INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLAINY Vol. I. NEW YORK, JULY 1,1850. No. 1. INTRODUCTION. A F the revolutions of the age, one of th~. most interesting and important is that which has taken U place in the forms of Literature and the Modes of its Publication. Since the establishment of the Edinburgh Review the finest intelligences of the world have been displayed in periodicals. Brougham, Jeffrey, Sidney Smith, Mackintosh, Macaulay, have owed nearly all their best fame to compositions which have appeared first in journals, magazines and reviews; the writers of Tales and Essays have uniformly come before the public by the same means, which have recently served also for the original exhibition of the most elaborate and brilliant Fictions, so that we are now receiving through them by almost every ship from Europe installments of works by Dickens, Bulwer, James, Croly, Lever, Reynolds, Mrs. Marsh, Mrs. Ellis and indeed nearly all the most eminent contemporary novelists. So complete is the change, that alt mind, except the heaviest and least popular, is likely to flow Were- after through the Daily, Weekly, Monthly or Quarterly Miscellanies, which compete with universi- ties, parliaments, churches, and libraries, for ascendency in the government of mankind. In this country we must keep pace with the movements abroad. It will not answer that we issue literary productions as soon as possible after their completion. The impatient readers demand chapters by chapters, as they are spun from the brain and the heart of the author; facts, upon the instent of their discovery; and suggestion~ as they flash from the contact of imagination and reflection. The INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MIScELLANY will be a result of efforts to satisfy a plain necessity of the times. It will combfrie the excellencies of all contemporary periodicals, with features that will be peculiar to itself. I. A leading object will be to present the public, with the utmost rapidity and at the cheapest pos~ sible rate the best of those works in Popular Literature which are appearing abroad in serials, or in separate chapters. With this view, we print in the first number the initial portions of the brilliant nautical romance now in course of publication in Blackwoods Magazine, under the title of The Green Hand, by the author of the most celebrated fiction of its class in English literature, Tom Cringles Log ;~) and other works will be selected and carried on simultaneously, as they shall come to us with the stamp of sufficient merit. II. The foreign periodicals are continually rich in novelettes of from two or three to a dozen chap- ters, whichbeing too short for separate volumesare rarely reproduced at all in this country. Of these the INTERNATIONAL will contain the choicest selections. III. Of the Quarterly Reviews the most admirable papers will be presented in full; and those works will in all cases be carefully examined for such valuable and striking passages as will be likely to interest the American reader, to whom the entire articles in which they appear may be unattractive. IV. The Literary, Religious, Political and Scientific newspapers and magazines will be consulted for whatever will instruct or entertain in their several departments. The leading articles in the great journals, upon Affairs, and Philosophy, and Art, which are now very unfrequently reprinted in America, will appear in the INTERNATIONAL in such fullness and combination as to display the springs and processes of the worlds action and condition. V. But the work will not be altogether Foreign, nor a mere compilation. In its republications there will be a constant effort to display what is most interesting and important to the American; and in its original portions it will be supported by some of the ablest and most accomplished writers in all the fields ofknowledge and opinion. VI. As a Literary Gazette and Examiner, it is believed that it will equal or surpass any work now or ever printed in the United States. It will contain the earliest announcements of whatever move- ments in the literary world are of chief interest to general readers; its Reviews of Books will be~ honest and intelligent and its extracts, when they can be given in advance of the publication of the works themselves, wlll be the choicest and most valuable possible. Without cant or hypocrisy, or the influence of any clique of feeble-minded and ambitious aspirants in letters, the INTERNATIONAL MISCELLANY will in this respect, the publishers trust, win and preserve the respect and confidence of all who look to published critical judgments as gnides for the reading or purchase of books. With a view to the more successful execution of the desigii to make the INTERNATIONAL MIscEL- LANY of the first class in Original Periodical Literature, as well as in Selections and Abstracts of what is already before the world abroad, contributors have been engaged to represent the various depart- ments of Science, and to furnish sketches of manners, & c., from other countries, and the different sec- tions of our own; the proceedings of Learned Societies will be noted; History, Biography, and Archa~ology will receive attention; and in foreign and American Obituary, such a record will be kept. as will be of the most permanent and attractive value. 2 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. MARTIN FARQUHAR TUPPER. TJ~ HE recent appearance of some half dozen editionssome of them very beautiful in typography and pictorial illustrationsof ~1he Proverbial Philosophy of Mr. MARTIN FARQUHAR TUPPER, reminds us of the obser- vation of Dana, that something resembling poetry is oftentimes borne into instant and turbulent popularity, while a work of genuine character may be lying neglected by all except the poets. But the tide of time, says the profound essayist, flows on, and the former begins to settle to the bottom, while the latter rises slowly and steadily to the surface, and goes forward, for a spirit is in it. We are not without the hope that Richard H. Dana will one day be in as fre- quent demand as Martin Farquhar Tupper is now. The merits of this gentleman of acknowl- edged genius and sovereign popularity, we have never been able to discover. If oddity were always originality, if quaintness and beauty were synonymous, if paradox were necessarily wisdom, we should be ready to grant that Mr. Tupper is a wise, beautiful and original thinker. But thought, after all, is an affair of mind, and though a man of genius may write what is far more brilliant than common sense ever is, yet no man can utter valuable truth on mortal and prudential subjects, unless he possesses a vigorous and powerful understandsn~. Now Mr. Tuppers art consists in contriving, not thought, but things that look like thoughts; fancies, in imitation of truths. The Proverbial Phi- losophy, in fact, appears to us one of the most curious impositions we have ever met with. When you first read one of the aphor- isms, it strikes you as a sentiment of extra- ordinary wisdom. But look more closely at it; try to apply it; and you will find that it is merely a trick of words. What flashed upon you as a profound distinction in morals, turns out to be nothing buta verbal antithesis. What was paraded, as a kind of transcen- dental analogy between things not before suspected of resemblance, discovered by the spiritual insight of the moral seer, is in fact no more than a grave clench,a solemn quibble,a conceit; arising not from the per- fection of mind, but the imperfection of language. Those conceptions, fabricated b~y Fancy out of the materials that Fancy dea s in, and colored by the rays of a poetic senti- ment, wear the same relation to truths, that the prismatic hues of the spray of a fountain in the sunshine bear to the gems which it perhaps outshines. It dazzles and delights, but if we try to apprehend it we become bewildered; and finally discover that we were deceived by a brilliant phantom of air. You may admire Mr. Tupper; you may enjoy him; but you cannot understand him: the staple of his sentences is not stuff of the understanding. Take one of Mr. Tuppers and one of Lord Bacons aphorisms; they flash with an equal bravery. But try them upon the glassy surface of life. Bacons cut it as if it were air: Tuppers turn into a little drop of dirty water. One was a diamond, the other but an icicle; one was the commonest liquor artificially refrigerated; the other was a crystal in form, but in its substance the pure carbon of truth. If these bright delu- sions which Mr. Tupper turns out to the wonder and praise of his admirers, were really thoughts, is it to be supposed that he would go on in this way, stringing them together, or evolving one out of the other, as a spider weaves its unending line, or as a boy blows soap bubbles from the nose of a tobacco pipe ~ Fancies, conceits, intellectual phantoms, may be engendered out of the mind, brooding in self-creation upon its own suggestions: but truth is to be mined from Nature, to be wrung from experience, to be seized as the victors trophy on the battle- field of action and suffering. The flowers of poetry may bud spontaneously around the meditative spirit of genius, but the harvest of Truth, though, to be reaped by mind, must grow out of Reality. RICHARD HENRY WILDE AND DANTE. JT appears that our accomplished and la -I- mented oountryman, Richard Henry Wilde, whose Researches and Considerations con- cerning the Love and Imprisonment of Tasso have been made use of with so discreditable a freedom by a recent English biographer of that poet, is-if another pretender prove not less successfulto be deprived also of the fame he earned by his discoveries in regard to Dante. A correspondent of The Spectator, under the signature of G. AUBREY BEzZI, writes as follows The questions are, what share Mr. Kirkup had in the recovery of the fresco of Giotto in the c a el of the Palazzo del Podest~ at Florence, and whether diretly or indirectly I have been the means of de- priving him, or any of the coiiperators in that good work, of the merit due to their labors. I shall best enable those who take an interest in this mattei to arrive at a fair conclusion, by giving a short history of the recovery of that beautiful fresco. It was Mr. Wilde, and not Mr. Kirkup~ who first spoke to me of this buried treasure. Mr. Wilde, an American gentleman respected by all that knew him, was then in Florence, engaged in a work on Dante and his times, which unfor- tunately he did not live to complete. Among the materials he had collected for this purpose, there were some papers of the antiquarian Moreni, which he was examining when I called one day, (I had theii been three or four months in Florence,) to read what he had already written, as I was in the habit of doing from time to time. It was then that a foot-note of ~ met his eye, in which the writer lamented that he had spent two years of his life in unceasing and unavailing efforts to re- cover the portrait of Dante, and the other portions of the fresco of Giotto in the Bargello, mentioned byVasari; that others before him had been equally anxious and equally unsuccessful; and that he hoped that better times would come, (verranno tempi migliori,) and that the painting, so interest- ing both in an artistic and historical point of view,

2 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. MARTIN FARQUHAR TUPPER. TJ~ HE recent appearance of some half dozen editionssome of them very beautiful in typography and pictorial illustrationsof ~1he Proverbial Philosophy of Mr. MARTIN FARQUHAR TUPPER, reminds us of the obser- vation of Dana, that something resembling poetry is oftentimes borne into instant and turbulent popularity, while a work of genuine character may be lying neglected by all except the poets. But the tide of time, says the profound essayist, flows on, and the former begins to settle to the bottom, while the latter rises slowly and steadily to the surface, and goes forward, for a spirit is in it. We are not without the hope that Richard H. Dana will one day be in as fre- quent demand as Martin Farquhar Tupper is now. The merits of this gentleman of acknowl- edged genius and sovereign popularity, we have never been able to discover. If oddity were always originality, if quaintness and beauty were synonymous, if paradox were necessarily wisdom, we should be ready to grant that Mr. Tupper is a wise, beautiful and original thinker. But thought, after all, is an affair of mind, and though a man of genius may write what is far more brilliant than common sense ever is, yet no man can utter valuable truth on mortal and prudential subjects, unless he possesses a vigorous and powerful understandsn~. Now Mr. Tuppers art consists in contriving, not thought, but things that look like thoughts; fancies, in imitation of truths. The Proverbial Phi- losophy, in fact, appears to us one of the most curious impositions we have ever met with. When you first read one of the aphor- isms, it strikes you as a sentiment of extra- ordinary wisdom. But look more closely at it; try to apply it; and you will find that it is merely a trick of words. What flashed upon you as a profound distinction in morals, turns out to be nothing buta verbal antithesis. What was paraded, as a kind of transcen- dental analogy between things not before suspected of resemblance, discovered by the spiritual insight of the moral seer, is in fact no more than a grave clench,a solemn quibble,a conceit; arising not from the per- fection of mind, but the imperfection of language. Those conceptions, fabricated b~y Fancy out of the materials that Fancy dea s in, and colored by the rays of a poetic senti- ment, wear the same relation to truths, that the prismatic hues of the spray of a fountain in the sunshine bear to the gems which it perhaps outshines. It dazzles and delights, but if we try to apprehend it we become bewildered; and finally discover that we were deceived by a brilliant phantom of air. You may admire Mr. Tupper; you may enjoy him; but you cannot understand him: the staple of his sentences is not stuff of the understanding. Take one of Mr. Tuppers and one of Lord Bacons aphorisms; they flash with an equal bravery. But try them upon the glassy surface of life. Bacons cut it as if it were air: Tuppers turn into a little drop of dirty water. One was a diamond, the other but an icicle; one was the commonest liquor artificially refrigerated; the other was a crystal in form, but in its substance the pure carbon of truth. If these bright delu- sions which Mr. Tupper turns out to the wonder and praise of his admirers, were really thoughts, is it to be supposed that he would go on in this way, stringing them together, or evolving one out of the other, as a spider weaves its unending line, or as a boy blows soap bubbles from the nose of a tobacco pipe ~ Fancies, conceits, intellectual phantoms, may be engendered out of the mind, brooding in self-creation upon its own suggestions: but truth is to be mined from Nature, to be wrung from experience, to be seized as the victors trophy on the battle- field of action and suffering. The flowers of poetry may bud spontaneously around the meditative spirit of genius, but the harvest of Truth, though, to be reaped by mind, must grow out of Reality. RICHARD HENRY WILDE AND DANTE. JT appears that our accomplished and la -I- mented oountryman, Richard Henry Wilde, whose Researches and Considerations con- cerning the Love and Imprisonment of Tasso have been made use of with so discreditable a freedom by a recent English biographer of that poet, is-if another pretender prove not less successfulto be deprived also of the fame he earned by his discoveries in regard to Dante. A correspondent of The Spectator, under the signature of G. AUBREY BEzZI, writes as follows The questions are, what share Mr. Kirkup had in the recovery of the fresco of Giotto in the c a el of the Palazzo del Podest~ at Florence, and whether diretly or indirectly I have been the means of de- priving him, or any of the coiiperators in that good work, of the merit due to their labors. I shall best enable those who take an interest in this mattei to arrive at a fair conclusion, by giving a short history of the recovery of that beautiful fresco. It was Mr. Wilde, and not Mr. Kirkup~ who first spoke to me of this buried treasure. Mr. Wilde, an American gentleman respected by all that knew him, was then in Florence, engaged in a work on Dante and his times, which unfor- tunately he did not live to complete. Among the materials he had collected for this purpose, there were some papers of the antiquarian Moreni, which he was examining when I called one day, (I had theii been three or four months in Florence,) to read what he had already written, as I was in the habit of doing from time to time. It was then that a foot-note of ~ met his eye, in which the writer lamented that he had spent two years of his life in unceasing and unavailing efforts to re- cover the portrait of Dante, and the other portions of the fresco of Giotto in the Bargello, mentioned byVasari; that others before him had been equally anxious and equally unsuccessful; and that he hoped that better times would come, (verranno tempi migliori,) and that the painting, so interest- ing both in an artistic and historical point of view,

