sc'>Autograph of God</span>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Up where the heavy thunders rolled,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Where clouds on fire were swept along,</p> -<p class='line0'>The sun rides in a car of gold,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And soaring larks dissolve in song.</p> -<p class='line0'>The rills that gush from mountains rude,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Flow trickling to the verdant base—</p> -<p class='line0'>Just like the tears of gratitude</p> -<p class='line0'>  That often steal adown the face.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Great King of peace, deign now to bless—</p> -<p class='line0'>  The windows of the sky unbar;</p> -<p class='line0'>Shower down the rain of righteousness,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And wash away the stain of war;</p> -<p class='line0'>Though we deserve the reeking rod,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Smile from thy throne of light on high—</p> -<p class='line0'>That we may read the name of God,</p> -<p class='line0'>  In lines of beauty on the sky.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk124'/> - -<div><h1><a id='ifi'></a>IF I WERE A SMILE.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY RICHARD COE.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>If I were a smile, a beautiful smile,</p> -<p class='line0'>  I would play o’er the infant’s face,</p> -<p class='line0'>And stamp such an heavenly impress there</p> -<p class='line0'>That never a tinge of sorrow or care</p> -<p class='line0'>  Should ever its beauty efface,</p> -<p class='line0'>      To appear the while,</p> -<p class='line0'>      If I were a smile, a beautiful smile.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>If I were a sigh, a sorrowing sigh,</p> -<p class='line0'>  In the breast of a maiden fair;</p> -<p class='line0'>I would speed me on angel wings above,</p> -<p class='line0'>And lie like a beautiful wounded dove</p> -<p class='line0'>  At the feet of my Saviour there,</p> -<p class='line0'>      Till he heard my cry,</p> -<p class='line0'>      If I were a sigh, a sorrowing sigh.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>If I were a tear, a bright, pearly tear,</p> -<p class='line0'>  In the eye of a Christian mild;</p> -<p class='line0'>I would flow at the sight of keen distress,</p> -<p class='line0'>As the dew-drop falls on the earth to bless,</p> -<p class='line0'>  To calm the heart from tumult wild</p> -<p class='line0'>      Were my task so dear,</p> -<p class='line0'>      If I were a tear, a bright, pearly tear.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>But as I am neither a smile nor sigh,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Nor even a tear pearly bright;</p> -<p class='line0'>But an humble poet singing the while,</p> -<p class='line0'>The world of its sorrows and to beguile,</p> -<p class='line0'>  I’ll scatter my songs with delight</p> -<p class='line0'>      To the passer-by,</p> -<p class='line0'>Till smiles take the place of the tear and sigh.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk125'/> - -<div><h1><a id='true'></a>A TRUE IRISH STORY.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY REDWOOD FISHER.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Erin-Go-Bragh,” the celebrated Irish song of an exiled patriot—Why it was written by a Scotchman, with an -interesting account of Campbell the poet, and some account of Gen. A. McC——n, the Irish Patriot.</p> - -</div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>O, sad is my fate, said the heart-broken stranger:</p> -<p class='line0'>  The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee,</p> -<p class='line0'>But I have no refuge from famine and danger,</p> -<p class='line0'>  A home and a country remain not for me.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Ah! never again in the green shady bowers,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Where my forefathers lived, shall I spend the sweet hours,</p> -<p class='line0'>Or cover my harp with the wild woven flowers,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And strike the sweet numbers of Erin-go-bragh.</p> -<p class='line0'>                        <span class='it'>See Campbell’s Poems.</span></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>In the year 1810, a native of Philadelphia resided -in the city of Altona, and became intimately -acquainted with Gen. McC——, who commanded -the Irish patriots at the battle of Ballanahench.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The general was a real Irish gentleman, with a -heart alive to every refined sympathy of human nature, -and warmly attached to Americans and the -American character. Never can it be forgotten by -those who were so happy as to share his confidence, -how his fine manly countenance would light up, as -he listened to the answers his questions would draw -forth, when inquiring into the private characters of -any of our revolutionary sages or soldiers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Often would the tears start into his eyes, when, -at the social bowl, some unpublished anecdote would -be elicited of the daring of Putnam, the Hannibal-like -qualities of Greene and Marion, the persevering -bravery of Rifle Morgan, or the daring of General -Wayne in his battles with the savage foe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His whole soul would appear to flash from his -expressive eye, and he would burst forth with the -exclamation: “Oh, Erin, oh my beloved country, -from which, alas! I am banished, when will heroes -such as these arise and burst the bands by which -thou art enslaved?—Will a just God never hear -thy prayers? Will the groans of enslaved millions, -will the agonies of a brave and generous people never -reach thy throne, and call down thy vengeance upon -her persecutors? Excuse me,” he would say, “excuse -the companion of the Emmets, the McNevens, -and others, who were confined with me in Fort -George, in Scotland, from whence I was transported -hither—banished! What a word! banished from -the home of my childhood—torn from the land where -my forefathers dwelt!” On one occasion of this kind, -when the most of the company had retired, in his -own hospitable mansion, he invited his Philadelphia -friend to remain and hear the sad story of his life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He rose from the table, and going to a book-case, -he produced a copy of Campbell’s poems, and turning -to the beautiful song of Erin-go-bragh—“there,” -said he, “is my history, I am the original Erin-go-bragh. -My countrymen, I am told, often inquire -how it happened that a Scotchman should write this -national, this glowing account of the wrongs of my -devoted countrymen. Listen to me, and I will truly -tell you the whole story—that is, if I can tell it! If -I can sufficiently compose myself, you shall hear it; -and should you survive me <span class='it'>you</span> may publish it, that -the mystery may be solved and the world may know -how the heart of a Scotch poet was touched with -the holy sympathy of our common nature, and has -placed on record, in the most exalted and touching -numbers, the feelings of an Irish exile. While confined -in the fortress of Fort George I was, without -any knowledge of what was to be my fate, conveyed -to a seaport and put on board of an English frigate, -to be banished I knew not whither!” (The name -of the port of embarkation and of the vessel were -given, but are not now remembered.) “On board -of this vessel was Campbell, the Scotch poet, then -about to make his pedestrian tour on the continent -of Europe. It was not long before we became intimately -acquainted, and as you may suppose my -whole heart was filled with wo.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“During our passage to this place, we had many -and very close conversations, pending which I -poured into his attentive ear, in impassioned language, -the sad—the overwhelming woes of my -countrymen, and particularly my own hard fate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We were not very long in reaching our destination—we -landed together at Altona, and what was -my surprise to find my companion as destitute of -money as myself. I had been hurried away without -the knowledge of my friends, who had no intimation -of my banishment, and coming from close confinement, -was not overburdened with a wardrobe, much -less with the necessary funds for decency, to say -nothing of comfort.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Campbell was as poor as myself, and in this -condition we entered a very common inn, and were -ushered into a room, not very well furnished, having -nothing but an oaken table and a very few common -chairs. We seated ourselves at opposite sides of -the table, and gazed at each other with no enviable -feelings, when, on examining our exchequer, we -found the whole sum in the treasury amounted to -no more than a crown. We called for a candle, for -it was growing dark, and ordered, in consonance -with our finances, a small bottle of rum. The light -came, and you must believe me when I tell you it -was a dip candle stuck in a black bottle. There -was something so ludicrous in this, and in our general -circumstances, that we both indulged in a hearty -laugh, applying ourselves to the ‘Cruise Keen Lawn’ -to keep up for a time the tone of our feelings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As our spirits were operated upon by the -wretched liquor, which we drank more to drown -the rising sigh than for any partiality for it, Campbell -called for pen, ink, and paper. ‘Mr. McC.’ said he, -‘your story has deeply interested me, and a kind of -notion has arisen that I should like to put it upon -paper.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In a little time a miserable ink-horn was produced, -and something which was called paper, but -it was so stained, and otherwise disfigured, it seemed -almost impossible, with the wretched pen that accompanied -it, that legible characters could be traced -upon it; and I could but indulge in my risible propensities, -at the idea of any attempt to write with -such materials.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But the soul of the poet had been aroused, and -he bade me again to refresh his memory with my -tale, which I did by replying to such questions as he -from time to time propounded to me. Every now -and then he would pause, and pledge me in the tin -cup with which we were furnished, for glasses there -were none; when he would again commence to -write, and before he had finished, so potent were the -draughts in which we had indulged, that some of the -last lines ran in any other direction than parallel to -each other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At last he finished his labors, and the result of -them was the song of Erin-go-bragh, the very song -printed in his works, and which I now hand to you.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is a true history of that inimitable production, -more full of feeling, in my opinion, than any -thing he has ever written before or since.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Read it to me,” said the general, “for if the -king would withdraw the act which banished me, -the object nearest my Irish heart, I could not read -that song aloud!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such was the story told to the writer, as nearly as -it can be remembered, after a lapse of thirty-eight -years. There are yet living in this city several persons -who will recognize it, and an appeal to them -for the accuracy with which it is here told, would -confirm it in every particular; its only defect being -the absence of power in the writer to impart to his -readers any thing of the enthusiasm with which -General McC. related it—nor the heart-stirring emotion -ever exhibited by him when it became, as it -often did, the subject of conversation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the reader may feel desirous to know what -was subsequently the fate of the real and original -Erin-go-bragh, he may be told that his friends found -out where he was, remitted him funds, that he embarked -in a profitable pursuit, and ever after lived in -comparative affluence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The story of his marriage is of so romantic a nature, -that as he is now no more, and there is therefore -no impropriety in giving it publicity, the writer -is tempted to narrate it, as he has often listened to it -from the lips of the general, at his own hospitable -board, in the presence of his wife.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘There she is,’ he would say, ‘she is my preserver!’ -Campbell and myself continued in our -lodgings, and with Saturday night came the bill of -expenses, but alas! our means were exhausted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When the bill for the first week was presented -to us, ‘Well,’ said the poet to me, ‘what do you -propose to do, general?’ To which I replied, ‘Do!—what -do I propose to do, did you ask me? I might -put the same question to you—but no! let an Irishman -alone for getting out of a scrape. I will call -up the landlord, and tell him our story; adding, that -I expect ere long my relatives will find out whither -I have been sent, and it cannot be, but that in a short -time funds will be sent to me.’ Suiting the action to -the word, I rang the bell, the landlord appeared, and -I gave him our story in a few words, for though a -German, he was well acquainted with our language. -‘An Irish general,’ said the apparently incredulous -Boniface, ‘and a Scotch poet!’ He left us with -the exclamation, and after he had gone, I proposed -a walk, to which my companion assenting, we -strolled around the city of Altona, and returned to -our lodgings, without having met with any occurrence -worthy of remark. Being somewhat fatigued, and -having no book, or other means of occupation, we -retired to our humble chamber, which had in it two -single beds, by no means luxurious.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Another week of anxiety passed away, and no -advices reached me. The poet and myself were in a -considerable stew. Another bill was presented, and -to our great surprise we found our host very lenient -indeed. He made no remark when presenting it—simply -asked me had I received my funds, and on expressing -my mortification that my reply must be in -the negative, he left me with a polite bow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘The accommodations,’ said the poet, ‘are here -none of the best, but our host is an honest fellow, we -have inspired him with confidence, and he appears -content to wait!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know not how it was, but I felt a strange sensation -come over me, a feeling that relief was at -hand. So strongly was I impressed with this belief -that I communicated it to my friend, who laughed -out at what he called my Irish modest assurance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Relief,’ he said, ‘may come when your relations -hear of you, but my word for it, that will not -be soon. No, no, there is no relief, and I must leave -you for my continental tour.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He however yielded to my solicitation to walk, -which was always my resource, and as we left the -house, I said to him, ‘Campbell, when we come -back I shall hear something.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘If you do,’ said he, ‘it may be in the shape of -a dun for our unpaid bills.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘You will see,’ I replied; when we sallied -forth, and were gone perhaps an hour. On returning -to our room, judge of the sensation I experienced -when I discovered on the oaken table, a neat envelope -directed, in a female hand, ‘To Gen. A. McC.’ -With an eagerness much more easily conceived than -described, I broke the seal—not a line of manuscript -did it contain—but for a moment my heart leaped -with joy, for I found within the envelope a Schleswig -Holstein bank bill of twenty dollars! Although -my surprise was without bounds—‘Did I not tell -you,’ said I to my friend, ‘that relief was at hand?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Our treasury was now replenished, and we had -a fruitful subject of conversation. Addressing himself -to his attentive listener, ‘I wish,’ said the -general, ‘you could have seen the stride with which -I paced up and down that room.’ Never in my -whole eventful life had I such commingled sensations. -My pride was gratified, that I could now -discharge our indebtedness to our host, while I -suffered the deepest humiliation in the reflection, -that I was considered an object of charity by some -unknown person! My curiosity was at fault to determine -who it could be, and I shall never forget -Campbell’s looks as he exclaimed, ‘You have conquered -here, if you could not in Ireland. But it is -Cupid who has been your aid. The hand-writing, -the neatness of the billet, and its diminutive proportions, -all declare it to be a <span class='it'>billet-doux</span>. My word -for it, your Irish complexion and figure have taken -captive the heart of some fair lady!’ This idea -greatly added to my embarrassment, but the pride -of being enabled to discharge our indebtedness, overcame -for the moment all my other sensations, and -strutting up to the bell, I rang it with so much violence, -that our landlord ran up in an instant, and demanded -to know what was the matter? ‘<span class='it'>Bring your -bill</span>,’ said I, ‘that I may at once discharge it.’ I -thought this would be the most agreeable intelligence -I could give him. What, then, was our joint -surprise, when he replied, ‘That, gentlemen, is of -no kind of importance; I pray of you give yourselves -no uneasiness on that score—you can pay me -at your convenience.’ Saying this, he departed, -leaving my friend and myself more deeply involved -in the mystery which had not only supplied us with -money, but which had also placed us in such ample -credit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘You see,’ said the poet, ‘you are known, and -Cupid has taken you under his special protection. -Let us call for wine, and pledge him, and the sweet -<span class='it'>heart</span> he has enlisted in your service, in a bottle of -the very best the house affords. Would for her sake -and our own it were nectar!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The wine was ordered, and it was long before it -made its appearance, for it was a fluid unknown -within the precincts of our habitation; but it came -at last, and though none of the best, never was the -choicest Burgundy drunk with greater <span class='it'>gusto</span>, or a -toast given with a more hearty glee than inspired us -till we finished the second bottle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Time now passed more pleasantly. The second -Saturday brought another note, addressed in the -same hand-writing, containing a second bank-note of -the same amount. Finding our finances so much -improved we took better lodgings, and indulged ourselves -with more of the creature comforts, for the -unknown benefactor found us out in our new abode, -and continued the supply, which enabled us to do -so.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think,” continued the general, “it was in -the fourth week that I was returning to my lodgings -alone, in the dusk of the evening, when one of the -flag-stones of the pavement being somewhat raised -above its fellows, caused me to strike it with my -foot, and being thus thrown from my equilibrium, I -fell against the porch of a dwelling, in which was -seated a lady, who did not attract my attention until -I heard a voice, a sweet voice, which inquired if I -was hurt. A voice in my native tongue uttering -sounds of sympathy would have been accompanied -with a charm, come from whom it might; but imagine -the ecstasy with which I was thrilled when I -heard the sweet voice which addressed me, and -knew it to be from the lips of a fair daughter of the -Emerald Isle—in plain English, an Irish woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘I hope you are not hurt, general?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘General!’ she knows me then, thought I.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Come,’ said she, ‘and rest yourself in the porch.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I could no longer contain myself. I had been -dining out with an acquaintance—for I had by this -time made one or two acquaintances—and the generous -wine I had imbibed had opened my heart, alive -as it was, to any and every accent of kindness to an -exile. I could contain myself no longer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell me,” said I, “by what blessed influence -I have been thus brought to listen to the sweet sympathizing -accents of a country-woman, and one who -appears to know me: for if I mistake not, you addressed -me by my title—the sad, sad title which calls -up all my afflictions, and revives the sad fate of my -companions in a strife which failed to benefit our beloved -country, proved fatal to one of the best men, -and sent me hither a wandering exile.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There,” said he, pointing to his wife, then present, -“there sits the angel of mercy, who poured into -my attentive ears—till they reached my inmost -soul—accents attuned to the most holy of all earthly -consolations: accents of sympathy for me, and the -most noble and heroic sentiments, applauding the -course of our dear native land.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now,” said the lady, “I pray of you do not -get into your heroics:” and addressing their guest, -she continued—“Receive what he says with many -allowances, for on this subject he is insane. I forgive -him, for he has suffered much in the cause of -that dear land from which we both derive our birth; -and you who know him know that he never thinks -or speaks of dear Erin and his exile—of a spot for -which he is ready to shed the last drop of his blood—that -his whole soul is not on fire. Of this he may -talk to you; and if you will listen to him he will do -so till to-morrow’s sun shall warm you with his meridian -rays—but I forbid him to talk of me and of our -union.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Forbid!” said the husband, “there is no such -word in the vocabulary. I will tell this to our friend, -for you know I love him. I will tell him how you -courted me, and how you saved me, and made me -what I am, your happy husband.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To this the fond wife would reply, deprecating the -continuance of his narrative, which, however, did -not prevent him from doing ample justice to every -incident which occurred; from the time of their first -accidental meeting as here related, until Hymen had -sealed a union which had made both husband and -wife as happy as they could be under the circumstances -of his banishment. This was an eternal -source of chagrin and mortification to his heroic -soul; and never could Ireland be named within his -hearing, that the tear did not start in his eye.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The substance of his love affair was, that the -lady of whom we have spoken was an Irish lady, -who had come when a young woman with her parents -to Altona, had married a young German, who -did not long survive their union. She was left in -very comfortable circumstances, and hearing from -the keeper of the inn that a person was an inmate -with him, calling himself an Irish general, who had -been banished, and who had not heard from his -friends, and was without funds, she had sent him -the weekly supply which so much astonished the -poet and the general. The innkeeper—knowing the -lady to be an Irish woman—had gone to consult her -as to the probability of the general’s story, and had -been told to withhold nothing, and that she would be -responsible. Often did she tell the writer that she -sent the money without any expectation of ever seeing -the recipient, who was represented to her as so -fine-looking in person, that he could not be an impostor. -She believed him to be a veritable Irishman -in distress, and—that was enough—had she never -seen him, he was a countryman of hers, and had a -right to any thing she could do for him—happy to -have been furnished with an object to call forth her -patriotic feelings, to exercise them in his behalf was -her greatest delight. Pure accident had given her a -knowledge of who was the cause of calling them -forth, and his heart was touched and hers responded -to his love—they had been several years married -when the writer became an inmate with them—their -home was the abode of peace and contentment, and -a hospitality that knew no limits.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was enough that their guest was an American -to call forth all their patriotic feelings: and many -were there—besides the writer of this imperfect -sketch of so noble a character—that can join with -the writer in esteeming it a high honor, and a source -of extreme gratification to have been permitted to -know and to enjoy the society of the “Original -Erin-go-bragh.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His sentence of banishment was remitted many -years after the period here spoken of; and he was -permitted again to return to the home of his childhood, -and the land of his forefathers, for which he -had bled, and for the redemption of which he was -ever ready to lay down his life—but it was not -so ordered. He died in peace, and was buried -in the tomb of his ancestors. General Anthony -McCann was the veritable and original “Erin-go-bragh.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk126'/> - -<div><h1><a id='miss'></a>TO MISS LIGHT UNDERWOOD.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY J. R. BARRICK.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>I have been out this lovely eve,</p> -<p class='line0'>  With Nature’s self to muse,</p> -<p class='line0'>While pleasant thoughts fell gently on</p> -<p class='line0'>  My heart like falling dews;</p> -<p class='line0'>And every star and every flower</p> -<p class='line0'>That gave their presence to the hour,</p> -<p class='line0'>And every voice of melody,</p> -<p class='line0'>Seemed laden with sweet thoughts of thee.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>I mused upon thy deep, high soul</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of intellect and grace:</p> -<p class='line0'>I mused on all the loveliness</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of thy fair form and face:</p> -<p class='line0'>And thy bright smile unto my dreams</p> -<p class='line0'>Came stealing like the glow that beams</p> -<p class='line0'>From sky and star, in waves of light</p> -<p class='line0'>Upon the far, dim shades of night.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>With every tone of moonlight sound,</p> -<p class='line0'>  With every breeze of balm,</p> -<p class='line0'>With every fountain, lake and stream,</p> -<p class='line0'>  So beautiful and calm,</p> -<p class='line0'>With every cloud, with every star,</p> -<p class='line0'>And every sound borne from afar,</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy voice seemed mingling with the whole,</p> -<p class='line0'>Of Music’s self the life and soul.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And as I gazed up to the sky,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And on the earth below,</p> -<p class='line0'>My thoughts went back a few brief months,</p> -<p class='line0'>  ’Mid saddening scenes of wo:</p> -<p class='line0'>When thou wert lost in rayless night,</p> -<p class='line0'>A wanderer from the sense of sight,</p> -<p class='line0'>When Nature’s self had ceased to cheer</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy high heart with her beauty dear,</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>I mused on the long night of wo</p> -<p class='line0'>  That thou wert doomed to share,</p> -<p class='line0'>When not a hope was left to beam</p> -<p class='line0'>  Upon thy dark despair:</p> -<p class='line0'>I thought how sad it was to be</p> -<p class='line0'>From earth and sky shut out like thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>To pine beneath a cloud of gloom,</p> -<p class='line0'>Hung o’er thee, like a raven’s plume.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>But now thou art restored again,</p> -<p class='line0'>  To former sense of sight,</p> -<p class='line0'>And lookest back with fearful gaze</p> -<p class='line0'>  On that remembered night:</p> -<p class='line0'>And happy in thy mind’s high powers</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou rangest Thought’s Elysian bowers,</p> -<p class='line0'>And canst behold with joyous eyes,</p> -<p class='line0'>The wide, green earth, and free blue skies.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk127'/> - -<div><h1><a id='hunt'></a>THE CONDOR HUNT.<a id='r2'/><a href='#f2' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[2]</span></sup></a></h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY LIEUT. WM. F. LYNCH.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In each division of the American Continent, nature -seems to have carried on her operations with boundless -magnificence, and upon a gigantic scale. Chateaubriand, -reclining by his watch-fire on the banks -of the Niagara, where the thunders of its cataract -were only interrupted by the startling yell of the -Iroquois, could yet <span class='it'>feel</span>, in the midst of tumult, the -amazing silence and solitude of the North American -forest. And the hardy mariner, whose bark has -escaped the perils of the Southern sea, and is wafted -along the western coast of Chili, looks with no less -admiration upon the fertile plains gradually receding -into the swell of the Andes, which literally lifts its -smoking craters and towering eminences above the -clouds, and upon its snow-capped and sunny summits, -scarcely feels the undulations of the storms -which gather and burst around its waist.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With the stars and stripes of the Union floating -from the mast-head of our frigate, we were sailing -along that part of the coast of Chili, where the waving -line of the Andes rounds within a short distance of -the Pacific, and were unusually solicitous, after -the perils and privations of a tempestuous sea-voyage, -to tread upon a soil on which nature, from her -horn of abundance, has poured forth the choicest of -her gifts.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Older sailors than ourselves had spoken of the -generous hospitality of the Spanish colonists, and -there were historical associations connected with -this favored land, well calculated to render a visit -agreeable. Who that has been nurtured in the lap -of freedom, would not long to look upon the only -race of native people on the western continent who -had never been subdued, and who, to this day, tread -the soil of their forefathers unvanquished and invincible?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Araucanians, who inhabit the southern portion -of this delightful country, like the Saxons of the -European continent, are the only native race who -have successfully repelled every invader, and who, -happier than the Saxon, still rejoice in their unbridled -freedom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Neither Diego Almagro, with his brutal treachery, -nor Valverde, with his unsparing cruelty, could ever -subdue or intimidate a race of freemen whose liberties -still survive the frequent convulsions by which -they have been agitated. The flame of freedom -among this gallant people, like the volcanoes of their -native mountains, seems destined to burn on for ever -unextinguished. But I proposed to speak of the -Condor Hunt on the plains of Chili.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Every one has heard of the Condor or Great Vulture -of the Andes, rivaling in natural history, the -fabled feats of the Roc of Sinbad. Even the genius -of Humboldt has failed to strip this giant bird of its -time-honored renown, and his effort to reduce the -Chilian Condor to the level of the Lammergyer of -the Alps, is a signal failure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Although he has divested this mountain-bird of -all its fictitious attributes, and stripped a goodly portion -of romantic narrative of its wildest imagery, -yet the Condor still floats in the solitude of the -higher heavens, the monarch of the feathered race. -The favorite abiding-place of this formidable bird is -along a chain of mountains in our southern continent, -whose summits, lifted far above the clouds, are -robed in snow, which a torrid sun may kiss but never -melt. Above all animal life, and beyond the limit -of even mountain vegetation, these birds delight to -dwell, inhaling an air too highly attenuated to be -endured by other than creatures peculiarly adapted -to it. From the crown of these immense elevations -they slowly and lazily unfold their sweeping pinions, -and wheeling in wide and ascending circles, they -soar upward into the dark blue vault of heaven, -until their great bulk diminishes to the merest -speck, or is entirely lost to the aching sight of the -observer.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“All day thy wings have fanned,</p> -<p class='line0'> At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere,</p> -<p class='line0'> Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,</p> -<p class='line0'> Though the dark night is near.</p> -<p class='line0'> There is a Power whose care</p> -<p class='line0'> Teaches thy way along that pathless coast—</p> -<p class='line0'> The desert and illimitable air—</p> -<p class='line0'> Lone wandering—but not lost.</p> -<p class='line0'> Thou art gone—the abyss of heaven</p> -<p class='line0'> Hath swallowed up thy form.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>In those pure fields of ether, unvisited even by the -thunder-cloud, regions which may be regarded as -his own exclusive domain, the Condor delights to -sail, and with piercing glance survey the surface of -the earth, toward which he never stoops but at the -call of hunger. Surely this power to waft and to -sustain himself in the loftiest regions of the air—the -ability to endure, uninjured, the exceeding cold attendant -upon such remoteness from the earth, and -to breathe with ease in an atmosphere of such extreme -rarity—together with the keenness of sight -that, from such vast heights can minutely scan the -objects beneath, as well as the formidable powers -of this bird, when the herds are scattered before -him; were sufficiently admirable to entitle the Condor -to our attention, and to give us promise of goodly -sport in the approaching Condor or Lasso Hunt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A large landed proprietor, a descendant of one of -the early Spanish patentees, to whom we had been -indebted for abundant supplies of fruit and provisions, -as well as for numberless civilities, conveyed -to us at length the welcome tidings that the Condor, -numerous as the sands of the shore had stooped -from his sublime domain, to the base of the mountain, -and that the hunt would commence in the -morning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sun had scarcely risen in the heavens, when -our party of from twenty-five to thirty, sprang from -the boats to the beach. The plain before us ran in a -gently ascending slope to the base of the hill about -one mile distant. The hunt was up—and the field -in the distance was dotted with scampering herds of -cattle and groups of horsemen, mingled in one dusty -mêlée, the sight of which lent wings to our speed, -as vaulting into the deep Spanish saddles, prepared -by our worthy host, we sprang onward to the field -of blood. Impelled by the cravings of resistless appetite, -the Condor, regardless of danger, pressed -forward to assail the herds of the plain; while the -watchmen, having sounded the alarm, the numerous -population turned out, as well to protect their cattle, -as to hunt the mountain-bird—the Chilian’s manly -pastime.