2 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. MARTIN FARQUHAR TUPPER. TJ~ HE recent appearance of some half dozen editionssome of them very beautiful in typography and pictorial illustrationsof ~1he Proverbial Philosophy of Mr. MARTIN FARQUHAR TUPPER, reminds us of the obser- vation of Dana, that something resembling poetry is oftentimes borne into instant and turbulent popularity, while a work of genuine character may be lying neglected by all except the poets. But the tide of time, says the profound essayist, flows on, and the former begins to settle to the bottom, while the latter rises slowly and steadily to the surface, and goes forward, for a spirit is in it. We are not without the hope that Richard H. Dana will one day be in as fre- quent demand as Martin Farquhar Tupper is now. The merits of this gentleman of acknowl- edged genius and sovereign popularity, we have never been able to discover. If oddity were always originality, if quaintness and beauty were synonymous, if paradox were necessarily wisdom, we should be ready to grant that Mr. Tupper is a wise, beautiful and original thinker. But thought, after all, is an affair of mind, and though a man of genius may write what is far more brilliant than common sense ever is, yet no man can utter valuable truth on mortal and prudential subjects, unless he possesses a vigorous and powerful understandsn~. Now Mr. Tuppers art consists in contriving, not thought, but things that look like thoughts; fancies, in imitation of truths. The Proverbial Phi- losophy, in fact, appears to us one of the most curious impositions we have ever met with. When you first read one of the aphor- isms, it strikes you as a sentiment of extra- ordinary wisdom. But look more closely at it; try to apply it; and you will find that it is merely a trick of words. What flashed upon you as a profound distinction in morals, turns out to be nothing buta verbal antithesis. What was paraded, as a kind of transcen- dental analogy between things not before suspected of resemblance, discovered by the spiritual insight of the moral seer, is in fact no more than a grave clench,a solemn quibble,a conceit; arising not from the per- fection of mind, but the imperfection of language. Those conceptions, fabricated b~y Fancy out of the materials that Fancy dea s in, and colored by the rays of a poetic senti- ment, wear the same relation to truths, that the prismatic hues of the spray of a fountain in the sunshine bear to the gems which it perhaps outshines. It dazzles and delights, but if we try to apprehend it we become bewildered; and finally discover that we were deceived by a brilliant phantom of air. You may admire Mr. Tupper; you may enjoy him; but you cannot understand him: the staple of his sentences is not stuff of the understanding. Take one of Mr. Tuppers and one of Lord Bacons aphorisms; they flash with an equal bravery. But try them upon the glassy surface of life. Bacons cut it as if it were air: Tuppers turn into a little drop of dirty water. One was a diamond, the other but an icicle; one was the commonest liquor artificially refrigerated; the other was a crystal in form, but in its substance the pure carbon of truth. If these bright delu- sions which Mr. Tupper turns out to the wonder and praise of his admirers, were really thoughts, is it to be supposed that he would go on in this way, stringing them together, or evolving one out of the other, as a spider weaves its unending line, or as a boy blows soap bubbles from the nose of a tobacco pipe ~ Fancies, conceits, intellectual phantoms, may be engendered out of the mind, brooding in self-creation upon its own suggestions: but truth is to be mined from Nature, to be wrung from experience, to be seized as the victors trophy on the battle- field of action and suffering. The flowers of poetry may bud spontaneously around the meditative spirit of genius, but the harvest of Truth, though, to be reaped by mind, must grow out of Reality. RICHARD HENRY WILDE AND DANTE. JT appears that our accomplished and la -I- mented oountryman, Richard Henry Wilde, whose Researches and Considerations con- cerning the Love and Imprisonment of Tasso have been made use of with so discreditable a freedom by a recent English biographer of that poet, is-if another pretender prove not less successfulto be deprived also of the fame he earned by his discoveries in regard to Dante. A correspondent of The Spectator, under the signature of G. AUBREY BEzZI, writes as follows The questions are, what share Mr. Kirkup had in the recovery of the fresco of Giotto in the c a el of the Palazzo del Podest~ at Florence, and whether diretly or indirectly I have been the means of de- priving him, or any of the coiiperators in that good work, of the merit due to their labors. I shall best enable those who take an interest in this mattei to arrive at a fair conclusion, by giving a short history of the recovery of that beautiful fresco. It was Mr. Wilde, and not Mr. Kirkup~ who first spoke to me of this buried treasure. Mr. Wilde, an American gentleman respected by all that knew him, was then in Florence, engaged in a work on Dante and his times, which unfor- tunately he did not live to complete. Among the materials he had collected for this purpose, there were some papers of the antiquarian Moreni, which he was examining when I called one day, (I had theii been three or four months in Florence,) to read what he had already written, as I was in the habit of doing from time to time. It was then that a foot-note of ~ met his eye, in which the writer lamented that he had spent two years of his life in unceasing and unavailing efforts to re- cover the portrait of Dante, and the other portions of the fresco of Giotto in the Bargello, mentioned byVasari; that others before him had been equally anxious and equally unsuccessful; and that he hoped that better times would come, (verranno tempi migliori,) and that the painting, so interest- ing both in an artistic and historical point of view, RICHARD HENRY WILDE AND DANTE. 3 would be again sought for, and at last recovered. I did not then understand how the efforts of Moreni and others could have been thus unsuccessful; and I thought that with common energy and diligence they might have ascertained whether the painting, so clearly pointed out by Yasari, was or was not in existence: several months, however, of weari- some labors in the same pursuit taught me to judge more leniently of the failures of my prede- cessors. Mr. Wilde put ~ note before me, and sug~ested and urged, that being an Italian by birth, though not a 1?lorentine, and having lived many years in England and among the English, I had it in my power to bring two modes of in- fluence to bear upon the research; and that such being the case I ought to undertake it. My thoughts immediately turned to Mr. Kirkup, an artist who had abandoned his art to devote him- self entirely to antiquarian pursuits, with whom I was well acquainted, and who, having lived many years in Florence, (I believe fifteen,) would weigh the value of Morenis testimony on this matter, and effectually assist me in every way, if I took it in hand. So I called upon him, either that same day or the nexl~ and I found that he, like most other people, had read the passage in Vasaris life of Giotto, in which it is explicitly said~ that the portrait of Dante had been painted with others in the Palazzo del Podest~, and was to be seen at the time the historian was writing; but that he had not read, or had not put any confidence in, the note of the Florence edition of Vasari published in 18321838, in which it is stated, that the Palazzo del Podesta had now become a prisonthe Bar- gello; that the Chapel had been turned into a dispensa, (it was more like a coal-hole where the rags and much of the filth of the prison was de- posited); that the walls of this dispensa exhibited nothing but a dirty coating, and that Moreni speaks of the painting in some published work; the annotator concluding thus It is hoped that some day or other we shall be able to see what there is under the coating of the walls. So every- body hoped that some day or other the thing would be done, but nobody set about heartily to do it; and it is inconceivable to me that Mr. Kirkup, who shows in this letter, if it be his, such jealousy for the credit of the recovery, should have lived so many years in Florence either entirely ignorant of that which every shop-boy knew, or knowing there were chances of bringing such a treasure to light, that he should have never moved one step for that purpose. That Mr. Kirkup took no active part in this matter at any time, is quite proved by two admissions I find in the letter of your corre- spondent. He first says, & I remember that the first time I passed to the Bargello to see it, I found Marini on a ~ & c. The fact is, that several months had elapsed between the first presentation of the memorial and the erection of the scaffold during which Mr. Kirkup admits that he never thought of visiting the place, while I had spent hours and hours there, under not very pleasant circumstances, and had detected raised aureolas and otherevidences ofoldfresco. But he continues Marini was permitted to return to the work on account of the government; and at that point Bez- zi returned to England. It was some months after- wards that I heard that Marini had found certain figures, and soon afterwards the discovery of Dante himself (sic.) These two passages suf- ficiently show the nature of Mr. Kirkup~s labors, and how far he was really eager in the pursuit of this object, both during the time when I was most deeply engaged in it, and also for some months after I had quitted Florence. But to re- sume: Mr. Kirkup, however ignorant, or culpably negligent, or a little of both, he might previously have been on the subject, yet when I brought it before him, he at once admitted its importance, and made a liberal offer of money, if any should be required, to carry out the experiment. Thus encouraged by Mr. Wilde and by Mr. Kirkup I sought and found among English, American, and Italian friends and acquaintances, many that were ready to assist the pla#i. Then it was that I drew up a memorial to the Grand Duke; not because I am an ~ as your correspondent is pleased to call me, for that is not the case, but simply be.~ cause, having taken pains to organize the means of working out the common object, the coiiperators thought that I could best represent what this com- mon object was. In the memorial, I stated that, according to what Vasari, Moreni, and others had written, it was just possible that a treasure was lying hidden under the dirty coatings of the walls of the dispensa in the Bargello; that a society was already formed for the purpose of seeking with all care for this treasure; that all expenses would be gladly borne by the society; that should anything be found, we would either leave the paintings un- touched, or have them removed at our expense to the gallery of the Uffizj, and that we begged of the Grand Ii~uke the necessary sanction to begin our operations. The answer was favorable, and I was referred to Marchese Nerli, and to the Di- rector of the Academy, to make the necessary arrangements. Then the real difficulties began: first, I was put off on account of the precautions that were to be taken in working in a prison; then, the Director was ill, or unavoidably engaged, or absent I found, in short, that the object was to tire me out, and that I had to contend with the same power that had defeated Moreni and my other predecessors in the attempt. This battle continued many months. I have already spoken too much of my share in the pursuit of this object, and I will not enter into further detailssome of them ludicrousof this contention; but I will say explicitly, that, besides his encouragement, and his repeated offers of money, (which were not accepted because money was not wanted a not to anyamount, andwhatwas tleast wanted I fur- nished myself;) Mr. Kirkup did not afford me any assistance. At this stage of the business, I met indeed with a most valuable ally, without whom I believe I should have been beaten; and that was Paolo Feroni, a Florentine nobleman and artist to whom I have before expressed and now repeat my best acknowledgments. At the end of this long contention against obstacles which often eluded my grasp, the Grand Quke, in con- sequence of a second memorial I presented to him, issued a decree appointing a commission to carry out the proposed experiments. This commission was composed of two members I had myself pro- posed, viz, the sculptor Bartolini, and the Marchese Feroni, of myself, of the Direttore of the Edifizi Pubblici Machese Nerli, and of the Direttore of the Accademia delle Arti, the two latter ex-officio: further, the decree declines the proposed voluntary subscriptions, and places at the disposal of the Commissioners a sum of money which proved more than sufficient to cover all the expenses of the restoration of the fresco. The Commissioners employed the painter Marini, and the happy re- sult of his carefulness and ability is now before the world. 4 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. I will now conclude by asserting, that I had Oxford Circuit. He had studied for the bar nothing to do with what has been said or written with no less diligence than at the University; at Florence of this recovery, either in the Strenna, but in consequence of weakness of the chest, or at the meeting of the Scienziati, which was was obliged, after his first circuit, to abandon held in 1841, I believe, and at which the fresco the profession, in which, had health allowed of Giotto was naturally a great object of interest, him I left Florence in May 1840, before the portrait of his success was certain. In 1835 he Dante was actually uncovered, so that I only saw was placed upon the commission of inquiry a portion of the fresco. I have never heard, or into the relief of the poor, (on the report of read, or said, or written, anything tending to dis- which was founded the Irish Poor-law,) and parage the real co~iperation of Mr. Kirkup, or of the state of the Church in Ireland; and af- my late lamented friend Mr. Wilde, or of anybody terward drew up an able report on the con- else in this matter,nay, that it was at my re- dition of the Irish in Great B7ritain. In 1836 quest that the editor of the English translation of he was appointed, with Mr. John Austin, a Ruglers Handbook of the History of Painting, Commissioner to inquire into the Government published in 1842, has in the preface of that book of the Island of Malta, especially as to its mentioned Mr. Kirkup as having assisted mate rially in the recovery. Besides the Marchese tariff and expenditure. The Commission laid Feroni and the artist Signor Marini, there are an elaborate report before Parliament, in ac- many disinterested witnesses who have stated, cordance with the recommendations of which, and if called upon will repeat again, all the mate- such reductions were made as rendered the rial points of my narrative; but, better than all, tariff of Malta one of the least restrictive in there is now in London an English gentleman, the world, and materially extended its trade; whom I am happy to be allowed to call my friend, and they succeeded in establishing the free- who was in Florence part of the time, and saw dom of the press in the island. with his own eyes the share I had in this labori- In January, 1839, Mr. Lewis was appointed ous undertaking, which ought not to have brought a Poor-Law Commissioner, and held the office this bitter contention upon me: he was an inti il July, 1847 mate friend of Mr. Wilde, with whom he had unt ; when, determining to en- long correspondence on this very subject2 after ter Parliament, he resigned, and was returned, Mr. Wildes return to America. with Mr. Joseph Bailey, Jr., and Mr. Francis We~g Prosser, both Conservatives and Pro- W& believe Mr. Bezzi is in error as to the tectionist~, without opposition, for Hereford- incompleteness of Mr. Wildes Life of Dante. shire. In November, 1847, he was appointed Mr. Wilde, more than a year before his joint secretary of the Board of Control, with death, informed us that his work was nearly Mr James Wilson, M.P. for Westhury, and ready for the printer; and at the same time he earl confided to us for perusal his admirable trans- y in the following year made his first of specimens of Italian Li Poets peech in the House, in opposition to a mo- iations C tion for the production of papers in the case We hope the descendants of our learned and of the lately deposed Rajdh of Sattara. In ingenious friend will place these works, 50 April, 1848, Mr. Lewis was appointed Under creditable to his temper, scholarship, and Secretary of State for the Home Department, genius, before the world, and was succeeded in the secretaryship of the Board of Control by the Hon. John E. GEORGE CORNEWALL LEWIS. Elliot, M.P. for Roxburghshire. In his A WORK on The Influence of Authority in present office Mr. Lewis has served on the .L3.. Matters oJ Opinion has lately attracted Smithfield Market Commission, a p pointed in. much and apparently well-deserved attention November, 1849, which has just brought up in England. It is by George Cornewall Lewis, its report; and upon that subject, the Irish M.P. or Herefordshire, and Under Secretary Poor-Law, and Mr. Disraelis motion as to lo- of State for the Home Department. He is cal burdens, has spoken in the House. Last the eldest son of the Right Honorable Sir year he brought forward a road bill to con- Thomas Frankland Lewis, Bart., M.P. for solidate the management of highways, and Iladnor District, was born in London, in dispose of the question of turnpike trusts 1806, and received his school education at and their advances. The bill was not pro- Eton, which he entered in 1819, and where ceeded with last session, and has again been he was a pupil of Doctor Hawtrey, the pres- brought forward this year, with reference, ent head master. The Illustrated London however, only to highways. Mr. Lewis has News furnishes the following particulars of earned reputation as the translator of Bouk his subsequent career: lis Public Economy of Athens, which, as At Christmas, 1824, he left Eton, and in well as the Dorians, has become a text- the following year entered Christ Church, book, and passed through a second edition; Oxford, where as a student he was one of the and is known as author of an able essay few who gave attention to modern languages, on the Use and Abuse of Political Terms, and especially German, from which, jointly ublished in, 1832; on the Origin and with Mr. Tufnell, he translated Mullers ~ormation of the Romance Languages, pub- Dorians. In 1828 he took his University lished in 1835; on Local Disturbances in degree as a first-class man in classics, and a Ireland, and the Irish Church Question, in second-class in mathematics. In the same 1836; on the Government of Dependen- year he entered the Middle Temple, and in cies, in 1841; and On the Influence of 1831 was called to the bar, and joined the Authority in Matters of Opinion, in 1849.

4 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. I will now conclude by asserting, that I had Oxford Circuit. He had studied for the bar nothing to do with what has been said or written with no less diligence than at the University; at Florence of this recovery, either in the Strenna, but in consequence of weakness of the chest, or at the meeting of the Scienziati, which was was obliged, after his first circuit, to abandon held in 1841, I believe, and at which the fresco the profession, in which, had health allowed of Giotto was naturally a great object of interest, him I left Florence in May 1840, before the portrait of his success was certain. In 1835 he Dante was actually uncovered, so that I only saw was placed upon the commission of inquiry a portion of the fresco. I have never heard, or into the relief of the poor, (on the report of read, or said, or written, anything tending to dis- which was founded the Irish Poor-law,) and parage the real co~iperation of Mr. Kirkup, or of the state of the Church in Ireland; and af- my late lamented friend Mr. Wilde, or of anybody terward drew up an able report on the con- else in this matter,nay, that it was at my re- dition of the Irish in Great B7ritain. In 1836 quest that the editor of the English translation of he was appointed, with Mr. John Austin, a Ruglers Handbook of the History of Painting, Commissioner to inquire into the Government published in 1842, has in the preface of that book of the Island of Malta, especially as to its mentioned Mr. Kirkup as having assisted mate rially in the recovery. Besides the Marchese tariff and expenditure. The Commission laid Feroni and the artist Signor Marini, there are an elaborate report before Parliament, in ac- many disinterested witnesses who have stated, cordance with the recommendations of which, and if called upon will repeat again, all the mate- such reductions were made as rendered the rial points of my narrative; but, better than all, tariff of Malta one of the least restrictive in there is now in London an English gentleman, the world, and materially extended its trade; whom I am happy to be allowed to call my friend, and they succeeded in establishing the free- who was in Florence part of the time, and saw dom of the press in the island. with his own eyes the share I had in this labori- In January, 1839, Mr. Lewis was appointed ous undertaking, which ought not to have brought a Poor-Law Commissioner, and held the office this bitter contention upon me: he was an inti il July, 1847 mate friend of Mr. Wilde, with whom he had unt ; when, determining to en- long correspondence on this very subject2 after ter Parliament, he resigned, and was returned, Mr. Wildes return to America. with Mr. Joseph Bailey, Jr., and Mr. Francis We~g Prosser, both Conservatives and Pro- W& believe Mr. Bezzi is in error as to the tectionist~, without opposition, for Hereford- incompleteness of Mr. Wildes Life of Dante. shire. In November, 1847, he was appointed Mr. Wilde, more than a year before his joint secretary of the Board of Control, with death, informed us that his work was nearly Mr James Wilson, M.P. for Westhury, and ready for the printer; and at the same time he earl confided to us for perusal his admirable trans- y in the following year made his first of specimens of Italian Li Poets peech in the House, in opposition to a mo- iations C tion for the production of papers in the case We hope the descendants of our learned and of the lately deposed Rajdh of Sattara. In ingenious friend will place these works, 50 April, 1848, Mr. Lewis was appointed Under creditable to his temper, scholarship, and Secretary of State for the Home Department, genius, before the world, and was succeeded in the secretaryship of the Board of Control by the Hon. John E. GEORGE CORNEWALL LEWIS. Elliot, M.P. for Roxburghshire. In his A WORK on The Influence of Authority in present office Mr. Lewis has served on the .L3.. Matters oJ Opinion has lately attracted Smithfield Market Commission, a p pointed in. much and apparently well-deserved attention November, 1849, which has just brought up in England. It is by George Cornewall Lewis, its report; and upon that subject, the Irish M.P. or Herefordshire, and Under Secretary Poor-Law, and Mr. Disraelis motion as to lo- of State for the Home Department. He is cal burdens, has spoken in the House. Last the eldest son of the Right Honorable Sir year he brought forward a road bill to con- Thomas Frankland Lewis, Bart., M.P. for solidate the management of highways, and Iladnor District, was born in London, in dispose of the question of turnpike trusts 1806, and received his school education at and their advances. The bill was not pro- Eton, which he entered in 1819, and where ceeded with last session, and has again been he was a pupil of Doctor Hawtrey, the pres- brought forward this year, with reference, ent head master. The Illustrated London however, only to highways. Mr. Lewis has News furnishes the following particulars of earned reputation as the translator of Bouk his subsequent career: lis Public Economy of Athens, which, as At Christmas, 1824, he left Eton, and in well as the Dorians, has become a text- the following year entered Christ Church, book, and passed through a second edition; Oxford, where as a student he was one of the and is known as author of an able essay few who gave attention to modern languages, on the Use and Abuse of Political Terms, and especially German, from which, jointly ublished in, 1832; on the Origin and with Mr. Tufnell, he translated Mullers ~ormation of the Romance Languages, pub- Dorians. In 1828 he took his University lished in 1835; on Local Disturbances in degree as a first-class man in classics, and a Ireland, and the Irish Church Question, in second-class in mathematics. In the same 1836; on the Government of Dependen- year he entered the Middle Temple, and in cies, in 1841; and On the Influence of 1831 was called to the bar, and joined the Authority in Matters of Opinion, in 1849. LETTER FROM DR. LAYARD. 5 ORIGINAL LETTER FROM DR. LAYARD UPON ANCIENT ART, & c. E present in this number of the Interna- W tional a communication from the most celebrated traveler of the nineteenth century, AUSTEN HENRY LAYARD, upon the sources of Ancient Art. It was addressed by the dis- tinguished author to his friend and ours, Mr. MINOR K. KELlOGG, the well-known painter, who wa~ for some time with Dr. LAYARD in the East. Mv DEAR FRIEND: I frequently wish that you were here with me; I could find you subjects which would astonish you. However, I suppose you are desirous of hearing something about my pro- ceedings. When I said that the arts may have passed from Egypt into Greece, I merely alluded to the popularopinion, without adher- ing to it. It is not altogether improbable that they came from another source. Pheeni- cia was too much of a trading province to devote any great attention to the higher branches of the arts, and I am not aware of any monuments existing which can be traced to that people, and show a very high knowl- edge of architecture or sculpture. The de- signs we have on their early coins, and par- ticularly if the coins called the unknown of Celicia, and those belonging to cities on the southern coast of Asia Minor, were intro- duced by the Pheenician colonists, evidently show that Phcenicia had borrowed from the Assyrians and not from the Egyptians. In- deed as their language and written charac- ter (for the cuneiform, you must remember, appears only to have been a monumental character, perhaps Semetic, like the hiero- glyphics of Egypt), coincided with those of the Assyrian, it is most probable that their sympathies were with that people. I assume that the language of the two na- tions was the same; this may have been the case at one period, but whether throughout the existence of the Assyrian empire, may be doubtful. At any rate, I believe the real Assyrians and the Pheenicians, like all the nations occupying Syria and Mesopota- mia, to have been of the pure Semetic stock. I regret that I have not time to make you a sketch of a bas-reief. A specimen of this kind would at once show you how much nearer allied the arts of Greece are with those of Assyria, than with those of Egypt. One thing appears now to be pretty certain that all Western Asia, Persia, Susiana, Media, Asia Minor, & c. were fundamentally indebt- ed to Assyria for their knowledge of the arts. Persepolis is a mere copy of an Assyrian monument, as far as the sculpture and orna- ments are concerned, with the addition of external architecture, of which, as far as I am yet able to judge, the Assyrians appear to have been almost entirely ignorant. There is no reason, there fore, to reject alto- g ether the supposition that the Arts may have been transmitted from Ass~ia, through Pheenicia, into Greece, or, indeed, that the Arts may have passed into that country through Asia Minor. The Ass~ans, in.the extreme elegance and taste dis a ed in their ornaments, in their study of anatomy, and in their evident attempts at composition, had much in common with the Greeks. I think artists will be surprised when they see the collection of drawings I have been able to make, and that one of the results of the dis- coveries at Nimroud will be new views with re ga rd to the early history of the arts. then I first came here, all the Arabs around told me that Nimroud was built by Athur, or Assur, and that it was the ancient capital of Assyria. Great faith may gener- ally be placed in such traditions in the East. In Mesop otamia, and in the country watered by the Tigris and Euphrates, it is astonishing how names have been preserved, even when, during Greek, Roman, or other dominion, other cities were built on the site and named anew. The new names have long been lost, and the old are this day to be found in the mouth of the Bedouin. I need only mention Tadmor and Harran. In a religious point of view, there is no doubt that much important information may be expected from a careful investigation of the monuments of Assyria. During my labors~,without being able to de- vote much thought or attention to the sub- ject, I have been continually struck with the curious illustrations of little understood pas- sages in the Bible which these records a~rd. In an historical and archcnological point of view, I know nothing more interesting and more promising than the examination of the ruins of Assyria. One of the vastest empires that ever existedthe power of whose hi ng extended, at one period, over the greater part of Assyriawhose advance in civiliEation and knowledge is the theme of ancient historians disappeared so suddenly from the face of the earth that it has left scarcely a trace, save its name, behind. Even the names of its kings are not satisfactorily known, and out of the various dynastic lists preserved, we are unable to select one worthy of credit. As to their deeds, we have been in the most profound darkness, and were it not for the record of their strength and greatness which we find in the Scriptures, we should scarcely credit the few traditions which the Greeks have preserved to us. After the lapse of two thousand five hundred years, a mere chance has thrown their history in our way, and we have now their deeds chronicled in writing and in sculpture. Were I much given to the explanation of such things by a reference to superhuman interference, I should be inclined to think that the Almighty had designedly kept these monuments buried in the Earth, until the time had arrived when man had sufficient leisure and knowledge to discover the con- tents of records, written in an unknown character, that He might prove to them how great was the power which He so suddenly

LETTER FROM DR. LAYARD. 5 ORIGINAL LETTER FROM DR. LAYARD UPON ANCIENT ART, & c. E present in this number of the Interna- W tional a communication from the most celebrated traveler of the nineteenth century, AUSTEN HENRY LAYARD, upon the sources of Ancient Art. It was addressed by the dis- tinguished author to his friend and ours, Mr. MINOR K. KELlOGG, the well-known painter, who wa~ for some time with Dr. LAYARD in the East. Mv DEAR FRIEND: I frequently wish that you were here with me; I could find you subjects which would astonish you. However, I suppose you are desirous of hearing something about my pro- ceedings. When I said that the arts may have passed from Egypt into Greece, I merely alluded to the popularopinion, without adher- ing to it. It is not altogether improbable that they came from another source. Pheeni- cia was too much of a trading province to devote any great attention to the higher branches of the arts, and I am not aware of any monuments existing which can be traced to that people, and show a very high knowl- edge of architecture or sculpture. The de- signs we have on their early coins, and par- ticularly if the coins called the unknown of Celicia, and those belonging to cities on the southern coast of Asia Minor, were intro- duced by the Pheenician colonists, evidently show that Phcenicia had borrowed from the Assyrians and not from the Egyptians. In- deed as their language and written charac- ter (for the cuneiform, you must remember, appears only to have been a monumental character, perhaps Semetic, like the hiero- glyphics of Egypt), coincided with those of the Assyrian, it is most probable that their sympathies were with that people. I assume that the language of the two na- tions was the same; this may have been the case at one period, but whether throughout the existence of the Assyrian empire, may be doubtful. At any rate, I believe the real Assyrians and the Pheenicians, like all the nations occupying Syria and Mesopota- mia, to have been of the pure Semetic stock. I regret that I have not time to make you a sketch of a bas-reief. A specimen of this kind would at once show you how much nearer allied the arts of Greece are with those of Assyria, than with those of Egypt. One thing appears now to be pretty certain that all Western Asia, Persia, Susiana, Media, Asia Minor, & c. were fundamentally indebt- ed to Assyria for their knowledge of the arts. Persepolis is a mere copy of an Assyrian monument, as far as the sculpture and orna- ments are concerned, with the addition of external architecture, of which, as far as I am yet able to judge, the Assyrians appear to have been almost entirely ignorant. There is no reason, there fore, to reject alto- g ether the supposition that the Arts may have been transmitted from Ass~ia, through Pheenicia, into Greece, or, indeed, that the Arts may have passed into that country through Asia Minor. The Ass~ans, in.the extreme elegance and taste dis a ed in their ornaments, in their study of anatomy, and in their evident attempts at composition, had much in common with the Greeks. I think artists will be surprised when they see the collection of drawings I have been able to make, and that one of the results of the dis- coveries at Nimroud will be new views with re ga rd to the early history of the arts. then I first came here, all the Arabs around told me that Nimroud was built by Athur, or Assur, and that it was the ancient capital of Assyria. Great faith may gener- ally be placed in such traditions in the East. In Mesop otamia, and in the country watered by the Tigris and Euphrates, it is astonishing how names have been preserved, even when, during Greek, Roman, or other dominion, other cities were built on the site and named anew. The new names have long been lost, and the old are this day to be found in the mouth of the Bedouin. I need only mention Tadmor and Harran. In a religious point of view, there is no doubt that much important information may be expected from a careful investigation of the monuments of Assyria. During my labors~,without being able to de- vote much thought or attention to the sub- ject, I have been continually struck with the curious illustrations of little understood pas- sages in the Bible which these records a~rd. In an historical and archcnological point of view, I know nothing more interesting and more promising than the examination of the ruins of Assyria. One of the vastest empires that ever existedthe power of whose hi ng extended, at one period, over the greater part of Assyriawhose advance in civiliEation and knowledge is the theme of ancient historians disappeared so suddenly from the face of the earth that it has left scarcely a trace, save its name, behind. Even the names of its kings are not satisfactorily known, and out of the various dynastic lists preserved, we are unable to select one worthy of credit. As to their deeds, we have been in the most profound darkness, and were it not for the record of their strength and greatness which we find in the Scriptures, we should scarcely credit the few traditions which the Greeks have preserved to us. After the lapse of two thousand five hundred years, a mere chance has thrown their history in our way, and we have now their deeds chronicled in writing and in sculpture. Were I much given to the explanation of such things by a reference to superhuman interference, I should be inclined to think that the Almighty had designedly kept these monuments buried in the Earth, until the time had arrived when man had sufficient leisure and knowledge to discover the con- tents of records, written in an unknown character, that He might prove to them how great was the power which He so suddenly 6 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. destroyed, and how fully the prophecies upon the subject were fulfilled. Had these sculp- tures and inscriptions remained above ground, they would have utterly disappeared long any records could have been made of their former existence. Had they been casually discovered before the present century, they would most probably have been used for cement in the construction of the walls of a city. In fact, the moment for their discovery has, in every way, been most propitious. However, I will not enter into such specula- tions, but leave them to those who are that way inclined. A. H. L. ~1I~tiginu{ ~nvvr5pnn~rr~rr. WANDERINGS IN THE PENINSULA. GRENADA, May 18, 1850. MY DEAR FRIENDIt affords me much .LVL pleasure to write you from the midst of the terrestrial paradise into which my roman- tic wanderings have at length brought me. Almost every one who sets out from home with the object of travel, looks forward to some one or two spots, which, in the light of imagination, glitter like stars in the bri~ht prospective. To me, the two cities which most aroused my curiosity and pleased my fancy, were first, Grenada, in which I now am, and Venice, to which I still look forward with a brighter hope, gilded with the rays of memory, and clustering with the rosebuds of coming days. In Grenada, my expectations, sanguine as they were, have been more than realized. It is the nearest approach to para- dise that I have yet seen: a spot that cannot disappoint any one, as the best part of its beauty, like that of a beautiful woman, is of a nature, that not even genius itself can describe. I visit the Aihambra daily, and write a letter within its sacred precincts. Externally the ~Alhambra has a severe and forbidding appearance, like that of an ancient fortress, but within, it exceeds in beauty all ones preconceptions, however warm and extravagant they may be. The terrace which conducts to it, after having passed through the huge gate which opens into its jurisdiction, is embowered with tall, straight, and overhanging elms, nicely trimmed and of the richest foliage, while here and there a fountain marks the bends in the road. Along this enchanting walk mar- ble seats are arranged, where one can repose for a moment to listen to the notes of the nightingales in the adjacent groves, and charm his fancy with the melodious rippling of water at his feet. If one has any feeling in his soul, in such a spot as this he is sure to find it. If he has a woman with him he is certain to fall in love, and if he has not, he may perhaps fallasleep! Besides the Alhambra, there are numer- ous objects of peculiar interest to be seen in Grenada. The Cathedral, though inferior to those of Seville and Toledo in magnificence and grandeur, is nevertheless a splendid edi- fice, and is rendered particularly interesting as being the last resting-place of Ferdinand and Isabella, the wisest sovereigns who ever ruled over Spain. Yesterday we visited the royal chapel, and beheld the beautiful monu- ment erected to their memory. In its archi- tecture it struck me as being exceedingly unique, the work of consummate skill and exquisite taste. It is of delicate alabaster, and was wrought, it is said, at Genoa, by Peralla. It is about twelve feet in length by some ten in breadth, profusely covered with figures and ingenious designs in relief, while upon it, as upon a bridal couch, the statues of Ferdinand and Isabella, in their royal robes, are extended side by sidetheir faces like those of life, in calm and beautiful re- pose, elevated toward heaven. Having ex- amined the monument for some time, we de- scended into the little arched vault beneath, which contained the coffins of the deceased monarchs. These were of lead, strongly bound with iron, and the letter F., upon that of Ferdinand, was the only sign which dis- tinguished them from each other. While in that small chamber of the dead, my memory ran back to the great events of the fifteenth centurythe discovery of America and the conquest~f Grenadawhich owed their origin to the enterprise of the two famous person- ages whose ashes were inclosed in-.the heavy leaden cases at my feet; and I never felt more profoundly the insignificance of earthly renown, or the vanity of individual glory. The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Coming from the tomb, we were next shown a sceptre and crown which had been used by the illustrious dead. Also a sword which Ferdinand himself wore in his battles with the Moors. Leaving the Cathedral, we proceeded along to the Moorish palace called The Generaliffe. This edifice is not far from the Alhambra, and is separated from it by a deep and romantic ravine. Passing through a level avenue of cypress and rose- hushes, we arrived at its main entrance. The first view of the interior was ravishing. The virgin stream of the Daru, here collected in a narrow canal, was rushing with a mu- sical sound through arbors of cypresses and files of flowery trees, arranged like fairy sen- tinels on either side. Passing on, we soon reached the trysting-place of Zoraya, the frail Sultana. This spot certainly is too ex- quisitely beautiful for me to describe. It is of a rectangular form, and bordered with beds of flowers and handsome trees. On one side is an arbor of gigantic cypresses, beautifully trained, the trunks of which were tastefully enamelled with delicate vines, laden with blooming roses. Within the square is an ar- tificial pond of water, sparkling with golden fishes, in the centre of which is a fairy-like island, teeming with flowers of numerous kinds. The general effect of the view was like that of enchantment, or like one of those indescribable scenes that sometimes visit us