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From the midst of a canopy of dust, spread wide -over the plain, there came forth sounds of noisy conflict, -resembling the heady current of a “foughten -field;” and mountain and hill-side were shaken by -the shouts of the hunters, the tramp of scampering -horsemen, and the bellowing of enraged and affrighted -cattle. The Condor, alone, rapid as the -cassowary of the desert, pursued in silence his destined -prey. As we rapidly approached, we perceived -one of the herd bursting from the western -extremity of the cloud of dust, lashing his bleeding -side with his tail, and his blood-shotten eyes starting -wildly from their sockets, while foaming at the -mouth, he bellowed loudly with pain. With a wonderful -unity of purpose, he alone was closely pursued -by the whole flock of birds, who, disregarding the -other animals, seemed to follow, as with a single -will, this stricken one, who was at the same time -cautiously avoided by his terrified companions. -Like all gregarious birds, the Condor appeared to -have a leader, who, rushing at their head, into the -midst of the herd, pounced with his greedy beak -upon this devoted animal, the fattest and the sleekest -of the multitude, and tore a piece of flesh from his -side. Attracted by the sight or the scent of blood, -the whole flock, like a brood of harpies, joined in the -mad pursuit. Swift of foot as the fleetest racer, -they kept close to his side, ever and anon striking -with unerring sagacity at his eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Tell me not of the gladiators of martial Rome, or -of the Tauridors of modern Seville—they were pastimes -for children, compared with the thrilling excitement -of the Condor Hunt. Away they fled, and -away we hurried in the chase. A thousand horsemen -were wheeling rapidly in pursuit—a thousand -cattle, terrified and frantic, swept over the plain—and -a thousand Condors mingled in the crowd—until, -by the rapid movement, herd and Condor were again -hidden from the view in clouds of dust. A loud -shout soon after attracted us to the scene of conflict. -Bursting forth once again from the cloud of dust -into which he had vainly rushed, the devoted animal -plunged madly forward, yet more closely followed -by the whole field of vultures. Black with dust, and -streaming with blood from a hundred wounds inflicted -by the remorseless beaks of his pursuers, he -still fled onward, but with diminished speed. As if -looking to man for assistance in his extremity, he -rushed through the midst of our cavalcade, and the -Condor, regardless of our presence, hung upon his -side, or followed in his foot-prints.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From the altered movement of the animal after he -had passed us, with his head on high, plunging and -blundering over the uneven ground, it was evident -that his course was no longer directed by sight. -His eyes were gone—they had been torn from their -bleeding sockets!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wearied and panting, his tongue hangs from his -mouth, and every thirsty beak is upon it. Still onward -he flies, hopeful of escape—and onward presses -the Condor, secure of his prey. The animal now -appeared to be dashing for the water, but his declining -speed and unequal step rendered it doubtful -whether he could reach it. He seemed suddenly to -despair of doing so, for wheeling round with one last -and desperate effort, he gathered himself up in the -fullness of his remaining strength, and rushed into -the midst of the herd, as if he sought by mingling in -the living mass, to divert the attention of his pursuers. -But the mark and the scent of blood was -upon him, and on the track of blood the Condor is -untiring and relentless. Beast and bird once again -were lost to view beneath the curtain of dust which -overspread the trembling plain. But, in a few moments, -pursued by every bird, he broke from the -midst of the herd, and made a few desperate plunges -toward the water, and reeling onward, fell at length -bleeding and exhausted, on the very margin of the -sea!</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Sternitur exanimisque tremens procumbit humis bos.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>In an instant he was buried up among his pursuers, -his flesh torn off, yet quivering, by hungry -beaks, and his smoking entrails trailed upon the -ground. In the distance, on the verge of the horizon, -the last of the herd might still be discerned, -flying upon the wings of the wind from the fate of -their companion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Our host gave the signal, and we hurried to the -spot to rescue the carcass, with a view to visit upon -the Condor vengeance for the mischief he had done, -and the blood he had spilled. At our near approach -they took reluctantly and lazily to wing, and wheeling -in oblique circles, they were soon seen floating -over the crest of the mountain, dark specks in the -firmament. The hunters, prepared with stakes about -seven feet in length, commenced driving them in -the ground, a few inches apart, and in a circular -form around the carcass, leaving a small space open. -As soon as we retired from the spot, the birds descended -upon the plain, and entering the inclosure, -renewed their feast, and again took wing. In the -course of a few hours, the huntsmen returned, and -throwing into the pen an additional supply of food, -drove down other stakes in the open space, leaving -just sufficient room for the admission of the -Condor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The birds, more numerous than ever, returned to -their filthy banquet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Meanwhile, having refreshed our horses, and partaken -of the hospitality of our worthy host, we -once more took the field for vengeance on the -gorged and lazy foe. As the wings of these birds -have a sweep of seventeen feet, <a id='they'></a>they are not readily -unfurled, so that when the Condor has alighted on -the plain, he is only enabled to rise by running over -a space of fifteen or twenty rods, and gradually gathering -wind to lift himself on high. While in the -midst of their ravenous feast, a few of the hunters -warily approached and closed the opening; and thus, -unable to soar aloft from a spot so confined and -crowded, the Condors were captive. But a Chilian -scorns thus to slay a foe. Armed with a lasso, each -of the natives sits upon his horse, eagerly awaiting -the turning loose of half a dozen birds from the inclosure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They are out—and away scamper the Condor, -fleet as the winds of heaven—and away, in rapid -pursuit, wheels the mounted Chilian, swinging -around his head the noose of the unerring lasso, -which, falling upon the neck of the bird, makes him -captive. The line is played out, and away sweeps -the powerful bird, and away the practiced horseman -after him. Springing upward, the Condor now unfolds -his wings and flutters in such width of circle -as the rope will permit—and now shoots perpendicularly -upward—and now falls headlong, and is trailed -exhausted on the ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The lengthened shadows of evening had fallen -along the plain before the sport was up, and the last -Condor was captured. We returned to our ship, -well pleased with the entertainment, and swinging -into our hammocks sunk into deep slumber, for -which the exercise of the day had prepared us—but -our sleep was not too sound for refreshing visitations -from friends far away,</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“O’er the glad waters of the dark blue sea.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<hr class='footnotemark'/> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_2'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f2'><a href='#r2'>[2]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>From Naval Life, published by Chas. Scribner, N. Y.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk128'/> - -<div><h1><a id='beau'></a>BEAUTIE.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MRS. E. J. EAMES.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Thou wert a worship in the ages olden,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thou bright-veiled image of divinity;</p> -<p class='line0'>Crowned with such gleams, imperial and golden,</p> -<p class='line0'>  As Phidias gave to Immortality!</p> -<p class='line0'>A type exquisite of the pure Ideal,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Forth shadowed in perfect loveliness—</p> -<p class='line0'>Embodied and existent in the Real,</p> -<p class='line0'>  A peerless shape to kneel before, and bless!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>With the world’s childhood didst thou spring to being!</p> -<p class='line0'>  A thing of light!—a <span class='it'>felt</span> divinity!</p> -<p class='line0'>A stainless spirit, born of Love undying,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Nurst in that Eden of an earlier day.</p> -<p class='line0'>Thence wandering on the morn of thy <span class='it'>awakening</span>,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Like a Dream-vision through the world didst go,</p> -<p class='line0'>Filling its darkness with bright things, and making</p> -<p class='line0'>  The wild waste blossom, and the desert glow.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Still o’er the Earth, thy shining foot-prints tarry,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Upon the mountain-tops thy step yet strays;</p> -<p class='line0'>Through the rich woods thy rainbow plume floats airy,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And on the sea thy form of glory plays!</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy purple pinions fan the brow of morning;</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thy sun-bright splendors on the noonday rest,</p> -<p class='line0'>Eve wears the silvery veil of thy adorning,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And night by thee in queenly robes is drest.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Oh, Beautie! still doth thy bright spirit linger</p> -<p class='line0'>  In the green vale where Jove was nurst of old:</p> -<p class='line0'>Where the Babe Thunderer listened to the singer</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of “many-fountained Ida,” as ’tis told!</p> -<p class='line0'>Still hauntest thou the violet-crowned city—</p> -<p class='line0'>  The Trojan Mountain, and the Cretan Hill?</p> -<p class='line0'>Wanders thy soul yet, in the Syren’s ditty—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Speaks forth thy heart from the Lost Glory still?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>We have rare legends of thy marvelous presence—</p> -<p class='line0'>  In Egypt’s Queen and bright Zenobia’s form;</p> -<p class='line0'>In lovelorn Sappho thrilled thine airiest essence—</p> -<p class='line0'>  In proud Aspasia’s intellectual charm!</p> -<p class='line0'>Nor was thy soul (through Raphael’s pencil) wanting</p> -<p class='line0'>  In Fornarina’s soft seraphic face!</p> -<p class='line0'>And, thanks to Petrarch, Laura’s form is haunting</p> -<p class='line0'>  Our hearts with dreams of rare and breathing grace.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Once more! thou art the well-beloved of <span class='it'>Nature</span>!</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thine empire sweet, is o’er the grand old earth;</p> -<p class='line0'>And well thy soft hand printeth on each feature</p> -<p class='line0'>  The brightness of thine own Immortal birth!</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou touchest with rich hues and scents the blossom;</p> -<p class='line0'>  With emerald lines thou pencilest each leaf;</p> -<p class='line0'>Pearlest with dew the lonely flower-bells bosom,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And flingest thy glory o’er the golden sheaf.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Joy to thy presence, all-pervading spirit!</p> -<p class='line0'>  Well may we worship at thy magic shrine;</p> -<p class='line0'>There is <span class='it'>no gift</span> that mortals may inherit</p> -<p class='line0'>  So favored and god-blest, and dear as thine.</p> -<p class='line0'>And still to <span class='it'>me</span>, thy worshiper, oh, Beautie!</p> -<p class='line0'>  Come as a guest divine—an angel-friend;</p> -<p class='line0'>Give me to see thee, in each darker duty,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And radiate my life-path to the end!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk129'/> - -<div><h1><a id='what'></a>WHAT GLORY COSTS THE NATION.</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>In the February number, we gave a short extract -from Upham’s Manual of Peace, in relation to the -cost of the Army and Navy of the United States. -That article has brought out an officer of the Navy, -with the following—in which we get abuse for facts, -and sharp sentences for figures. We can stand a -moderate amount of flaying without blubbering, and -have no faith in the theory that a drop of ink will -raise a blister, except upon persons exceedingly thin-skinned. -But our correspondent, who takes a narrow -view of both <span class='it'>time and figures</span>, appears to think the -question a new one, and settled by his article, and -both Upham and Graham demolished.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sir,—Freedom of speech, and freedom of the -press, are among the best privileges guarantied by a -republican form of government; but freedom of -speech is not to be taken as a license to state for -fact what is not true without possibility of contradiction. -Nor is freedom of speech to be construed -into a privilege of saying sharp or impertinent and -impudent things with impunity. It has been said as -a rule, ‘joke as much as you please, but never trespass -on fact,’ which means, when you fall into an -error, you are bound to correct it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“With these notions fresh upon me, I venture to -point out an erroneous statement in the first page of -the February number of Graham, which is calculated -to prejudice a large number of people against -the Navy and Army of the country. Graham -(Upham) states that the cost of maintaining the -Army and Navy of the United States is equal to -eighty per cent., that is, four-fifths of the entire revenue. -This must strike every reflecting mind to be -an expense so enormous as to render it desirable to -be rid of both Army and Navy. But the statement -is entirely erroneous, as a moment’s thought will -show. If four-fifths of the revenue are absorbed in -maintaining the Army and Navy, only one fifth is -left to meet the expense of the ‘civil list,’ president -and officers of the cabinet, foreign ministers and consuls, -custom-house officers, light-houses, etc. etc.</p> - -<table id='tab3' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 22.5em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 3.5em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 7.5em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 0.5em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle1'>“The total expenditure for the Navy and Marine Corps, for the fiscal year ending June 30, 1850, was</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle4'>$5,523,722 83</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle1'>The expenditure for the Army about</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle4'>6,476,278 17</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle4'>——————</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle3'>Total,</td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle4'>$12,000,000 00</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle1'></td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle3'> </td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle4'> </td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle2'> </td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab3c1 tdStyle1'>The revenue for the same period was</td><td class='tab3c2 tdStyle3'></td><td class='tab3c3 tdStyle4'>$47,421,748 90</td><td class='tab3c4 tdStyle2'></td></tr> -</table> - -<p class='pindent'>“So that in round numbers, the expense of the -Army and Navy together, is about one-fourth, or -twenty-five per cent. of the revenue instead of 80 -per cent., as stated, which is an excess of at least -55 per cent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It should not be forgotten, however, that twenty-five -per cent. of the whole revenue for military -establishments is a large proportion; but without -these establishments, it is possible we might soon -be entirely without revenue, because our commerce, -without a navy, would be open to the depredation -of pirates of all nations, and might be crippled if not -totally destroyed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The expense of keeping a dog may be considerable; -but if that dog protects us from thieves -and burglars, the money spent for his maintenance -may be regarded as money well laid out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The expense of the military establishments is -not their fault or sin; but the evil is to be attributed -to the ignorance of mankind. When the whole world -becomes educated and instructed, all wars will be -conducted with pen and ink, and aid of arithmetic. -Sensible men, while in their senses, never cut each -other’s throats for differences of opinion; they argue -the difference; and he who has most logic and good -sense, is always willing to ‘do to others as he would -others should do unto him.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Therefore, friend Graham (Upham) continue to -teach your readers <span style='font-size:smaller'>TRUTH</span>, and they will acquire so -strong a sense of justice, as to do away with any -necessity for fighting among themselves or against -others.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Well, we will “<span class='it'>continue</span> to teach our readers -<span class='it'>truth</span>,” and the advice points a moral. Navy <span class='it'>officers -are bad logicians</span>!—but are a pretty good set of -fellows so long as they are paid well for the fighting -that <span class='it'>may be done</span>, in the next generation; and are -allowed to say themselves, that “the expense of the -military establishments is to be attributed to the -ignorance of mankind,” without using any means to -enlighten mankind upon the subject.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Since our correspondent finds fault with us, or -Upham, about his facts and figures, we give him the -following from a gentleman<a id='r3'/><a href='#f3' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[3]</span></sup></a> who has paid some -attention to the matter, and ask him to look the question -in the face fairly, and answer the arguments and -figures, and if he makes out but a partial case, we -will publish his reply, however sharp and acrid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I do not propose to dwell upon the immense cost -of War itself. That will be present to the minds of all, -in the mountainous accumulations of debt, piled like -Ossa upon Pelion, with which Europe is pressed to -the earth. According to the most recent tables to -which I have had access, the public debt of the -different European States, so far as it is known, -amounts to the terrific sum of $6,387,000,000, all of -this the growth of War! It is said that there are -throughout these states, 17,900,000 paupers, or persons -subsisting at the expense of the country, without -contributing to its resources. If these millions of -the public debt, forming only a part of what has been -wasted in War, could be apportioned among these -poor, it would give to each of them $375, a sum -which would place all above want, and which is -about equal to the average value of the property of -each inhabitant of Massachusetts.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The public debt of Great Britain reached in 1839 -to $4,265,000,000, the growth of War since 1688! -This amount is nearly equal to the sum-total, according -to the calculations of Humboldt, of all the -treasures which have been reaped from the harvest of -gold and silver in the mines of Spanish America, -including Mexico and Peru, since the first discovery -of our hemisphere by Christopher Columbus! It is -much larger than the mass of all precious metals, -which at this moment form the circulating medium -of the world! It is sometimes rashly said by those -who have given little attention to this subject, that -all this expenditure was widely distributed, and -therefore beneficial to the people; but this apology -does not bear in mind that it was not bestowed in -any productive industry, or on any <span class='it'>useful</span> object. -The magnitude of this waste will appear by a contrast -with other expenditures; the aggregate capital -of all the joint stock companies in England, of which -there was any known record in 1842, embracing canals, -docks, bridges, insurance companies, banks, -gas-lights, water, mines, railways, and other miscellaneous -objects, was about $835,000,000; a sum -which has been devoted to the welfare of the people, -but how much less in amount than the War -Debt! For the six years ending in 1836, the average -payment for the interest on this debt was about -$140,000,000 annually. If we add to this sum, -$60,000,000 during this same period paid annually to -the army, navy and ordnance, we shall have -$200,000,000 as the annual tax of the English people, -to pay for former wars and to prepare for new. -During this same period there was an annual appropriation -of only $20,000,000 for all the civil purposes -of the Government. It thus appears that <span class='it'>War</span> absorbed -ninety cents of every dollar that was pressed -by heavy taxation from the English people, who almost -seem to sweat blood! What fabulous monster, -or chimera dire, ever raged with a maw so ravenous? -The remaining ten cents sufficed to maintain -the splendor of the throne, the administration -of justice, and the diplomatic relations with foreign -powers, in short, all the proper objects of a Christian -State.<a id='r4'/><a href='#f4' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[4]</span></sup></a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>Thus much for the general cost of War. Let us -now look exclusively at the <span class='it'>Preparations for War -in time of peace</span>. It is one of the miseries of War, -that, even in peace, its evils continue to be felt by -the world, beyond any other evils by which poor -suffering Humanity is oppressed. If Bellona withdraws -from the field, we only lose the sight of her flaming -torches; the bay of her dogs is heard on the -mountains, and civilized man thinks to find protection -from their sudden fury, only by inclosing himself -in the barbarous armor of battle. At this moment -the Christian nations, worshiping a symbol of -common brotherhood, live as in entrenched camps -in which they keep armed watch, to prevent surprise -from each other. Recognizing the <span class='it'>custom</span> of War -as a proper Arbiter of Justice, they hold themselves -perpetually ready for the bloody umpirage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is difficult, if not impossible, to arrive at any -exact estimate of the cost of these preparations, -ranging under four different heads; the Standing -Army; the Navy; the Fortifications and Arsenals; -and the Militia or irregular troops.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The number of soldiers now affecting to keep the -peace of European Christendom, as a <span class='it'>Standing -Army</span>, without counting the Navy, is upward of two -millions. Some estimates place it as high as three -millions. The army of Great Britain exceeds 300,000 -men; that of France 350,000; that of Russia 730,000, -and is reckoned by some as high as 1,000,000; that -of Austria 275,000; that of Prussia 150,000. Taking -the smaller number, suppose these two millions to -require for their annual support an average sum of -only $150 each, the result would be $300,000,000, -for their sustenance alone; and reckoning one officer -to ten soldiers, and allowing to each of the latter an -English shilling a day, or $87 a year, for wages, and -to the former an average salary of $500 a year, we -should have for the pay of the whole no less than -$256,000,000, or an appalling sum-total for both sustenance -and pay of $556,000,000. If the same calculation -be made, supposing the forces to amount to -three millions, the sum-total will be $835,000,000! -But to this enormous sum another still more enormous -must be added on account of the loss sustained -by the withdrawal of two millions of hardy, healthy -men, in the bloom of life, from useful, productive -labor. It is supposed that it costs an average sum -of $500 to rear a soldier; and that the value of his -labor, if devoted to useful objects, would be $150 a -year. The Christian Powers, therefore, in setting -apart two millions of men, as soldiers, sustain a loss -of $1,000,000,000 on account of their training; and -$300,000,000 annually, on account of their labor, in -addition to the millions already mentioned as annually -expended for sustenance and pay. So much for the -cost of the standing army of European Christendom -in time of Peace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Glance now at the <span class='it'>Navy</span> of European Christendom. -The Royal Navy of Great Britain consists at -present of 557 ships of all classes; but deducting such -as are used for convict ships, floating chapels, coal -depots, the efficient navy consists of 88 sail of the -line; 109 frigates; 190 small frigates, corvettes, brigs -and cutters, including packets; 65 steamers of various -sizes; 3 troop-ships and yachts; in all 455 ships. -Of these there were in commission in 1839, 190 -ships, carrying in all 4,202 guns. The number of -hands employed was 34,465. The Navy of France, -though not comparable in size with that of England, -is of vast force. By royal ordinance of 1st January, -1837, it was fixed in time of peace at 40 ships of the -line, 50 frigates, 40 steamers, and 190 smaller vessels; -and the amount of crews in 1839, was 20,317. -The Russian Navy consists of two large fleets in -the Gulf of Finland and the Black Sea; but the exact -amount of their force and their available resources -has been a subject of dispute among naval men and -politicians. Some idea of the size of the navy may -be derived from the number of hands employed. -The crews of the Baltic fleet amounted in 1837, to -not less than 30,800 men; and those of the fleet in -the Black Sea to 19,800, or altogether 50,600. The -Austrian Navy consisted in 1837, of 8 ships of the -line, 8 frigates, 4 sloops, 6 brigs, 7 schooners or galleys, -and a number of smaller vessels; the number -of men in its service in 1839, was 4,547. The Navy -of Denmark consisted at the close of 1837, of 7 ships -of the line, 7 frigates, 5 sloops, 6 brigs, 3 schooners, -5 cutters, 58 gun-boats, 6 gun-rafts, and 3 bomb-vessels, -requiring about 6,500 men to man them. The -Navy of Sweden and Norway consisted recently of -238 gun-boats, 11 ships of the line, 8 frigates, 4 corvettes, -6 brigs, with several smaller vessels. The -Navy of Greece consists of 32 ships of war, carrying -190 guns, and 2,400 men. The Navy of Holland in -1839 consisted of 8 ships of the line, 21 frigates, 15 -corvettes, 21 brigs, and 95 gun-boats. Of the immense -cost of all these mighty Preparations for -War, it is impossible to give any accurate idea. -But we may lament that means, so gigantic, should -be applied by European Christendom to the erection -in time of Peace, of such superfluous wooden -walls!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the <span class='it'>Fortifications and Arsenals</span> of Europe, -crowning every height, commanding every valley, -and frowning over every plain and every sea, wealth -beyond calculation has been sunk. Who can tell the -immense sums that have been expended in hollowing -out, for the purposes of War, the living rock of -Gibraltar? Who can calculate the cost of all the -Preparations at Woolwich, its 27,000 cannons, and -its hundreds of thousands of small arms? France -alone contains upward of one hundred and twenty -fortified places. And it is supposed that the yet unfinished -fortifications of Paris have cost upward of -<span class='it'>fifty millions of dollars</span>!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The cost of the <span class='it'>Militia</span> or irregular troops, the -Yeomanry of England, the National Guards of Paris, -and the <span class='it'>Landwehr</span> and <span class='it'>Landsturm</span> of Prussia, must -add other incalculable sums to these enormous -amounts.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Turn now to the <span class='it'>United States</span>, separated by a -broad ocean from immediate contact with the great -powers of Christendom, bound by treaties of amity and -commerce with all the nations of the earth; connected -with all by the strong ties of mutual interest; -and professing a devotion to the principles of Peace. -Are the Treaties of Amity mere words? Are the -relations of commerce and mutual interest mere -things of a day? Are the professions of Peace vain? -Else why not repose in quiet, unvexed by Preparations -for War?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Enormous as are the expenses of this character in -Europe, those in our own country are still greater in -proportion to the other expenditures of the Federal -Government.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It appears that the average <span class='it'>annual</span> expenditure -of the Federal Government for the six years ending -with 1840, exclusive of payments on account of debt, -were $26,474,892. Of this sum the average appropriation -each year for military and naval purposes -amounted to $21,328,903, being eighty per cent. of -the whole amount! Yes; of all the annual appropriations -by the Federal Government, eighty cents -in every dollar were applied in this irrational and -unproductive manner. The remaining twenty cents -sufficed to maintain the Government in all its -branches, Executive, Legislative, and Judicial, the -administration of justice, our relations with foreign -nations, the post-office and all the light-houses, which—in -happy useful contrast with any forts—shed their -cheerful signals over the rough waves beating upon -our long and indented coast, from the bay of Fundy -to the mouth of the Mississippi. A table of the relative -expenditure of nations, for military Preparations -in time of Peace, exclusive of payments on account -of the debts, presents results which will surprise -the advocates of economy in our country. -These are in proportion to the whole expenditure of -Government:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In Austria, as 33 per cent.,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In France, as 38 per cent.,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In Prussia, as 44 per cent.,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In Great Britain, as 74 per cent.,</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the <span class='sc'>United States</span>, as 80 per cent.!<a id='r5'/><a href='#f5' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[5]</span></sup></a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>To this magnificent waste by the Federal Government, -may be added the still larger and equally superfluous -expenses of the Militia throughout the -country, placed recently by a candid and able writer, -at $50,000,000 a year!<a id='r6'/><a href='#f6' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[6]</span></sup></a></p> - -<p class='pindent'>By a table<a id='r7'/><a href='#f7' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[7]</span></sup></a> of the expenditures of the United -States, exclusive of payments on account of the -Public Debt, it appears, that, <span class='it'>in the fifty-three years -from the formation of our present Government</span>, from -1789 down to 1843, $246,620,055 have been expended -for civil purposes, comprehending the executive, the -legislature, the judiciary, the post office, light-houses, -and intercourse with foreign governments. During -this same period $368,626,594 have been devoted to -the military establishment, and $170,437,684 to the -naval establishment; the two forming an aggregate -of $538,964,278. Deducting from this sum the appropriations -during three years of war, and we shall -find that more than <span class='it'>four hundred millions</span> were absorbed -by vain Preparations in time of peace for -War. Add to this amount a moderate sum for the -expenses of the Militia during the same period, -which, as we have already seen, have been placed -recently at $50,000,000 a year; for the past years -we may take an average of $25,000,000; and we -shall have the enormous sum of $1,335,000,000 to be -added to the $400,000,000; the whole amounting to -<span class='it'>seventeen hundred and thirty-five millions</span> of dollars, -a sum beyond the conception of human faculties, -sunk under the sanction of the Government of -the United States in mere <span class='it'>peaceful Preparations -for War</span>; more than <span class='it'>seven times</span> as much as was -dedicated by the Government, during the same period, -to all other purposes whatsoever!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>From this serried array of figures the mind instinctively -retreats. If we examine them from a -nearer point of view, and, selecting some particular -part, compare it with the figures representing other -interests in the community, they will present a -front still more dread. Let us attempt the comparison.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Within a short distance of this city (Boston) stands -an institution of learning, which was one of the earliest -cares of the early forefathers of the country, the -conscientious Puritans. Favored child of an age of -trial and struggle, carefully nursed through a period -of hardship and anxiety, endowed at that time by -the oblations of men like Harvard, sustained from -its first foundation by the paternal arm of the Commonwealth, -by a constant succession of munificent -bequests and by the prayers of all good men, the -University of Cambridge now invites our homage as -the most ancient, the most interesting, and the most -important seat of learning in the land; possessing -the oldest and most valuable library, one of the -largest museums of mineralogy and natural history—a -School of Law, which annually receives into its -bosom more than one hundred and fifty sons from all -parts of the Union, where they listen to instruction -from professors whose names have become among -the most valuable possessions of the land—a School -of Divinity, the nurse of true learning and piety—one -of the largest and most flourishing Schools of -Medicine in the country—besides these, a general -body of teachers, twenty-seven in number, many of -whose names help to keep the name of the country -respectable in every part of the globe, where science, -learning, and taste are cherished—the whole presided -over at this moment by a gentleman, early distinguished -in public life by his unconquerable energies -and his masculine eloquence, at a later period, by -the unsurpassed ability with which he administered -the affairs of our city, and now in a green old age, -full of years and honor, preparing to lay down his -present high trust.<a id='r8'/><a href='#f8' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[8]</span></sup></a> Such is Harvard University; -and as one of the humblest of her children, happy in -the recollection of a youth nurtured in her classic retreats, -I cannot allude to her without an expression -of filial affection and respect.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It appears from the last Report of the Treasurer, that -the whole available property of the University, the -various accumulations of more than two centuries of -generosity, amounts to $703,175.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Change the scene, and cast your eyes upon another -object. There now swings idly at her moorings, -in this harbor, a ship of the line, the Ohio, -carrying ninety guns, finished as late as 1836 for -$547,888; repaired only two years after, in 1838, for -$223,012; with an armament which has cost $53,945; -making an amount of $834,845,<a id='r9'/><a href='#f9' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[9]</span></sup></a> as the actual cost at -this moment of that single ship; more than $100,000 -beyond all the available accumulations of the richest -and most ancient seat of learning in the land! -Choose ye, my fellow-citizens of a Christian state, -between the two caskets—that wherein is the loveliness -of knowledge and truth, or that which contains -the carrion death.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I refer thus particularly to the Ohio, because she -happens to be in our waters. But in so doing I do -not take the strongest case afforded by our Navy. -Other ships have absorbed still larger sums. The -expense of the Delaware in 1842, had been <span class='it'>one million -and fifty-one thousand dollars</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Pursue the comparison still further. The expenditures -of the University during the last year, for the -general purposes of the College, the instruction of -the Under-graduates, and for the Schools of Law -and Divinity, amount to $46,949. The cost of the -Ohio for one year in service, in salaries, wages, and -provisions, is $220,000; being $175,000 more than -the annual expenditures of the University; more -than <span class='it'>four times</span> as much. In other words, for the -annual sum which is lavished on one ship of the -line, <span class='it'>four</span> institutions, like Harvard University, -might be sustained throughout the country!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still further let us pursue the comparison. The -pay of the Captain of a ship like the Ohio, is $4,500 -when in service; $3,500, when on leave of absence, -or off duty. The salary of the President of the Harvard -University is $2,205; without leave of absence, -and never being off duty!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If the large endowments of Harvard University -are dwarfed by a comparison with the expense of a -single ship of the line, how much more must it be so -with those of other institutions of learning and beneficence, -less favored by the bounty of many generations. -The average cost of a sloop of war is $315,000; -more, probably, than all the endowments of those -twin stars of learning in the Western part of Massachusetts, -the Colleges at Williamstown and Amherst, -and of that single star in the East, the guide to many -ingenuous youth, the Seminary at Andover. The -yearly cost of a sloop of war in service is above -$50,000; more than the annual expenditures of these -three institutions combined.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I might press the comparison with other institutions -of Beneficence, with the annual expenditures -for the Blind—that noble and successful charity, -which has shed true lustre upon our Commonwealth—amounting -to $12,000; and the annual expenditures -for the Insane of the Commonwealth, -another charity dear to humanity, amounting to -$27,844.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Take all the Institutions of Learning and Beneficence, -the precious jewels of the Commonwealth, -the schools, colleges, hospitals and asylums, and the -sums, by which they have been purchased and preserved, -are trivial and beggarly, compared with the -treasures squandered within the borders of Massachusetts, -in vain preparations for War. There is -the Navy Yard at Charleston, with its stores on -hand, all costing $4,741,000; the Fortifications in -the harbors of Massachusetts, in which incalculable -sums have been already sunk, and in which it is -now proposed to sink $3,853,000 more;<a id='r10'/><a href='#f10' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[10]</span></sup></a> and besides -the Arsenal at Springfield, containing in 1842, -175,118 muskets, valued at $2,999,998,<a id='r11'/><a href='#f11' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[11]</span></sup></a> and which -is fed by an annual appropriation of about $200,000; -but whose highest value will ever be, in the judgment -of all lovers of truth, that it inspired a poem, -which in its influence shall be mightier than a battle, -and shall endure when arsenals and fortifications -have crumbled to the earth. Some of the verses of -this Psalm of Peace may happily relieve the detail -of statistics, while they blend with my argument.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Were half the power that fills the world with terror,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Were half the wealth, bestowed on camp and courts,</p> -<p class='line0'>Given to redeem the human mind from error,</p> -<p class='line0'>  There were no need of arsenals and forts.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The warrior’s name would be a name abhorred!</p> -<p class='line0'>  And every nation that should lift again</p> -<p class='line0'>Its hand against its brother, on its forehead</p> -<p class='line0'>  Would wear for evermore the curse of Cain!</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Look now for one moment at a high and peculiar -interest of the nation, the administration of justice. -Perhaps no part of our system is regarded, by the -enlightened sense of the country, with more pride -and confidence. To this, indeed, all the other concerns -of Government, all its complications of machinery -are in a manner subordinate, since it is for the -sake of justice that men come together in states and -establish laws. What part of the Government can -compare in importance, with the Federal Judiciary, -that great balance-wheel of the Constitution, controlling -the relations of the States to each other, the legislation -of Congress and of the States, besides private -interests to an incalculable amount? Nor can -the citizen, who discerns the True Glory of his -country, fail to recognize in the judicial labors of -<span class='sc'>Marshall</span>, now departed, and in the immortal judgments -of <span class='sc'>Story</span>, who is still spared to us—<span class='it'>cerus in -cœlum redeat</span>—a higher claim to admiration and gratitude -than can be found in any triumph of battle. -The expenses of the administration of justice -throughout the United States, under the Federal -Government, in 1842—embracing the salaries of the -judges, the cost of juries, court-houses, and all officers -thereof, in short, all the outlay by which justice, -according to the requirements of Magna Charta, is -carried to every man’s door—amounted to $560,990, -a larger sum than is usually appropriated for this -purpose, but how insignificant compared with the -cormorant demands of the Army and Navy!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Let me allude to one more <span class='it'>curiosity</span> of waste. It -appears, by a calculation founded on the expenses -of the Navy, that the average cost of each gun, -carried over the ocean, for one year, amounts to -about fifteen thousand dollars; a sum sufficient to -sustain ten or even twenty professors of Colleges, -and equal to the salaries of all the Judges of the -Supreme Court of Massachusetts and the Governor -combined!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Such are a few brief illustrations of the tax which -the nations constituting the great Federation of -civilization, and particularly our own country, impose -on the people in time of profound peace, for no -permanent, productive work, for no institution of -learning, for no gentle charity, for no purpose of -good. As we wearily climb, in this survey, from -expenditure to expenditure, from waste to waste, we -seem to pass beyond the region of ordinary calculation; -Alps on Alps arise, on whose crowning heights -of everlasting ice, far above the habitations of man, -where no green thing lives, where no creature draws -its breath, we behold the cold, sharp, flashing glacier -of War.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the contemplation of this spectacle the soul -swells with alternate despair and hope; with despair, -at the thought of such wealth, capable of rendering -such service to Humanity, not merely wasted -but given to perpetuate Hate; with hope, as the -blessed vision arises of the devotion of all these incalculable -means to the purposes of Peace. The -whole world labors at this moment with poverty and -distress; and the painful question occurs to every -observer, in Europe more than here at home—what -shall become of the poor—the increasing Standing -Army of the Poor. Could the humble voice that -now addresses you, penetrate those distant counsels, -or counsels nearer home, it would say, disband your -Standing Armies of soldiers, apply your Navies to -purposes of peaceful and enriching commerce, abandon -your Fortifications and Arsenals, or dedicate them -to works of Beneficence, as the statue of Jupiter -Capitolinus was changed to the image of a Christian -saint; in fine, utterly forsake the present incongruous -system of <span class='it'>armed</span> Peace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That I may not seem to press to this conclusion -with too much haste, at least as regards our own -country, I shall consider briefly, as becomes the occasion, -the asserted usefulness of the national armaments -which it is proposed to abandon, and shall -next expose the outrageous fallacy—at least in the -present age, and among the Christian Nations, of the -maxim by which alone they are vindicated, that in -time of Peace we must prepare for War.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>What is the use of the Standing Army of the -United States?</span> It has been a principle of freedom, -during many generations, to avoid a standing army; -and one of the complaints in the Declaration of Independence -was, that George III. had quartered large -bodies of troops in the colonies. For the first years -after the adoption of the Federal Constitution—during -our weakness, before our power was assured, -before our name had become respected in the family -of nations, under the administration of Washington—a -small sum was deemed ample for the military -establishment of the United States. It was only -when the country, at a later day, had been touched -by martial insanity, that, in unworthy imitation of -monarchical states, it abandoned the true economy of -a Republic, and lavished the means which it begrudged -to the purposes of Peace, in vain preparation -for War. It may now be said of our army, as -Dunning said of the influence of the crown, it has increased, -is increasing, and ought to be diminished. -At this moment there are, in the country, more than -fifty-five military posts. It would be difficult to assign -a reasonable apology for any of these—unless, perhaps, -on some distant Indian frontier. Of what use is -the detachment of the second regiment of Artillery in -the quiet town of New London in Connecticut? Of -what use is the detachment of the first regiment of -Artillery in that pleasant resort of fashion, Newport? -By their exhilarating music and showy parade they -may serve to amuse an idle hour, but it is doubtful -if emotions of a different character will not be aroused -in generous bosoms. Surely, he must have lost -something of his sensibility to the true dignity of human -nature, who, without regret and mortification, -can observe the discipline, the drill, the unprofitable -marching and counter-marching—the putting guns to -the shoulder and then dropping them to the earth—which -fill the lives of the poor soldiers, and prepare -them to become the rude, inanimate parts of that -<span class='it'>machine</span>, to which an army has been likened by the -great living master of the Art of War. And this -sensibility must be more offended by the spectacle -of a chosen body of ingenuous youth, under the auspices -of the Government, amidst the bewitching -scenery of West Point, painfully trained to these -same fantastic and humiliating exercises—at a cost -to the country since the establishment of this Academy, -of upwards of four millions of dollars.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In Europe, Standing Armies are supposed to be -needed to sustain the power of Governments; but -this excuse cannot prevail here. The monarchs of -the Old World, like the chiefs of the ancient German -tribes, are upborne by the shields of the soldiery. -Happily with us the Government springs from the -hearts of the people, and needs no janizaries for its -support.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But I hear the voice of some defender of this -abuse, some upholder of this “rotten borough” of -our Constitution, crying, the Army is needed for the -defense of the country! As well might you say that -the shadow is needed for the defense of the body; -for what is the army of the United States but the -feeble shadow of the power of the American people? -<span class='it'>In placing the army on its present footing, so small -in numbers compared with the forces of the great -European States, our Government has tacitly admitted -its superfluousness for defense.</span> It only remains -to declare distinctly, that the country will repose -in the consciousness of right, without the wanton -excess of supporting soldiers, lazy consumers of -the fruits of the earth, who might do the State good -service in the various departments of useful industry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>What is the use of the Navy of the United States?</span> -The annual expense of our Navy, during recent -years, has been upward of six millions of dollars. -For what purpose is this paid? Not for the apprehension -of pirates; for frigates and ships of the line -are of too great bulk to be of service for this purpose. -Not for the suppression of the Slave Trade; for -under the stipulations with Great Britain, we employ -only eighty guns in this holy alliance. Not to protect -our coasts; for all agree that our few ships -would form an unavailing defense against any serious -attack. Not for these purposes, you will admit, <span class='it'>but -for the protection of our Navigation</span>. This is not -the occasion for minute calculations. Suffice it to -say, that an intelligent merchant, who has been extensively -engaged in commerce for the last twenty -years, and who speaks, therefore, with the authority -of knowledge, has demonstrated in a tract of perfect -clearness, that the annual profits of the whole mercantile -marine of the country do not equal the annual -expenditure of our Navy. Admitting the profit of a -merchant ship to be four thousand dollars a year, -which is a large allowance, it will take the earnings -of one hundred ships to build and employ for one -year a single sloop of War—one hundred and fifty -ships to build and employ a frigate, and nearly three -hundred ships to build and employ a ship of the line. -Thus more than five hundred ships must do a profitable -business, in order to earn a sufficient sum to -sustain this little fleet. Still further, taking a received -estimate of the value of the mercantile marine -of the United States at forty millions of dollars, -we find that it is only a little more than six times the -annual cost of the navy; so that this interest is protected -at a charge of more than <span class='it'>fifteen per cent.</span> of -its whole value! Protection at such price is more -ruinous than one of Pyrrhus’s victories!</p> - -<hr class='footnotemark'/> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_3'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f3'><a href='#r3'>[3]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Orations and Speeches by Charles Sumner, vol. I, -page 71.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_4'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f4'><a href='#r4'>[4]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>I have relied here and in subsequent pages upon McCulloch’s -Commercial Dictionary; The Edinburgh Geography, -founded on the works of Malte Brun and Balbi; -and the calculations of Mr. Jay in <span class='it'>Peace and War</span>, p. 16, -and in his Address before the Peace Society, pp. 28, 29.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_5'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f5'><a href='#r5'>[5]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>I have verified these results by the expenditures of -these different nations, but I do little more than follow -Mr. Jay, who has illustrated this important point with -his accustomed accuracy.—<span class='it'>Address</span>, p. 30.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_6'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f6'><a href='#r6'>[6]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Jay’s Peace and War, p. 13.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_7'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f7'><a href='#r7'>[7]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>American Almanac for 1845, p. 143.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_8'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f8'><a href='#r8'>[8]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Hon. Josiah Quincy.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_9'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f9'><a href='#r9'>[9]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Document No. 132, House of Representatives, 3rd -session, 27th Congress.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_10'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f10'><a href='#r10'>[10]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Document; Report of Secretary of War; No. 2. -Senate, 27th Congress, 2nd session; where it is proposed -to invest in a general system of land defenses $51,677,929.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_11'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f11'><a href='#r11'>[11]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Exec. Documents of 1842-43, Vol. I. No. 3.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk130'/> - -<div><h1><a id='vio'></a>LINES ON SOME VIOLETS,</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>LEFT UPON MY DESK WHILE I WAS AT A FUNERAL.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>He brought these violets yester eve,</p> -<p class='line0'>  While I was with the dead,</p> -<p class='line0'>And when I hither came to grieve,</p> -<p class='line0'>  To me they meekly said—</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Let not thy gentle heart-founts flow</p> -<p class='line0'>  For her who is at rest,</p> -<p class='line0'>But joy and sing for all who go</p> -<p class='line0'>  To sit among the Blest.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Weep for thyself, and not for her,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Child of melodious Grief!</p> -<p class='line0'>And pray thy angels, hovering near,</p> -<p class='line0'>  To make Life’s journey brief.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“For now we hear thy spirit beat</p> -<p class='line0'>  With bleeding plumes its grate,</p> -<p class='line0'>And treading with impatient feet,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Like one that could not wait.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Like one who, pale ’mid dungeon gloom,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Paces his scanty floor,</p> -<p class='line0'>Awaiting till the jailer come</p> -<p class='line0'>  To ope his prison-door!”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>                   <span style='font-size:smaller'>E. ANNA LEWIS.</span></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk131'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i190.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0008' style='width:100%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>Painted by J. Martin</span><br/></p> <br/><span class='bold'><span style='font-size:smaller'>THE DESTRUCTION OF SODOM AND GOMORRAH.</span></span> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk132'/> - -<div><h1><a id='sod'></a>THE DESTRUCTION OF SODOM.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;'>[WITH A STEEL ENGRAVING.]</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MARGARET JUNKIN.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The fair, broad plains of Jordan, rich with all</p> -<p class='line0'>Their wealth of summer fruitage, stretched themselves</p> -<p class='line0'>Beneath the orient day. The haunting mists</p> -<p class='line0'>Still folded to their bosoms the hushed streams,</p> -<p class='line0'>O’er which they had kept night-watch. Flocks and herds</p> -<p class='line0'>Dotting the green, fresh pastures stirless lay,</p> -<p class='line0'>While shepherds slept beside them.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>                                Peacefully</p> -<p class='line0'>The morning twilight slowly raised its lids</p> -<p class='line0'>On the devoted city, quiet now,</p> -<p class='line0'>With its wild midnight orgies overworn—</p> -<p class='line0'>As from its gate a little band stole forth</p> -<p class='line0'>With fearful footsteps, and affrighted gaze</p> -<p class='line0'>Turned ever upward to the clear, deep heavens,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where all the stars were fading into day.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>A light, irradiate as the astral glow</p> -<p class='line0'>Of planetary lustre, marked the brows</p> -<p class='line0'>Of those who guided them—betokening</p> -<p class='line0'>Angelic nature, as in the quick haste</p> -<p class='line0'>Of their divine commission fast they urged</p> -<p class='line0'>The trembling lingerers. They pressed the speed</p> -<p class='line0'>Of the old man, bewildered and amazed</p> -<p class='line0'>By weakening terror, and they caught the hands</p> -<p class='line0'>Which the distracted mother madly wrung,</p> -<p class='line0'>To think upon her children left behind,</p> -<p class='line0'>’Mid the doomed multitude, and drew her on</p> -<p class='line0'>With gentle violence: they cheered the flight</p> -<p class='line0'>Of the twain daughters, who, aghast with fear,</p> -<p class='line0'>Were fain to lay their foreheads in the dust,</p> -<p class='line0'>In palsied helplessness. With the sweet power</p> -<p class='line0'>Of angel eloquence—with sympathies</p> -<p class='line0'>That yearned above their poor humanity</p> -<p class='line0'>In Christ-like tenderness, they hasted still</p> -<p class='line0'>Their lagging steps.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>                  “Escape ye, for your lives</p> -<p class='line0'>Look not behind you! neither tarry ye</p> -<p class='line0'>In all the verdant plain:—Escape, escape</p> -<p class='line0'>Safe to the mountain, lest ye be consumed:”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The level sunbeams slant athwart the plain</p> -<p class='line0'>Through the long shadows of the flying group—</p> -<p class='line0'>Yet the destruction lingered; yet the sky</p> -<p class='line0'>Gave forth no presage of the coming wrath.</p> -<p class='line0'>The sward, dew-beaded, yielded to their tread</p> -<p class='line0'>Never more softly, and the bannered palms</p> -<p class='line0'>Playfully dallied with the morning breeze.</p> -<p class='line0'>Doubt grew to strength within the mother’s soul,</p> -<p class='line0'>Beneath the firmamental quietude;</p> -<p class='line0'>And though the angel’s clasp was on her hand,</p> -<p class='line0'>She backward looked, with longing, loving gaze,</p> -<p class='line0'>Incredulous of evil, to the roofs</p> -<p class='line0'>And lines of fair, white walls, that glittering lay</p> -<p class='line0'>Serene in the pure dawn. The rigid hand</p> -<p class='line0'>Dropped icy from the angel’s—the stark form</p> -<p class='line0'>Stood fixed, and motionless, and marble pale—</p> -<p class='line0'>A ghostly monument of unbelief.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Dumb with the tracking fear that suffered not</p> -<p class='line0'>A moment’s waste in sorrow—on they pressed</p> -<p class='line0'>And gained the place of refuge. Then they turned,</p> -<p class='line0'>Breathless and tottering, with their straining eyes</p> -<p class='line0'>Clouded with horror, and their lips apart</p> -<p class='line0'>In speechless eagerness, and awful dread,</p> -<p class='line0'>Toward the distant city.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>                       The calm morn</p> -<p class='line0'>Seemed sliding downward to abysmal night:</p> -<p class='line0'>All Nature’s face grew sickly: through the plain,</p> -<p class='line0'>The fell simoom came sweeping like a fiend,</p> -<p class='line0'>Twisting the tallest palm-trees, as their stems</p> -<p class='line0'>Were lithest summer reeds, and wrenching up</p> -<p class='line0'>Centurial cedars. Silver-threaded streams</p> -<p class='line0'>Grew to a leaden blackness: tempest-clouds,</p> -<p class='line0'>Lurid with fiery fringes, marshaled all</p> -<p class='line0'>Their most terrific grandeur, and rolled on</p> -<p class='line0'>In thunderous darkness, till the funeral heavens</p> -<p class='line0'>Thrilled to the shock, and the fast-anchored earth</p> -<p class='line0'>Seemed throbbing in the agitated swell</p> -<p class='line0'>Of fathomless ether. Sulphurous, forked flames,</p> -<p class='line0'>Like myriads of avenging swords, flashed out</p> -<p class='line0'>Above the guilty cities, and the shriek</p> -<p class='line0'>Of frantic multitudes came roaring on</p> -<p class='line0'>In dismal howls, as if the eternal pit</p> -<p class='line0'>Had emptied forth its demons. The hot wrath</p> -<p class='line0'>Of God’s fierce anger rained with scathing breath</p> -<p class='line0'>The deluge-fire of a descending hell—</p> -<p class='line0'>And in the flaming sheets, the stately towers—</p> -<p class='line0'>The lofty mausoleums—the proud walls—</p> -<p class='line0'>The rich abodes of princes—and the homes</p> -<p class='line0'>Of Heaven-defying wickedness, were wrapped</p> -<p class='line0'>As in a fitting cerement.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>                         When the strength</p> -<p class='line0'>Of the spent storm of fury died away,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the ghast ministers of wrath drew off</p> -<p class='line0'>Their fearful hosts from that grim battle-field—</p> -<p class='line0'>The holy Patriarch, who had sought by prayer</p> -<p class='line0'>To turn aside the vengeance, stretched his view</p> -<p class='line0'>Across the plains of Jordan; but no walls</p> -<p class='line0'>Gleamed in the early sunshine; no fair flocks</p> -<p class='line0'>Studded the bleak, swart slopes; no waving trees</p> -<p class='line0'>Bent to the morning wind. Destruction swooped,</p> -<p class='line0'>Like a fierce raven screaming o’er its prey,</p> -<p class='line0'>Above the desert-waste: the seething smoke</p> -<p class='line0'>Hung, pall-like, round the ruins: and he bowed</p> -<p class='line0'>His head in sad yet meek submissiveness</p> -<p class='line0'>Before the righteous judgments of his God.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk133'/> - -<div><h1><a id='emin'></a>EMINENT YOUNG MEN.—NO. I.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;font-weight:bold;'>BENJAMIN H. BREWSTER</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In our last number we proposed to give a short -biographical sketch of Benjamin Harris Brewster, -as the first of a series of rapid portraits of such eminent -young men as chance and association have -made us intimate with, that we might thereby incite -in the minds of some of the young men amongst our -readers a laudable ambition to excel, and arouse that -latent energy of character which is the foundation of -all true personal greatness in America.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Benjamin Harris Brewster is a lineal descendant -on his father’s side of Elder William Brewster, -whose name is embalmed in all true hearts as the -intrepid ruling elder in that Band of Heroes and unbending -worshipers of freedom of conscience, who -landed from the Mayflower at Plymouth, in December -1620. The heroism of Brewster, Robinson and -others of that immortal band of brave men and women, -prior to their embarkation at Holland, are facts -of history, and as familiar to every student as their subsequent -trials and dauntless energy in braving them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Brewster’s family were originally from New -Jersey. A descendant of Elder Brewster’s removed -from Plymouth to New Jersey, and there Mr. B. H. -Brewster, his great-grandson, was born. In his mother’s -family a great-grandfather—a Duval, was a refugee -Huguenot—“one of that handful of whom the -world was not worthy, who without stain, without -reproach, were crushed to the dust, were delivered up -to the rack, the scourge, the dungeon, the stake, as if -accursed of Heaven, until at last a weeping and bleeding -remnant of them found their way to our land and -poured into our veins the rich stream of Huguenot -blood.” Thus from both sides of his house he inherits -rich, old democratic blood. Puritan and Huguenot -blood. Blood that an American may be proud of. -His ancestors assisted in planting that holy seed of -Liberty which has sprung into so mighty a tree, and -under whose thick spreading branches the oppressed -of all nations find shelter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Brewster was born in Salem county, New -Jersey, during a transient residence of his parents in -that place. When only a few months old his parents -returned to their former residence in Philadelphia, -where he has ever since lived. He early gave promise -of great quickness of intellect, but from his -earliest childhood he was particularly remarkable -for strict truthfulness and integrity—he scorned a lie, -even an evasion, though it might save him the -dreaded humiliation of punishment. “Manly, straightforward, -upright,” were words always applied to -him by those who knew him in youth, and these -qualities made him a stay and a comfort to his family -at an age when most young men are dependents.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He left the preparatory school of Dr. Wiltbank at -fourteen and entered the University of Pennsylvania, -but was removed from it six months after to Princeton -College, where he graduated at the age of eighteen -years, and commenced the study of law in this city, -in the office of Eli K. Price, Esq. In 1837, at the -age of 21 years, he became a member of the Philadelphia -bar. Starting on the road of life in that -most arduous of all professions, the law, with few -friends, he early exhibited those peculiar traits of -fitness for his profession that so speedily placed him -among its leaders. His success has been remarkable—not -in the sense of the world generally—but in the -substantial character of his business, and in his position -among his brethren of the bar. He early saw -the door of distinction open to him, and resolved to -pass its threshold and make for himself an honorable -name. With that industry and energy that are part -of his character, he speedily, while yet a young man, -rose in his profession, and took a prominent place -among the best of that bar, long since acknowledged -to be the strongest in the country. His mind is -Analytical in an eminent degree, it perceives and -grasps with a quickness, oftentimes wonderful, the -strong points of a case, which are lucidly put before -the jury. He uses little ornament, as we -usually understand it, though he has at times -shown his ability to wield that most effective -of all the orator’s weapons; he presents in a -brief, sententious style, with all the force that -such a style is so naturally fitted for the gist of -his case. His forte as a lawyer is before the court -in banc upon a question of law—the forum that tests -the real ability of so many—where mere speech-making—the -tinsel and clap-trap of the profession -pass at their real value, and where mind alone is the -genuine currency—where educated minds are to be -taught, altered, or convinced. In this department -of his profession Mr. Brewster is at home, and brings -to bear on the argument of his cases, all the powers -of his peculiarly well-stored mind. He is by no -means, however, deficient before a jury, as many -of our citizens will recollect, in recalling to mind -his many triumphs in this city. While he is kind -to his colleagues, he is respectful but independent -in his bearing toward the Court, but permitting no -undue interference in his or his client’s business, yet -giving to all the respect that position or talents should -demand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Brewster’s appearance before the Court is -impressive. Thoughtful, earnest, and of fine manners, -he at once impresses you with the importance -of his cause, and that that which he is about -to say is the result of no passing thought, but of care -and deliberation—graceful and dignified in his manner -he yet becomes, when warm with his subject, vehement -without losing his self-possession, oftentimes -treading a little out of his path to indulge in a pleasantry -to relieve the dry detail of legal discussion, -still maintaining the thread and course of his argument. -Always courteous in an eminent degree to -his adversary, high-toned and honorable in all his -intercourse with the world, he exhibits it in argument, -by refusing at all times to pervert facts, to -overstrain or misstate the well-settled law of the -land. He is ready and apt; exhibiting his readiness, -and the ability with which he has prepared his case -by the prompt answers of points against him suggested -during argument by the Court or his adversary.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Kingman, the highly talented and veteran -correspondent of the New York Journal of Commerce, -said of him, “His (Mr. Brewster’s) manner -is happy and winning—his voice mellow and flowing, -and, as Mr. Wirt used to say of one of his -favorites, he can render interesting to any auditory -the dryest legal citation by the magical effect -of his tasteful reading.” His talents as a lawyer -have drawn him from our local courts, and the -scenes of his greatest success have been in that -“strongest of Courts” the Supreme Court of the -United States at Washington. In a case that now -presents itself to our mind, he more than distinguished -himself—we mention, we are sure, from its -public character, and the importance of the questions -involved to all, a familiar case, when we -name “The United States vs. The County of -Philadelphia.” It involved the great constitutional -question of the right of a State Government to tax -the unceded realty of the United States necessary -for the purposes of the Federal Government. This -was a question particularly suited to the turn of mind -of Mr. Brewster, and it was to be argued before a -Court, the ablest and the brightest in the land. His -argument elicited from all parts the highest and -the warmest praise. The New York Tribune, a -paper of high character for ability and impartiality, -says, that “a long, elaborate, and powerful argument -was delivered before the Supreme Court yesterday -by Benjamin H. Brewster, of Philadelphia, -which has produced a great impression in our legal -circles, and secured at once for Mr. Brewster the -reputation of being one of the ablest constitutional -lawyers in the country. The principle to be defined -and settled in the case in which Mr. B. is engaged, -is of the highest importance, and the whole -country is certainly greatly indebted to the learning -and eloquence of that gentleman for the convincing -manner in which he pointed out and defined the -rights of the States, and the ability with which he -defended those rights against Federal encroachment.” -The New York Journal of Commerce said of it, -“Mr. Brewster’s argument necessarily embraced -some detail, and some citations, and various illustrations, -and still he managed to bring it all within -the compass of less than two hours. Mr. Brewster -is a rising star, and destined at no distant day to become -a shining light of the federal tribunal.” And -these are but two, selected at random from a host -of such compliments. The result showed the truth -of these views of Mr. Brewster’s argument.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His argument in this now famous case, was not -published, notwithstanding the urgent request of -many friends that it should be—with a modesty that -we think false, but which is usually the attendant -upon real ability, he was contented with having -done work well without seeking by parade to make it -the medium of pecuniary benefit. His character does -not, of course, stand upon this case alone, as the records -of the court at Washington will show, though, -in truth, it might stand on a less secure foundation. -Almost as a necessary consequence of Mr. Brewster’s -professional life, he has been more or less identified -with the various political questions of the day. -Early in life he attached himself from conviction to -the Democratic party, and steadily since, “through -good and evil report,” he has adhered to and defended -with voice and pen, the interest and doctrines -of that party. He was a senatorial delegate -from Pennsylvania to the Baltimore Convention of -1844, and was the mover of the “two-third rule” -in that Convention, to which fact Mr. Polk unquestionably -owed his nomination. Shortly after the -inauguration, Mr. Polk tendered him, unsolicited, -the judicial appointment of Cherokee Commissioner. -This Mr. Brewster accepted. It was an arduous -and responsible position, requiring great industry and -ability to discharge faithfully. By his course as -Commissioner, he won the esteem and respect of -the suitors, and saved to the government, from the -jaws of rapacious speculators, millions of dollars. -He received at the expiration of the term for which -the office was enacted, the thanks and approval of -the President.