6 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. destroyed, and how fully the prophecies upon the subject were fulfilled. Had these sculp- tures and inscriptions remained above ground, they would have utterly disappeared long any records could have been made of their former existence. Had they been casually discovered before the present century, they would most probably have been used for cement in the construction of the walls of a city. In fact, the moment for their discovery has, in every way, been most propitious. However, I will not enter into such specula- tions, but leave them to those who are that way inclined. A. H. L. ~1I~tiginu{ ~nvvr5pnn~rr~rr. WANDERINGS IN THE PENINSULA. GRENADA, May 18, 1850. MY DEAR FRIENDIt affords me much .LVL pleasure to write you from the midst of the terrestrial paradise into which my roman- tic wanderings have at length brought me. Almost every one who sets out from home with the object of travel, looks forward to some one or two spots, which, in the light of imagination, glitter like stars in the bri~ht prospective. To me, the two cities which most aroused my curiosity and pleased my fancy, were first, Grenada, in which I now am, and Venice, to which I still look forward with a brighter hope, gilded with the rays of memory, and clustering with the rosebuds of coming days. In Grenada, my expectations, sanguine as they were, have been more than realized. It is the nearest approach to para- dise that I have yet seen: a spot that cannot disappoint any one, as the best part of its beauty, like that of a beautiful woman, is of a nature, that not even genius itself can describe. I visit the Aihambra daily, and write a letter within its sacred precincts. Externally the ~Alhambra has a severe and forbidding appearance, like that of an ancient fortress, but within, it exceeds in beauty all ones preconceptions, however warm and extravagant they may be. The terrace which conducts to it, after having passed through the huge gate which opens into its jurisdiction, is embowered with tall, straight, and overhanging elms, nicely trimmed and of the richest foliage, while here and there a fountain marks the bends in the road. Along this enchanting walk mar- ble seats are arranged, where one can repose for a moment to listen to the notes of the nightingales in the adjacent groves, and charm his fancy with the melodious rippling of water at his feet. If one has any feeling in his soul, in such a spot as this he is sure to find it. If he has a woman with him he is certain to fall in love, and if he has not, he may perhaps fallasleep! Besides the Alhambra, there are numer- ous objects of peculiar interest to be seen in Grenada. The Cathedral, though inferior to those of Seville and Toledo in magnificence and grandeur, is nevertheless a splendid edi- fice, and is rendered particularly interesting as being the last resting-place of Ferdinand and Isabella, the wisest sovereigns who ever ruled over Spain. Yesterday we visited the royal chapel, and beheld the beautiful monu- ment erected to their memory. In its archi- tecture it struck me as being exceedingly unique, the work of consummate skill and exquisite taste. It is of delicate alabaster, and was wrought, it is said, at Genoa, by Peralla. It is about twelve feet in length by some ten in breadth, profusely covered with figures and ingenious designs in relief, while upon it, as upon a bridal couch, the statues of Ferdinand and Isabella, in their royal robes, are extended side by sidetheir faces like those of life, in calm and beautiful re- pose, elevated toward heaven. Having ex- amined the monument for some time, we de- scended into the little arched vault beneath, which contained the coffins of the deceased monarchs. These were of lead, strongly bound with iron, and the letter F., upon that of Ferdinand, was the only sign which dis- tinguished them from each other. While in that small chamber of the dead, my memory ran back to the great events of the fifteenth centurythe discovery of America and the conquest~f Grenadawhich owed their origin to the enterprise of the two famous person- ages whose ashes were inclosed in-.the heavy leaden cases at my feet; and I never felt more profoundly the insignificance of earthly renown, or the vanity of individual glory. The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Coming from the tomb, we were next shown a sceptre and crown which had been used by the illustrious dead. Also a sword which Ferdinand himself wore in his battles with the Moors. Leaving the Cathedral, we proceeded along to the Moorish palace called The Generaliffe. This edifice is not far from the Alhambra, and is separated from it by a deep and romantic ravine. Passing through a level avenue of cypress and rose- hushes, we arrived at its main entrance. The first view of the interior was ravishing. The virgin stream of the Daru, here collected in a narrow canal, was rushing with a mu- sical sound through arbors of cypresses and files of flowery trees, arranged like fairy sen- tinels on either side. Passing on, we soon reached the trysting-place of Zoraya, the frail Sultana. This spot certainly is too ex- quisitely beautiful for me to describe. It is of a rectangular form, and bordered with beds of flowers and handsome trees. On one side is an arbor of gigantic cypresses, beautifully trained, the trunks of which were tastefully enamelled with delicate vines, laden with blooming roses. Within the square is an ar- tificial pond of water, sparkling with golden fishes, in the centre of which is a fairy-like island, teeming with flowers of numerous kinds. The general effect of the view was like that of enchantment, or like one of those indescribable scenes that sometimes visit us MARKS OF BARHAMVILLE. 1 in dreams, the beauty of which surpasses reality. But my time will not allow me to indulge very largely in detail. From the Generaliffe we proceeded to several of the churches, and afterward to an extensive mad- house. We were not a little amused. One old gentleman, about the maddest of the lot, who had formerly been a general in the Spanish army, told me he liked his present quarters very well, but that his companions were irothing better than a pack of fools! The grounds about this humane establish- ment are prettily laid out in gardens and handsome walks, and the patients themselves have a spacious and pleasant yard for their exercise and recreation. All this reflects fa- vorably npon the character of the Spanish people, who are ever kind to such as are af- flicted or in distress. They never scoff at human suffering in any form, however fond they may be of the savage ferocity of the bull-fight. They are compassionate to the poor, and even when the request of a beggar is denied, it is done in such gentle terms, that the denial is robbed of its sting. Par- don me for Gods sake, brother, is the usual form. I have found much to admire among the Spaniards. No nation, not even the French, exceeds them in true politeness or good breeding. When I left Madrid, a friend of mine procured for me an introductory let- ter, from a lady whom to this day I have never seen, addressed to her children living at Grenada. To my great surprise, the ladies called in their carriage yesterday and inquired for me, although I a no en p resented my letter of introduction. To-day I called upon the family, in company with Mr. Wetmore, (a young American from New York, who has just reached Grenada from Madrid,) and was most hospitably and kindly received. One of the young ladies has perhaps the sweetest face I ever saw, and to her beauty her graceful manners add an indescribable charm. I am quite certain that it would be impossible for me or any other man to see her many times with im- punity. The influence of such attractionswith me, I confess, is quite irresistible. Beauty is more potent than any other agent of human power, and he who is able to resist it must be a heartless Samson indeed. Truly yours, JOHN E. WARREN. BLAcKWOOD ON DANcERs IN SMALLCLOTIIES. For a man to be fond of shuffling and twirling himself out of the di~nity of step which nature gave himpicking his way through a quadrille like a goose upon red hot bricks, or ~yrating like a bad teetotum in what English fashionables are pleased to term a valseI never see a man thus oc- cupied without a fervent desire to kP~k him. SINCERITY is like traveling on a plain beat- ~n road, which commonly brings a man sooner to his .journeys end than by-ways, in which men often lose themselves. MARKS OF BARHAMVILLE. WE were summoned one evening some three or four months ago to the house of an eminent New Yorker to hear read the manuscript verses of a gentleman from South Carolina, who was quite sure that he had earned for himself a name that should endure forever as a part of the national glory. We had good wine and the choicest company, and these kept us from sleep through nume- rous scenas and cantos, and if we formed any judgment in the premises we believe we did not express one. In due time time Messrs. Appleton published the book, and as it has not been noticed much here, we copy from the June Fraser the following paragraphs about it, premising that our author had no faith in American criticism, but was quite willing to abide the decisions of English re- viewers: The general fault of carelessness and clum- siness runs through the volume of poems, ap- parently, of a Trans-atlantic author, Marks of Barhamville. The book is just three times as large as it should have beenas is usually the case nowadays. When will poets learn that brevity is the soul of wit: and, more, that saying a thing in three weak lines is no substitute whatsoever for the power saying it in one stron one l Of the first poem in the book, E& reide of Guldal, we are unable to speak, having been unable to read it; but it evinces at least more historic information than is common just now among our poets, who seem to forget utterly that ex nihilo nihil fit, and that the brains of man may be as surely pumped dry as any other vessel, if nothing be put in to replace what is taken out. Mr. Marks cannot avoid, too, giving us, like every one else, a set of clinical lectures on the morbid anatomy of his own inner man, under the appropriate title of Weeds from Lifes Sea-shore; forgetting that sea-weeds must be very rare and delicate indeed to be worth preserving in a hortus siccus, instead of being usefully covered oul~ of sight in the nearest earth-heap, there to turn into manure. He is, however, more ob- jective than most of his self-exenterating coin- peers; but he wants the grace and cheerful lightness of the American school. A large part of his volume is taken up with Main, a masquean imitation of Miltons manner) but not, alas! of his melody and polish; as, for instance Not a warbler wakes his lay, Not a dewdrop pearls the spray, Not a fleecy cloud.rack sails Fore the warn.breathd sumner gales, Shedding blessings on the earth, But heavenward points its primal birth. Hark! the green-sedgd chiming nil, Weeding down yon cot.crownd hill, The torrents dash, the rivers gush, The mighty wind.resonnding crush Of the fallen monarch of the wood, Re.echod by tXie iistaut i~oo1. However, this masque is readable enough, though Flora and Zephyrus, Oberon and Titania, not much wanted anywhere in the

MARKS OF BARHAMVILLE. 1 in dreams, the beauty of which surpasses reality. But my time will not allow me to indulge very largely in detail. From the Generaliffe we proceeded to several of the churches, and afterward to an extensive mad- house. We were not a little amused. One old gentleman, about the maddest of the lot, who had formerly been a general in the Spanish army, told me he liked his present quarters very well, but that his companions were irothing better than a pack of fools! The grounds about this humane establish- ment are prettily laid out in gardens and handsome walks, and the patients themselves have a spacious and pleasant yard for their exercise and recreation. All this reflects fa- vorably npon the character of the Spanish people, who are ever kind to such as are af- flicted or in distress. They never scoff at human suffering in any form, however fond they may be of the savage ferocity of the bull-fight. They are compassionate to the poor, and even when the request of a beggar is denied, it is done in such gentle terms, that the denial is robbed of its sting. Par- don me for Gods sake, brother, is the usual form. I have found much to admire among the Spaniards. No nation, not even the French, exceeds them in true politeness or good breeding. When I left Madrid, a friend of mine procured for me an introductory let- ter, from a lady whom to this day I have never seen, addressed to her children living at Grenada. To my great surprise, the ladies called in their carriage yesterday and inquired for me, although I a no en p resented my letter of introduction. To-day I called upon the family, in company with Mr. Wetmore, (a young American from New York, who has just reached Grenada from Madrid,) and was most hospitably and kindly received. One of the young ladies has perhaps the sweetest face I ever saw, and to her beauty her graceful manners add an indescribable charm. I am quite certain that it would be impossible for me or any other man to see her many times with im- punity. The influence of such attractionswith me, I confess, is quite irresistible. Beauty is more potent than any other agent of human power, and he who is able to resist it must be a heartless Samson indeed. Truly yours, JOHN E. WARREN. BLAcKWOOD ON DANcERs IN SMALLCLOTIIES. For a man to be fond of shuffling and twirling himself out of the di~nity of step which nature gave himpicking his way through a quadrille like a goose upon red hot bricks, or ~yrating like a bad teetotum in what English fashionables are pleased to term a valseI never see a man thus oc- cupied without a fervent desire to kP~k him. SINCERITY is like traveling on a plain beat- ~n road, which commonly brings a man sooner to his .journeys end than by-ways, in which men often lose themselves. MARKS OF BARHAMVILLE. WE were summoned one evening some three or four months ago to the house of an eminent New Yorker to hear read the manuscript verses of a gentleman from South Carolina, who was quite sure that he had earned for himself a name that should endure forever as a part of the national glory. We had good wine and the choicest company, and these kept us from sleep through nume- rous scenas and cantos, and if we formed any judgment in the premises we believe we did not express one. In due time time Messrs. Appleton published the book, and as it has not been noticed much here, we copy from the June Fraser the following paragraphs about it, premising that our author had no faith in American criticism, but was quite willing to abide the decisions of English re- viewers: The general fault of carelessness and clum- siness runs through the volume of poems, ap- parently, of a Trans-atlantic author, Marks of Barhamville. The book is just three times as large as it should have beenas is usually the case nowadays. When will poets learn that brevity is the soul of wit: and, more, that saying a thing in three weak lines is no substitute whatsoever for the power saying it in one stron one l Of the first poem in the book, E& reide of Guldal, we are unable to speak, having been unable to read it; but it evinces at least more historic information than is common just now among our poets, who seem to forget utterly that ex nihilo nihil fit, and that the brains of man may be as surely pumped dry as any other vessel, if nothing be put in to replace what is taken out. Mr. Marks cannot avoid, too, giving us, like every one else, a set of clinical lectures on the morbid anatomy of his own inner man, under the appropriate title of Weeds from Lifes Sea-shore; forgetting that sea-weeds must be very rare and delicate indeed to be worth preserving in a hortus siccus, instead of being usefully covered oul~ of sight in the nearest earth-heap, there to turn into manure. He is, however, more ob- jective than most of his self-exenterating coin- peers; but he wants the grace and cheerful lightness of the American school. A large part of his volume is taken up with Main, a masquean imitation of Miltons manner) but not, alas! of his melody and polish; as, for instance Not a warbler wakes his lay, Not a dewdrop pearls the spray, Not a fleecy cloud.rack sails Fore the warn.breathd sumner gales, Shedding blessings on the earth, But heavenward points its primal birth. Hark! the green-sedgd chiming nil, Weeding down yon cot.crownd hill, The torrents dash, the rivers gush, The mighty wind.resonnding crush Of the fallen monarch of the wood, Re.echod by tXie iistaut i~oo1. However, this masque is readable enough, though Flora and Zephyrus, Oberon and Titania, not much wanted anywhere in the

MARKS OF BARHAMVILLE. 1 in dreams, the beauty of which surpasses reality. But my time will not allow me to indulge very largely in detail. From the Generaliffe we proceeded to several of the churches, and afterward to an extensive mad- house. We were not a little amused. One old gentleman, about the maddest of the lot, who had formerly been a general in the Spanish army, told me he liked his present quarters very well, but that his companions were irothing better than a pack of fools! The grounds about this humane establish- ment are prettily laid out in gardens and handsome walks, and the patients themselves have a spacious and pleasant yard for their exercise and recreation. All this reflects fa- vorably npon the character of the Spanish people, who are ever kind to such as are af- flicted or in distress. They never scoff at human suffering in any form, however fond they may be of the savage ferocity of the bull-fight. They are compassionate to the poor, and even when the request of a beggar is denied, it is done in such gentle terms, that the denial is robbed of its sting. Par- don me for Gods sake, brother, is the usual form. I have found much to admire among the Spaniards. No nation, not even the French, exceeds them in true politeness or good breeding. When I left Madrid, a friend of mine procured for me an introductory let- ter, from a lady whom to this day I have never seen, addressed to her children living at Grenada. To my great surprise, the ladies called in their carriage yesterday and inquired for me, although I a no en p resented my letter of introduction. To-day I called upon the family, in company with Mr. Wetmore, (a young American from New York, who has just reached Grenada from Madrid,) and was most hospitably and kindly received. One of the young ladies has perhaps the sweetest face I ever saw, and to her beauty her graceful manners add an indescribable charm. I am quite certain that it would be impossible for me or any other man to see her many times with im- punity. The influence of such attractionswith me, I confess, is quite irresistible. Beauty is more potent than any other agent of human power, and he who is able to resist it must be a heartless Samson indeed. Truly yours, JOHN E. WARREN. BLAcKWOOD ON DANcERs IN SMALLCLOTIIES. For a man to be fond of shuffling and twirling himself out of the di~nity of step which nature gave himpicking his way through a quadrille like a goose upon red hot bricks, or ~yrating like a bad teetotum in what English fashionables are pleased to term a valseI never see a man thus oc- cupied without a fervent desire to kP~k him. SINCERITY is like traveling on a plain beat- ~n road, which commonly brings a man sooner to his .journeys end than by-ways, in which men often lose themselves. MARKS OF BARHAMVILLE. WE were summoned one evening some three or four months ago to the house of an eminent New Yorker to hear read the manuscript verses of a gentleman from South Carolina, who was quite sure that he had earned for himself a name that should endure forever as a part of the national glory. We had good wine and the choicest company, and these kept us from sleep through nume- rous scenas and cantos, and if we formed any judgment in the premises we believe we did not express one. In due time time Messrs. Appleton published the book, and as it has not been noticed much here, we copy from the June Fraser the following paragraphs about it, premising that our author had no faith in American criticism, but was quite willing to abide the decisions of English re- viewers: The general fault of carelessness and clum- siness runs through the volume of poems, ap- parently, of a Trans-atlantic author, Marks of Barhamville. The book is just three times as large as it should have beenas is usually the case nowadays. When will poets learn that brevity is the soul of wit: and, more, that saying a thing in three weak lines is no substitute whatsoever for the power saying it in one stron one l Of the first poem in the book, E& reide of Guldal, we are unable to speak, having been unable to read it; but it evinces at least more historic information than is common just now among our poets, who seem to forget utterly that ex nihilo nihil fit, and that the brains of man may be as surely pumped dry as any other vessel, if nothing be put in to replace what is taken out. Mr. Marks cannot avoid, too, giving us, like every one else, a set of clinical lectures on the morbid anatomy of his own inner man, under the appropriate title of Weeds from Lifes Sea-shore; forgetting that sea-weeds must be very rare and delicate indeed to be worth preserving in a hortus siccus, instead of being usefully covered oul~ of sight in the nearest earth-heap, there to turn into manure. He is, however, more ob- jective than most of his self-exenterating coin- peers; but he wants the grace and cheerful lightness of the American school. A large part of his volume is taken up with Main, a masquean imitation of Miltons manner) but not, alas! of his melody and polish; as, for instance Not a warbler wakes his lay, Not a dewdrop pearls the spray, Not a fleecy cloud.rack sails Fore the warn.breathd sumner gales, Shedding blessings on the earth, But heavenward points its primal birth. Hark! the green-sedgd chiming nil, Weeding down yon cot.crownd hill, The torrents dash, the rivers gush, The mighty wind.resonnding crush Of the fallen monarch of the wood, Re.echod by tXie iistaut i~oo1. However, this masque is readable enough, though Flora and Zephyrus, Oberon and Titania, not much wanted anywhere in the 8 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MiSCELLANy. nineteenth century, seem oddly out of place to put words into his mouth which he had amid whippoor-wills, and mockbirds, and I never uttered, for the purpose, the express other Yankee nationalities, pleasing and natu- f purpose, of calumniating him,words which ral as they are in themselves. How did they the writer of the calumny m~zst have well get into the Alleghanies 3 By liner or steam- known that he had never uttered, to put cr3 In the main cabin or the steerage~ And ~such words into his mouth for such a purpose, were they, were they sea-sick 3 One would formed a case in which he thought that the fear it from the unwonted huskiness of their party calumniated was bound to bring the new utterances. p arty so offending under the notice of their The best thing in the book is Sema~l, lordships. Lord Brougham proceeded to ar- though the plot is neither very apparent nor raign the Daily News or an example of this very novel, the imagery as trite as need be, crime which would have done no dishonor to the blank verse heavy and monotonous, with- the inventive faculties of the Literary World. out breaks, grouping, or relief, and the ac- cents as often as not on the prepositions The felucca there With lateen-sail, seen in th horizon-skirt Shaping its course tward t/s~ Egyptian shore, (Which Egyptian shore 3) Gives t6 the moon the silvry foam, which breaks (Could it give the foamfrom the moon 3) Gainst thi sharp keel, and tracks the wave with light. While just beneath him bounds the lighter skiff With bird-like speed; and darting t6 the shore, Lowers its white sail, (Not another barks, mind!) and moors its painted prow (Oh, schoolboys phrase!) Close t6 the clift~ Disporting in the sheen And so forth. And yet this whole passage, and what fol- lows, is really imaginative and picturesque, but spoilt by carelessness, carelessness, care- lessness. Either write verses, we say again, or prose. And unless the metre and accent coincide with the sense, and make music when read merely as prose is read, the lines are a makeshift and a failure, and neither worth writing or reading, though they were as fan- ciful and overloaded as Mr. Brownings, or as grandiloquent and sugary as Mr. Whos 3 Lonn BROTJGHAM, who next to the Duke of Wellington is now unquestionably the first man of the British Empire, a few days ago in the House of Lords complained of an instance of libel of a species which is extremely com- mon in the United States, and which is of all species the most irritating and offensive. Lord Brougham observed, that no one who had lived so long as he had in Parliament had ever taken notice so seldom of any libel- Ions matter published, or of any breach of privilege committed against him. He might also add, that no person had ever been more the object of the most indiscriminate, and he might say the most absurd and the most unfounded abuse. Nevertheless, in all such cases he had adopted a neutral course, and had left the truth to come out in the natural lapse of events. There was, however, one species of breach of privilege which he had never been disposed to pass unnoticed. At- tacks one must undergo. To be exposed to attacks was the fate of all men who lived in public. No man ought to shrink from or be too sensitive to attacks; but, under pretence of stating what a lord had said in Parliament, A Moen GUILLOTINE.DELIRIUM TREMENS ON THE STAGE.It is stated in Galignanis Messenger that at the end of the late carnival two married women of Vidauban Department of the Var manufactured a lay figure, entirely in white, and, after attaching a chain round its neck, placed it in a small cart. Many of the inhabitants then paraded it through the village in solemn procession, accompanied by a crowd of men carrying axes, & c., and singing revolutionary songs. After a while the y formed a sort of revolutionary tribunal, and the figure, which was called Blanc, was gravely tried, and, by the majority of the votes of the crowd, condemned to death, the princ~al judge, a man named Arnaud, saying, lane! you prevent us from dancing farandoles, and therefore we condemn you to death ! Thereupon, a man seized the figure, p laced it on a p lank, and at one blow with his axe severer the head from the body. A bottle of wine had been placed in the neck of the figure, and, this having been broken by the blow, a resemblance of blood was produced. The head was then cast into the crowd and torn to pieces by them. This scandalous scene created a most painful impression throughout the department. A few days afterward, four men who played a principal part in the affair, and the two women who made the figure, were brought to trial on the charge of exciting citizens to hatred of each other. The men pleaded drunkenness as an excusethe women declared that they had only intended to amuse their children. Four of the accused were acquitted, and the other two, who had acted as judge and executioner, were condemned to four and three months imprisonment. It is a pity that by the appli- cation of some such law, the disgustingly vulgar and brutalizing piece called The Drunkard, which has lately been played with immense success at Barnums Theatre, (and in which the chief characters appear in all the stages of degradation until one of them is nearly dead with the delirium tremens), cannot sup ressed. With all its preten- sions 4o mornlity, the play is irredeemably bad and base. THE CINcINNATI ART UNIoN advertises PowERss Greek Slave as one of its prizes, and publishes an engraving of it which should frighten away all subscriptions.

8 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MiSCELLANy. nineteenth century, seem oddly out of place to put words into his mouth which he had amid whippoor-wills, and mockbirds, and I never uttered, for the purpose, the express other Yankee nationalities, pleasing and natu- f purpose, of calumniating him,words which ral as they are in themselves. How did they the writer of the calumny m~zst have well get into the Alleghanies 3 By liner or steam- known that he had never uttered, to put cr3 In the main cabin or the steerage~ And ~such words into his mouth for such a purpose, were they, were they sea-sick 3 One would formed a case in which he thought that the fear it from the unwonted huskiness of their party calumniated was bound to bring the new utterances. p arty so offending under the notice of their The best thing in the book is Sema~l, lordships. Lord Brougham proceeded to ar- though the plot is neither very apparent nor raign the Daily News or an example of this very novel, the imagery as trite as need be, crime which would have done no dishonor to the blank verse heavy and monotonous, with- the inventive faculties of the Literary World. out breaks, grouping, or relief, and the ac- cents as often as not on the prepositions The felucca there With lateen-sail, seen in th horizon-skirt Shaping its course tward t/s~ Egyptian shore, (Which Egyptian shore 3) Gives t6 the moon the silvry foam, which breaks (Could it give the foamfrom the moon 3) Gainst thi sharp keel, and tracks the wave with light. While just beneath him bounds the lighter skiff With bird-like speed; and darting t6 the shore, Lowers its white sail, (Not another barks, mind!) and moors its painted prow (Oh, schoolboys phrase!) Close t6 the clift~ Disporting in the sheen And so forth. And yet this whole passage, and what fol- lows, is really imaginative and picturesque, but spoilt by carelessness, carelessness, care- lessness. Either write verses, we say again, or prose. And unless the metre and accent coincide with the sense, and make music when read merely as prose is read, the lines are a makeshift and a failure, and neither worth writing or reading, though they were as fan- ciful and overloaded as Mr. Brownings, or as grandiloquent and sugary as Mr. Whos 3 Lonn BROTJGHAM, who next to the Duke of Wellington is now unquestionably the first man of the British Empire, a few days ago in the House of Lords complained of an instance of libel of a species which is extremely com- mon in the United States, and which is of all species the most irritating and offensive. Lord Brougham observed, that no one who had lived so long as he had in Parliament had ever taken notice so seldom of any libel- Ions matter published, or of any breach of privilege committed against him. He might also add, that no person had ever been more the object of the most indiscriminate, and he might say the most absurd and the most unfounded abuse. Nevertheless, in all such cases he had adopted a neutral course, and had left the truth to come out in the natural lapse of events. There was, however, one species of breach of privilege which he had never been disposed to pass unnoticed. At- tacks one must undergo. To be exposed to attacks was the fate of all men who lived in public. No man ought to shrink from or be too sensitive to attacks; but, under pretence of stating what a lord had said in Parliament, A Moen GUILLOTINE.DELIRIUM TREMENS ON THE STAGE.It is stated in Galignanis Messenger that at the end of the late carnival two married women of Vidauban Department of the Var manufactured a lay figure, entirely in white, and, after attaching a chain round its neck, placed it in a small cart. Many of the inhabitants then paraded it through the village in solemn procession, accompanied by a crowd of men carrying axes, & c., and singing revolutionary songs. After a while the y formed a sort of revolutionary tribunal, and the figure, which was called Blanc, was gravely tried, and, by the majority of the votes of the crowd, condemned to death, the princ~al judge, a man named Arnaud, saying, lane! you prevent us from dancing farandoles, and therefore we condemn you to death ! Thereupon, a man seized the figure, p laced it on a p lank, and at one blow with his axe severer the head from the body. A bottle of wine had been placed in the neck of the figure, and, this having been broken by the blow, a resemblance of blood was produced. The head was then cast into the crowd and torn to pieces by them. This scandalous scene created a most painful impression throughout the department. A few days afterward, four men who played a principal part in the affair, and the two women who made the figure, were brought to trial on the charge of exciting citizens to hatred of each other. The men pleaded drunkenness as an excusethe women declared that they had only intended to amuse their children. Four of the accused were acquitted, and the other two, who had acted as judge and executioner, were condemned to four and three months imprisonment. It is a pity that by the appli- cation of some such law, the disgustingly vulgar and brutalizing piece called The Drunkard, which has lately been played with immense success at Barnums Theatre, (and in which the chief characters appear in all the stages of degradation until one of them is nearly dead with the delirium tremens), cannot sup ressed. With all its preten- sions 4o mornlity, the play is irredeemably bad and base. THE CINcINNATI ART UNIoN advertises PowERss Greek Slave as one of its prizes, and publishes an engraving of it which should frighten away all subscriptions. MISCELLANIES. 9 AMERICAN EXTENSION AND CONQUESTThe habits and customsevents which from their Daily News thus opens an article upon the frequency cease to excite our attentionwhich recent attempt to invade Cuba: should be deemed still more important and sig- Shortly after the American war2 a sapient nificant, and which to one really deserving the French statesman, writing from Louisiana to his name of a philosopher would appear more power- royal master in Paris, advised the French govern- ful guarantees for the future happiness of a people among whom they occur than any afforded by ment to cultivate a close and intimate alliance mere proofs of great wealth, power, or skill. It with the Cherokee Indians, who, occupying as is much the fashion with those who delight to they did the defiles of the Alleghanies, would deal in doleful vaticinations as to the future des- form a permanent bulwark between the young tiny of England, to dwell with great emphasis Anglo-Saxon republic and the French possessions upon the amazing diversity of conditions to be on the Mis~ssippi. But the permanent bulwark seen hereto exaggerate the suffering of the mil- could no more resist the advancing wave than a lions of our poor, and to place them in a sort of lath and plaster breakwater could withstand the rhetorical contrast with the extravagant wealth seas of the Channel. In a few short years not a of a favored few. But there is still something in vestige of it was to be found, and in less than a the mutual relations of all classes of society in this quarter of a century both French and Cherokees c had disappeared from the scene. Not only were ountry that proves a healthy condition to exist the defiles of the Alleghanies opened, butthe in our body politic, that shows that we are really Alleghanies themselves have since been virtually brethren, and that whether interest or kind sym- removed. Ever since the foundation of the re- pathies govern us we are still one peoplewith public, our American kinsmen have been anxious differences of opinion among us indeed, to emulate and surpass us in indulging that desire expressed by all, but still with a feel- territorial acquisition, which seems to be, for ng prevalent in all classes of the community that for we form one people, and that we are, from the the present at least, the ruling passion of the Anglo-Saxon mind. Confined at first between most powerful to tne most weak, bound together and the Atlantic, they gradually by ties of great regard as well as national brother- the Alleghanies hood. spread westward to the Mississippi, of both banks of which, from its sources to its embouchure, they possessed themselves as early as 1806. Their coast line, which, originally, did not extend be- yond the St. Mary, was soon afterward carried round the peninsula of Florida, and along the nor- thern shore of the Mexican Gulf, westward to the mouth of the Sabine. Not satisfied with this,they planted themselves in Texas, and some years afterward transferred their boundary to the Rio Grande. Oregon, New Mexico, and California, fell in quick succession within the grasp of the confederacy. The entire disappearance of the Spaniard from the continent is a consummation, not even doubtful, but simply awaiting the con- venience of the encroaching Anglo-Saxon. For the accession of Canada, time is implicitly relied uponthe idea of conquest in that quarter being out of the questionand thus it is that even sober- minded men are beginning to believe that the time is not far off when the glowing prophecies of the most sanguine will be realized, that the boundaries of the republic would yet be the Isthmus, the North Pole, and the two ocean5.~~ LEDRU ROMANS new work, The Decline of England, of which the first volume only has appeared, is, as might have been antici- pated, savagely attacked in most of the Brit- ish journals. The Times observes: M. Ledru Rollin professes to be a philosopher and a statesman, and, being induced by somewhat peculiar circumstances to reflect upon the condi- tion of this country, he was, he tells us driven to the conclusion that we are a declining people, destined in no short period to exhibit to mankind a fearful spectacle of misery and ruin. Some per- sons have thought, that the many manifestations of material wealth and power which must have pre- sented themselves to the eyes and mind of M. Ledru Rollin, even on the most casual observa- tion, should have induced him in his character of philosoper to hesitate in deciding so hastily, and with such emphasis, that our destruction is immi- nent. But in our opinion there are events of everyday occurrence connected with our social THE LATE CATASTROPHE ON LAKE ERIE. Our whole country has been once more shocked by an appalling and unnecessary loss of life, from the~ burning of the steamer Griffith. We use the expression, unnecessary loss of life, not from any hasty impulse, or undue excitement, but in view of the evident and undeniable fact, that two hundred and fifty human beings have been sacrificed for a culpable neglect on the p art of the proprietors of the steamer to furnish suitable protection. No one competent to judge will doubt that every individual on the Griffith might have been saved had she been provided with life- boats. The avarice of proprietors has gene- rally prevented their use, though the cost of a sufficient number for each steamer would not exceed one thousand dollars. The lives of hundreds of men, women and children are of little account to a corporation, when weighed against a thousand dollars of their capital stock. Life-boats cannot save their burning property, and why impair their own interests for the saving a few hundred lives now and then i We have the approbation of every disinterested citizen, when we suggest to Con- gress some law which shall compel steamboat owners to protect their passengers in case of accident, by suitable life-saving apparatus. Fire-proof paints and other incombustible materials are very wisely demanded, but our navigation is exposed to a thousand other dangers, which can be guarded against by no other means so effectually as by life-boats; and it should be within the duties of the in- spectors to see that steamers are in all instan- ces furnished with a snllicient number of them to contain theirfull complement of passengers. M. LAMARTINE has left Paris to visit his es- tate in the East. I0 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. 1E.~crnt & Jgat~. JANE PORTERAs in the case of the re- cent death of Miss Edgeworth, it is singu- lar that so little notice has been taken of the demise of Jane Porter, one of the most dis- tinguished novelists which England has pro- duced. Miss Porter may be said to have been the first who introduced that beautiful kind of fiction, the historical romance, which has added such amusement and interest to English literature. The author of Thad- deus of Warsaw and The Scottish Chiefs has done much to deserve the lasting respect and gratitude of her country. The family of this excellent woman and able writer, according to the Illustrated News, is of Irish descent. Her father was an officer of dragoons in the British service; he mar- ried a Miss Blenkinsopp, of the Northumbrian house of Blenkinsopp, -which Camden styles a right ancient and generous family. Miss Porters father died in the prime of life, and left his widow with five almost infant chil- dren, in slender circumstances. The great talents of this orphan family raised them to affluence and distinction. Three of the chil- dren were sons; of these, the eldest perished in a dangerous climate abroad, at the com- mencement of a promising career; the second the resent Dr. William Ogilvie Porter, of Brist6l) became a physician, and practiced successfully. The third was the late Sir Robert Ker Porter, K.C.H., distinguished as an author, a painter, and a soldier: some of our finest battle-pieces are the work of his pencil, and he himself followed heroes to the field; he was with Sir John Moore when he fell victoriously at Corunna, and he earned a high reputation throughout the Peninsular war. He afterward became a diplomatist, and was latterly consul at Venezuela. His Traveling Sketches in Russia and Egypt, ~ rocured him also an authors fame. Sir obert Ker Porter died suddenly about seven years ago; he left by his wife, a Russian lady, an only daughter, who is married, and resides in Russia. The two sisters of these brothers Porter were even more distinguished. The younger of them, Miss Anna Maria Porter, b ecaine an authoress at twelve years of age; she wrote many successful novels, of which the most popular were the Hungarian Bro- thers, the Recluse of Norway, and the Village of Mariendorpt. She died at her brothers residence at l3ristol, on the 6th of June, 1832. The elder sister, Miss Jane Porter, the subject of this notice, was born at Durham, where her fathers regiment was quartered at the time. She, with her sister, Anna Maria, received her education under a famous Scotch tutor, Mr. Fulton, at Edin- burgh, where her widowed mother lived with her children in their early years. The fam- ily afterward removed, first to Ditton, and thence to Esher, in Surrey, where Mrs. Por- ter, a most intelligent and agreeable lady, resided with her daughters for many years, until her death, in 1831. Mrs. Porter was buried in the churchyard at Esher; and on her tomb the passer-by may read this inscrip- tion, Here lies Jane Porter, a Christian widow. As a novelist Miss Jane Porter ob- tained the highest celebrity. Her three most renowned productions were her Thaddeus of Warsaw, written when she was about twenty years of age, her Scottish Chiefs, and her Pastors Fireside. Thaddeus of Warsaw had immense popularity; it was translated into most of the Continental lan- guages, and Poland was loud in its praise. Kosciusko sent the author a ring containing his portrait. General Gardiner, the British Minister at Warsaw, could not believe that any other than an eye-witness had written the story, so accurate were the descriptions, although Miss Porter had not then been in Poland. The Scottish Chiefs was equally successful. With regard to this romance, it is known that Sir Walter Scott admitted to George IV., one day, in the library at Carlton Palace, that the Scottish Chicfs was the parent in his mind of the Waverley Novels. In a letter written to her friend Mr. Litch- field, about three months ago, Miss Porter, speaking of these novels, said : I own I feel myself a kind of sybil in these things; it being ~ull fifty years ago since my Scottish Chiefs and Thaddeus of Warsaw came into the then untrodden field. And what a splendid race of the like chroniclers of gen- erous deeds have followed, brightening the track as they have advanced! The author of Waverley, and all his soul-stirring Tales of my Landlord, & c. Then comes Mr. James, with his historical romances, on British and French subjects, so admirably uniting the exquisite fiction with the fact, that the whole seems equally verity. But my feeble hand (Miss Porter was ailing when she wrote the letter) will not obey my wish to add more to this host of worthies. I can only find power to say with my trembling pen that I cannot but esteem them as a respected link with my past days of lively interest in all that might promote the virtue and true honor of my contemporaries from youth to age. These eloquent words become the more touching, when we consider that within three months after they were written, this admirable lady quitted this life in the hon.. ored maturity of her fame. Miss Porter wrote, in conjunction with her sister, Tales round a Winters Hearth. She was also an indefatigable contributor to the periodicals of the day. Her biographical sketch of Colonel Denham, the African trav- eler, in the Naval and Military Journal, was much admired as one of the most affecting tributes ever p aid to departed merit. Miss Porter was a C hanoiness of the Polish order of St. Joachim, which honor was conferred upon her after the publication of Thaddeus of Warsaw. She is, in her portraits, gene- rally represented in the habit of this order.