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Brewster is a warm supporter of the political -views of Gen. Cass, and is, perhaps, the most -efficient, both with voice and pen, of the many -friends of that distinguished statesman in Pennsylvania. -Differing widely, as we do, from Mr. -Brewster in political sentiment, we can yet bear -testimony to the intrepid conduct of the man, his -high-hearted courage in the cause of his friend, and -his energetic endeavors to secure the ultimate triumph -of General Cass in the next Baltimore Convention. -And although we cannot vote for General -Cass, we can almost wish him success for the sake -of seeing Mr. Brewster’s earnest and manly efforts -crowned with success. If General Cass has many -such friends—and Mr. Brewster’s friendship is of -personal intimacy—he must have qualities that most -politicians deny opponents and rivals, for we are -satisfied that no man can attach to himself <span class='it'>heartily</span>, -any number of men of intellectual force such as -Brewster has, without possessing qualities of head -and heart far above the grade of many aspiring candidates -for the presidency.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Since his retirement from connection with the -administration of Mr. Polk, Mr. Brewster has -been engaged so much in the active pursuits of his -profession as to prevent his giving much of his time -to active politics, though often since by his pen, he -has shown his interest in the great questions that -have been lately agitating the country; and whenever -the interests of General Cass are in jeopardy, -his voice is heard in council, and his pen, lightning-winged, -flies to the rescue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Having thus hastily glanced at Mr. Brewster’s -position as a lawyer and a public man, and used, as -we confess we have done, the opinions and sentiments -of more than one member of the Philadelphia -bar in high standing, and the unsolicited endorsement -of men high in his party, let us take a closer view -of the man—of his personal character, the proud arch -and basis of the structure, and tell, with all the freedom -of an intimate friend, what we feel we <span class='it'>ought</span> to -say, both in justice to our readers, to give them a -fair view of the man, and to Mr. Brewster, to show -how great have been his achievements against formidable -odds.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Brewster has inherited in an eminent degree -the endurance and high courage of his ancestors. -His path has been a rough one, with an accumulation -of difficulties besetting him on all sides, at the -very threshold of boyhood, which would have prostrated -almost any other man. But he at that early -age made a resolute front, and met and pressed -struggling through all opposition.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He in early life met with an accident, the scars -from which still linger upon his countenance. This, -in the opinion of the timid and ill-advised, was sufficient -for them to urge him into a more quiet and -secluded profession than that of an advocate. But -they little knew, these weak ones, the dauntless -bravery of his soul—the fearless, determined purpose, -the iron will of the man. His motto has been, from -early boyhood, and his life has illustrated it nobly—“There -is nothing unconquerable to him that dares.” -His whole life has been one of struggles, of resolves -and of victories. His manly self-possession under -all disasters, his vehement purpose to overcome, in -spite of fate and circumstances, have given an impetuosity -and daring to his character which enable -him to overleap the impossibilities of other men. -Had he submitted to the dictation of the doubtful, -regarded the counsel of the timid-wise, his lofty soul -would have been dwarfed, his heroic will chafing -for action in seclusion, would have made him a misanthrope—a -pining and peevish companion, a cynic -toward man and a snarler at Providence—the plague -of a household, a weariness unto himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But with the true courage which faces disasters, -the inborn greatness which judges of its own capacity -to endure, with an eye fixed upon the successful -future, which lifts its blazing front to the gaze of true -genius, he spurned all control, and consulting the -inward teachings of his own spirit, he resolved, he -dared and he has triumphed. With a manly heart, -lifted in its gigantic resolves above all mere considerations -of self—obeying all of its generous and noble -impulses, he has from early manhood devoted his -energies to build a paradise around those he loves—to -render his home the abode of all that refines, of -Art, Music and Society—to gather around him those -who appreciated his manhood, and to impart by all -the delicate and tender relations and attentions of a -son and a brother, the largest amount of happiness -which domestic life can afford. With what a royalty -of soul he has done all this, let those answer -who have spent their most delightful hours in his -drawing-rooms—where the stern lawyer, the energetic -champion of political principles and rights has -unbended, and let loose the bounding joyousness of -the man—where his heart has let off its bubbles in -very glee, and where the exhaustless stores of his -memory are poured out in wantonness, and his imagination -and wit flash and play in perfect abandonment. -No man who has not enjoyed his intimacy, -his confidence and his friendship, can make any just -estimate of his ability or worth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As a conversationalist, it has not been our fortune -to meet with many who are his equals, either in the -readiness or the variety of his topics, the fine play -of his fancy, or the mellow flow of his words. There -is not at this bar, a man of his years, who is his -equal in scholarship—who has accumulated so vast a -mass of curious learning. Upon all questions of History, -Philosophy or Biography—he is the referee -among his friends. His accuracy is singularly nice—no -event of which he has read, seems ever to -escape the tenacious grasp of his memory. No quotation -from the Classics, apt at the moment, is ever -wanting to illustrate or point an anecdote or a sentence. -His knowledge of old English literature is -thorough, and his acquaintance with the modern familiar -and full. He is, in all respects a thorough -student—stealing the hours which others devote to -idle pleasure or indolent sleep, to enlarge his stores -of knowledge and make broader and surer the foundations -of intellectual power.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The defect of Mr. Brewster’s character has been -the terrible impetuosity of his impulses, which would -carry him to the gates of Hades in pursuit of a foe, -and through a burning river in support of a friend—frequently, -too, without stopping to ask whether -either was worth the sacrifice. Hence, he has sometimes -become the assailant and the champion, without -the clearest notions as to which side victory -justly belonged. These impulses, too, were as -quick as they were strong. The lightning was not -more sudden than his wrath—nor more certain in its -destructiveness. No man made an enemy of him -and escaped the well-timed blow. But his vengeance -was rarely garnered, but blazed out in a fury which -lent additional terror to the funeral pile of his victim. -His generous sentiments are easily touched. -His time, his talents, his whole soul are given to the -cause of a friend. There is no halfway-house on -the road to his heart—the door is fast shut, or the -whole of the spacious apartments are thrown open, -and the visitor is received amid a blaze of light -from every genial corner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Brewster has recently been abroad, and -travel, which is so often a test of character, has improved -him. He returns from Europe with his -energy of soul held in check—his feelings are composed -and chastened—his manner is subdued to a -more Christian serenity—his voice has not its old, -impetuous volume—the rushing heat of passion -comes from his lips with less of its scorching severity. -Life has broader aims in his eyes than formerly—the -hour and to-day, are less important—the -immediate success less looked to—the distant -future is lived for more earnestly, with wiser hopes -of a happy present hereafter. All this comes upon -us—his old associate—with a force the greater, because -we have been less with him, of late; and the -gradual, familiar growing of these better purposes of -soul have been less visible to us—they burst upon -us like a strain of pure music when discord has suddenly -been stilled. Mr. Brewster, himself, is a happier -man—his old exuberant gayety is a well-tempered -serenity and joyousness—the picture has been -toned down, and the artist dwells upon it as a diviner -effort of the Creator.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Brewster has nothing to do now but to <span class='it'>wait</span>!—high -honors will come to him unsolicited. His -position is assured. His ability, his integrity, his -earnest energy of soul for the right and the true, open -the pathway for all that the ambition of a Christian -has a right to look for. This is Prophecy—the Inspiration -which Truth impresses upon the soul.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-top:0.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>G. R. G.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk134'/> - -<div><h1><a id='sor'></a>SORRENTO.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY C. P. CRANCH.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='dramastart'><!----></div> - -<p class='dramaline-cont'>On such a blue and breezy summer’s day,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The winds seem charmed that wander round this bay.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The waves that murmur on the sunward beach,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Whisper of things beyond the Present’s reach.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Each winged bark that skims along the sea</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Seems gliding like a dream of mystery.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Light of far Grecian days comes glimmering through</p> -<p class='dramaline'>This pure crystaline sky of cloudless blue.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Here are the rocks where gold-haired syrens sang;</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Here Tasso’s harp in later ages rang.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Over the sacred waves the purple isles</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Answer the heavens with their serenest smiles:</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Round yonder point, steep Capri with her caves;</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Beyond, where the sky kisses the far waves,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Those amethystine sisters of the sea,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Prochyta and the blue Inarime.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Along the shore from Baia’s rained towers</p> -<p class='dramaline'>To marble Pompeii, half embalmed in flowers,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Stretches the chain of towns along the sea;</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And gleaming in the midst, proud Napoli</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Sits like a young and pearl-crowned ocean queen</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Gazing into her mirror of clear green.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And over all the bodeful genius</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Of this fair clime—fire-eyed Vesuvius</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Frowns, the sole troubled spirit of the scene—</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And even him the distance makes serene.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>All this I see from my still summer home,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>A bower where nought but peace and beauty come.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Geraniums and roses round me bloom—</p> -<p class='dramaline'>From orange-groves, amid whose verdant gloom</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Gold fruit and silver flowers together shine,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Come orient odors. A thick blossoming vine</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Shadows the terrace where, even as I write,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The wind snows down the olive-blossoms white.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Above, the birds’ sweet and unwearied song;</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Beneath, the ocean whispers all day long.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Sometimes, when morning lights the rippling waves</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Below the steep rocks and the ocean caves,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The sunshine weaves a net of flickering gleams.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Fit to entrap a Syren in her dreams.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>There tangled braids of ever-changing light</p> -<p class='dramaline'>In golden mazes glitter up the sand,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And underneath, the rocks and pebbles bright</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Glow like rich jewels of the Eastern land.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Well might such sweet, transparent waters hold</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Tritons and nymphs with locks of liquid gold;</p> -<p class='dramaline'>For nothing were too beautiful to be</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Born from the pure depths of this summer sea.</p> - -<p class='dramaline-cont'>                ———</p> - -<p class='dramaline-cont'>Four moons have passed—and nights and days have flown</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Cloudless—a summer of an orient tone,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Since my unequal pen essayed to tell</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Brief passages of what I loved so well.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Above me now, where blossoms fell in spring,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Large purple grapes hang thickly clustering;</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The fig-tree near, with ample leaves displayed,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Shelters its sweet, cool fruit beneath their shade.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Still hang the oranges upon their stems,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Whose dark green foliage makes them glow like gems.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The cypresses by yonder convent wall</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Shoot up as freshly green, as stately tall,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And there the drowsy vesper-bell ne’er tires</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Calling to prayers the brown-robed, bearded friars.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Down on the beach, content with slender gain,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Still drag their nets the red-capped fishermen.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Still glide the days as fair—the nights more cool,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The sea is still as ever beautiful;</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And yonder purple mount, towering as proud</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Still blends its light smoke with the flying cloud.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And now, ere I these pleasant scenes resign,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>I would yet linger o’er and make them mine.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>I would remember every odorous breeze</p> -<p class='dramaline'>That wafted incense from these orange-trees—</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The roses clustering on their leafy stalks,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Dropping their faint leaves in the garden walks—</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The sweet geraniums and the passion flowers</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Entwined with multifloras—the noon hours</p> -<p class='dramaline'>When underneath the oaks I watched the sea</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Rippling below me calm and dreamily.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>The hueless olives where the full moon came</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Kindling behind them with a holy flame,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Touching their pale leaves with mysterious sheen</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And shimmering o’er old boughs of silvery green—</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Above, the inextinguishable lights</p> -<p class='dramaline'>That made all nights in heaven like festal nights,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>That seemed too holy for frail men to keep,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And yet too costly to be spent in sleep.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>O lovely nights and days! too quickly flown;</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Leave me the memory of your sweetest tone.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>O ocean! long I’ve lingered on thy shore,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Lulled by thy whisper, wakened by thy roar.</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Ere I depart and see no more thy face,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Let me retain some sign of thy embrace—</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Not pearls nor painted shells, nor coral rare,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>But dreams of Beauty. So the goddess fair,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Who rules all hearts, and fills the Olympian home,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Rose in a sea-shell from thy glittering foam—</p> -<p class='dramaline'>Sprang an immortal to the blaze of day,</p> -<p class='dramaline'>And wide o’er gods and men extends her sway.</p> - -<hr class='tbk135'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i202.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0009' style='width:100%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='bold'>THE CARIBOO; OR AMERICAN REIN-DEER.</span></span></p> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk136'/> - -<div><h1><a id='game'></a>THE GAME OF THE SEASON.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY FRANK FORESTER, AUTHOR OF “FIELD SPORTS OF AMERICA,” “FISH AND FISHING,” ETC.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>THE CARIBOO; AND CARIBOO HUNTING</h2> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='it'>Cervus Tarandus.</span> <span class='sc'>American Rein-Deer.</span></span></p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;'>[SEE ENGRAVING.]</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is not a little extraordinary, that this magnificent -and noble species, which exists in considerable -numbers within two hundred miles of the spot where -I sit writing, in the Adirondack Highlands—I mean, -of New York—which abounds in the north-eastern -part of Maine, swarms in New Brunswick and -Newfoundland, and indeed everywhere North of the -St. Lawrence and Ottawa, to the extremest Arctic -Regions yet penetrated by the foot of man, should -be yet less known to American writers—even on -the topic of Natural History—than most animals of -Central Asia, or the inhospitable wilds of Southern -Africa. It is not even determined—so little care has -been taken in examining or identifying specimens—whether -it is one and the same, or a different species -from the Reindeer of the Europe-Asiatic continent; -nor have any of its peculiarities been noted down, -such as the common indications of its stature, antlers, -pelage, and color, much less its anatomical and -osseous structure, so as to permit of any accurate -comparison being drawn, or decision arrived at.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In proof of the loose way in which these self-styled -descriptions of rare animals are drawn, in books of -solemn pretension and supposed authority, I shall -proceed to quote the following from the Encyclopædia -Americana—a work of which I can only say, -that it is equally profuse of needless information on -subjects trite to every Sophomore, and sparing of -facts, such as require research and are required by -men of ordinary reading, who will search its pages -vainly for what on occasion they may need to -ask it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Reindeer</span>”—says the authority. “These animals -inhabit the Arctic Islands of Spitzbergen, and -the northern extremity of the Old Continent, never -having extended, according to Cuvier, to the southward -of the Baltic. They have been long domesticated, -and their appearance and habits are well described -by naturalists. The American Reindeer, or -Cariboo, are much less generally known; they have, -however, so strong a resemblance to the Lapland -deer, that they have always been considered to be -the same species, though the fact has never been -completely established. The American Indians have -never profited by the docility of this animal, to aid -them in transporting their families and property, -though they annually destroy great numbers for their -flesh and hides. There appear to be several varieties -of this useful quadruped peculiar to the high -northern regions of the American Continent, which -are ably described by Doctor Richardson, one of the -companions of Captain Franklin, in his arduous attempt -to reach the North Pole by land. The closeness -of the hair of the Cariboo, and the lightness of -its skin, when dressed, render it the most appropriate -article for winter clothing in the high latitudes. -The hoofs of the Reindeer are very large, and spread -greatly, and thus enable it to cross the yielding snows -without sinking.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And this—without one word of the height, weight, -color, or habitat of the animal—is the only information -which the Editor of the American Encyclopædia -thinks proper to give his readers—except a brief -description of Doctor Richardson, about whom he -seems to know a little, if he knew nothing about -Cariboo—concerning an animal, which is killed almost -annually within fifty miles of Albany, sold annually -in Montreal, and in New Brunswick and -Nova Scotia almost as common an article as venison, -or Moose-meat during winter in the markets.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Would not any one suppose, on reading the above, -that he was dealing with the description of an animal, -which roamed only wastes untrodden by the -foot of the white man, save the adventurous explorers -of the Arctic Circles, and concerning which -no information can be gained by the ordinary naturalists -of this country?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Cuvier and Richardson, and Audubon’s stupendous -work are not attainable by general readers, or even -ordinary writers of cities; to those of the country -they are utterly inaccessible—but to Encyclopædists, -and to men who sit down to reproduce great works -on Natural History, who choose to consult them, -they are perfectly and easily open; and there is no -shadow of excuse for those who profess to teach -others, yet refuse to learn themselves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Had the writer of the above worthless trash -thought fit to compare Doctor Richardson’s description -of the Cariboo, which it seems he had read—and -which, like all that singularly able naturalist’s descriptions, -is doubtless as minute as correct—with -Cuvier’s description of the Reindeer, he might have -pronounced as easily, as he could whether two and -two make four or five, whether the American and -Europe-Asiatic deer are identical or different. Godman, -in his “Quadrupeds of North America,” though -a little more definite than Dr. Leiber, is scarce less -bald and brief. Dr. Dekay, whose lamented life has -recently been brought to an untimely close, though -he suspected it to be a denizen of New York, was -not fully assured of the fact, and therefore has not, I -think, described it in his Fauna of that State.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I have myself, unfortunately, no immediate access -to either Richardson or Cuvier; nor even to any -well established work on the Animals of Northern -Europe. But I have seen a large herd, in my youth, -of the Lapland Reindeer, which, with their Esquimaux -attendants were exhibited many years ago in -London; previous to a futile attempt at naturalizing -them in the Highlands and Western Isles of Scotland; -and have a fair, general remembrance of the -animal. I possess antlers of the Cariboo, which -hang in my hall, and which are accurately portrayed -in the wood-cut; I have handled twenty times the -hides of this great deer; and I have daily opportunities—in -the office of my friend, W. T. Porter, of the -Spirit of the Times—to examine the preserved heads -and legs of even finer specimens than my own. I -have also letters, private, and writings published, of -a New Brunswicker, who has killed the Cariboo -fifty times, and had opportunities of seeing the -European Reindeer, at the Zoological Gardens -in London, long since myself. I can, therefore, -form a very fair conjecture at the identity or non-identity -of the species. At least I can give some -particulars of structure, stature, and pelage of the -American Cariboo, which will enable others to judge, -who are better posted up than I, in the peculiarities -of the Lapland Reindeer. And first—I will premise -that although I have never seen the Cariboo in life, -or in his native woods—which I trust to do before -the snows of the next March shall have melted—the -wood-cut illustration of this number is so closely -made up from measurements of the various parts, -heads, antlers, legs and hides of the animal, that I -believe it to be as nearly correct as any likeness can -be, which is not taken from an especial individual -of the race.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the first place—as to the stature of the Cariboo, -I was long ago struck by the statements of the New -Brunswick writer, “<span class='sc'>Meadows</span>,” alias Mr. Barton -Wallop, alluded to above, which may be found in -Porter’s edition of Hawker’s Field Sports, p. 326-333—“The -Cariboo of this country are very like the -Reindeer, only a little larger”—and again—“as this -is the first time you have seen a Cariboo trail, you -will observe it is much like that of an <span class='it'>ox</span>, save that -the cleft is much more open, and the pastern of the -animal being very long and flexible, comes down the -whole length on the snow, and gives the animal additional -support.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Arguing on this statement, in my “Field Sports,” -knowing <span class='sc'>Meadows</span> to have seen both animals, that -they must be distinct, I pointed out—no one could -dream of comparing a Lapland Reindeer’s track to -that of an <span class='it'>ox</span>, any more than to that of an elephant; -and observed further, that the Lapland Reindeer is -not a larger, but—to my recollection—a smaller animal -than the common American Red-deer, <span class='it'>Cervus</span> -<span class='it'>Virginianus</span> of Naturalists. This coming casually -under Mr. Wallop’s eye, he wrote to me, in full confirmation -of my opinion, that he had recently seen -Lapland Reindeer in the Regent’s Park Zoological -Gardens, and wished to amend his former <span class='it'>dictum</span>, -by saying, that the Cariboo is at least one-third taller -than the Lapland deer, and otherwise larger, and in -other respects very different. Also, that the Lapland -animal is not taller than the British Stag, or -the American Common Deer, or, if at all, very -slightly so.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, to come to my own observation, verified by -measurement. The Cariboo antlers in my own -possession, not an unusually large pair, measure as -follows:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Extreme width from tip to tip, one foot 4½ inches. -Length of curvature of antlers, from root to tip, two -feet 3½ inches. Direct height, 23 inches. Breadth -of the palmated brow antlers, 8 inches. Length of -do., 11 inches. Breadth of upper palm, 8 inches. -Length of do., 12 inches. Girth at the root of antler, -5½ inches. At insertion of upper prong, 4 -inches. Number of prongs at the tips, unequal—three -and two. At the upper palms, three. On the -lower palms, seven processes, including the principal -point.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Compare with this, the measurements of the antlers -of a very fine specimen of the common American -deer, <span class='it'>Cervus Virginianus</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Extreme width from tip to tip, 11 inches. Length -of curvature along the back of antlers from root to -tip, two feet and half an inch. Direct height, 15 -inches.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Observe, however, that the greater curvature in -the horns of the American deer, while it causes a -larger comparative measurement, leaves a vast excess -in height and show to the Cariboo.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the Cariboo, moreover—see cut—the structure -of the horns is directly the reverse of that of any -other palmated-horned animal I ever remember to -have seen; as the Moose, the English Fallow-deer, -and to the best of my recollection the Europe-Asiatic -Reindeer. In both the former of these animals, the -broad palms form the extreme upper tips; while the -lower spurs and brow antlers are round prongs; and, -to the best of my memory, the reindeer has no very -conspicuous palms at all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In our common deer, again, contrary to any other -deer I have ever seen—except a very noble non-descript -specimen recently sent from Calcutta to the -Spirit of the Times—the main branch of the antlers -curves <span class='it'>forward</span> over the brow, offering the main defenses, -the true brow antlers being mere erect -prongs; while all the tines are posterior to the main -branch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the American Elk, and in the British Stag, or -Red-deer, and in all other round-horned deer I ever -saw, the main antlers rise erectly, with a slight -<span class='it'>backward</span> curve, the brow antler and all the other -tines springing from it anteriorly, and forming the -true weapons for the animal’s defense.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Cariboo, therefore, presents a curious combination -of the round-horned and palmated-horned -deer, in the first instance; and of the usual, and -American, round-horn structure, in the second. -First, it has the round, pointed tips and sharp, round -prongs of the round-horned deer above, with the -flat, leaf-like blades of the palmated-horned deer -below. And, secondly, it has the forward curve at -the tips and backward prongs, above, of the American -round-horn, with the terrible brow antlers and -forward tines of the usual structure below.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lastly, it differs from all in this—that its brow -antlers, instead of dividing with an outward curve -over and without each eye, closes with a straight inward -inclination, until the tips almost meet, nearly -in the centre of a brow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Once more, as to size, there are the leg, with -hoof, pastern and cannon-bone of an ordinary sized -Cariboo; and the leg, with hoof, pastern and cannon-bone -of an extraordinarily large-sized American -deer, and as such selected, hanging side by side in -Mr. Porter’s office. The limb of the Cariboo is considerably -more than one-third superior in size to that -of the common deer, and is fully equal to that of a yearling -heifer of the very largest stature, and from its peculiar -structure, being cleft nearly the full length of -the pastern to the fetlock-joint, would evidently leave -a much larger track.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I have seen and ridden aged thorough-bred horses -of fourteen and a half hands—four foot ten inches -high—whose limbs were in all respects inferior to -that of this superb specimen of the deer tribe; and -right confident am I, from observation of several of -their heads, their hides and hoofs, that from fourteen -and a half to fifteen hands will be found to be the -average height of the Cariboo. If the Lapland Reindeer -ever exceeds thirteen it will be surprising to -me. While on this topic, however, I will beg the -first Canadian or Nova Scotian hunter whose eye -this may meet, to furnish me with the full statements -of height, weight and measurement of any -Cariboo he may be so fortunate as to kill, or to have -killed, during the present winter. Readers of Graham -will find in the February number of the present -year a correct and spirited representation of the antlers -of the English red-deer; and, if they will look -back to the June and August numbers of 1851, they -will find those of the moose and American deer, -designed by myself from the life, which will far -more easily convey the comparison which I desire -to draw than written words.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As regards the nature of the pelage, or fur, for it is -almost such, of the Cariboo, so far from its being, as -the wiseacre of the Encyclopædia states, remarkable -for closeness and compactness, it is by all odds the -loosest and longest haired of any deer I ever saw; -being, particularly about the head and neck, so -shaggy as to appear almost maned.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In color, it is the most grizzly of deer, and though -comparatively dark brown on the back, the hide is -generally speaking light, almost dun colored, and on -the head and neck fulvous, or tawny gray, largely -mixed with white hairs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The flesh is said to be delicious; and the leather -made by the Indians from its skin, by their peculiar -process, is of unsurpassed excellence for leggings, -moccasons or the like; especially for the moccason to -be used under snow-shoes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As to its habits, while the Lapland or Siberian -Reindeer is the tamest and most docile of its genus, -the American Cariboo is the fiercest, fleetest, wildest, -shyest and most untameable. So much so, that -they are rarely pursued by white hunters, or shot -by them, except through casual good-fortune; Indians -alone having the patience and instinctive craft, -which enables them to crawl on them unseen, unsmelt—for -the nose of the Cariboo can detect the -smallest taint upon the air of any thing human at -least two miles up wind of him—and unsuspected. -If he take alarm and start off on the run, no one -dreams of pursuing. As well pursue the wind, of -which no man knoweth whence it cometh or whither -it goeth. Snow-shoes against him alone avail nothing, -for propped up on the broad, natural snow-shoes of his -long, elastic pasterns and wide-cleft clacking hoofs, -he shoots over the thinnest crust, over the deepest -drifts, unbroken; in which the lordly moose would -soon flounder, shoulder-deep, if hard pressed, and the -graceful deer would fall despairing, and bleat in vain -for mercy—but he, the ship of the winter wilderness, -outspeeds the wind among his native pines and tamaracks—even -as the desert ship, the dromedary, -outtrots the red simoom on the terrible Zahara—and -once started, may be seen no more by human eyes, -nor run down by fleetest feet of man, no, not if they -pursue him from their nightly-casual camps, unwearied, -following his trail by the day, by the week, -by the month, till a fresh snow efface his tracks, and -leave the hunter at the last, as he was at the first of -the chase; less only the fatigue, the disappointment -and the folly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Therefore by woodsmen, whether white or red-skinned, -he is never followed. Indians by hundreds -in the provinces, and many loggers and hunters in -the Eastern states, can take and keep his trail in suitable -weather—the best <span class='it'>time</span> is the latter end of -February or the beginning of March; the best -<span class='it'>weather</span> is when a light, fresh snow of some three or -four inches has fallen on the top of deep drifts and a -solid crust; the fresh snow giving the means of following -the trail; the firm crust yielding a support to -the broad snow-shoes and enabling the stalkers to -trail with silence and celerity combined. Then they -crawl onward, breathless and voiceless, up wind -always, following the foot-prints of the wandering, -pasturing, wantoning deer; judging by signs, unmistakable -to the veteran hunter, undistinguishable to -the novice, of the distance or proximity of their -game; until they steal upon the herd unsuspected, -and either finish the day with a sure shot and a -triumphant whoop; or discover that the game has -taken alarm and started on the jump, and so give it -up in despair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One man perhaps in a thousand can still-hunt, or -stalk, Cariboo in the summer season. He, when -he has discovered a herd feeding <span class='it'>up wind</span>, at a -leisurely pace and clearly unalarmed, stations a comrade -in close ambush, well down wind and to leeward -of their upward track, and then himself, after closely -observing their mood, motions and line of course, -strikes off in a wide circle well to leeward, until he -has got a mile or two ahead of the herd, when very -slowly and guardedly, observing the profoundest -silence, he cuts across their direction, and gives -them his wind, as it is technically termed, dead -ahead. This is the crisis of the affair; if he give -the wind too strongly, or too rashly, if he make the -slightest noise or motion, they scatter in an instant, -and away. If he give it slightly, gradually, and -casually as it were, not fancying themselves pursued, -they merely turn away from the remote danger, -and instead of flying, merely <span class='it'>feed</span> away from it, -working their way <span class='it'>down wind</span> to the deadly ambush, -of which their keenest scent cannot so inform -them. If he succeed in this, inch by inch, he crawls -after them, never pressing them, or drawing in upon -them, but preserving the same distance still, still -giving them the same wind as at the first, so that he -creates no panic or confusion, until at length, when -close upon the hidden peril, his sudden whoop sends -them headlong down the deceitful breeze upon the -treacherous rifle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of all wood-craft none is so difficult, none requires -so rare a combination as this, of quickness of sight, -wariness of tread, very instinct of the craft, and perfection -of judgment. When resorted to, and performed -to the very admiration of woodmen, it does -not succeed once in a hundred times—therefore not -by one man in a thousand is it ever resorted to at all, -and by him, rather in the wantonness of wood-craft, -and by way of boastful experiment, than with any -hope, much less expectation of success.