I0 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. 1E.~crnt & Jgat~. JANE PORTERAs in the case of the re- cent death of Miss Edgeworth, it is singu- lar that so little notice has been taken of the demise of Jane Porter, one of the most dis- tinguished novelists which England has pro- duced. Miss Porter may be said to have been the first who introduced that beautiful kind of fiction, the historical romance, which has added such amusement and interest to English literature. The author of Thad- deus of Warsaw and The Scottish Chiefs has done much to deserve the lasting respect and gratitude of her country. The family of this excellent woman and able writer, according to the Illustrated News, is of Irish descent. Her father was an officer of dragoons in the British service; he mar- ried a Miss Blenkinsopp, of the Northumbrian house of Blenkinsopp, -which Camden styles a right ancient and generous family. Miss Porters father died in the prime of life, and left his widow with five almost infant chil- dren, in slender circumstances. The great talents of this orphan family raised them to affluence and distinction. Three of the chil- dren were sons; of these, the eldest perished in a dangerous climate abroad, at the com- mencement of a promising career; the second the resent Dr. William Ogilvie Porter, of Brist6l) became a physician, and practiced successfully. The third was the late Sir Robert Ker Porter, K.C.H., distinguished as an author, a painter, and a soldier: some of our finest battle-pieces are the work of his pencil, and he himself followed heroes to the field; he was with Sir John Moore when he fell victoriously at Corunna, and he earned a high reputation throughout the Peninsular war. He afterward became a diplomatist, and was latterly consul at Venezuela. His Traveling Sketches in Russia and Egypt, ~ rocured him also an authors fame. Sir obert Ker Porter died suddenly about seven years ago; he left by his wife, a Russian lady, an only daughter, who is married, and resides in Russia. The two sisters of these brothers Porter were even more distinguished. The younger of them, Miss Anna Maria Porter, b ecaine an authoress at twelve years of age; she wrote many successful novels, of which the most popular were the Hungarian Bro- thers, the Recluse of Norway, and the Village of Mariendorpt. She died at her brothers residence at l3ristol, on the 6th of June, 1832. The elder sister, Miss Jane Porter, the subject of this notice, was born at Durham, where her fathers regiment was quartered at the time. She, with her sister, Anna Maria, received her education under a famous Scotch tutor, Mr. Fulton, at Edin- burgh, where her widowed mother lived with her children in their early years. The fam- ily afterward removed, first to Ditton, and thence to Esher, in Surrey, where Mrs. Por- ter, a most intelligent and agreeable lady, resided with her daughters for many years, until her death, in 1831. Mrs. Porter was buried in the churchyard at Esher; and on her tomb the passer-by may read this inscrip- tion, Here lies Jane Porter, a Christian widow. As a novelist Miss Jane Porter ob- tained the highest celebrity. Her three most renowned productions were her Thaddeus of Warsaw, written when she was about twenty years of age, her Scottish Chiefs, and her Pastors Fireside. Thaddeus of Warsaw had immense popularity; it was translated into most of the Continental lan- guages, and Poland was loud in its praise. Kosciusko sent the author a ring containing his portrait. General Gardiner, the British Minister at Warsaw, could not believe that any other than an eye-witness had written the story, so accurate were the descriptions, although Miss Porter had not then been in Poland. The Scottish Chiefs was equally successful. With regard to this romance, it is known that Sir Walter Scott admitted to George IV., one day, in the library at Carlton Palace, that the Scottish Chicfs was the parent in his mind of the Waverley Novels. In a letter written to her friend Mr. Litch- field, about three months ago, Miss Porter, speaking of these novels, said : I own I feel myself a kind of sybil in these things; it being ~ull fifty years ago since my Scottish Chiefs and Thaddeus of Warsaw came into the then untrodden field. And what a splendid race of the like chroniclers of gen- erous deeds have followed, brightening the track as they have advanced! The author of Waverley, and all his soul-stirring Tales of my Landlord, & c. Then comes Mr. James, with his historical romances, on British and French subjects, so admirably uniting the exquisite fiction with the fact, that the whole seems equally verity. But my feeble hand (Miss Porter was ailing when she wrote the letter) will not obey my wish to add more to this host of worthies. I can only find power to say with my trembling pen that I cannot but esteem them as a respected link with my past days of lively interest in all that might promote the virtue and true honor of my contemporaries from youth to age. These eloquent words become the more touching, when we consider that within three months after they were written, this admirable lady quitted this life in the hon.. ored maturity of her fame. Miss Porter wrote, in conjunction with her sister, Tales round a Winters Hearth. She was also an indefatigable contributor to the periodicals of the day. Her biographical sketch of Colonel Denham, the African trav- eler, in the Naval and Military Journal, was much admired as one of the most affecting tributes ever p aid to departed merit. Miss Porter was a C hanoiness of the Polish order of St. Joachim, which honor was conferred upon her after the publication of Thaddeus of Warsaw. She is, in her portraits, gene- rally represented in the habit of this order. RECENT DEATHS. 11 Miss Porter died on the 24th nit., at the res- idence of her brother, Dr. Porter, in Port- land-square, Bristol. That brother, so ten- derly beloved by her, and so justly respected by all who know him, is now the last survi- vor of this brilliant company of brothers and sisters; and he, too, we are sorry to say, is in an enfeebled state from paralysis, aggravated by the recent shock of his gifted relatives demise. Except himself and his married niece in Russia, there remains no representa- tive of a family which England has good cause to hold in grateful remembrance. THE COUNT DE VITTRE.The Paris jour- nals announce the death of one of the most distinguished officers of the French army, General Count de Vittr~, Grand Officer of the Legion of Honor, & c. Charles de Raity de Villeneuve, Count de Vittr~, was descended from an old and noble family of Poitou, was the comrade of Napoleon at the Military School, and took a glorious p art in the cam- paign of Russia, where he was severely wounded. He also distinguished himself in the Spanish expedition in 1823, where he had under his orders General Changarnier, the Duke de Crillon, and M. A. Carrel, who, on account of his valor, gave him the sur- name of the Bayard of the 19th Century. General Count de Vittni was uncle to M. Hugues de Coval, a distinguished political writer of Paris. GLOVER, THE PAINTERA Van Diemens Land newspaper announces the death, at the advanced age of eighty-two, of Mr. Glover, the painter, whose pictures of English scenery are well known to lovers of landscape art. MATTHEW L. DAVIs died on the 15th June, at the age of 84. He had been for two or three years enfeebled, and for the last year confined to his room, but he retained his mental facul- ties and his physical powers until after his eightieth year, owing, in great measure, to the temperance of his habits, his fondness for exercise, and his elastic, hopeful tempera- ment. Mr. Davis was J~r& minently a politi- cian through life, and aided to organize and give triumph t6 the Republican party, so called, more than half a century ago, when the Federal or Washingtonian party was prostrated not more by its own follies than by the ability and tact of its leading adversaries. Half the good management and efficient ac- tivity that served to elect Jefferson would have sufficed to defeat him. And nowhere was the battle of Democracy fought with greater address or against more formidable odds than in this State and City, under the consummate generalship of Aaron Burr, of whom Davis was the untiring lieutenant und confidential friend. Though so long and so deeply immersed in Politics, possessing decided talents and a thor- ough knowledge of public affairs, Mr. Davis never held any prominent office. He did not seem to be an ambitious man. He was once wealthy, and became poor, but he never seemed elated by prosperity nor humbled by adversity. He was not a fortunate politician, and he seemed to love the smoke of the battle more than the plunder of the field. He was quite often on the unlucky sidefor Craw- ford in 24for Adams in 28for Clay in 32, and so on. His side was taken from im- pulse and personal liking, not from selfish calculation. He had known almost every man who figures in the history of our country since the Revolutionary era, and, while his faculties remained, his conversation was re- markably instructive and entertaining. In early life Mr. Davis was engaged in trade, and was moderately successful, but he gave up business to devote himself more entirely to politics. He reentered commercial life before the last war with England, and his house (Davis & Strong) was fortunate in South American speculations, of the profits of which he himse If received some $50,000, which, however, was soon lost. For half a. century he was an industrious writer. He produced several very clever pamphlets upon men and affairs, and was for many years known as The Spy in Washington for the Courier and Enquirer, and The Genevese Traveler for the London Times. Burr be- queathed to him all his papers, and from these and his memoranda and recollections he prepared and published, in 1838, Me- moirs of Aaron Burr, with Miscellaneous Se- lections from his Correspondence, in 2 vols. 8vo., and The Private Journal of Aaron Burr during his Residence of Four Years in Eu- rope, with Selections from his Correspond- ence, 2 vols. Svo. REV. JOSEPH SAMUEL C. F. FREY, a well- known Baptist clergyman, died at Pontiac, Michigan, in the 79th year of his age, Qn the 5th of June. He was born of Jewish parents, in Germany, and was for several years reader ma Synagogue. When about twenty-five years old, he became a Christian, and soon after a student of divinity at Berlin. He was subsequently engaged nearly all the time in efforts to convert the Jews. It was at his suggestion that the London Missionary So- ciety for Promoting Christianity among the Jews, was founded, in 1808. In 1816 he came to the United States, and wasfor a time p astor of a Presbyterian Church in this city, but chan in his views upon the subject of baptism, he joined the Baptist Church, and was settled over congregations at Newark and at Sing Sing, until, through his means, the Society for Meliorating the Condition of the Jews was founded, and he became its missionary. He wrote several books, which display considerable learning and an amiable and honorable temper. The most popular of his productions is one entitlod Joseph and Benjamin, designed to illustrate the points of difference between the Jews and Chris- tians. 12 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. MR. PAINES HYDRO-ELECTRIC LIGHTAll the past eras that are marked by especial characteristics and glories must yield before our own, the AGE OF DISCOVERY, which be- queaths to the new generations so many applications of steam and electricity, so many inventions in all the arts, and such vast enterprises undertaken and accomplished for the good of mankind. These, as the Tribune eloquently says, are the immortal monuments of our times, and dwarf earlier performances into a very inferior position. What are the pyramids to a line of steamships ~ What is there in Homer or Plato worthy to be men- tioned on the day when Professor Morse sets up his telegraph, and mightier than Jupiter, the cloud-compeller, with the lightnings of Heaven flashes intelligence from Halifax to New Orleans, as rapidly as the behests of the mind reach the ftngers~ How petty and narrow seem the ambition and desires of Alexander or Napoleon when the bold and prophetic genius of Whitney, dealing with continents and nations as with parishes and neighborhoods, stretches his iron road around half the globe and shows you, moving forward and backward over its rails, the flux and re- flux of a worlds commerce and intercourse, a sublime tide of benefits and universal rela- tions! What poet, what artist, what philoso- pher, what statesman, has equalled in gran- deur these conceptions of science, or the splendid results which have followed their practical realization ~ Not one. And the reason of this is plain. These things are filled with the spirit of future centuries, while our Art, Literature, Statesmanship, Philoso- phy, are either mere dead relics of the past, or the poor makeshifts of a present, not yet equal to the business Providence has given it to perform. it is claimed for Mr. Paine that he has found out the means of producing the great- est revolution which physical science can well be supposed to make in the business and com- fort of society. As far as we apprehend his claim, it is that he has established as a new principle of science that electricity possesses the qualities of weight, compressibility and gravitation; that he has proved water to be in reality a simple elemental substance, which he can decompose or transform into either hydrogen or oxygen gas according to its elec- trical condition, and according as positive or negative electricity is applied to it; and that he has invented the means whereby from water he can produce at will either of these gases without any other than mechanical agency and with no expense save that of the machine, which will cost at the outset $400 or $500, and last for an indefinite period. If this is true, it is unquestionably the greatest discovery of modern times, and will produce a change in affairs of all sorts so profound and extensive as to surpass and bewilder the mind which seeks to imagine it. When with a pail of water you can without expense lighl3 and heat your house; when coal mines are useless, and steamships draw their fuel from the waves they traverse; then the comforts and luxuries of life, and the means of travel- ing will be diminished in price so as to come within the ability of ever y man; a great deal of the most toilsome and disagreeable work now performed will become unnecessary; and a vast ste p will be made toward a more just and equal distribution of social advantages. Mr. Paine is now engaged at the Astor House in preparations to light that immense hotel with his hydro-electric gas, and the result of his experiment is looked for with profound interest. We confess little faith in his success. THE STORY of an American inventor named REMINGTONWho a year or two since ad- dressed to the late Mr. Senator Lewis, of Al- abama, a history of his adventures, which was published in the Merchants Magazine must be well-remembered, for its intrinsic in- terest, and on account of the denials and refutations of portions of it by certain per- sons in London to whom allusion was made in Mr. Remingtons letter. The invention, the Remington Bridge, seems now to be ex- citing n~ little attention both in England and in this country. The principle which gives to it its great strength, is the peculiar construction of its longitudinal supporters, investing them with all the tenacity that wood has when it is sought to be drawn apart. Thus it is capable of sustaining as great weight as would be required to pull asunder the fibres of the longitudinal supporters. No wooden bridge can be built of so grcat a span. Mr. Remington believes that he can build a span at least 1320 feet in length, while the span of the old wooden bridge at Fairmount, near Philadelphia, which was one of the largest in the world, was but little over 300 feet. The annals of mechanical art afford few instances where a great nven- tion has been developed and prosecuted un- der apparently more adverse circumstances. NEW PLANET.The Tempo, of Naples, publishes a letter from M. Leopold Del Re, Director of the Observatory at Naples, an- nouncing that the celebrated astronomer, Don Annibale de Gasparin, late discoverer of the Igea Borbonica, has discovered a new tel- escope planet, being the ninth between Mars and Jupiter. It is a star of the ninth mag- nitude, and is at present in apposition with the sun. IN SURGERYA correspondent of the Low- ell Courier claims for the late Dr. Twitchell, of Keene, the honor of successfully tying the carotid artery several months before Sir Ast- ley Cooper made the attempt. The latter has always had the credit of being the first to achieve this extremely difficult and dan. gerous process.