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For once, in my illustration, the trick has been -played, and the game wins—the whoop is pealing -on the wind beyond the dark, sheltering pines and -hemlocks—the herd is scattered to the four winds -of heaven—but the monarch of the wilderness, the -prime bull of the herd, bears down in his headlong -terror full on the ambushed rifle.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lo! with how brave a bound he clears that prostrate -log. But the keen eye of the woodman is -upon him; another moment, and it shall glare along -the deadly rifle; the sharp, short crack shall awake -the echoes of the forest, and ere they shall have -subsided into silence, the pride of the woods shall -have gasped out his last sigh on the gory green-sward.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But this you will say is fancy—scarcely fact. Be -it so. What follows shall be fact, not fancy. For -I shall beg leave to quote a few pages from Porter’s -Hawker by that “Meadows,” whom I have already -mentioned—since his is the best description of this -noble sport extant; since to reproduce it, giving his -thoughts in my own altered words were rankest -plagiary; and since, if it meet his eye, he will be -rather pleased than hurt that I have winged his -words into a wider field and to a larger audience -than he at first addressed them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I will premise only, that “Howard,” who figures -as the hero, is a New Brunswicker, in New Brunswick; -“Meadows,” the narrator, an English tyro -visiting his friend in the province; Sabatisie, a Micmac -Indian, henchman and guide of Meadows; and -Billy, last not least, Howard’s pet bull terrier. -Scene, daybreak! they have issued from the camp -close to the hunting-ground where the Cariboo are -supposed to “won”—as Chaucer would have written -it—when lo! quoth Meadows—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“After a hearty meal, every thing being ready, -we <span class='it'>mounted</span> our snow-shoes and marched. The -first golden rays were just struggling through the -gray East, and dispersing the thick mist which hung -over our camp, as I strode forth on my first Cariboo -hunt, my heart leaping in anxious anticipation, and -my nerves strung by the healthy atmosphere. We -proceeded in silence, and had ample time to observe -the lonely grandeur of the surrounding forest; the -death-like stillness enlivened only by the cheerful -chirp of the active ground-squirrel, or the loud boring -of that most beautiful of woodpeckers, the Hid. We -crossed Cariboo tracks at every step, but still the -Indian proceeded, his quick eye glancing at every -trail. After about an hour’s walk, we found ourselves -ascending a steep mountain. Here the Indian -came to a halt: in a low tone he told us that we -were now near the Cariboo ground, this being the -warm side of the hill, and good feeding ground; -cautioning us to be quiet, we again advanced, but -had not gone far before we came to a trail that the -Indian said was only made last night. Sabatisie -chose the outside track of the herd, to take the wind—which, -having followed about three miles, brought -us to where the Cariboo had rested during the night. -Tom placed his hand on the damp snow, and remarked -that the Cariboo had not been up much before -us, and could not be far off.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rifles were now examined, and fresh caps put -on—Billy secured by a cord to Howard’s belt. The -tracks from the resting-place of the Cariboo branched -off in every direction; and the Indian leaving us, -took a <span class='it'>cast</span> round, some distance, and having ascertained -the direction the herd had taken, he returned, -and we cautiously followed him. I now perceived -that at the bottom of the tracks the snow was a deep -blue, and quite soft; we were therefore quite near -the game. Sabatisie halted and took off his snow-shoes -that he might proceed with less noise. Howard -beckoned me to him, and in a low whisper said—‘Do -exactly as you see me do—follow close upon my -track, and do not for your life make the slightest -noise—we are close on them!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sabatisie and Howard now slung their snow-shoes -on their backs: to prevent the crackling of -the crust, the Indian with his fingers broke the snow -before him, and placing his foot in the hole he made, -quietly advanced—Howard putting his in the track -the Indian had left, I mine in Howard’s. By this -means we proceeded without the slightest noise; and -as our movements were simultaneous, we should to -a person in front appear as one body. Our situations -were certainly any thing but agreeable, up to -the waist in snow. The trail became every moment -more fresh, and the eagle eye of our sagacious -guide pried far into the depths of the forest in front. -Suddenly he cast himself at full length on the snow, -and remained so long in that position that I innocently -thrust my head out of the line to see what -was the matter; but the Indian glared at me with -anger and contempt, and Howard’s sign recalled my -senses. In front, the wood being quite open, Sabatisie -had seen the Cariboo, and now made for a large -pine to shelter his approach. His movements, as he -dragged himself along on his belly in the snow, were -snake-like; and we followed, endeavoring as far as -possible to imitate his very <span class='it'>interesting contortions</span>. -At last I caught sight of the game. They were a -large herd of 18 or 20—some rubbing the bark from -the branches—others performing their morning toilet, -licking their dark-brown, glossy jackets, and combing -them with their noble antlers. All appeared unconscious -of the approach of their most deadly foes, save -one noble bull, the leader of the herd. He seemed suspicious—with -head erect, eyes darting in every direction, -ears wagging to and fro, and nostril expanded, -he snuffed the breeze. Upon this splendid creature -the Indian kept his eye, never venturing to move -save when the head of the Cariboo was turned away. -Inch by inch we approached the tree. Oh! the -agony of suspense I suffered in those few minutes!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At length we reached our shelter. No time was -lost. Howard signed to me to single out a Cariboo, -while he took the noble leader, which was about -100 yards distant—the Indian reserving his fire. We -stationed ourselves each side of the tree, and our rifles -exploded almost at the same moment. Springing up -to see the effect of my shot, I was pulled down by -the Indian; what was my astonishment to see the -bull Howard had fired at, stamping the snow, and -gazing around, with fire and rage in his eye, in search -of his hidden enemy. As I looked at his formidable -antlers, his majestic height, and great strength—a -thought of our helpless situation crossed my mind. -The Indian now rested his gun quietly on the tree, -and took a long, steady aim—the cap alone exploded -with a sharp crack! Quick as lightning the bull -discovered our ambush, and with a loud snort made -directly for us. Defense or retreat against such a -foe, in our situation, up to the waist in snow, was -almost impossible. In another bound the antlers of -the enraged beast would have been in my side, when -our gallant little dog dashed forward and seized the -bull by the muzzle. Sabatisie and Howard were -busily employed putting on their snow-shoes; and -I endeavored to do the same, but with little success. -The dog had luckily checked the beast, but he was -no match for the enormous strength and wonderful -activity of his adversary. Tossing his head, the -Cariboo beat the poor little fellow on the snow and -against the tree, till I thought every bone was -broken. Finding this of no avail, the bull reared, -and with his fore-legs dealt such a shower of quick -and powerful blows, that I expected to see the dog -drop every minute. While the Cariboo was in this -position, the Indian approached him behind and endeavored -to hamstring him. But the eye of the bull -was too quick; wheeling like lightning, he made a -rush at Sabatisie, which must have been serious, -but was avoided by his falling flat on his face, the -Cariboo passing over him and wounding his back. -Meanwhile Howard had loaded, but his rifle having -become wet, he could not discharge it. The violent -exertions of the Cariboo had by this time broke the -hold of the dog, and the furious beast now turned -to the prostrate Indian—but before he could reach -his prey, the dog was again at his head, checking, -but not stopping his mad career. Sabatisie on his -knee received the shock, and at the moment grasping -the bull by the antlers, brought him down; when -Howard sprang forward and plunged his knife to -the hilt in the breast of the Cariboo. With a last -mighty effort, the noble creature dashed the Indian -in the air, and the next moment his own strong -limbs were quivering in death.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“From the commencement of this burst, I confess, -I was a little agitated—so much so, that I had not -coolness sufficient to tie on my snow-shoes, or load -my rifle; but let not any blame me until they themselves -have had the pleasure of being placed in the -same delicate situation, up to the waist in snow, and -one of those emperors of the deer tribe dancing round -in mad fury, threatening instant annihilation. On -examination, we found Howard’s ball had taken effect -just behind the shoulder, and would have caused -death in a short time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Hillo! old boy, are you hurt?’ said Tom Howard, -seeing the Indian still on his back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Cariboo <span class='it'>sartain bery strong</span>,’ grunted the poor -fellow. His back was much lacerated. ‘Brother -cut some gum, and soon be well,’ said Sabatisie.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Howard gathered some balsam formed by the sap -running from the bark of the fir-tree, and spreading -it on a piece of his handkerchief, formed a strong adhesive -plaster—staunching the blood, he placed it on -the wound.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘And now, Meadows, what has become of your -game—think he is hit?’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘Yes, by Jove, I’ll bet my rifle to a pop-gun he -is—for see, Billy has settled down on his track, and -is in chase.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘On with your snow-shoes, and away!—the -track with the blood will be plain as a van wagon—if -you come up with the Cariboo, do not fire unless -you are sure to kill. I must stop and see if the Indian -is much hurt, and swab out my rifle—but I will -soon overtake you—away now!’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So urged, I started off, and found large drops of -blood on the track the prime little dog had taken. -As I proceeded, I saw the strides of the Cariboo were -shorter, and he had been down several times. As I -pressed on, in great hopes of overtaking the game -before Howard came up, I observed the Cariboo had -made for the valley, and after a sharp walk of an -hour, I came to the stream, which was open. Here -I lost the track, but saw the marks of the dog down -the stream—these I followed, and soon heard the -baying of the dog. As I proceeded, the river was -every moment more rapid. After a sharp turn the -stream was compressed between two huge cliffs, -and rushed down a water-gap, forming a cascade of -nearly one hundred feet. To the very verge of the -fall the river was open; but over the fall itself there -was a thin coating of transparent ice, which clung -to the perpendicular cliffs on each side of the narrow -gap, forming a gauze-like veil. The towering cliffs -around were covered with a frosting of ice; and -from the stunted pines which clung to the barren -rock, hung myriads of fantastic icicles. At the foot -of the fall, the blue water rushed out, dashing the -white foam many feet in the air; and through the -thick woods which overhung the cascade, the sun -cast his rays upon the gorgeous prospect, making -every object throw forth a thousand brilliant shades, -and the glittering ice which encircled the fall was so -transparent, that the blue water could be seen beneath -dashing furiously down, as if enraged at restraint. -Not ten feet from the verge of the fall, on -a rock in the centre of the river, stood the wounded -Cariboo. The water around him was fearfully rapid—one -false step would carry him under the ice, and -down the fall. On the bank stood the dog: my first -care was to secure him, as he appeared ready every -instant to make a spring that must have been fatal. -The Cariboo had chosen a most admirable place of -retreat; nothing living could approach him with -safety. On each side the perpendicular cliffs towered -many feet over his head—before him the roaring -torrent, and behind the ice-bound cataract. After -feasting my eyes on this wild and romantic scene, I -approached as near the fall as the rugged cliff would -permit. The Cariboo saw me, and with glaring eye-balls -he shook his branching antlers in impotent rage, -presenting to my rifle his broad front, as in defiance. -I am not ashamed to say I was happy when I glanced -at the rapid water and rugged cliff between me and -my devoted prey; for I have no doubt, had it been -in his power he would have soon shortened the distance -between us—and after what I had so lately -witnessed, I had no very great desire (seeing I was -not as yet a perfect harlequin on snow-shoes,) to play -the same game over again with my friend on the -rock. To put an end to his wishes and my fears, I -presented. My ball took effect directly in his brain, -and he quietly dropped into the stream, leaving me -master of the <span class='it'>field</span>. The next moment I could see, -through the transparent ice, his glossy hide gliding -down the cascade.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Amiable reader, thus it was that “Meadows” -slew his first Cariboo; and thus, pray for me, that I -may kill mine, this very month. If I do, believe me, -I will try to tell you how I did it, as well—better I -may not tell you—as Meadows. And so, until next -month, fare you well!</p> - -<hr class='tbk137'/> - -<div><h1><a id='fut'></a>A THOUGHT OF THE FUTURE.</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Do we not <span class='it'>all</span>, sometimes, desire to look into the future, but is it not <span class='it'>well</span> for us, that it is <span class='it'>hidden from our -view</span>? S. D. S.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>Couldst thou have looked beyond the mist that veiled</p> -<p class='line0'>  The unseen Future from thy longing sight,</p> -<p class='line0'>Would not thy courage in that hour have failed,</p> -<p class='line0'>  To see the shadows of Death’s coming night?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Wouldst thou have grieved that nevermore for thee</p> -<p class='line0'>  Would the clear waters gush, the sweet flowers bloom?</p> -<p class='line0'>That more than one fond heart would homeless be,</p> -<p class='line0'>  When thou wert gone in silence to the tomb?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>What didst <span class='it'>dream</span> of? when the rose-lip smiled,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And bade thee welcome to the social hearth,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where voices low and sweet the hours beguiled—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Were they not dear, those fireside hours of mirth?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>What didst thou hope for? with thy kindling eye,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And thoughtful brow, that wore the laurels well;</p> -<p class='line0'>As thou wert climbing to the temple high,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Not hearing on the winds the passing knell!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Till ah! one morn, thy throbbing heart grew chill,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And from thy pale lip faintly came the breath;</p> -<p class='line0'>We saw thee slumbering beautiful and still,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And knew it was the dreamless sleep of death!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Through the “dark valley,” and the “shadows” dim,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thy Father’s “rod and staff” did comfort thee!</p> -<p class='line0'>Meekly didst thou repose thy trust in Him,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And launch thy frail bark on Eternity!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Could some bright spirit, from a distant sphere,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Bend down to listen to our feeble wail,</p> -<p class='line0'>To our vain longings with a pitying ear,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And for one moment raise the mystic veil!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>That we might see, though rocking on the tide,</p> -<p class='line0'>  If our frail barks would gain the port at last;</p> -<p class='line0'>If sailing on Life’s ocean far and wide</p> -<p class='line0'>  We’d gain the haven when the storm was past.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Oh! looking backward on our dreary way—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Recalling all our dreams of love and truth,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the “green spots” wherein we might not stay,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Far back upon the “fairy isle” of Youth—</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>And thinking of the hours of grief and pain,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of all the bitter tears that we have shed,</p> -<p class='line0'>That only ceased awhile, to flow again,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Above the loved, the beautiful, the dead!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Would we not close our eyes, nor dare the sight?</p> -<p class='line0'>  The many blighted hopes, the cares, the fears—</p> -<p class='line0'>The fond eyes closed, that round us shed their light,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The clouds that hang above our coming years?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Would not a fearful shriek then pierce the sky,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Sent up by thousands from this erring world</p> -<p class='line0'>Would they not then for pardon wildly cry,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Ere in the whirlpool of Destruction hurled?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>’Tis “hidden from our view,” and it is well!</p> -<p class='line0'>  But traveling through this vale of sin and strife,</p> -<p class='line0'>Should not thy memory be to us a spell,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thy pure and holy thoughts, thy blameless life?</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>They who above thy grave so sadly wept</p> -<p class='line0'>  Shall change as other years roll swiftly by—</p> -<p class='line0'>And look upon the tokens they have kept,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Scarce yielding thee the tribute of a sigh.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Oh what is Life? We live a few short hours.</p> -<p class='line0'>  Eternal joy or pain hang on a breath;</p> -<p class='line0'>We pass from earth, as fade the summer flowers,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Wither and die away—and <span class='it'>this is Death</span>!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>                                <span style='font-size:smaller'><span class='sc'>Cora</span></span></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk138'/> - -<div><h1><a id='was'></a>WAS THE WORLD MADE OUT OF NOTHING?</h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>The idea of creation may be symbolically represented -under a variety of images: under that of the -evolution of numbers from an original unity; that of -the eradiation of light from an original light; or that -of an expression of syllables and tones, answered for -aught we know to the contrary, <span class='it'>by an echo</span>. The -Hebrews seem to have preferred this last symbol. -“In the beginning God <span class='it'>created</span> (Heb. <span style='font-size:smaller'>BARA</span>, <span class='it'>brought -forth</span>) the heavens and the earth.” In the verb -<span class='it'>bara</span>, the meaning <span class='it'>create</span> and <span class='it'>cry</span> are identified: for -this reason, it is eminently adapted to denote a creation -capable of being symbolically represented by a -vocal utterance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The primary sense of <span class='it'>create</span> and <span class='it'>cry</span>”—says -Noah Webster, and we are careful to adduce in this -place the testimony of a man whom no one will -suppose to have been led astray by ontological -speculations—“is the same, to throw, to drive out, -to bring forth, precisely as in the Shemitic <span style='font-size:smaller'>BARA</span>.” -The Hebrew text may indeed be correctly but inadequately -rendered: “In the beginning God <span class='it'>bore</span> -(or <span class='it'>bare</span>, preserving in the English word the radical -letters of the original <span style='font-size:smaller'>BARA</span>) the heavens and the -earth.” For the same lexicographer says in another -place, “The verb <span class='it'>to bear</span>, I suppose to be -radically the same as the Shemitic <span style='font-size:smaller'>BARA</span>, to produce: -the primary sense is, to throw out, to bring -forth, to thrust, to drive along.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The author of the epistle to the Hebrews says: -“By faith we understand that the worlds were -framed by the word of God, so that things which are -seen were not made of things which do appear.” -These things which <span class='it'>do not appear</span> are real existences; -for the apostle says, “the things which are -seen are temporal, but the things that are unseen -(that is, which do not appear,) are eternal.” The -text therefore does not affirm that the worlds were -made out of nothing, but implies, on the contrary, -that they were framed out of invisible (that is, virtual -or potential) things. Plato says: “Let us lay -down two classes of being, the seen and the unseen; -the unseen, eternal in their relations; the seen, never -the same but ever changing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A cause which creates from nothing as material -on which to operate, must of necessity itself stand -as substance to its own creature: in such a case, the -creator and the creature must be consubstantial. -The dogma therefore that the worlds are created -absolutely out of nothing, is <span class='it'>Pantheism</span>. The -statement that the worlds are created out of nothing -is not found in Scripture, neither is it possible that -it should be found there; for the idea is absurd in -itself, since out of nothing, nothing can come, and a -universe absolutely created out of nothing would be -a mere prolongation of Supreme Power; and moreover, -there is no Hebrew word, nor known collocation -of Hebrew words, capable of expressing such an absolute -creation. The verb <span style='font-size:smaller'>BARA</span>, as we have seen, -signifies something quite different.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Fabre d’Olivet, who has endeavored to reconstruct -the Hebrew language from its biliteral roots, translates -the passage, “The earth was without <span class='it'>form and -void</span> (Heb. <span class='it'>tho-hu va bo-hu</span>)” as follows: “The -earth was a contingent potentiality of being, and in -a potentiality of being.” He affirms that the term -<span class='it'>hu</span> is derived from <span class='it'>hua</span> (<span class='it'>being</span>, that which <span class='it'>is</span>,) and -that it is formed of <span class='it'>h</span>, the letter of life, taken in connection -with one of the signs of manifestation. The -signs of manifestation are these, <span class='it'>i</span>, <span class='it'>o</span>, <span class='it'>u</span>, and are used -in this way: <span class='it'>u</span> represents latent or virtual manifestation, -<span class='it'>i</span> represents the passage from potentiality -into actuality, <span class='it'>o</span> represents manifestation in its intensity -and actual realization. Thus <span class='it'>hu</span>, in tho-hu -va bo-hu, is latent or virtual being, while <span class='it'>ho</span>, in Jehovah, -is Being in the fullness of actual existence. -The blinding of the vowel in <span class='it'>ho</span>, which gives <span class='it'>hu</span>, -represents the retrocession of being from the fullness -of actuality into mere invisibility or potentiality; -while on the contrary, the opening of the vowel in -<span class='it'>hu</span>, that is, the changing of <span class='it'>hu</span> into <span class='it'>ho</span>, represents -the opposite process, or the procession of being from -potentiality into actuality. This same root appears -again in the same verse in the word <span class='it'>thehom</span>, translated -in our version by the term “deep.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Hebrew cosmogony is more scientific than -that of India. The Hindoos tell us that the universe -exists in two states, that it is sometimes visible and -sometimes invisible; but they do not tell us by what -process things come forth from the <span class='it'>thehom</span> or -“deep,” and return again into the same. But in the -Hebrew cosmogony all that is explained. According -to the Hebrews, things are in this “deep” when they -are not related to each other; and they come forth -from this “deep” by coming into relations with -each other. According to the Hebrews, things have -no power in themselves to come into relations with -each other, that is, to emerge from this “deep,” but -must be brought into such relations by the Divine -Energy: so it is the putting forth of the Divine -Energy which causes this universe to appear, and -the withdrawing of that Energy which causes it to -disappear again. This may be illustrated. In order -to the possibility of an act of vision, it is necessary -not only that there should be some person capable -of seeing and some object capable of being seen, but -also that the light requisite in order that these two -may be brought into relations should exist. Who -can see in the dark? So long as there is no light, -the seer and the seen exist to each other potentially -only: but as soon as the light shines these two become -related.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the Hebrew Scriptures, the Divine Powers, -which bring finite existences into relations with each -other, thus causing them to emerge from the <span class='it'>thehom</span>, -or “deep,” are called—<span class='it'>the Spirit of God</span>. “Darkness -was on the face of the deep, and the Spirit of -God moved on the face of the waters.” This Divine -Spirit, operating upon man in its ordinary measure, -makes man to be what he is; operating beyond its -ordinary measure, it becomes especial <span class='it'>inspiration</span>. -The Hebrews supposed this universe would continue -in visible existence so long as the Spirit of God -should breath upon it, but that it would fall back -into the <span class='it'>the-hom</span> the moment that spirit should withdraw -its vivifying power.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We read in the speech of Elihu, reported in the -book of Job:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“There is a spirit in man:</p> -<p class='line0'>And the inspiration of the Almighty giveth them understanding. . . .</p> -<p class='line0'>The Spirit of God hath made me,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the breath of the Almighty hath given me life. . . .</p> -<p class='line0'>Who hath given unto God a charge over the earth?</p> -<p class='line0'>Or who hath disposed the whole world?</p> -<p class='line0'>If He set his heart upon man—</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>If He gather unto Himself his Spirit and his breath;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>All flesh shall perish together.</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>And man shall turn again unto dust.</span>”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Also in the 104th Psalm:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Thy creatures wait all upon thee;</p> -<p class='line0'>That thou mayest give them their meat in due season.</p> -<p class='line0'>That thou givest them, they gather:</p> -<p class='line0'>Thou openest thine hand—they are filled with good.</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Thou hidest thy face—they are troubled:</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Thou takest away their breath—they die and return to their dust.</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Thou sendest forth thy Spirit—they are (re-) created:</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>And thou renewest the face of the earth.</span>”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Inspiration, therefore, does not consist in an intensification -of the soul’s being, in the implanting of -a new principle, or springing source in the centre -of its substance, but it consists in a leading forth of -the soul to a greater intensity of <span class='it'>manifestation</span>—to -a greater distance from the original chaos, <span class='it'>the-hom</span>, -or “deep.”</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-top:0.5em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>BETH.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk139'/> - -<div><h1><a id='lit'></a>A LITERARY GOSSIP WITH MISS MITFORD.<a id='r12'/><a href='#f12' style='text-decoration:none'><sup><span style='font-size:0.9em'>[12]</span></sup></a></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'>Draw the curtains, stir the fire, make a semicircle -round the rug, and now for a <span class='it'>causerie</span>. Mary Russell -Mitford shall talk to us out of the three volumes -of reminiscences she has just given to the world; -and whatever we have to say about the sundry things -she discourseth upon therein shall be said in a cordial, -and, at the same time, perfectly frank spirit, as -becometh an honest fireside.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There she sits in the large chair, not quite so -young as she was when she charmed all homesteads -and hearth-stones with pictures of her own quiet -Berkshire village, before railroads came to destroy -the pretty wayside inns, where travelers used to be -so snug and comfortable in tiny carpeted rooms with -dimity curtains and glass cupboards full of antediluvian -china: when little Red-riding-hoods were -as plenty as blackberries, and the gipsies were never -at a loss for secluded nooks and dells, where they -could camp and cook, and tell stories under the -hedge-rows, with a feeling of solitude and security -they can never enjoy again in merry England. That -was a long, long time ago; yet Mary Russell Mitford -looks as ready as she was in her brightest days to -enter with a relishing zest into the garden delights -and book pleasures that have formed the occupation -and happiness of her life, and made her name known -and welcome wherever natural description and unaffected -feeling are truly appreciated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There she sits, with as homely and good-humored -an air as if, instead of writing books and holding correspondence -with half the celebrities of her time, she -had no other vocation in this world than to attend to -domestic affairs, prune shrubs on the lawn, dispense -flannels at Christmas to the poor, and look after a -neighboring school. Beside her chair stands her -constant companion, a remarkable stick, with an odd -sort of a head to it; and to make her actual presence -the more palpable she should be surrounded by her -inseparable friends—Fanchon, her little dog, that -might be crouched at her feet, with its sensitive ears -lifting and falling at every sound; her neat maid, -Nancy, watching her on a low stool, and her boy, -Henry—(we hope he is still a boy,) and that he will -contrive, for her sake, to continue so—standing behind -her chair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That stick has a biography all to itself, and a very -curious one it is. Sixty years ago it was a stick of -quality, and belonged to some Dowager Duchess of -Athol, who has no more reality for us than one of the -embroidered ladies in an old piece of tapestry. So -far as its original owner is concerned, the stick, for -aught we know to the contrary, may be a phantom-stick, -or a witch-stick; but, be that as it may, Miss -Mitford’s father bought it at the sale of Berkshire -House, where it was huddled by the auctioneer into -a lot of old umbrellas, watering-pots, and flower-stands. -It was then light, straight, and slender, -nearly four feet high, polished, veined, and of a yellowish -color, and of the order called a crook, such, -says Miss Mitford, who is evidently very particular -about it, as may be seen upon a chimney-piece figuring -in the hand of some trim shepherdess of Dresden -china. First, the housekeeper carried this stick—then, -when the housekeeper died, Miss Mitford’s -mother took possession of it; and from her it descended -to Miss Mitford, herself, who, first out of -whim, and afterward from habit and necessity, made -it her trusty supporter on all occasions. The adventures -of that stick are as full of perils and hair-breadth -escapes as ever befell a South Sea whaler, or a Hudson’s -bay trapper. Once it was lost in a fair, once -forgotten in a marquee at a cricket match, and at another -time stolen by a little boy, which cost its mistress -a ten miles walk for its recovery. But the -worst calamity that befell it was, when in the act of -drawing down a rich branch of woodbine from the -top of a hedge, its ivory crook came off, falling into -a muddy ditch, and sinking so irretrievably that it -was never recovered. The crook, it seems, was -very handsome, and was bound with a silver rim, -imparting a lady-like appearance to the stick, which -at the first sight, gave you a hint of its aristocratic -origin. In this extremity it was sent to a parasol -shop to have a new crook put on, but the stupid people -first docked many inches of its height, and -then put on a bone umbrella-top, that fell off of its -own accord in a few days. A good-natured friend -remedied the second loss by fastening on an ebony -top, which looks, after four or five years’ wear, -a little graver, “and more fit for the poor old mistress, -who having at first taken to a staff in sport, is -now so lame as to be unable to walk without one.” -The memoirs of a walking-stick may strike our -readers as a mere waste of words and paper; but it -is surprising what slight incidents rise into importance -and interest in a country life, and how much -the reality of its portraiture is indebted to trivial, but -by no means unessential features. At all events, -Miss Mitford’s stick is a stick of note, and should no -more be passed over in silence than the ruff of -Queen Elizabeth, or the flowing ringlets of Congreve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Mitford’s life seems to have opened upon her -in that page of the old quarto edition of “Percy’s -Reliques,” where the ballad of the “Children in the -Wood” is to be found. It is the first book, almost -the first event she remembers. They used to put -her upon a table before she was three years old, -when she was, as she says, only a sort of twin-sister -to her own doll, to make her read leading articles -out of the morning papers; and the reward for this -terrible penance was to hear her mother recite the -“Children in the Wood,” just as children are rewarded -for taking nauseous things by a promise of a -lump of sugar. At last, she got possession of the -volumes themselves, and made acquaintance with -the rest of the ballads, which possess as great a -charm for her now as they did then; and she never -looks upon the old books—the very same edition Dr. -Johnson used to treat with a very learned and unwise -superciliousness—that the days of her childhood, -or doll-hood, do not come vividly back upon -her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She still keeps to the Percy collection. She does -not seem to care about the lore that has been dug up -since, or the antiquarian research that has come to -the illustration of our old English poetry. Even the -first edition contents her—she will have no other—she -has an affection for it—it is enough for her purpose—it -recalls the happy time when its pages disclosed -a new world of enchantments to her—and she -holds it in reverence amongst her literary penates. -There is nothing in her reminiscences to show that -she troubles herself about Percy societies, or Shakspeare -societies, that she has ever dipped into -Notes and Queries, or would think herself obliged to -the officious critic who should detect a flaw in her -two precious quarto volumes. The faith and the -enthusiasm of childhood still cling to the well-known -book, and would be very much put out by being disturbed -at their devotions. And this is the character -of Miss Mitford’s mind. She would rather believe -in an old tradition than have it dispelled by the detective -police that go about exploring chronicles and -ferreting out damaging facts. She thinks a pleasant -delusion better than a disagreeable truth; and it is -to this fondness for old books, and old places, and the -old stories that have grown up into a popular creed -about them, that we may trace the paramount charm -of simplicity and trustfulness, the cheerful spirit and -the teeming good-nature which abound in her -writings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To us, we must acknowledge, this freshness of -the heart and entire freedom of the imagination, is -very delightful. Miss Mitford is not a critic; but -she is something a great deal better and more agreeable. -She is of too enjoyable a temperament for a -critic; she has not a tinge of the malice or perversity -of criticism in her genial nature. For this reason, -her opinions are sometimes slightly heterodox, but it -is always on the side of a good-will, and a hearty -admiration of some gracious or gentle quality which -she has been at the pains to discover, and which few -people would take the trouble to look for. She -speaks rapturously of Davis’ “Life of Curran;” -has such innocent rural views of literature, that she -thinks nobody reads Pope and Dryden now, and that -George Darley is unknown as a poet to the English -public; detects a close resemblance between the -Irish novels of Banim and the romanticist creations -of Victor Hugo, Sue, Dumas, and the rest of that -school; thinks that few works are better worth -reading than Moncton Milnes’ “Life of Keats,” not -only for the sake of Keats, but of his “generous -benefactors, Sir James Clarke and Mr. Severn;” -regrets that certain works have fallen into oblivion, -from which no effort of fashionable or literary patronage -can redeem them; considers Willis, Lowell -and Poe the great American poets; and hopes that -Richardson’s novels and Walpole’s letters will never -come to an end. Nobody’s judgment can suffer any -damage from such amiable notions; and the world -is always sure to derive benefit from the kindly spirit -that overlooks a hundred defects and follies for the -sake of a single virtue it finds hidden beneath them. -We wish there were more Miss Mitfords, with her -intellect, to set us so influential an example of toleration -and a willingness to be pleased.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She confesses that she was a spoilt child, and that -papa spoilt her. It is evident, from what we have -just said, that sudden and high as was the growth -of her reputation, the public have not spoilt her. -What the applause of critics and the admiration of -her readers failed to do, papa did. “Not content -with spoiling me in-doors, he spoilt me out. How -well I remember his carrying me round the orchard -on his shoulder, holding fast my little three-year-old -feet, whilst the little hands hung on to his pig-tail, -which I called my bridle—those were days of pig-tails—hung -so fast, and lugged so heartily, that sometimes -the ribbon would come off between my fingers, -and send his hair floating, and the powder flying -down his back.” The papa who thus made her first -acquainted with the orchard, occupies a still more -prominent space in her subsequent reminiscences. -From him to whom she was indebted for her early -love of nature, and the happy hours of childhood, she -also derived the heaviest sorrow of her life. The -story is strange and melancholy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A young physician, clever, handsome, gay, in a -small town in Hampshire, Miss Mitford’s father won -the hand of an heiress with a property of eight-and-twenty -thousand pounds. With the exception of -two hundred a year, settled on her as pin-money, the -whole of this fortune was injudiciously placed at the -free use of Dr. Mitford, who seems to have possessed -every quality to make his wife happy—except prudence. -Being an eager Whig, he plunged into election -politics and made enemies; being very hospitable, -he spent more money than he could afford; -and, endeavoring to retrieve the waste by cards and -speculation, he sank nearly the whole of his resources. -In this extremity, he thought he would do -better in a fresh place, and so the family removed to -Lyme Regis, where they had a fine house, which -twenty years before had been rented by the great -Lord Chatham for the use of his sons. Here they -led a very gay life for two or three seasons—balls, -excursions, dinners; yet in the midst of it, Miss Mitford -says, she felt a secret conviction that something -was wrong—“such a foreshowing as makes the -quicksilver in the barometer sink while the weather -is still bright and clear.” Her father went ominously -to London, and lost more money—she does not say -how—all was now gone except the pin-money: -friends departed one by one, and there was great -hurry and confusion, and then everything was to be -parted with, and everybody to be paid, and the family -made a forced journey to London, part of which was -performed in a tilted cart without springs, for lack -of better conveyance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Settled in a dingy, comfortless lodging in one of -the suburbs beyond Westminster Bridge, Dr. Mitford’s -constitutional vivacity returned. He used to take -his little girl, then ten years old, in his hand about -town to show her the sights; and one day they -stopped at an Irish lottery-office, and showing her -certain mysterious bits of paper with numbers on -them, he desired her to choose one. She selected -No. 2,224; but as this was only a quarter, and papa -wanted to purchase a whole ticket, he desired her to -choose again. But her heart was set on No. 2,224, -because the numbers added together made up ten, -and that day happened to be her tenth birth-day. -Fortunately, the lottery-office man had the whole -number in shares, and so the ticket was bought. -She must relate the sequel in her own words.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“The whole affair was a secret between us, and my -father, whenever he got me to himself, talked over our -future twenty thousand pounds, just like Almaschar over -his basket of eggs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Meanwhile time passed on, and one Sunday morning -we were all preparing to go to church, when a face that -I had forgotten, but my father had not, made its appearance. -It was the clerk of the lottery-office. An express -had just arrived from Dublin, announcing that No. 2,224 -had drawn a prize of twenty thousand pounds, and he -had hastened to communicate the good news.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, me! in less than twenty years what was left of -the produce of the ticket so strangely chosen? What? -except the Wedgwood dinner service that my father had -had made to commemorate the event, with the Irish harp -within the border on one side, and his family crest on the -other. That fragile and perishable ware long outlasted -the more perishable money!”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Mitford relates these painful recollections -with a serenity and patience that yield a lesson from -which her readers may profit as largely as from the -example of extravagance and recklessness which -made so severe a demand on her feelings and her -philosophy; and it is pleasant, after all her vicissitudes -and jolting over the rough ways of the world, -to find her in a tranquil cottage, in the midst of the -scenery she loves, with her dog and her maid, her -stick and her pony, enjoying as much felicity as can -be reasonably looked for in the sunset of a chequered -life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Scattered over the volumes without much heed of -chronology or sequence, are many little personal -scraps that will hereafter enter into her biography, -from the light which they throw upon the cast and -color of her training. The papa, who was so indifferent -to money, who was addicted to such ruinous -habits, and who in his general relations with society, -seems to have sacrificed the comfort and repose of -his home, was, nevertheless, the most devoted of -fathers. From her earliest childhood to the last hour -of his life, he treated her with an affectionate and -caressing tenderness that, in spite of his manifest -errors, leaves an amiable impression of his character -behind. One of the incidents on which she dwells -with the greatest satisfaction was her first visit to -London; and the mode of it is not only illustrative -of the comparatively primitive habits of the time, -but of the simplicity of the man in his domestic life. -Having occasion to come to London in the middle of -July, he suddenly announced his intention of taking -her up with him in his gig; and at this open fashion -they started, stopping to dine at Crauford Bridge in a -little inn—then a very famous posting-house—whose -pretty garden and Portugal laurels she still remembers; -and then on to Hatchett’s Hotel in Piccadilly, -where she stood looking out of the window and wondering -when the crowd would go by; and in the -evening she was so unconscious of fatigue from this -exciting journey that papa took her to the Haymarket -to see a comedy—one of the comedies, she says, -that George III. used to enjoy so heartily, although -what sort of comedy it was we know not, unless, -which we shrewdly suspect, it was a specimen of -Colman the Younger, or of the Morton and Reynolds -school. She had seen plays before in a barn—but -never such a play as this. The whole description -of this trip to London is as good in its way as anything -Fielding himself could have done.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear papa,” in the pride of his heart, insisted -upon making an accomplished musician of her, and -would “stick her up” to the piano, although she had -neither ear, taste, nor application. Her master was -Hook, the father of the facetious Theodore, and she -was taught in the schoolroom where Miss Landon -passed the greater part of her life. Luckily they -shut her up in a room to make her practise the harp, -and as it was full of books she fell to reading, and -under these auspicious circumstances made her first -acquaintance with the plays of Voltaire and Molière. -She was caught in the fact of laughing till the tears -ran down her cheeks over that passage in the “Bourgeois -Gentilhomme,” where the angry father apostrophises -the galley, “Que diable alloit-il faire dans -cette galère!” As her good stars had it, she was -detected in her delinquency by the husband of the -schoolmistress, who happened to be a Frenchman, -an adorer of Molière, and a hater of music, and who, -instead of chiding her for her neglect of the instrument, -dismissed the harp-mistress, and made the -young student a present of a cheap edition of Molière, -for her own reading, which she has to this -hour, in twelve unbound, foreign-looking, little volumes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After these scenes, we find her in a cottage, at -Taplow—at this time a grown-up lady—looking over -a garden of honeysuckles, lilies, and roses, making -excursions to Windsor, to Gray’s Lawn at Stoke -Poges, to Burke’s at Beaconsfield, and to the College -at Chalfont, where Milton found a refuge during the -plague. We always associate Miss Mitford with -cottages. We cannot imagine her living in a slated -house, three stories high, with a carriage sweep, -and steps up to the door—we cannot suffer her in our -imagination to have any of the comforts and solidity -of a well-built mansion about her; it must be a cottage, -with its ivy creepers, its portico and latticed -windows, and everything round it looking as green -and rural as a wilderness of trees and shrubs, growing -up luxuriantly in a warm, languid climate can -make it. In short, we must smother her in flowers, -or she is not the Miss Mitford that we know so well -in the pastoral books she has written.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Turning from the autobiographical passages which -form so interesting a part of these volumes, there are a -variety of literary sketches of an equally attractive -kind. Miss Mitford runs over a wide field of books -and recollections; and from her extensive acquaintance -with literary people, and the desultory character -of her reading, she supplies an abundant store of -anecdote and remark.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The following is new, and certainly very curious. -The scene is an old, wooden, picturesque house, at -Cambridge, in America, once the head quarters of -Washington, but now the residence of Longfellow, -the poet.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“One night the poet chanced to look out of his window, -and saw by the vague starlight a figure riding -slowly past the mansion. The face could not be distinguished; -but the tall, erect person, the cocked hat, the -traditional costume, the often-described white horse, all -were present. Slowly he paced before the house, and -then returned, and then again passed by, after which, -neither horse nor rider were seen or heard of.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>Miss Mitford does not give us any authority for this -anecdote; but the collectors of ghost stories are not -very particular about authorities, and will be content -to take it upon her own, as we do.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There is a sketch of Elizabeth Barrett, and a little -biography attached to it, which will be read with -interest. Miss Mitford’s acquaintance with her commenced -fifteen years ago.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of a slight, delicate figure, with a shower of dark -curls falling on either side of a most expressive face -large, tender eyes richly fringed by dark eye-lashes, a -smile like a sunbeam, and such a look of youthfulness, -that I had some difficulty in persuading a friend, in whose -carriage we went together to Chiswick, that the translator -of the ‘Prometheus of Æschylus,’ the authoress of -the ‘Essay on Mind,’ was old enough to be introduced -into company, or, in technical language, was <span class='it'>out</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>It was in the following year that Miss Barrett -broke a blood-vessel in the lungs, which consigned -her to a long illness, during which she lost a favorite -brother by one of those melancholy accidents which -leave ineffaceable memories in the hearts of the survivors. -He was drowned, with two companions, in -sight of her windows at Torquay, whither she was -ordered for change of air. This tragedy nearly killed -her; and more than a year afterward, when she was -removed to London by easy journeys, she told Miss -Mitford that, “during that whole winter, the sound -of the waves rang in her ears like the moans of one -dying.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>William Cobbett was one of the notabilities to -whom Miss Mitford was introduced by her father, -whose intimacy with him was brought about through -their mutual attachment to field sports. She describes -him in his own house as a man of unfailing good -humor and great heartiness; tall, stout and athletic, -with a bright smile, and an air compounded of the -soldier and the farmer, to which his habitual red -waistcoat contributed not a little. His activity was -something to be remembered, for he would begin the -day by mowing his own lawn, a laborious pastime -in which he beat his gardener, who was esteemed, -except himself, the best mower in the parish.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Upon one occasion, Dr. Mitford and his daughter -were invited to Cobbett’s to meet the wife and -daughters of a certain Dr. Blamire; and as it appeared -that Dr. Mitford had formerly flirted with -Mrs. Blamire, some amusement was expected from -seeing how they would meet after a lapse of twenty -years, both of them having shaken off the old <span class='it'>liaison</span>, -and married in the meanwhile.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“The most diverting part of this scene, very amusing -to a bystander, was, that my father, the only real culprit, -was the only person who throughout maintained the appearance -and demeanor of the most unconscious innocence. -He complimented Mrs. Blamire on her daughters—two -very fine girls—inquired after his old friend, the -doctor, and laughed and talked over by-gone stories with -the one lady, just as if he had not jilted her, and played -the kind and attentive husband to the other, just as if he -had never in all his days made love to anybody except -his own dear wife.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Formerly, we frequently met with physicians who -belonged to this class, and who were indebted for -their professional success mainly to their social tactics -and invincible pleasantry; but although you still -occasionally fall in with a medical man who considers -it as necessary to cultivate popularity amongst -ladies as to attend to the practice of his art, the age -of the flirt-physicians, we are happy to believe, has -passed away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Mitford’s literary “recollections” bear rather -more upon books than upon the authors of them. -The book-gossip to which she invites us, traverses -a considerable round of poets, novelists, and miscellaneous -writers, and the specimens of their works -over which she lingers with delight, make a body of -extracts which enhance the value and variety of the -publication. Her notes upon these selected passages -discover a geniality and earnestness which will be -grateful even to the reader who may sometimes have -occasion to think that her praise is a little in excess, -or who may doubt the judgment that has been shown -in particular selections.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This tendency to a good-natured estimate of her -favorite authors, shows itself most conspicuously in -her admiration of certain poets, whose merits the -world has not hitherto rated so highly. We are not -sorry, nevertheless, to meet snatches of such people -as Mr. Spencer and Miss Catharine Fanshawe—whose -chief claim to notice is, that she was the -author of the Enigma on the letter H, which used -to be ascribed to Byron—for, except through the -flattering medium of books like these, we are not -very likely to see the <span class='it'>vers de société</span> that were in -such request some fifty years ago, disinterred for our -special delectation. They are abundantly curious, -and discover a certain verbal facility and gayety of -the thinnest and airiest kind, which will at least -amuse, if not instruct the reader, by setting him -thinking of the extinct modes and tastes to which -they were addressed, and out of which they extracted -their fugitive popularity. But poetasters of this -order, however cheerfully and successfully they help -to shed a grace on private life, and to give a sort of -intellectual vivacity to social intercourse, can never -be made to survive their hour in print. They must -perish with the occasion that gave them birth; and -you might as well hope to procure for the acted -charade, if it were taken down in short-hand and -published, the same success in the closet that it received -on its impromptu delivery, as to procure for -the graceful trifles thrown off for the amusement of -a <span class='it'>coterie</span>, the honors of a permanent place in the -library. They never aimed at such a destiny, and can -never achieve it; and it may be doubted whether -their fragile existence should be risked in print at -all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of all the neglected, forgotten, or unknown books -Miss Mitford has brought to life again, the Autobiography -of Holcroft is the most deserving of resuscitation. -We know no memoir of its kind—excepting -the only one forbidden book in French literature—that -possesses its charm of frankness, truthfulness -of detail, and quiet development of character. Unfortunately -it is nothing more than a fragment, consisting -of seventeen chapters, dictated by Holcroft—a -prolific author and translator—in his last illness; -stopping short at an interesting point in his career, -and furnishing such evidences of clear-sighted judgment, -and happy skill in relation and portraiture, as -to leave an indelible regret upon the mind of the -reader at finding himself cast upon the grander diction -of Hazlitt for the continuation of the narrative. The -contrast is painful. The brilliancy and paradoxical -genius of Hazlitt, rendered him of all men the most -unfit to follow up the unpretending strength and simplicity -of Holcroft; and the transition is something like -being transported from the fresh air and pastoral beauty -of a natural landscape into a severe Italian garden. -There was but one point in common between them—and -that was the most contracted and least characteristic -of all—their agreement in politics. Holcroft -was a man of larger powers, and a wider range of -tastes than might be predicated from that party martyrdom -which gave him so distressing a notoriety in -the latter days of his life, to the partial eclipse of his -literary reputation. But the subject is not likely to -be revived now, nor would it repay the labors of a -more competent editor. Miss Mitford, however, has -done well in drawing attention to Holcroft’s book, -and the extracts she has given from it will be read -with interest; but it is only from the memoir itself, -as a whole, tracing the course of the self-educated -boy from his origin upward, that an adequate notion -can be formed of the enthralling charm of that singular -narrative.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We have exceeded our limits. A gossip, intended -to occupy only five minutes or so, has already run -over the brim of the measure which we proposed to -fill up to the health of Miss Mitford. It is not the -first time she has tempted us into an excess of this -kind; but, if the reader will open her volumes over -the fireside as we have done, we are mistaken if he -do not find quite as much difficulty as we do now in -shutting them up and putting them down again.</p> - -<hr class='footnotemark'/> - -<div class='footnote'> -<table summary='footnote_12'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' class='footnoteid'/> -<col span='1'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td style='vertical-align:top;'> -<div class='footnote-id' id='f12'><a href='#r12'>[12]</a></div> -</td><td> - -<p class='pindent'>Recollections of a Literary Life; or Books, Places, -and People. By Mary Russell Mitford, Author of “Our -Village,” etc. 3 vols.</p> - -</td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk140'/> - -<div><h1><a id='hun'></a>THE BLACK HUNTSMAN.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>HORACE W. SMITH.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Loud blew the wind at the midnight hour,</p> -<p class='line0'>  With many a wintry blast,</p> -<p class='line0'>Which fairly shook old Rodenstine’s tower,</p> -<p class='line0'>  As the Wild Black Huntsman passed.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The deer he sprang from his leafy bed,</p> -<p class='line0'>  As he heard the piercing sounds,</p> -<p class='line0'>And the oak boughs crashed to his antlered head,</p> -<p class='line0'>  As he flew from the phantom hounds.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The rite of the holy monk was stayed,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And he trembling dropped his beads,</p> -<p class='line0'>As he heard the tramp through the forest glades</p> -<p class='line0'>  And the neigh of the goblin steeds.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>From the revellers hand the wine-cup fell,</p> -<p class='line0'>  At the forester’s festive board;</p> -<p class='line0'>And a sudden charm came o’er the spell</p> -<p class='line0'>  Of the minstrels tuneful chord.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>The old oak shook in its ancient hold,</p> -<p class='line0'>  The abbey bell tolled to the blast;</p> -<p class='line0'>And the cloud and the tempest onward rolled,</p> -<p class='line0'>  As the Wild Black Huntsman passed.</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk141'/> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i233.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0010' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'><span style='font-size:smaller'>J. Hayter</span> <span style='font-size:smaller'>W.H. Mote</span><br/></p> <br/><span class='bold'>COQUETISH SEVENTEEN.</span><br/>Graham’s Magazine 1852 -</div> - -<hr class='tbk142'/> - -<div><h1><a id='two'></a>THE TWO ISABELS;</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>OR COQUETISH SEVENTEEN.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;'>[with a steel plate.]</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY MRS. S. C. HALL.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';fs:0.9em;' --> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Oh love, love, love, love!—love is like a dizziness,</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>It will not let a poor man go about his business.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:0em;margin-bottom:0.75em;font-size:0.9em;'><span class='sc'>Old Song.</span></p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';fs:0.9em;' --> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>And are those follies going,</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>And is my proud heart growing</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Too cold, or wise, for woman’s eyes</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>Again to set it glowing?</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:0em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:0.9em;'><span class='sc'>Moore.</span></p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>The General put on his spectacles, and looked -steadfastly at Isabel for at least two minutes. “Turn -your head,” he said, at last—“there, to the left.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Isabel Montford, although an acknowledged beauty, -was as amiable as she was admired; she had also a -keen appreciation of character; and, though somewhat -piqued, was amused by the oddity of her aunt’s -old lover. The General was a fine example of the -well-preserved person and manners of the past century; -beauty always recognizes beauty as a distinguished -relative; and Isabel turned her head, to -render it as attractive as it could be.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The General smiled, and after gazing for another -minute with evident pleasure, he said—“Do me the -favor to keep that attitude, and walk across the -room.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Isabella did so with much dignity; she certainly -was exceedingly handsome;—her step light, but -firm; her figure, admirably poised; her head, well and -gracefully placed; her features, finely formed; her -eyes and smile, bright and confiding. She would -have been more captivating had her dress been less -studied; her taste was evidently Parisien rather than -classic. The gentleman muttered something, in -which the words, “charming,” and “to be regretted,” -only met her ear; then he spoke distinctly:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You solicited my candor, young lady—you challenged -comparison between you and your compeers, -and the passing belles whom I have seen. Now, be so -kind as to walk out of the room, re-enter, and curtsey.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Had Isabel Montford been an uneducated young -lady, she might have flounced out of the <span class='it'>salon</span>, in obedience -to her displeasure, which was very decided; -but as it was, she drew herself to her full height, and -swept through the folding-doors. The General took -a very large pinch of snuff. “That is so perfectly a -copy of her poor aunt!” he murmured;—“just so -would she pass onward, like a ruffled swan; she went -after that exact fashion into the ante-room, when she -refused me, for the fourth time, thirty-five years -ago.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The young Isabel re-entered, and curtseyed. The -gentleman seated himself, leaned his clasped hands -upon the head of his beautiful inlaid cane—which he -carried rather for show than use—and said, “Young -lady, you look a divinity! Your <span class='it'>tourneure</span> is perfection; -but your curtsey is frightful! A dip, a bob, a -bend, a shuffle, a slide, a canter—neither dignified, -graceful, nor self-possessed! A curtsey is in grace -what an <span class='it'>adagio</span> is in music;—only masters of the art -can execute either the one or the other. Why, the -beauty of the Duchess of Devonshire could not have -saved her reputation as a graceful woman, if she had -dared such a curtsey as that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I assure you, sir,” remonstrated the offended -Isabel, “that Madame Micheau——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do I care for the woman!” exclaimed the -General, indignantly. “Have I not memory?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can you not teach me?” said Isabel, amused -and interested by his earnestness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I teach you!—I! No; the curtseys which -captivated thousands in my youth were more an inspiration -than an art. The very queen of <span class='it'>ballet</span>, in -the present day, cannot curtsey.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Could my aunt?” inquired Isabel, a little saucily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your aunt, Miss Montford, was grace itself. Ah! -there are no such women now a-days!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And, after the not very flattering observation, the -General moved to the piano. Isabel’s brows contracted -and her cheeks flushed; however, she glanced -at the looking-glass, was comforted, and smiled. He -raised the cover, placed the seat with the grave gallantry -of an old courtier, and invited the young lady -to play. She obeyed, to do her justice, with prompt -politeness; she was not without hope that <span class='it'>there</span>, at -least, the old gentleman would confess she was -triumphant. Her white hands, gemmed with jewels, -flew over the keys like winged seraphs; they bewildered -the eye by the rapidity of their movements. -The instrument thundered, but the thunder was so -continuous that <span class='it'>there was no echo</span>! “The contrast -will come by-and-by,” thought the disciple of the old -school—“there must be some shadow to throw up -the lights.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Thunder—crash—thunder—crash—drum—rattle—a -confused, though eloquent, running backward and -forward of sounds, the rings flashing like lightning! -Another crash—louder—a great deal of crossing -hands—violent strides from one end of the instrument -to the other—prodigious displays of strength on -the part of the fair performer—a terrific shake! -“What desperate exertion!” thought the General; -“and all to produce a soulless noise.” Then followed -a fearful banditti of octaves—another crash, -louder and more prolonged than the rest; and she -looked up with a triumphant smile—a smile conveying -the same idea as the pause of an opera-dancer -after a most wonderful <span class='it'>pirouette</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you keep a tuner in the house, my dear young -lady?” inquired the General.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If a look could have annihilated, he would have -crumbled into ashes; but he only returned it with -admiration, thinking, “How astonishingly like her -aunt, when she refused me the second time!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And that is fashionable music, Miss Montford? -I have lived so long out of England, only hearing the -music of Beethoven, and Mozart, and Mendelssohn, -I was not aware that noise was substituted for power, -and that execution had banished expression. Dear -me!—why, the piano is vibrating at this moment! -Poor thing! How long does a piano last you, Miss -Montford?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Isabel was losing her temper, when fortunately -her aunt—still Miss Vere—came to the rescue. The -lovers of thirty years past, would have met any -where else as strangers. The once rounded and -queen-like form of the elder Isabel was shorn of its -grace and beauty; of all her attributes, of all her attractions, -dignity only remained; and it was that -high-bred, innate dignity which can never be acquired, -and is never forgotten. She had not lost the -eighth of an inch of her height, and her gray hair -was braided in full folds over her fair but wrinkled -brow. Isabel Montford looked so exactly what -Isabel Vere had been, that General Gordon was -sorely perplexed; Isabel Vere, if truth must be told, -had taken extra pains with her dress; her niece had -met the General the night before, and her likeness to -her aunt had so recalled the past, that his promised -visit to his old sweetheart (as he still called her) -had fluttered and agitated her more than she thought -it possible an interview with <span class='it'>any man</span> could do; she -quarreled with her beautiful gray hair, she cast off -her black velvet dress disdainfully, and put on a blue -<span class='it'>Moire antique</span>. (She remembered how much the -Captain—no, the <span class='sc'>General</span>, once admired blue.) She -was not a coquette; even gray hair at fifty-five does -not cure coquetry where it has existed in all its -strength; but, for the sake of her dear niece, she -wished to look as well as possible. She wondered -why she had so often refused “poor Gordon.” She -had been all her life of too delicate a mind to be a -husband-hunter, too well satisfied with her position -to calculate how it could be improved, and yet, she -did not hesitate to confess to herself that now, in the -commencement of old age, however verdant it might -be, she would have been happier, of more consequence, -of more value, as a married woman. She -had too much good sense, and good taste, to belong -to the class of discontented females, consisting of -husbandless and childless women, who seek to establish -laws at war with the laws of the Almighty; -so, if her heart did beat a little stiffly, and sundry -passages passed through her brain in connection with -her old adorer, and what the future might be—she -may be forgiven, and will be, by those not strong-minded -women who understand enough of the waywardness -of human nature to know that, if <span class='it'>young</span> -heads and <span class='it'>old</span> hearts are sometimes found together, -so are young hearts and old heads. The young laugh -to scorn the idea of Cupid and a crutch, but Cupid -has strange vagaries, and at any moment can barb -his crutch with the point of an arrow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The old people,” as Isabel Montford irreverently -called them that evening, did not get on well together; -they were in a great degree disappointed one -with the other. They stood up to dance the <span class='it'>minuet -de la cour</span>, and Isabel Vere languished and swam as -she had never done before; but the General only -wondered how stiff she had grown, and hoped that -he was not as ill used by time as Mistress Isabel -Vere had been. At first, Isabel Montford thought it -“good fun” to see the antiquities bowing and curtseying, -but she became interested in the lingering -courtliness of the little scene, trembled lest her aunt -should appear ridiculous, and then wondered how -she could have refused such a man as General Gordon -must have been.