12 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. MR. PAINES HYDRO-ELECTRIC LIGHTAll the past eras that are marked by especial characteristics and glories must yield before our own, the AGE OF DISCOVERY, which be- queaths to the new generations so many applications of steam and electricity, so many inventions in all the arts, and such vast enterprises undertaken and accomplished for the good of mankind. These, as the Tribune eloquently says, are the immortal monuments of our times, and dwarf earlier performances into a very inferior position. What are the pyramids to a line of steamships ~ What is there in Homer or Plato worthy to be men- tioned on the day when Professor Morse sets up his telegraph, and mightier than Jupiter, the cloud-compeller, with the lightnings of Heaven flashes intelligence from Halifax to New Orleans, as rapidly as the behests of the mind reach the ftngers~ How petty and narrow seem the ambition and desires of Alexander or Napoleon when the bold and prophetic genius of Whitney, dealing with continents and nations as with parishes and neighborhoods, stretches his iron road around half the globe and shows you, moving forward and backward over its rails, the flux and re- flux of a worlds commerce and intercourse, a sublime tide of benefits and universal rela- tions! What poet, what artist, what philoso- pher, what statesman, has equalled in gran- deur these conceptions of science, or the splendid results which have followed their practical realization ~ Not one. And the reason of this is plain. These things are filled with the spirit of future centuries, while our Art, Literature, Statesmanship, Philoso- phy, are either mere dead relics of the past, or the poor makeshifts of a present, not yet equal to the business Providence has given it to perform. it is claimed for Mr. Paine that he has found out the means of producing the great- est revolution which physical science can well be supposed to make in the business and com- fort of society. As far as we apprehend his claim, it is that he has established as a new principle of science that electricity possesses the qualities of weight, compressibility and gravitation; that he has proved water to be in reality a simple elemental substance, which he can decompose or transform into either hydrogen or oxygen gas according to its elec- trical condition, and according as positive or negative electricity is applied to it; and that he has invented the means whereby from water he can produce at will either of these gases without any other than mechanical agency and with no expense save that of the machine, which will cost at the outset $400 or $500, and last for an indefinite period. If this is true, it is unquestionably the greatest discovery of modern times, and will produce a change in affairs of all sorts so profound and extensive as to surpass and bewilder the mind which seeks to imagine it. When with a pail of water you can without expense lighl3 and heat your house; when coal mines are useless, and steamships draw their fuel from the waves they traverse; then the comforts and luxuries of life, and the means of travel- ing will be diminished in price so as to come within the ability of ever y man; a great deal of the most toilsome and disagreeable work now performed will become unnecessary; and a vast ste p will be made toward a more just and equal distribution of social advantages. Mr. Paine is now engaged at the Astor House in preparations to light that immense hotel with his hydro-electric gas, and the result of his experiment is looked for with profound interest. We confess little faith in his success. THE STORY of an American inventor named REMINGTONWho a year or two since ad- dressed to the late Mr. Senator Lewis, of Al- abama, a history of his adventures, which was published in the Merchants Magazine must be well-remembered, for its intrinsic in- terest, and on account of the denials and refutations of portions of it by certain per- sons in London to whom allusion was made in Mr. Remingtons letter. The invention, the Remington Bridge, seems now to be ex- citing n~ little attention both in England and in this country. The principle which gives to it its great strength, is the peculiar construction of its longitudinal supporters, investing them with all the tenacity that wood has when it is sought to be drawn apart. Thus it is capable of sustaining as great weight as would be required to pull asunder the fibres of the longitudinal supporters. No wooden bridge can be built of so grcat a span. Mr. Remington believes that he can build a span at least 1320 feet in length, while the span of the old wooden bridge at Fairmount, near Philadelphia, which was one of the largest in the world, was but little over 300 feet. The annals of mechanical art afford few instances where a great nven- tion has been developed and prosecuted un- der apparently more adverse circumstances. NEW PLANET.The Tempo, of Naples, publishes a letter from M. Leopold Del Re, Director of the Observatory at Naples, an- nouncing that the celebrated astronomer, Don Annibale de Gasparin, late discoverer of the Igea Borbonica, has discovered a new tel- escope planet, being the ninth between Mars and Jupiter. It is a star of the ninth mag- nitude, and is at present in apposition with the sun. IN SURGERYA correspondent of the Low- ell Courier claims for the late Dr. Twitchell, of Keene, the honor of successfully tying the carotid artery several months before Sir Ast- ley Cooper made the attempt. The latter has always had the credit of being the first to achieve this extremely difficult and dan. gerous process. AUTHORS AND BOOKS. is Mn. MAYNE REID, who in sundry letters ~hdhnv~ ~ ~J3unk~ published in this city last year, claimed that I he was the real hero of the Mexican warin The Rev. THOMAS H. SMYTH, D.D. of South which he served as a lieutenant of the New Carolina, whose work u on the Unity of the York volunteershas recently published in Human Races, suggeste~ by the recent de- London a brace of volumes under the title of clarations of infidelity, by Professor Agassiz Tue Rfle Rangers. In his p reface he alleges of Harvard College and others, has been pub- that all his statements offered as facts are lished by Putnam, and received with a hearty strictly true, though at times highly colored applause by Christians and scholars, is not, for the sake of effect. This will be obvious as is commonly supposed, an American to every reader, for the book is full of adven- author, though he has long resided in this tures of all sortsperils by sword, fire, rivals, country. He was born in Belfast, in the wild animals, bloodhounds, & c.which are North of Ireland, and educated at the Royal related in a lively, dashing style, varied at College in that city, pursuing afterward his times with descriptions of the scenery, plants, theological studies in London, and at Prince- and inhabitants of Central America. One of ton in New Jersey. He has been eighteen the London journals, in a review of it, oh- years minister of the Presbyterian church in serves, We would not wish a more lively Charleston, where he was married, and where or interesting companion than Captain Rei he will probably always reside, while in this a thorough Yankee soldier, combining hu- country; but his liberal fortune and inquir- mor, imagination, and dashing bravery in ing spirit tempt him to frequent travel, and the highest degree. The thorough Yankee, he is now absent upon a tour which will pro- like many others much quoted abroad, is a bably be extended to Nineveh and all the clever Irish adventurer, who was in the most interesting scenes connected with the United States altogether some four or five history of religion in the eastern world. Dr. years, engaged chiefly as a writer for the Smyth possesses one of the largest and most journals in New York and Philadelphia. valuable private libraries in the United States, and has therefore been able to compose his AMoNa our frequent foreign correspond- learned works in theology, history, & c. under ents the reader wiTh be pleased to recognize advantages but seldom enjoyed by our au- the accomplished and adventurous traveler thors. His chief productions are, Apostolical Mr. JOHN E. WARREN, whose work on South Succession, 1842; Presbytery and not Prelacy America, Para, or Scenes and Adventures on the Scriptural and Primitive Polity of the the Banks of the Amazon, has just been pub- Church, 1843; Ecclesiastical Republicanism; lished, in two octavo volumes, by Bentley, of Ecclesiastical Catechism; Claims of the Free London. We present the first of a series Church of Scotland~ Life and Character of from him in our initial number. Thomas Chalmers, with Personal Recollec- tions; Nature and Functions of Ruling El- THE Rev. FRANcIs L. HAWKS, LL.D. will ders; Nature and Functions of Deacons; The publish in the autumn a collection of very Rite of Confirmation examined; Bereaved rare and curious tracts, illustrative of our Parents Consoled; Union to Christ and His early Colonial History, with copious notes, Church; The True Origin and Source of the & c. Dr. Hawks may be safely regarded as Mecklenburg Declaration of Independence, an authority of the very highest value, upon with a Continuation on Presbyterianism, the whatever relates to the religious and social National Declaration, and the Revolution; history of the country. He adds to perse- Denominational Education; Pastoral Me- verin~ and well-directed research the sound- mento; Life and Character of Calvin; The est discrimination, and a judicial fairness; Westminster Assembly; and the Unity of and we trust an impression which has ob- the Human Races proved to be the Doctrine tamed within a few years, that he is engaged of Scripture, Reason, and Science. Dr. upon an extensive work that will illustrate Smyth has also written largely in the Bibli- his abilities in this field, is not without foun- cal Repe~ory, the Southern Presbyterian Re- dation. view, and other Periodicals. THE celebrated Princess BELcIoso, whose THE VETERAN ITALIAN GENERAL PEPE, achievements in the tented field, as in the known in the book-world heretofore by his showy salons of fashion, have long been fa- Personal Memoirs, has just published a Nar- miliar, has, as is well known in the gay world rative of Scenes and Events in Italy, from of Europe, been a successful cultivator of 1847 to 1849. It comprises the most inter- letters, and has frequently delighted the esting particulars respecting the Revolutions readers of French and Italian with brilliant in Naples, . Sicily, and Rome; the Military sketches of society and manners. She is Operations of Charles Albert; and the Siege now traveling in Greece, whence she will of Venice, of which city General Pepe held proceed into the romantic and picturesque the command. It also includes the details regions of Asia, and the proprietors of the of the Generals confidential communications New York Tribune have engaged her as one and interviews with the Italian Sovereigns, of the regular foreign correspondents of that & c. & c. journal.

AUTHORS AND BOOKS. is Mn. MAYNE REID, who in sundry letters ~hdhnv~ ~ ~J3unk~ published in this city last year, claimed that I he was the real hero of the Mexican warin The Rev. THOMAS H. SMYTH, D.D. of South which he served as a lieutenant of the New Carolina, whose work u on the Unity of the York volunteershas recently published in Human Races, suggeste~ by the recent de- London a brace of volumes under the title of clarations of infidelity, by Professor Agassiz Tue Rfle Rangers. In his p reface he alleges of Harvard College and others, has been pub- that all his statements offered as facts are lished by Putnam, and received with a hearty strictly true, though at times highly colored applause by Christians and scholars, is not, for the sake of effect. This will be obvious as is commonly supposed, an American to every reader, for the book is full of adven- author, though he has long resided in this tures of all sortsperils by sword, fire, rivals, country. He was born in Belfast, in the wild animals, bloodhounds, & c.which are North of Ireland, and educated at the Royal related in a lively, dashing style, varied at College in that city, pursuing afterward his times with descriptions of the scenery, plants, theological studies in London, and at Prince- and inhabitants of Central America. One of ton in New Jersey. He has been eighteen the London journals, in a review of it, oh- years minister of the Presbyterian church in serves, We would not wish a more lively Charleston, where he was married, and where or interesting companion than Captain Rei he will probably always reside, while in this a thorough Yankee soldier, combining hu- country; but his liberal fortune and inquir- mor, imagination, and dashing bravery in ing spirit tempt him to frequent travel, and the highest degree. The thorough Yankee, he is now absent upon a tour which will pro- like many others much quoted abroad, is a bably be extended to Nineveh and all the clever Irish adventurer, who was in the most interesting scenes connected with the United States altogether some four or five history of religion in the eastern world. Dr. years, engaged chiefly as a writer for the Smyth possesses one of the largest and most journals in New York and Philadelphia. valuable private libraries in the United States, and has therefore been able to compose his AMoNa our frequent foreign correspond- learned works in theology, history, & c. under ents the reader wiTh be pleased to recognize advantages but seldom enjoyed by our au- the accomplished and adventurous traveler thors. His chief productions are, Apostolical Mr. JOHN E. WARREN, whose work on South Succession, 1842; Presbytery and not Prelacy America, Para, or Scenes and Adventures on the Scriptural and Primitive Polity of the the Banks of the Amazon, has just been pub- Church, 1843; Ecclesiastical Republicanism; lished, in two octavo volumes, by Bentley, of Ecclesiastical Catechism; Claims of the Free London. We present the first of a series Church of Scotland~ Life and Character of from him in our initial number. Thomas Chalmers, with Personal Recollec- tions; Nature and Functions of Ruling El- THE Rev. FRANcIs L. HAWKS, LL.D. will ders; Nature and Functions of Deacons; The publish in the autumn a collection of very Rite of Confirmation examined; Bereaved rare and curious tracts, illustrative of our Parents Consoled; Union to Christ and His early Colonial History, with copious notes, Church; The True Origin and Source of the & c. Dr. Hawks may be safely regarded as Mecklenburg Declaration of Independence, an authority of the very highest value, upon with a Continuation on Presbyterianism, the whatever relates to the religious and social National Declaration, and the Revolution; history of the country. He adds to perse- Denominational Education; Pastoral Me- verin~ and well-directed research the sound- mento; Life and Character of Calvin; The est discrimination, and a judicial fairness; Westminster Assembly; and the Unity of and we trust an impression which has ob- the Human Races proved to be the Doctrine tamed within a few years, that he is engaged of Scripture, Reason, and Science. Dr. upon an extensive work that will illustrate Smyth has also written largely in the Bibli- his abilities in this field, is not without foun- cal Repe~ory, the Southern Presbyterian Re- dation. view, and other Periodicals. THE celebrated Princess BELcIoso, whose THE VETERAN ITALIAN GENERAL PEPE, achievements in the tented field, as in the known in the book-world heretofore by his showy salons of fashion, have long been fa- Personal Memoirs, has just published a Nar- miliar, has, as is well known in the gay world rative of Scenes and Events in Italy, from of Europe, been a successful cultivator of 1847 to 1849. It comprises the most inter- letters, and has frequently delighted the esting particulars respecting the Revolutions readers of French and Italian with brilliant in Naples, . Sicily, and Rome; the Military sketches of society and manners. She is Operations of Charles Albert; and the Siege now traveling in Greece, whence she will of Venice, of which city General Pepe held proceed into the romantic and picturesque the command. It also includes the details regions of Asia, and the proprietors of the of the Generals confidential communications New York Tribune have engaged her as one and interviews with the Italian Sovereigns, of the regular foreign correspondents of that & c. & c. journal. 14 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. M. EUGENE SCRIBE, the writer of the ii- Mn. CYRus EATON, of Warren, Me. has in bretto of Tempesta, just brought out in Lon- p reparation a complete History of St. Georges don, at the age of eighteen years, was River, from its first discovery; of the early placed under the care of M. Dupin, now the transactions, Indian wars, and especially the President of the French Legislative Assem- events at St. Georges Fort and other military bly, to study the Roman law. Shortly after posts in the neighborhood; an account of the reaching his majority he be~an his dramatic several settlements commenced under the career by writing a vaudeville for the Gym- Waldo Patent, up to the time of their incor- nase. His success here led to an engagement poration as towns; and a full history of the to write for the Theatre Francais, and to the town of Warren to the p resent time. The establishment of his reputation as a dramatic work to consist of abont~OO pages octavo. author. He has composed ten comedies in live acts, and twenty in one, two, or three acts, for the Francais. He has written one hundred and fifty vaudevilles for the Gym- nase. As a lyrical j~oet he stands unequalled for the number of his libretti, having written the poetry of forty grand operas and of one hundred comic operas. His works, exclusive of novels, are three hundred and forty in number. THE Literature of the Western States has not yet furnished any name that shines with a fairer and serener lustre than that of ALICE CAREY, several of whose poems, of imagin- ation all compact, and faultless in rhyth- mical art, will live among the contributions which this age offers to the permanent in literary creation. Her younger sister, PHEBE CAREY, is also a woman of genius, and has written almost as largely as Alice, in a simi- lar vein of thought and feeling. They are now on a visit to New York, and will pass the summer among the resorts in the vicinity .f the city. Mns. OAK5MITII, we are pleased to be ad- vised, is engaged upon an epic poem, which has been meditated several years. The Jacob Leisler of Mrs. Oaksmith is probably the finest specimen of dramatic writing of which we can boast. Her other tragedy, The Ro- man Tribute, is in rehearsal in Philadelphia, where it will be produced with a strong cast Qud the utmost scenic magnificence. Mrs. Oaksmith will pass the summer among the seaside retreats of Maine, with Fredrika Bremer. PROFESSOR NICHOLs sometime expected work upon the United States has just ap- peared, from the ress of Parker, the publish- er of Frasers agazine. It is about two j~ ears since Professor Nichol returned to Scot- and, after giving his astronomical lectures in our principal cities, and traveling widely in the agricultural portions of the country. His book, we understood him to state, was to be addressed to the middling classes, aiid to treat principally of points connected with emigration. BATARD TAYLORS El Doradois praised in all the English journals as the best book that has been written upon California. Bohn has published it in his Shilling Series, and it is also issued by Bentley. AMONG THE AMERICAN BOOKS reprinted by Bentley in the last month are Bayard Taylors El Dorado, and Letters of a Traveler, by Bryant, the American novelist. His original books from this country, for the same period, are Life in the Forest and the Frontier, by Alfred B. Street, and a very charming book by a daughter of Fenimore Cooper, en- titled Rural Hours in the United States. THE REV. DR. CROLY ON BAPTISMThe Rev. Dr. Croly has again left poetry and ro- mantic fiction for religious controversy. On the 13th June he published in London-we suppose in reply to the late work of Baptist Noda volume entitled, The Theory of Baptism, or the Regeneration of Infants in Baptism~vindicated on the testimony of Holy Scripture, Christian Antiquity, and the Church of England. MAJOR HERBERT EDWARDES, the son of a vicar in one of the midland counties, who went to the East Indies a few years ago, and rose rapidly by military prowess, diplomatic skill, and learning, has lately returned to England, and Bentley announces for publica- tion in the month of June, in two octavos from his pen, a Narrative of Service and Adventure on the Punjaub Frontier during 1848 and 1849. Sm JAMES ALEXANDER, who is well xnown in New York for his residence here during a considerable portion of the period described in his work on the United States, has just published in London, in two volumes, with illustrations, Acadie, or Seven Years Ex- plorations in British America. A 5ECOND SERIES of Coleridges Friend has been published in London, in three vol- umes, Svo., under the title of Essays on his own Times, by S. T. Coleridge; edited by his daughter. It is made up mostly of his political contributions to the Post and Courier. A COMPLETE EDITION of the philosophical works of J. F. Herbart is announced for pub- lication by Yoss, of Leipzig. It will be com- pleted in twelve volumes, 8vo., edited by Prof. Hartenstein, of Leipzig, and will be fin- ished in about two years. MR. BAIRD, of Philadelphia, has in press a richly illustrated edition of Grays Poems. GROTES HISTORY OF GREECE. 