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Days and weeks flew fast; the General became a -constant visitor in the square, and the heart of Isabel -Vere had never beaten so loudly at twenty as it did -at fifty-and-five; nothing, she thought, could be more -natural than that the General should recall the days -of his youth, and seek the friendship and companionship -of her who had never married, while he—faithless -man!—had been guilty of two wives during his -“services in India.” It was impossible to tell which -of the ladies he treated with the most attention. -Isabel Montford took an especial delight in tormenting -him, and he was cynical enough towards her at -times. Although he frankly abused her piano-forte-playing, -yet he evidently preferred it to the music -Miss Vere practised so indefatigably to please him, -or to the songs she sang, in a voice which from a high -“soprano,” had been crushed by time into what might -be considered a very singular “mezzo.” He somehow -forgot how to find fault with Miss Montford’s -dancing, and more than once became her partner in -a quadrille. It was evident, that while the General -was growing young, Miss Vere remained—“as she -was!” Isabel Montford amused herself at his expense, -but he did not—quick-sighted and man-of-the-world -though he was—perceive it. At first he was -remarkably fond of recalling and dating events, and -dwelling upon the grace, and beauty, and interest, -and advantage, of whatever was past and gone—much -to the occasional pain of Isabel Vere, who, gentle-hearted -as she was, would have consigned <span class='it'>dates</span> to -the bottomless pit; latterly, however, he talked a -good deal more of the present than of the past, and, -greatly to the annoyance of younger men, fell into the -duties of escort to both ladies,—accompanying them -to places of public promenade and amusement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On such occasions, Miss Isabel Vere looked either -earnest or bashful—yes, positively bashful; and Miss -Isabel Montford, brimful of as much mischief as a -lady could delight in. At times, the General laid -aside his cynical observations, together with his -cane, which was not even replaced by an umbrella; -to confess the truth, he had experienced several -symptoms of <span class='it'>heart disease</span>, which, though they -made him restless and uncomfortable, brought hopes -and aspirations of life, rather than fears of death.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One morning, Isabel Montford and the General were -alone in the <span class='it'>salon</span> where this little scene first opened:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Our difference has never been settled yet,” she -exclaimed, gaily; “you have never proved to me the -superiority of the Old school over the New.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Simply because of your superiority to both,” he -replied.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do not perceive the point of the answer,” said -the young lady. “What has my superiority over -<span class='it'>both</span> to do with the question?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The General arose and shut the door. “Do you -think you could listen to me seriously for five minutes?” -he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Listening is always serious work,” she answered. -He took her hand within his; she felt it was the hand -of age; the bones and sinews pressed on her soft palm -with an earnest pressure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isabel Montford—could you love an old man?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She raised her eyes to his, and wondered at the -light which filled them:—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” she answered, “I could love an old man -dearly; I could confide to him the dearest secret of -my heart.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And your heart, your heart itself? Such things -have been, sweet Isabel.” His hand was <span class='it'>very</span> hard, -but she did not withdraw hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, not <span class='it'>that</span>, because—because I have not my -heart to give.” She spoke rapidly, and with emotion. -“I have it not to give, and I have so longed to tell -you my secret! You have such influence with my -aunt, you have been so affectionate, so like a father -to me, that if you would only intercede with <span class='it'>her</span>, for -<span style='font-size:smaller'>HIM</span> and me, I know she could not refuse. I have -often——often thought of entreating this, and now it -was so kind of you to ask, if I could love an old man, -giving me the opportunity of showing that I do, by -confiding in you, and asking your intercession.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The room became misty to the General’s eyes, and -the rattle of a battle-field sounded in his ears, and -beat upon his heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And pray, Miss Montford,” he said, after a pause, -“who may <span class='it'>him</span> be?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, <span class='it'>you</span> do not know him!—my aunt forbade -the continuance of our acquaintance the day before I -had the happiness to meet you. It was most fortunate -I wooed you to call upon her, thinking—” (she -looked up at his fine face, whose very wrinkles were -aristocratic, and smiled her most bewitching smile) -“thinking the presence of the only man she ever -loved would soften her, and hoping that I should one -day be privileged to address you as my friend, my -uncle!” And she kissed his hand.—It really was -hard to bear. “I have heard her say,” persisted the -young lady, “that when prompted by evil counsel, -she refused you, she loved you, and since your return -she only lives in your presence.” The General -wondered if this was true, and thought he would not -give the young beauty a triumph. He was recovering -his self-possession. “I remembered your admiration -of <span class='it'>passing belles</span>, and felt how kindly you -tolerated me, <span class='it'>for my aunt’s sake</span>; and surely you -will aid me in a matter upon which my happiness, -and the happiness of that poor dear fellow depends?” -She bent her beautiful eyes on the ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And who is the poor dear fellow?” inquired the -General, in a singularly husky voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Henry Mandeville,” half-whispered Isabel. “Oh, -is it not a beautiful name? the initials on those lovely -handkerchiefs you gave me will still do; I shall still -be I. M.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A son of old Admiral Mandeville’s?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The <span class='it'>youngest</span> son,” she sighed, “that is my -aunt’s objection; were he the <span class='it'>eldest</span>, she would have -been too happy. Oh, sir, he is such a fine fellow—such -a hero!—lost a leg at Cabool, and received I -don’t know how many stabs from those horrid -<a id='aff'></a>Affgauns.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lost a leg!” repeated the General, with an approving -glance at his own; “why he can never -dance with you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, but he can admire my dancing, and does not -think my curtsey a dip, a shuffle, a bend, a bob, a -slide, a canter! Ah! dear General, I was always -perfection in his eyes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By the immortal duke,” thought the General, -“the young divinity is laughing at me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My aunt only objects to his want of money; -now I have abundance for both; and your recommendation, -dear sir, at the Horse Guards, would at -once place him in some position of honor and of -profit; and even if it were abroad, I could leave my -dear aunt with the consciousness that her happiness -is secured by you, dear, guardian angel that you are. -Ah! sir, at your time of life you can have no idea -of our feelings.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh yes, I have!” sighed the General.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless you!” she exclaimed enthusiastically; “I -thought you would recall the days of your youth and -feel for us; and when you see my dear Harry”—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“With a cork leg”—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ay, or with two cork legs—you will I know be -convinced that my happiness is as secure as your -own.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Women are riddles, one and all!” said the General, -“and I should have known that before.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh! do not say such cruel things and disappoint -me, depending as I have been on your kindness and -affection. Hark!” she continued, “I hear my aunt’s -footstep: now dear, <span class='it'>dear</span> General, reason coolly with -her—my very existence depends on it. If you only -knew him! Promise, do promise, that you will use -your influence, all-powerful as it is, to save my life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She raised her beautiful eyes, swimming in unshed -tears, to his; she called him her uncle, her dear noble-hearted -friend; she rested her snowy hand lovingly, -imploringly on his shoulder, and even murmured -a hope that, her aunt’s consent once gained, it -might not be impossible to have the two weddings -<span class='it'>on the same day</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The General may have dreaded the banter of sundry -members of the “Senior United Service Club,” -who had already jested much at his devotion to the -two Isabels; he <span class='it'>may</span> have felt a generous desire to -make two young people happy, and his good sense -doubtless suggested that sixty-five and seventeen bear -a strong affinity to January and May; he certainly -did himself honor, by adopting the interests of a brave -young officer as his own, and avoided the banter of -“the club,” by pledging his thrice-told vows to his -“old love,” the same bright morning that his “new -love” gave her heart and hand to Henry Mandeville.</p> - -<hr class='tbk143'/> - -<div><h1><a id='rev'></a>REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS.</h1></div> - -<hr class='tbk144'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Works of Shakspeare: the Text Carefully Restored -According to the First Editions; With Introductions, -Notes, Original and Selected, and a Life of the Poet. -By the Rev. H. N. Hudson, A. M. In Eleven Volumes. -Boston: James Monroe & Co. Vol. 3.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This beautiful edition of Shakspeare, a fac-simile of -the celebrated Chiswick edition in type and paper, has -now reached its third volume. It is edited by Mr. -Hudson, well known all over the country as one of the -most accomplished of Shakspeare’s critics and commentators, -and who in his present labors has far surpassed -the reputation he obtained by his lectures on the same -subject. The present volume contains The Merchant of -Venice, As You Like It, All’s Well that Ends Well, -and The Taming of the Shrew. The text is very carefully -revised, and the notes are clear, short, and full of -matter, and flash the meaning of obscure phrases, remote -allusions, and other difficulties of the text, at once upon -the reader’s mind, without any parade of learning or -paradox of interpretation. It is, however, in the introductory -notices to the plays that the analytical and interpretative -genius of the editor shines forth most resplendently. -Every lover of Shakspeare should possess -this edition, had it nothing to recommend it but these -alone. They give the results of meditations, alike penetrating -and profound, on the interior processes of Shakspeare’s -mind in creating character and in forming plots; -and the marvel of his genius, in its depth, delicacy, comprehension, -fertility, and sweetness, is developed with -the austerity of science and the geniality of a sympathizing -spirit. These introductions are not only thus -critical, but they include in a short space a large amount -of antiquarian knowledge respecting the bibliography -and sources of the plays; and the old tales which suggested -or formed the basis of the plots, are re-told with -much skill and simplicity of narration.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The masterpiece of the present volume is the introduction -to The Merchant of Venice. It is exceedingly -brilliant in style, but the brilliancy seems to come from -an inward heat and fervor generated by an intense contemplation -of the subject, so that the diction sparkles, -as Ben Jonson would say, “like salt in fire.” The -brilliancies are flashes, not of fancy, but of thought; -and frequently are the result of vigorous condensation -in statement, or of logic which gets on fire by the very -rapidity of its movement. The finest elements of the -style, however, are its subtleties of statement and representation, -subtleties which follow the most intricate -windings and enfoldings of complex thought, speeding -on the fire track of an ideal allusion to the very limits -of its course, and thoroughly mastering all the obstacles -of expression in giving form to the most evanescent workings -of the creative power.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Thus in speaking of the apparent heterogeneousness -but real unity of the play, he remarks: “The persons -naturally fall into three several groups, with each its -several plot and action; yet the three are most skillfully -complotted, each standing out clear and distinct in its -place, yet concurring with the others in dramatic unity, -so that every thing helps on every other thing, without -either the slightest confusion or the slightest appearance -of care to avoid it. Of these three groups it is hardly -necessary to add that Antonio, Shylock and Portia are -the respective centres; while the part of Lorenzo and -Jessica, though strictly an episode, seems, nevertheless, -to grow forth as an element of the original germ, <span class='it'>a sort -of inherent superfluity</span>, and as such essential, not indeed -to the being, but to the well-being of the work; in short, -a fine romantic undertone accompaniment to the other -parts, yet contemplated and provided for in the whole -plan and structure of the piece; <span class='it'>itself</span> in harmony with -all the rest, and therefore perfecting their harmony with -one another.” We will put it to the consciousness of -every reader of Shakspeare if this does not chime with -his feeling of the matter; but to show the grounds of -this instinctive taste, and exhibit it in its intellectual -form, and justify it by the austerest principles of philosophical -criticism, requires Mr. Hudson’s sharpness of -eye and ready refinements of expression. The specimen -we have given, as it is not the best which might be -selected, so is it a very common and unobtrusive characteristic -of his criticism.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In commenting on the characters of the play, Mr. -Hudson displays more than ordinary keenness and discrimination. -We are acquainted with no student of -Shakspeare who could read the analysis of Shylock, -Antonio, Portia and Jessica, without receiving an addition -to his knowledge. Even Launcelot Gobbo has -his share of the critic’s acumen; his necessity, in the -organism of the piece, is demonstrated; and the exquisite -<span class='it'>non-sequiturism</span> of his whole personality is finely -described. “A mixture, indeed, of conceit and drollery, -and hugely wrapped up in self, yet he is by no means a -commonplace buffoon, but stands firm and secure in the -sufficiency of his original stock. His elaborate nonsense, -his grasping at a pun without catching it, yet feeling -just as grand as if he did, is both ludicrous and natural; -his jokes, to be sure, are mostly failures; nevertheless -they are laughable, because he dreams not but that they -succeed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is needless to say that the prominent feature in Mr. -Hudson’s criticism is Shylock. The combination in him -of the individual and the national, Shylock the Jew and -the Jew Shylock, is indicated with a bold, firm hand. -One paragraph is especially powerful. “Shylock,” he -says, “is a true representative of his nation; wherein -we have a pride which for ages never ceased to provoke -hostility, but which no hostility could ever subdue; -a thrift which still invited rapacity, but which no rapacity -could ever exhaust; and a weakness, which, -while it exposed the subjects to wrong, only deepened -their hate, because it left them without the means or the -hope of redress. Thus Shylock is a type of national -sufferings, sympathies, and antipathies. Himself an -object of bitter insult and scorn to those about him; surrounded -by enemies whom he is too proud to conciliate -and too weak to oppose; he can have no life among them -but money; no hold upon them but interest; no indemnity -out of them but revenge. Such being the case, what -wonder that the elements of national greatness became -congealed or petrified into malignity? As avarice was -the passion in which he mainly lived, of course, the -Christian virtues which thwarted this were the greatest -wrong that could be done him. With these strong -national traits are interwoven personal traits equally -strong. Thoroughly and intensely Jewish, he is not -more a Jew than he is Shylock. In his hard, icy intellectuality, -and his ‘dry, mummy-like tenacity’ of purpose, -with a dash now and then of biting sarcastic humor, -we see the remains of a great and noble nature, out -of which all the genial sap of humanity has been pressed -by accumulated injuries. With as much elasticity of -mind as stiffness of neck, every step he takes but the last -is as firm as the earth he treads upon. Nothing can -daunt, nothing disconcert him; remonstrance cannot -move, ridicule cannot touch, obloquy cannot exasperate -him; when he has not provoked, he has been forced to -bear them; and now that he does provoke them, he is -proof against them. In a word, he may be broken; he -cannot be bent.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We cannot refrain from picking out a sentence, here -and there, in the critic’s admirable delineation of Portia. -“Eminently practical in her tastes and turn of mind, -full of native, home-bred sense and virtue, she unites -therewith something of the ripeness and dignity of a -sage, a rich, mellow eloquence, and a large, noble discourse, -the whole being tempered with the best grace -and sensibility of womanhood. . . Nothing can be more -fitting and well-placed than her demeanor, now bracing -her speech with grave maxims of moral and practical -wisdom, now unbending her mind in playful sallies of -wit, or innocent, roguish banter. . . . It is no drawback -upon Portia’s strength and substantial dignity of character, -that her nature is all overflowing with romance; -rather, this it is that glorifies her and breathes enchantment -about her; it adds that precious seeing to the eye -which conducts her to such winning beauty and sweetness -of deportment, and makes her the ‘rich-souled’ -creature that Schlegel describes her to be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The introductions to All’s Well that Ends Well, and -The Taming of the Shrew, are replete with shrewd remark -and acute analysis, but both are inferior to the -criticism of As You Like It. The woodland sweetness -of this play tasks all the subtlety and all the enthusiasm -of Mr. Hudson to do it justice. An exquisite ideal -beauty casts its sweet and satisfying charm over the -whole of this matchless comedy, and we envy Shakspeare’s -delight in its composition more than Campbell -envied his happiness in bodying forth A Midsummer Night’s -Dream. Even Le Beau, the courtier of Frederic, -is an ideal courtier; on inborn gentlemanliness, of the -finest kind, stealing out from him in performing his most -ungracious duties. This character is commonly performed -on the stage by the worst actor the manager has -in his company, but we have always noticed that the -feeblest performer became lifted into dignity by simply -pronouncing one golden sentence in the first act. It is -where Le Beau expresses at once his loyal duty to Frederic -and his admiration for Orlando’s brave and gentle -qualities. As his master has chosen to be Orlando’s -enemy, he cannot obey his impulse to be Orlando’s -friend, and his parting words to the latter are touchingly -noble:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>                  “Sir, fare you well:</p> -<p class='line0'>Hereafter in a better world than this,</p> -<p class='line0'>I shall desire more love and knowledge of you.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Hudson says very acutely of the characters of As -You Like It, that, “diverted by fortune from all their -cherished plans and purposes, they pass before us in just -that <span class='it'>moral and intellectual dishabille</span>, which best reveals -their indwelling graces of heart and mind.” This, it -seems to us, touches the inmost secret of the delight all -mankind have in this play. There is a complete absence -of restraint upon expression, and the tongues of all run -of their own sweet will, in a region of perfect freedom. -It is whim exalted into poetry. Of Touchstone, our -critic remarks, that though he never touches so deep a -chord as the poor fool in Lear, that “he is the most entertaining -of Shakspeare’s privileged characters. . . . It -is curious to observe how the poet takes care to let us -know from the first, that beneath the affectations of his -calling some precious sentiments have been kept alive; -that far within the fool <span class='it'>there is a secret reserve of the man</span>, -ready to leap forth and combine with better influences as -soon as the incrustations of art are thawed and broken -up.” Passing over some keen observations on Jaques -and the class of character to which he belongs, we come -to Mr. Hudson’s exquisite description of Rosalind, the -style of which would alone tempt one to extract it. The -ideal merriment of Rosalind—and after listening to her -for an hour, it seems a misuse of the word merriment to -apply it to glee less graceful, light and lark-like than her -own—has rarely been touched with so delicate an analysis. -“For wit,” he says, “this strange, queer, lovely -being is fully equal, perhaps superior to Beatrice, yet -nowise resembling her. A soft, subtle, nimble essence, -consisting in one knows not what, ‘and springing up -one can hardly tell how,’ her wit neither stings nor -burns, but plays briskly and airily over all things -within its reach, enriching and adorning them, insomuch -that one could ask no greater pleasure than to be the -continual theme of it. In its irrepressible vivacity it -waits not for occasion, but runs on forever, and we wish -it to run on forever: we have a sort of faith that her -dreams are made of cunning, quirkish, graceful fancies. -And her heart seems a perennial fountain of affectionate -cheerfulness; no trial can break, no sorrow chill her -flow of spirits; even her deepest sighs are breathed forth -in a wrappage of innocent mirth; an arch, roguish -smile irradiates her saddest tears. Yet beneath all her -playfulness we feel that there is a firm basis of thought -and womanly dignity, so that she never laughs away -our respect.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An edition of Shakspeare, edited so admirably as this—so -convenient in its form, so elegant in its execution, -and so cheap in its price—will, we hope, have a circulation -over the country corresponding to its great -merits.</p> - -<hr class='tbk145'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Utterance; or, Private Voices to the Public Heart. A -Collection of Home Poems. By Caroline A. Briggs. -Boston: Phillips, Sampson & Co. 1 vol. 12mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Our first impression of this volume we received from -its title, and that impression was, of course, unfavorable, -as the title certainly smacks of affectation. But -it requires but a slight examination of the book to dissipate -such a prejudice. It is a thoroughly genuine expression -of a sensitive, thoughtful, artless, affectionate, -and fanciful nature, and readily wins its way into the -reader’s esteem. Even those passages which evince a -sort of innocent ignorance of the conventions of society -and letters, have a <span class='it'>naïveté</span> which charms while it -amuses. The volume is a collection of short poems, -ranged under the general titles of Voices of Affection, -Voices of Grief, Voices of Cheer, Sacred Voices, and -Voices of the Way, and one powerful Voice for the -Poor, written in a measure whose movement has something -of the fitful swiftness of the cold, wild wind, -whose cruelty it deprecates. The following lines convey -a vivid picture of desolation; the verse itself seeming to -shudder in sympathy with the objects it holds up to -pity:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>              Oh, the Poor!</p> -<p class='line0'>                The poor and old,</p> -<p class='line0'>              On the moor</p> -<p class='line0'>                And on the wold—</p> -<p class='line0'>How desolate they are to-night and cold!</p> -<p class='line0'>—I peeped into the broken panes,</p> -<p class='line0'>Where the snow, and sleet, and rains</p> -<p class='line0'>Of many a weary year have stolen,</p> -<p class='line0'>Till the sashes are smeared, and soaked and swollen.</p> -<p class='line0'>Little children with tangled hair,</p> -<p class='line0'>And lips awry and feet half bare,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Huddled around the smouldering fire,</p> -<p class='line0'>Like beasts half crouching in their lair;</p> -<p class='line0'>  While each, the while, by stealth drew nigher,</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Covetous of the other’s share.</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  Oh! ’twas a pitiful sight to see!</p> -<p class='line0'>And mothers too were there,</p> -<p class='line0'>  With infants shivering on their knee,</p> -<p class='line0'>Or closer held with a mother’s care,</p> -<p class='line0'>Or laid to rest with a hurried prayer,</p> -<p class='line0'>A moan, half hope and half despair,</p> -<p class='line0'>A muttered, “Pitiless Storm, forbear!”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>When we say that there is in this volume some poems -that an austere taste would have omitted, we merely say -what we suspect is the truth, that the poetess is young, -and that this is her first introduction to the public. -We might object to a piece, here and there, that the -feeling outruns the thought and fancy, and that commonplace -lines occasionally glide stealthily in to meet the -demands of the rhyme; but the faults which criticism -might exhibit are few in comparison with the merits -which shine forth of their own light on almost every -page. The general impression which the whole book -leaves on the memory is very pleasing. The defect -of all young poets, that of expansiveness, is continually -apparent; but it is a natural result of the movement -of a nature so full of sensibility that it refuses to submit -to the restraints of condensation, but pours itself -out of its own sweet will. As a natural result of this -extreme sensitiveness, the volume is comparatively destitute -of those electric flashes of impassioned imagination, -which come, swift, sure, and smiling from moods -of the mind in which thought is condensed as well as -animated by passion; but it still exhibits so genial a love -of nature, a flow of feeling so kindly and sympathetic, -so much beauty, and purity and sweetness of fancy, and -withal so much richness of promise, and such a ready -yielding of the mind to the poetical aspects of things, -that we trust it will meet with the success due to its -native excellencies of heart and brain.</p> - -<hr class='tbk146'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Snow-Image, and other Twice-Told Tales. By Nathaniel -Hawthorne. Boston: Ticknor, Reed & Fields. -1 vol. 16mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This is a collection of Mr. Hawthorne’s Sketches and -Stories which have not been included in any previous -collection, and comprise his earliest and latest contributions -to periodical literature. It can hardly add to his -great reputation, though it fully sustains it. “The -Snow-Image,” with which the volume commences, is -one of those delicate creations which no imagination -less etherial and less shaping than Hawthorne’s could -body forth. “Main Street,” a sketch but little known, -is an exquisite series of historical pictures, which bring -the persons and events in the history of Salem, vividly -home to the eye and the fancy. “Ethan Brand,” one of -the most powerful of Hawthorne’s works, is a representation -of a man, tormented with a desire to discover -the unpardonable sin, and ending with finding it in his -own breast. “The Great Stone Face,” a system of -philosophy given in a series of characterizations, contains, -among other forcible delineations, a full length of -Daniel Webster. The volume contains a dozen other -tales, some of them sunny in sentiment and subtle in -humor, with touches as fine and keen as Addison’s or -Steele’s: and others dark and fearful, as though the shadow -of a thunder-cloud fell on the author’s page as he -wrote. All are enveloped in the atmosphere, cheerful -or sombre, of the mood of mind whence they proceeded, -and all convey that unity of impression which indicates -a firm hold on one strong conception. As stories, they -arrest, fasten, fascinate attention; but, to the thoughtful -reader they are not merely tales, but contributions to -the philosophy of the human mind.</p> - -<hr class='tbk147'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Memories of the Great Metropolis: or London from the -Tower to the Crystal Palace. By F. Sanders. New -York: Geo. P. Putnam. 1 vol. 12mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This elegant volume, sumptuous in its binding and -finely printed and illustrated, meets a want both in the -traveled and the untraveled public. The work of a gentleman -who knows every nook and corner of the empire -city by personal observation, and who, by his large acquaintance -with English authors and English literary -history, is enabled to point out all the localities consecrated -by genius and heroism; it is full of interesting and -attractive matter to all readers. As a guide to London, -it will be found a genial as well as a knowing companion -to the tourist. We have been especially pleased with -those portions which describe the shops of the booksellers -and the residences of the authors. The volume is -exceedingly well written, and though crammed with -facts, betrays neither the dryness nor confusion too often -characteristic of similar books. The author’s “memories” -are never dull, but sparkle with animation and -point.</p> - -<hr class='tbk148'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli. Boston: Phillips, -Sampson & Co. 2 vols. 12mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This biography is the work of three “eminent hands”—William -H. Channing, James Freeman Clarke, and -Ralph Waldo Emerson, each writing that portion of Margaret’s -life most familiar to himself. The result is one -of the most curious, attractive and stimulating books of -the season. The impression it conveys of the subject of -the memoirs, is of a woman “large in heart and brain,” -of great vigor and depth of nature, accomplished in many -literatures, with an understanding capacious and masculine, -and with a sensibility somewhat irregular and -chaotic, in which powerful passions, delicate emotions -and vague aspirations, seem never to have been harmonized -into unity. The character, however, in spite of -many limitations and some petty traits, was generally -large and noble, and its essential excellence is not only -demonstrated by the private journals and correspondence -contained in these volumes, but by the fact that she -merited the esteem and admiration of three such men as -her biographers. Her defects are promptly admitted by -all three, but in the opinion of all three they were superficial -in comparison with the real graces and powers of -her mind. In all those letters and journals in which her -soul finds adequate expression, in which her most secret -thoughts and most genuine aspirations are revealed, she -is invariably true and noble; egotism, satire and pique -have in them no place.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Emerson’s portion of these memoirs is done with -his usual felicity of phrase and sharpness of statement, -and is as attractive as any of his essays. He writes in a -kindly spirit, and is evidently a genuine admirer of his -subject, but his friendship is unaccompanied with exaggeration, -and is combined with his usual austere but -graceful honesty in stating his whole opinion. Thus, he -gives the first impression which Miss Fuller made on -him in these unflattering words: “Her extreme plainness—a -trick of incessantly opening and shutting her -eyelids—the nasal tone of her voice—all repelled; and I -said to myself we shall never get far. It is to be said -that Margaret made a disagreeable first impression on -most persons, including those who became afterward -her best friends, to such an extreme that they did not -wish to be in the same room with her. This was partly -the effect of her manners, which expressed an overweening -sense of power and slight esteem of others, and partly -the prejudice of her fame. She had a dangerous reputation -for satire, in addition to her great scholarship. The -men thought she carried too many guns, and the women -did not like one who despised them.” He also gives -some amusing instances of her self-esteem. “Margaret -at first astonished and repelled us by a complacency that -seemed the most assured since the days of Scaliger. . . . -She occasionally let slip, with all the innocence imaginable, -some phrase betraying the presence of a rather -mountainous <span style='font-size:smaller'>ME</span>, in a way to surprise those who knew -her good sense. She could say, as if she were stating a -scientific fact, in enumerating the merits of somebody, -‘He appreciates <span style='font-size:smaller'>ME</span>.’ ”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Emerson accounts for this egotism partly on the -ground of hereditary organization, and partly on “an -ebullient sense of power, which she felt to be in her, and -which as yet had found no channels.” In further illustration -of this he adds, that in conversation she seldom, -“except as a special grace, admitted others upon an -equal ground with herself.” She was exceedingly tender, -when she pleased to be, and most cherishing in her influence; -but to elicit this tenderness, it was necessary -to submit first to her personally. When a person was -overwhelmed by her and answered not a word, except -‘Margaret, be merciful to me a sinner,’ then her love -and tenderness would come like a seraph’s, and often an -acknowledgment that she had been too harsh, and even -a craving for pardon, with a humility—which, perhaps, -she had caught from the other. But her instinct was not -humility—that was an after thought.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This peculiarity, so honestly stated by Mr. Emerson, -probably made Margaret Fuller all her enemies; and it is -a fault which every person is bound to resent, though it -appeared in an angel or archangel. It cannot be justified -though it may be accounted for; and by those who knew -her best, it was explained on principle! which relieved -it of positive offensiveness. Some of her intellectual dependents, -persons who gloried in wearing her mental -livery, and were delighted with the servitude she enforced, -might say very naively, in explanation, that Margaret -was the greatest woman that ever was, and that -Margaret was very sincere, and that being sincere it was -very proper that she should not conceal her knowledge -even of her own greatness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In our opinion this egotism was the result of the vigor -of her nature, which, in conversation, broke all conventional -bounds, and came out in its whole wealth of -thought and acquisition, eager for controversy or ravenous -for sympathy, and communicating to her mind a -bright and strong sense of individual power which at the -time almost palliated its excesses. The excitement of -her mind produced that effect which we often see in -persons who are enraged—a condition in which expressions, -regretted afterward for their extravagance, seem -at the time too weak to convey the hot feeling of wrong -which burns beneath them. In her journals, where she -sharply scrutinises what she is and what she has produced, -and where there is no excitement to stimulate -her powers, she is sufficiently humble, acutely feels her -imperfections, and the “mountainous me” dwindles into -a mole-hill. She seems to have had the aspirations and -the ambitions of great genius, had sufficient breadth of -mind to take in the wide varieties of human power in -history and literature, and had a corresponding scorn for -the little and the common in mental effort; but she lacked -a creative imagination, and was incapable of producing -anything which at all realized the intimations of her nature. -In conversation she rose instantly into sympathetic -companionship with creative minds, and in the -heat of the moment mistook it for a companionship and -community in power. In this mood she might despise -many who were her superiors in the shaping power of -genius, though her inferiors in its loftiest aspirations.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>These volumes are full of instances of her sincerity, -her geniality, her love of the beautiful in nature and art, -her fine critical powers, her enthusiasm for great measures -of reform in America and Europe, and the noble -scale on which she conducted her mental and moral culture. -Though many may take exception to the generosity -of the praise which her biographers lavish on her -various graces and gifts of mind, every one must acknowledge -the extreme richness of the materials which -are frankly exhibited, to enable the reader to judge for -himself. We doubt if there is any other American biography -in which the whole interior truth relating to the -character of the subject is so completely set forth, or -which presents to the curious in mental organization so -interesting a study in psychology.</p> - -<hr class='tbk149'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Ravenscliffe. By the author of “The Old Men’s Tales,” -etc. etc. New York: Harper & Brother.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>In this novel the authoress puts forth her whole resources -of passion and power in delineating hatred and -revenge. The story sweeps on like a deep stream harrying -to the sea, and the firm grasp of the writer on the -reader’s arrested attention is not loosed for a moment. -The influence of the same passion on the two characters -of Randal Langford and Marcus Fitzroy, is exhibited -with masterly skill. The motto of the book should have -been taken from Shelley’s tremendous quatrain:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Revenge and wrong bring forth their kind;</p> -<p class='line0'>  The foul cubs like their parents are;</p> -<p class='line0'>Their den is in the human mind,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And conscience feeds them with despair.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The vice of the novel is its continuous intensity, a -peculiarity which characterizes all of Mrs. Marsh’s -novels. The characters are only seen in their passionate -moods, and the leading quality of their natures is -developed with the consistency of a logical deduction. -Though this gives emphasis to the ethical intent of the -authoress, she sacrifices to it some of the most important -principles of the true method of characterization. Her -persons are apt to slide into personified passions.</p> - -<hr class='tbk150'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>A Popular Account of Discoveries at Nineveh. By Austin -Henry Layard, D. C. L. New York: Harper & -Brothers. 1 vol. 12mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This is an abridgment, by the author himself, of his -larger work on Nineveh, which has obtained such extraordinary -success. It is illustrated by a number of well -executed wood-cuts, and is beautifully printed. The -matter, it is needless to say, is full of interest and attractiveness, -and will well repay all readers who may be -repelled by the size of the original work.</p> - -<hr class='tbk151'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Women of Christianity, Exemplary for Acts of Piety and -Charity. By Julia Kavanagh, author of “Nathalie,” -etc. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1 vol. 12mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Christian women of this and all past ages would seem -to be under especial obligations to the Messrs. Appletons -for bringing their virtues and heroism before the -public. The Women of the Old and New Testament, -the Women of Early Christianity, and now the Christian -Women of all Ages, witness their chivalrous devotion -to the very best examples of the sex. Miss Kavanagh’s -book gives short but admirable sketches of a great number -of eminent devotees, from the virgins of the primitive -church to Hannah More and Elizabeth Fry. Though -her space hardly allows her to do full justice to the subject, -she uses her materials so skillfully, and writes her -condensed biographies with such fervor and power, that -she escapes the imputation of meagreness.</p> - -<hr class='tbk152'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Broken Bud; or, Reminiscences of a Bereaved -Mother. New York: Robert Carter & Brothers. -1 vol. 16mo.</span></p> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>Blossoms of Childhood. Edited by the author of “The -Broken Bud”. New York: Robert Carter & Brothers. -1 vol. 16mo.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The first of these little volumes is the record of a child, -who died just as her mind was expanding into affection -and intelligence; and it is the most notable book of the -kind we have ever seen. As giving the psychology of a -mother’s feelings, it is well worthy of attention. It is -written close to the heart of the matter, and is full of -examples of that searching pathos which calls up instinctive -tears. Rarely have we read a work of more -affectionate intensity, or one in which a mournful experience, -tempered by religious faith, is expressed with -such genuine simplicity and truth to inward emotion. -There are passages whose eloquence is so identical with -the things it celebrates, that the reader sees and feels -with hardly the consciousness of the agency of words. -The other volume is a collection of poetry relating to -children, in which the mother’s heart, so constantly present -in the previous volume, ranges over the whole field -of poetry, hoarding the precious lyrics which bring consolation -by inspiring religious trust. Both works are -of a peculiar character, indicating the presiding influence -of one overmastering feeling, and striking at -the very sources of emotion.</p> - -<hr class='tbk153'/> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='hang'><span class='it'>The Standard Speaker; containing exercises in Prose -and Poetry for Declamation in Schools, Academies, -Lyceums, Colleges. Newly Translated or Compiled -from Celebrated Orators, Authors, and Popular Debaters, -Ancient and Modern. A Treatise on Oratory -and Elocution. Notes Explanatory and Biographical. -By Epes Sargent. 1 vol., large 12mo. 558 pages. -Philadelphia: Thomas, Cowperthwait & Co.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Sargent has here given us a “Speaker” far more -comprehensive in design and elaborate in execution than -any that has yet appeared. The great feature of the -work is the completeness of the Senatorial Department, -in which he has introduced not only passages of rare -beauty and effect from Chatham, Burke, Grattan, Shell, -Macaulay, and many others—all the passages of the right -length for speaking—but has given some translations -from Mirabeau, Victor Hugo, and other great speakers of -France, which will become great favorites in Schools -and Elocutionary Classes. The dramatic and poetical -departments are also well filled, many new and striking -pieces for Declamation and Recitation being introduced. -No sectional favoritism seems to have been exercised in -the compilation. All parts of the country, and indeed all -countries are fairly represented in their contributions to -all the forms of eloquence suitable for the purpose of the -book. A great amount of original research and labor -seems to have been expended on this volume, which—</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Is not the hasty product of a day,</p> -<p class='line0'>But the well-ripened fruit of sage delay.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>In his position as Editor of a daily journal, the editor -has had a more favorable opportunity than many enjoy to -make collections for a work of this kind, and with what -success he has availed himself of it, a cursory glance -will show. While he has preserved all the old, indispensable -masterpieces, he has placed side by side with -them a majority of new ones, that promise to become -equally celebrated. The work cannot fail to claim the -prompt and favorable attention of Students and Teachers. -It is issued in excellent style, by Messrs. Thomas, -Cowperthwait & Co.</p> - -<hr class='tbk154'/> - -<p class='pindent'>Bangs, Brother & Co., New York, have sent us fine -editions of “Gibbon’s Greece,” “Ancient History of -Herodotus,” Randall’s “Sheep Husbandry,” and an -excellent edition of the “Tatler and Guardian,” with -biographical memoranda by Thomas Babington Macaulay, -all of which we will notice in future numbers.</p> - -<hr class='tbk155'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>Pretty Strong.</span>—We do not charge Peterson any -thing for the following as an advertisement. It is a -better joke than has appeared in the Small-Talk:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It has been for years the cherished wish of the writer -of this work, to make “THE TOWER OF LONDON,” -the proudest monument of antiquity, (considered -with reference to its historical associations,) <span class='it'>in the -known world</span>—the groundwork of a Romance; and it is -no slight satisfaction to him, that circumstances at -length have enabled him to carry into effect his favorite -project, in conjunction with the inimitable artist, -whose <span class='it'>Ninety-eight Original Designs and Engravings -of all the Principal Objects of Attraction and Interest</span> to -the reader, accompany the work.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The author has exhibited in this work, the “Tower -of London” in the light of a Palace, a Prison, and a Fortress, -and he has also contrived such a series of incidents -as to introduce every relic of the old pile—its Towers, -Chapels, Halls, Chambers, Gateways, Arches and Drawbridges—so -that no part of this, the most venerable and -interesting building <span class='it'>in the known world</span>, should remain -unillustrated to the reader.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is beyond all doubt one of the most interesting -works ever published <span class='it'>in the known world</span>, and can be read -and re-read with pleasure and satisfaction by every -body. We advise all persons to get it and read it, for -there is much to learn and valuable information to be -gained from its pages, which cannot be obtained in any -other work published <span class='it'>in the known world</span>. Published -and for sale by</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-top:0.5em;'>T. B. PETERSON.</p> - -<hr class='tbk156'/> - -<p class='pindent'>We shall look with great interest for Top’s first book -from the <span class='it'>unknown</span> world, and have a right to expect -something good. We only hope that the author will not -“<span class='it'>contrive</span> such a series of incidents about Drawbridges,” -as to let us down without fair warning.</p> - -<hr class='tbk157'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>Fitzgerald’s City Item.</span>—This is the name of a -weekly paper, now in its fifth year, published in this -city by Fitzgerald & Co., at Two Dollars per annum. -This journal enjoys the reputation of being undoubted -authority upon all Literary, Musical, Fine Art, and -Dramatic Matters. It has been conducted from the beginning -by Mr. <span class='sc'>Fitzgerald</span>, and we have often admired -his good-nature, his frankness, and his ability. -Untiring industry has established <span class='sc'>The City Item</span> upon -a firm basis. <span class='sc'>Fitzgerald & Co.</span> offer as a premium -to new subscribers, an admirable life-size portrait of the -Hungarian patriot, <span class='sc'>Kossuth</span>. <span class='sc'>Graham’s Magazine</span> -and <span class='sc'>The City Item</span> may be secured for Four Dollars.</p> - -<hr class='tbk158'/> - -<div><h1><a id='talk'></a>GRAHAM’S SMALL-TALK.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>Held in his idle moments, with his Readers, Correspondents and Exchanges.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Our Small-Talk has afforded food for infinite jest to a -few unfledged wits and cubs of critics, clever word-snappers, -who keep reiterating the joke that the Small-Talk -<span class='it'>is</span> small—<span class='it'>very</span>. Of course it is, goslings! it was -so called and set down originally in the bills. So do not -imagine that you are discoverers, and set yourselves off -to the Polar regions in search of Sir John Franklin. -The Small-Talk is more than <span class='it'>small</span>—it is pert, impudent, -audacious, outrageous, insolent, and, cool. More than -that, it is—“to be continued.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk159'/> - -<p class='pindent'>Ah! now, isn’t this delightful? We were wondering -whether we should <span class='it'>ever</span> get another love-letter, when -lo! in comes the mail, from which we extract the following -delicious epistle from a young lady, who, we -know, would love us, if we <span class='it'>were</span> only a bachelor:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>        “<span class='sc'>To Graham.</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“A ‘bachelor,’ thou sayest?—ha-ha—have a care—</p> -<p class='line0'>A target too tempting—I bid thee beware!</p> -<p class='line0'>Now stand and deliver, thou ‘knave of the heart!’</p> -<p class='line0'>Thy ‘clubs’ shall not parry the aim of my dart.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Thy armor—thy pleading, and dodging is vain,</p> -<p class='line0'>Wry faces uncalled for! ’tis hymenial chain</p> -<p class='line0'>We wish to throw round thee—surrender! I bid—</p> -<p class='line0'>All woven of roses, the thorns are quite hid.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“A net-work of love shall enshroud thee forever—</p> -<p class='line0'>(‘Enshroud’ is too icy, it makes Cupid shiver—</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Imprison</span> is better—I like the word best—)</p> -<p class='line0'>When the heart’s taken captive the spirit’s at rest.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“Two short little weeks, out of fifty or more,</p> -<p class='line0'>Is all we can claim—and one year out of four—</p> -<p class='line0'>We must make up in speed, what we lack for in time,</p> -<p class='line0'>And make a bold push or have no Valentine.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>“An abrupt, ringing laugh, from a friend standing near,</p> -<p class='line0'>And—‘I read you it wrong!’ he says, ‘<span class='it'>Benedict</span>!’ do ye hear?</p> -<p class='line0'>How <span class='it'>horrid provoking</span> to play me this game!</p> -<p class='line0'>I don’t care, I will send it subscribed with my name.”</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>                                 <span style='font-size:smaller'>H. H.</span></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>We wont give the name in full, or we should never -receive another love token. But—what have we here? -as we live—another Valentine! and with a sprig of geranium, -too, pressed loving between the paper—and love -verses! No—we will not print these, they are too confidingly -tender and hardly “allowable” rhyme.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But here comes one, with a full, round superscription, -for all the world like the hand of a lady we used to love -when we were a boy—adoringly, wildly, <span class='it'>most</span> insanely. -She was <span class='it'>older</span> than we were, and didn’t take the matter -so much to heart. Some other fellow took her off—a -cadet, or something of that sort from West Point—and -she never returned our love letter. But what <span class='it'>is</span> this? -Ha! $3— there is something in this, that is a cure for the -twinges of an old love wound:</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-bottom:0.5em;'>“<span class='it'>Fort Meade, Florida, Feb. 10th, 1852.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='sc'>Dear Graham</span>—The February number of your Magazine -has this day come to hand, and acting on the hint -you give in your Small-Talk, <span class='it'>i. e.</span> ‘Money is worth 2 -per cent. a month,’ I herewith inclose the $3 for this -year’s subscription to your book. I showed that portion -of your Small-Talk(?) headed ‘That bill again,’ to my -wife; and what do you think? Why, instead of calling -you a good-for-nothing-impertinent man, she said, ‘Why -<span class='it'>don’t</span> you give the man his money? Graham is a dear, -good fellow and he deserves it,’ etc. Of course, I had -to back down, and here is the tin.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:4em;margin-top:0.5em;'>“Truly yours,</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'><span style='font-size:smaller'>G. D.</span>”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Now we like that woman, and will bet she was just -the girl that <span class='it'>would</span> go off with a soldier—full of all brave -and good thoughts, and loving as a southern wind in an -orange grove. If we ever do go to Florida, we shall -stop at the Fort and see this lady, and shake hands all -round with the G. D.’s.</p> - -<hr class='tbk160'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>Thanks.</span>—Our space is limited, in this number, although -we have much to say to our friends and readers; -but we shall take room enough to thank most sincerely -and heartily, the many editors who have sent us clubs -and single subscribers for the year 1852. We had intended -to notice, by letter, the many kind expressions -of regard for our business welfare, but so many and -rapidly sent were these missives of good-will, that we -abandoned the undertaking, and must here content ourself -with saying—<span class='it'>to one and all</span>—<span class='it'>Thanks</span>!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We can get up no theatrical speech for the occasion, -and can only promise to devote such abilities as we -have been blessed with, be they poor or rich, to making -“Graham”—what we hope it can be made, under our -administration—“<span class='it'>the best Magazine in the country</span>.” -We can only say, that our whole time and thought are -freely bestowed upon the work—that we have no other -avocation, similar, or adverse, to distract our attention, -and if we fail to realize our aim, in the opinion of our -readers and friends, that our ability comes short of our -ambition. So said—<span class='it'>so done</span>. This number is a fair sample -of what we can do; and we think we can do better, -and shall <span class='it'>try</span>.</p> - -<hr class='tbk161'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>The Saturday Gazette.</span>—This well-known Family -Paper is now under the charge of Alexander Cummings -and Mrs. Joseph C. Neal, and has been, both in -typographical execution and in literary excellence, much -improved. Mrs. Neal’s delightful Letters from the -South, are a very decided addition to the intellectual -attractions of the Gazette—the Foreign Correspondence -is more complete than ever, and the Stories and Essays -to be found in its ample pages are of the very highest -order.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A prospectus of the paper, setting forth in detail the -advantages of the Gazette, will be found upon the third -page of our cover, and a specimen copy of the paper will -be sent to such of our readers as desire to see it, upon -application to A. Cummings & Co.</p> - -<hr class='tbk162'/> - -<p class='pindent'>The News-Letter, at Galesburg, gives us a notice of -a column, full of all sorts of hits and good things. The -Cynthiana News and the Rifle must buck up or they -will lose the stakes. Although the metal of Rifle is -good, and the bore perfect, we can beat the editor with -pistols, at ten paces, <span class='it'>for a Turkey</span>! We send Atkinson -of the News a sheet—Wilcox will supply and suit you—cash -or approved paper—samples forwarded. We -accept the Sandy Hill Herald’s invitation! said shall look -at those “acres” until our heart aches.</p> - -<hr class='tbk163'/> - -<h2 class='nobreak'><span style='font-size:larger'><span class='bold'>TEMPERANCE.</span></span></h2> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shall the Maine question now be put?” is the great -inquiry that agitates the country, and stirs, in all true -hearts, a lively affirmative. The <span class='it'>people</span> are “ready for -the question.” Graham himself is ready, and having in -times past been a good judge of the various brands, he believes -that one and all corrupt and destroy the brain and -conscience. So he is down upon King Alcohol and his -cohorts. We do not propose to give a temperance <span class='it'>lecture</span> -upon the present “interesting occasion”—but if any body -can read the following ode by Brown—the accomplished -translator of Spanish literature, and feel no misgiving -about Rum, his sensibilities are fire-proof. “The English -language contains nothing more forcibly and terribly eloquent -than this unique lexicon of horrors.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk164'/> - -<h2 class='nobreak'><span style='font-size:larger'><span class='bold'>ODE TO RUM.</span></span></h2> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;'>———</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:0.8em;font-weight:bold;'>BY WILLIAM C. BROWN.</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.5em;'>———</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, thou invisible spirit of <span class='sc'>Rum</span>! if thou hadst no -name by which to know thee, we would call thee—devil.”—<span class='sc'>Shakspeare</span>.</p> - -</div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Let thy devotee extol thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And thy wondrous virtues sum;</p> -<p class='line0'>But the worst of names I’ll call thee,</p> -<p class='line0'>  O, thou hydra monster, Rum!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Pimple-maker, visage-bloater,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Health-corrupter, idler’s mate;</p> -<p class='line0'>Mischief breeder, vice promoter,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Credit spoiler, devil’s bait.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Almshouse builder, pauper maker,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Trust betrayer, sorrow’s source;</p> -<p class='line0'>Pocket emptier, Sabbath breaker,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Conscience stiller, guilt’s resource.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Nerve enfeebler, system shatterer,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Thirst increaser, vagrant thief;</p> -<p class='line0'>Cough producer, treacherous flatterer,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Mud bedauber, mock relief.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Business hinderer, spleen instiller,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Wo begetter, friendship’s bane;</p> -<p class='line0'>Anger heater, Bridewell filler,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Debt involver, toper’s chain.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Memory drowner, honor wrecker,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Judgment warper, blue-faced quack;</p> -<p class='line0'>Feud beginner, rags bedecker,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Strife enkindler, fortune’s wreck.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Summer’s cooler, winter’s warmer,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Blood polluter, specious snare;</p> -<p class='line0'>Mob collector, man transformer,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Bond undoer, gambler’s fare.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Speech bewrangler, headlong bringer,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Vitals burner, deadly fire;</p> -<p class='line0'>Riot mover, firebrand flinger,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Discord kindler, misery’s sire.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Sinews robber, worth depriver,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Strength subduer, hideous foe;</p> -<p class='line0'>Reason thwarter, fraud contriver,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Money waster, nations’ wo.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Vile seducer, joy dispeller,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Peace disturber, blackguard guest;</p> -<p class='line0'>Sloth implanter, liver sweller,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Brain distracter, hateful pest.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Wit destroyer, joy impairer,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Scandal dealer, foul-mouthed scourge;</p> -<p class='line0'>Senses blunter, youth ensnarer,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Crime inventor, ruin’s verge.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Virtue blaster, base deceiver,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Spite displayer, sot’s delight;</p> -<p class='line0'>Noise exciter, stomach heaver,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Falsehood spreader, scorpion’s bite.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Quarrel plotter, rage discharger,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Giant conqueror, wasteful sway;</p> -<p class='line0'>Chin carbuncler, tongue enlarger,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Malice venter, death’s broadway.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Household scatterer, high-hope dasher,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Death’s forerunner, hell’s dire brink;</p> -<p class='line0'>Ravenous murderer, windpipe slasher,</p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Drunkard’s lodging, meat and drink</span>!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>Well—what are the arguments of the opponents of the -“Maine Law!” We have heard them—having been present -at the grand gathering of Distillers, Rum-sellers, and -Drinkers at Tripler Hall, on Friday evening, the 27th of -February. About as precious a set of “jolly fellows” as -we ever saw in all our life, were there assembled to listen -to the advantages of dying by slow poison. We give a -picture, which sets forth the point and moral of the -matter.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i253.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0011' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'>Arguments of the opponents of the Maine law—<span class='it'>illustrated</span>.</p> -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>This was the pith and marrow of the whole affair. -“Rum was”—Well, what? Why—“Rum!” Every -body was enlightened and saw clearly. There was not a -shadow of doubt about the matter. Its character was not -in the least altered—it was the same devil, only painted a -little red—not at all improved either, by the artists—in -fact, Mr. Camp made him rather more hideous by attempting -to make him a facetious, jolly sort of a devil, without -any evil quality, but much given to poetry, philosophy, -and particularly, mechanics. His <span class='it'>inventive</span> powers, however, -were not brought out quite as clearly as Mr. Camp’s -own, who, with a fine delivery and sonorous ring of voice, -did all that it was possible for man to do in a bad cause—still -he did not <span class='it'>do</span>—at least, not the majority there assembled. -The whole affair was a horrible jest—it was—Yes! -it was a <span class='sc'>Rum</span>-joke—and nothing else.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No one was hardy enough to attempt to <span class='it'>prove</span>, that -Rum ever made a great man greater—or improved the -mental calibre of a small one. Ever warmed the heart -of a miser to do an unrepented act of generosity—or -enlarged the soul to permanent and consistent acts of -lofty heroism for the welfare of mankind. Ever filled -the cottage with smiling faces and happy hearts, permanently—shed -plenty upon the tables of the poor, or -made a wife happier or children more respected—ever, in -short, carried any thing but a concealed curse in its bright -bubbles and brilliant hues.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We came away with no change of opinion as to the -deleterious effects of Rum as a beverage. Taken either -at the social board, with jolly good fellows, or among -wits, poets and philosophers—it carries the same horror -on its front, the same death in its smile. Even the -sounding-boards, from which the notes of Jenny Lind -floated out, almost divinely, gave no music to the -voice of Rum’s advocate—the best joke had a croak—and -the laughter a horribly consumptive sound.</p> - -<hr class='tbk165'/> - -<h2 class='nobreak'><span style='font-size:larger'><span class='bold'>“THE SOCIAL GLASS.”</span></span></h2> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i255a.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0012' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'>“A little tipple will do us no harm.”</p> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk166'/> - -<h2 class='nobreak'><span class='bold'>“JOLLY GOOD FELLOWS.”</span></h2> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i255b.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0013' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<div class='literal-container' style=''><div class='literal'> <!-- rend=';fs:0.9em;' --> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>“We wont go home till morning,</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'> We wont go home till morning,</p> -<p class='line' style='font-size:0.9em;'>    Till daylight doth appear.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk167'/> - -<h2 class='nobreak'><span style='font-size:larger'><span class='bold'>“A SPIRIT-KNOCKER.”</span></span></h2> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i255c.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0014' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -<p class='caption'>A very sudden call by a very ugly customer.</p> -</div> - -<hr class='tbk168'/> - -<div><h1><a id='isle'></a>SWEET SUNNY ISLE.</h1></div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-weight:bold;'>OR “MY BOYHOOD’S HOME.”</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i256a.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0015' style='width:90%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1.2em;'>COMPOSED BY JOHN H. TAYLOR.—DEDICATED TO MISS ELIZABETH TAYLOR, BARBADOES, W. I.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;'>Published by permission of LEE & WALKER, 188 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia,</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1em;'><span class='it'>Publishers and Importers of Music and Musical Instruments</span>.</p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i256b.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0016' style='width:85%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Sweet sunny Isle! my native land!</p> -<p class='line0'>  How dear thou art to me,</p> -<p class='line0'>Were all the world at</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/i257.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0017' style='width:85%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>my command,</p> -<p class='line0'>  I still would cling to thee.</p> -<p class='line0'>My boyhood’s home could I forget?</p> -<p class='line0'>  Though I might be forgot;</p> -<p class='line0'>For those I love are living yet,</p> -<p class='line0'>  In that dear cherish’d spot.</p> -<p class='line0'>For those I love are living yet</p> -<p class='line0'>  In that dear cherish’d spot.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Sweet sunny Isle! though now a man,</p> -<p class='line0'>  Wherever I may roam,</p> -<p class='line0'>My heart I know it never can</p> -<p class='line0'>  Forget my boyhood’s home.</p> -<p class='line0'>One only hope one only care</p> -<p class='line0'>  Next that of Heaven above,</p> -<p class='line0'>That I might once again be there—</p> -<p class='line0'>  Once more with those I love.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>Those kindred hearts, those loving friends,</p> -<p class='line0'>  And all my boyish pets,</p> -<p class='line0'>Would welcome me and make amends</p> -<p class='line0'>  For all long past regrets.</p> -<p class='line0'>But ah! I fear ’twill never prove</p> -<p class='line0'>  Again my happy lot;</p> -<p class='line0'>Then all I ask of those I love,</p> -<p class='line0'>  One thought—“Forget me not.”</p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk169'/> - -<p class='line' style='margin-top:2em;font-size:1.1em;font-weight:bold;'><a id='notes'></a>Transcriber’s Notes:</p> - -<p class='noindent'>Table of Contents has been added for reader convenience. Archaic spellings and -hyphenation have been retained. Obvious typesetting and punctuation errors have been corrected -without note. Other errors have been corrected as noted below. For -illustrations, some caption text may be missing or incomplete due to condition of -the originals available for preparation of the eBook.</p> - -<div class='lgl' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>page 364, children where the ==> children <a href='#were'>were</a> the</p> -<p class='line'>page 372, and author’s were ==> and <a href='#auth'>authors</a> were</p> -<p class='line'>page 404, read in Saronis’ Musical ==> read in <a href='#sar'>Saroni’s</a> Musical</p> -<p class='line'>page 405, Rappresentatione del Animo e del ==> Rappresentatione <a href='#del'>di Anima e di</a></p> -<p class='line'>page 405, Cavaliere, of Rome, ==> <a href='#cav1'>Cavalieri</a>, of Rome,</p> -<p class='line'>page 405, title “<span class='it'>Dell Animo e del</span> ==> title “<span class='it'>Dell</span> <a href='#anima'><span class='it'>Anima e di</span></a></p> -<p class='line'>page 405, of Cavaliere. But it ==> of <a href='#cav2'>Cavalieri</a>. But it</p> -<p class='line'>page 414, feet, are not ==> <a href='#they'>feet, they are</a> not</p> -<p class='line'>page 440, those horrid Affgaun’s ==> those horrid <a href='#aff'>Affgauns</a></p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> - -<p class='noindent'>[End of Graham’s Magazine, Vol. XL, No. 4, April 1852]</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Graham's Magazine, Vol. XL, No. 4, -April 1852, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE, APRIL 1952 *** - -***** This file should be named 60148-h.htm or 60148-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/1/4/60148/ - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net -from page images generously made available by Google Books - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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