15 From the London Times. THE HISTORY OF GREECE BY GEORGE GROTE. MR. GROTES history has yet arrived only at J.Y.L the close of the fourth century B.C., and the fall of the Thirty Tyrants. Two of the six compartments in which he proposes, to use his own quaint phrase, to exhaust the free life of collective Hellas, still remain to be accomplished. But the history of Greece is written. Stirring events and great names are still to come; the romantic enterprise of Cyrus and the retreat of the Ten Thousand, the elective trust of Thebes, and the chival- rous glories of her one great man. Demos- thenes has yet to prove how vain is the divinest eloquence when poured to degene- rate hearts. Agis and Cleomenes have yet to exhibit the spectacle, ever fraught with mel- ancholy interest, of noble natures out of har- mony with the present, and spending their energies in the vain attempt to turn back the stream of time and call again into existence the feelings and the institutions of an irre- vocable past. The monarchy of Philip is yet due to fate. Macedon is still to Greece what Russia, before Peter the Great, was to Europe a half-unknown and barbarous land, full of latent energy and power, and waiting for the rise of a master mind to discern its embryo greatness and turn its peasants into the un- conquerable phalanx. Alexander must arise to carry fort with his victorious arms the seeds of Greek civilization over the Eastern world. Aristotle must arise to gather up in one boundless mind the vast results of Greek philosophy, and found an em p ire vaster and more enduring than that of h is great pupil in the subjugated intellect of man. But the history of Greece is finished. Athens and Sparta, the two great antagonistic types of reek society, politics, and education, have attained their full development, passed their allotted hour of trial, and touched upon their doom. The shades of night are gathering on the bright day of Hellas. The momentous work of that wonderful people is accomplish- ed; the interest of the great intellectual and moral contest has centred in one man; the last scene of the Phcrdo has been enacted, and Socrates has died. The history of Greece is written, and the character of the historian is decided. Mr. Grote has achieved a noble worka work which, unless the glory of classical literature is a dream, will well repay, in usefulness and in renown, the devotion of a scholars life. His book will be called great while Grecian story retains its interest. Even making al- lowance for the wonderful labors of the Ger- mans nnd the extraordinary addition which their learned toils have made to our knowl- edge of the subject, we should say that the work before us has almost disentombed many portions of Greek life. We cannot sufficiently extol the wonderful knowledge of all the feel- ings, habits, associations, and institutions of an extinct people which evezy page exhibits, and the familiar mastery with which a mind steeped in Grecian lore analyzes, combines, criticizes, and unfolds the mass of heteroge- neous and often conjectural materials on which it has to work. Not only have we been enabled to read Greek history with new eyes and a new understanding, but light has been poured upon its literature; and, to apply to Mr. Grote the compliment he pays to others, the poets, historians, orators, and philosophers ot Greece have been all rendered both more intelligible and more instructive to the student, and the general picture of the Grecian world may now be conceived with a degree of fidelity which, considering our im- perfect materials, it is curious to contem- plate. Two volumes more at least must be yet to come, but Mr. Grotes pedestal is sure; and nothing can diminish the satisfaction he must now feel at his decided and proclaim- ed success but the consciousness that the moment is approaching when he must part with the companion of many a sweet though toilsome hour, and experience the mingled feelings which Gibbon has so well portrayed in writing the last page of the last chapter of the history of Greece. It is pity that such high intrinsic merits should be marred, boj1h as regards the pleas- ure and the instruction of the reader, by a fatal deficiency of style. It is pity, but it is true. Mr. Grote seems to have lived in the works of the Greek writers till he has almost forgotten the forms and cadence of his mother tongue. It is not only that he so frequently has resort to an uncouth Greek compound when he might easily express the same idea in two or three English words, if not one; there is a perpetual clumsiness in his con- struction of common sentences and his use of common words. Clarendon himself is not harder or more tortuous. Even in purely narrative parts, which ought to flow most easily, the understanding of the reader can seldom keep pace with his eye. Cyclopean epithets are piled together almost at random on any substantive which will have the com- plaisance to receive them. The choice of expression and metaphor is sometimes such as almost to rival the achievements of Castle- reagh in his happiest hour. We have people existing, not as individual names on paper, but simply as an imposturous nominal aggre- gate,Thucydides reserving his flowers to strew on the grave of Nicias,the Athenians sailing out to action, having left their sails at Teichiassa, and their sailing back to Teichiassa for their sails,Athens, the mistress and successor of the Lonian Confede- racy, inestimable stepping-stones toward a goal, and oligarchical conspirators against popular liberty tying down the patient while the process of emasculation was being consummated. We are sorry to say that these instances are taken from the last two volumes, so that Mr. Grote does not improve as he advances. In the first volume, when relating the legends of early Greece, we are

GROTES HISTORY OF GREECE. 15 From the London Times. THE HISTORY OF GREECE BY GEORGE GROTE. MR. GROTES history has yet arrived only at J.Y.L the close of the fourth century B.C., and the fall of the Thirty Tyrants. Two of the six compartments in which he proposes, to use his own quaint phrase, to exhaust the free life of collective Hellas, still remain to be accomplished. But the history of Greece is written. Stirring events and great names are still to come; the romantic enterprise of Cyrus and the retreat of the Ten Thousand, the elective trust of Thebes, and the chival- rous glories of her one great man. Demos- thenes has yet to prove how vain is the divinest eloquence when poured to degene- rate hearts. Agis and Cleomenes have yet to exhibit the spectacle, ever fraught with mel- ancholy interest, of noble natures out of har- mony with the present, and spending their energies in the vain attempt to turn back the stream of time and call again into existence the feelings and the institutions of an irre- vocable past. The monarchy of Philip is yet due to fate. Macedon is still to Greece what Russia, before Peter the Great, was to Europe a half-unknown and barbarous land, full of latent energy and power, and waiting for the rise of a master mind to discern its embryo greatness and turn its peasants into the un- conquerable phalanx. Alexander must arise to carry fort with his victorious arms the seeds of Greek civilization over the Eastern world. Aristotle must arise to gather up in one boundless mind the vast results of Greek philosophy, and found an em p ire vaster and more enduring than that of h is great pupil in the subjugated intellect of man. But the history of Greece is finished. Athens and Sparta, the two great antagonistic types of reek society, politics, and education, have attained their full development, passed their allotted hour of trial, and touched upon their doom. The shades of night are gathering on the bright day of Hellas. The momentous work of that wonderful people is accomplish- ed; the interest of the great intellectual and moral contest has centred in one man; the last scene of the Phcrdo has been enacted, and Socrates has died. The history of Greece is written, and the character of the historian is decided. Mr. Grote has achieved a noble worka work which, unless the glory of classical literature is a dream, will well repay, in usefulness and in renown, the devotion of a scholars life. His book will be called great while Grecian story retains its interest. Even making al- lowance for the wonderful labors of the Ger- mans nnd the extraordinary addition which their learned toils have made to our knowl- edge of the subject, we should say that the work before us has almost disentombed many portions of Greek life. We cannot sufficiently extol the wonderful knowledge of all the feel- ings, habits, associations, and institutions of an extinct people which evezy page exhibits, and the familiar mastery with which a mind steeped in Grecian lore analyzes, combines, criticizes, and unfolds the mass of heteroge- neous and often conjectural materials on which it has to work. Not only have we been enabled to read Greek history with new eyes and a new understanding, but light has been poured upon its literature; and, to apply to Mr. Grote the compliment he pays to others, the poets, historians, orators, and philosophers ot Greece have been all rendered both more intelligible and more instructive to the student, and the general picture of the Grecian world may now be conceived with a degree of fidelity which, considering our im- perfect materials, it is curious to contem- plate. Two volumes more at least must be yet to come, but Mr. Grotes pedestal is sure; and nothing can diminish the satisfaction he must now feel at his decided and proclaim- ed success but the consciousness that the moment is approaching when he must part with the companion of many a sweet though toilsome hour, and experience the mingled feelings which Gibbon has so well portrayed in writing the last page of the last chapter of the history of Greece. It is pity that such high intrinsic merits should be marred, boj1h as regards the pleas- ure and the instruction of the reader, by a fatal deficiency of style. It is pity, but it is true. Mr. Grote seems to have lived in the works of the Greek writers till he has almost forgotten the forms and cadence of his mother tongue. It is not only that he so frequently has resort to an uncouth Greek compound when he might easily express the same idea in two or three English words, if not one; there is a perpetual clumsiness in his con- struction of common sentences and his use of common words. Clarendon himself is not harder or more tortuous. Even in purely narrative parts, which ought to flow most easily, the understanding of the reader can seldom keep pace with his eye. Cyclopean epithets are piled together almost at random on any substantive which will have the com- plaisance to receive them. The choice of expression and metaphor is sometimes such as almost to rival the achievements of Castle- reagh in his happiest hour. We have people existing, not as individual names on paper, but simply as an imposturous nominal aggre- gate,Thucydides reserving his flowers to strew on the grave of Nicias,the Athenians sailing out to action, having left their sails at Teichiassa, and their sailing back to Teichiassa for their sails,Athens, the mistress and successor of the Lonian Confede- racy, inestimable stepping-stones toward a goal, and oligarchical conspirators against popular liberty tying down the patient while the process of emasculation was being consummated. We are sorry to say that these instances are taken from the last two volumes, so that Mr. Grote does not improve as he advances. In the first volume, when relating the legends of early Greece, we are 18 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. glad he does not imitate the forced simplicity with which Dr. Arnold tells the legends of early Rome; but it is too flat to describe Atalanta as beautiful and matchless for swiftness of foot, but living in the forest as a huntress, and unacceptable to Aphrodite. The redeeming point, and a great redeeming point it is, is the total absence of anything like affectation. All the peculiarities are genuine, and everything that is genuine in composition, though it cannot be admired, may be borne. But for this we should be compelled to class one of the best of English books among the very worst of English writ- ings. Mr. Grote must remember that no man who writes for posterity can afford to neglect the art of composition. The trimmer bark, though less richly laden, will float further down the stream of time, and when so many authors of real ability and learning are com- peting for every niche in the temple of fame, the coveted place will certainly be wonby style. It is this deficiency of art which can alone prevent Mr. Grotes history from completely superseding both the works already existing of the same magnitude. Neither the spirit of Mitford nor the solid sense of Thirlwall could long preserve them from eclipse. The light of the former indeed has long grown dim. He is always blundering, and his blunders are always on the Tory side. Arnolds good word has kept him a few years longer on our bookshelves. Dr. Thirlwall has higher quali- ties, but, not to mention that he has damaged himself by writing against Mitford instead of ~gnoring him, he is terribly dry, and Mr. Grote leaves him far behind in appreciation of all that belongs to Greece, in loving indus- try, in warmth of sympathy, and, well read scholars as they both are, in deep knowledge of his subject. The cheaper and more com- endious histories of course are not affected. ~ he light and credulous Goldsmith is still left to contend with the more correct but duller Keightley for the patronage of ingenu- ous youth. Perhaps both yield to the merit- orious little work published by the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. But a place, and an honorable place, is still left for any one who can tell the story of Greece in a succinct and lively form, availing himself of the light which Mr. Grote has shed upon the subject, cultivating candor and right sympa- thies, cutting short the ante-historical period, bringing strongly out the great states and the great men, limiting himself to two moderate volumes, and addressing himself especially to the unlearned and the young. UNIvERsITy OF NEW YORK.At a recent meeting of the trustees and faculty, the Rev. George W. Bethune, D.D., was unanimously elected Chancellor of the University, in the place of the Hon. Theodore Frelinghuysen. At the same meeting Mr. G. C. Anthon, form- erly of the College of Louisiana, son of the Rev. Dr. Anthon of this city, was chosen pro- fessor of Greek language and literature. NINEVEH. DY EDWIN ATHERSTONE. OF NIreEYEH, the mighty city of old; The queen of all the nations. At her throne Kings worshippd; and from her their subject crewne, Humbly obedient, held; and on her state Suismiss attended; nor such servitude Opprobrious named. From that great eminence How, like a star, she fell, and passed away; Such the high matter of my song shall be The vision comes upon me! To my soul The days of old return: I breathe the alr Of the young world: I see her giant sons. Like to a gorgeous pageant in the sky Of summers evening, cloud on fiery cloud Thronging upheaped, before me rise the wallp Of the Titanic city: brazen gates, Towers, temples, palaces enormous piled; Imperial NINEVEH, the earthly queen! In all her golden pomp I see her now; Her swarming streets ; her splendid festivals Her sprightly damsels to thc timbrels sound Airily bounding, and their anklets chime; Her lusty sons, like summer morning ray; Her warriors stern; her rich-robed ru era grave: I see her halls snubright at midnight shine; I hear the music of her banquetings; I hear the laugh, the whisper, and the sigh. A sound of stately treading toward me comes; A silken wafting on the cedar floor: As from Arabias flowering groves, an air Delicious breathes around. Tall, lofty browed, Pale, and majestically beautiful; In vesture gorgeous as the clouds of morn~ With slow proud step her glorious dames sweep by And I look; and lo! before the walls, Unnumbered hosts in flaming panoply; Chariotajike fire, and thunder-bearing steeds! I hear the shouts of battle: like the waves Of a tumultuous sea they roll and dash! In flame and smoke the imperial city sinks! Her walls are gone: her palaces are dust: The desert is around her, and within: Like shadows have the mighty passed away! Whence and how came the ruin? By the hand Of the oppressor were the nations bowed; They rose against him, and prevsiled: for he The haughty monarch who the earth could rule, By his own furious passions was oer-ruled: With pride his understanding was made dark, That he the truth knew not; and, by hisiusts; The crushing burthen of his despotism~ And by the fierceness of his wrath, the iiearts Of men he turned from him. So to kings Be he example, that the tyrannous And iron rod breaks down at length the hand That wields it strongest: that by virtue alone And justice monarchs swa the carts of men: For there hath God implanted love of these, And hatred of oppression; which, unseen And noiseless though it work; yet in the end, Even like the viewless elements of the storm, Brooding in silence, will in thunder burst! So let the nations learn, that not in wealth- Nor in the grosser pleasures of the sense; Nor in the glare of conquest; nor the pomp Of vassal ksngs, and tributary lands; Do happiness and lasting power abide: That virtue unto man best glory is; His strength and truest wisdom: and that vice Though for a season it the heart delight; Or to worse deeds the bad man do make strong; Brings misery yet, and terror, and remorse, And weakness and destruction in the end. So if the nations learn, then not in vain, The mighty one hath been; and is no more! THE BRITIsH ASSOCIATION will meet at Ed- inburgh, on Wednesday, the 31st of July, un- Ller the presidency of its founder, Sir David Brewster., A LOVER gazed on the eyes of his mistress till she blushed. He pressed her hand to his heart and said My looks have planted roses on thy cheeks; he who sows the seed should reap th~ harvest.

18 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. glad he does not imitate the forced simplicity with which Dr. Arnold tells the legends of early Rome; but it is too flat to describe Atalanta as beautiful and matchless for swiftness of foot, but living in the forest as a huntress, and unacceptable to Aphrodite. The redeeming point, and a great redeeming point it is, is the total absence of anything like affectation. All the peculiarities are genuine, and everything that is genuine in composition, though it cannot be admired, may be borne. But for this we should be compelled to class one of the best of English books among the very worst of English writ- ings. Mr. Grote must remember that no man who writes for posterity can afford to neglect the art of composition. The trimmer bark, though less richly laden, will float further down the stream of time, and when so many authors of real ability and learning are com- peting for every niche in the temple of fame, the coveted place will certainly be wonby style. It is this deficiency of art which can alone prevent Mr. Grotes history from completely superseding both the works already existing of the same magnitude. Neither the spirit of Mitford nor the solid sense of Thirlwall could long preserve them from eclipse. The light of the former indeed has long grown dim. He is always blundering, and his blunders are always on the Tory side. Arnolds good word has kept him a few years longer on our bookshelves. Dr. Thirlwall has higher quali- ties, but, not to mention that he has damaged himself by writing against Mitford instead of ~gnoring him, he is terribly dry, and Mr. Grote leaves him far behind in appreciation of all that belongs to Greece, in loving indus- try, in warmth of sympathy, and, well read scholars as they both are, in deep knowledge of his subject. The cheaper and more com- endious histories of course are not affected. ~ he light and credulous Goldsmith is still left to contend with the more correct but duller Keightley for the patronage of ingenu- ous youth. Perhaps both yield to the merit- orious little work published by the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. But a place, and an honorable place, is still left for any one who can tell the story of Greece in a succinct and lively form, availing himself of the light which Mr. Grote has shed upon the subject, cultivating candor and right sympa- thies, cutting short the ante-historical period, bringing strongly out the great states and the great men, limiting himself to two moderate volumes, and addressing himself especially to the unlearned and the young. UNIvERsITy OF NEW YORK.At a recent meeting of the trustees and faculty, the Rev. George W. Bethune, D.D., was unanimously elected Chancellor of the University, in the place of the Hon. Theodore Frelinghuysen. At the same meeting Mr. G. C. Anthon, form- erly of the College of Louisiana, son of the Rev. Dr. Anthon of this city, was chosen pro- fessor of Greek language and literature. NINEVEH. DY EDWIN ATHERSTONE. OF NIreEYEH, the mighty city of old; The queen of all the nations. At her throne Kings worshippd; and from her their subject crewne, Humbly obedient, held; and on her state Suismiss attended; nor such servitude Opprobrious named. From that great eminence How, like a star, she fell, and passed away; Such the high matter of my song shall be The vision comes upon me! To my soul The days of old return: I breathe the alr Of the young world: I see her giant sons. Like to a gorgeous pageant in the sky Of summers evening, cloud on fiery cloud Thronging upheaped, before me rise the wallp Of the Titanic city: brazen gates, Towers, temples, palaces enormous piled; Imperial NINEVEH, the earthly queen! In all her golden pomp I see her now; Her swarming streets ; her splendid festivals Her sprightly damsels to thc timbrels sound Airily bounding, and their anklets chime; Her lusty sons, like summer morning ray; Her warriors stern; her rich-robed ru era grave: I see her halls snubright at midnight shine; I hear the music of her banquetings; I hear the laugh, the whisper, and the sigh. A sound of stately treading toward me comes; A silken wafting on the cedar floor: As from Arabias flowering groves, an air Delicious breathes around. Tall, lofty browed, Pale, and majestically beautiful; In vesture gorgeous as the clouds of morn~ With slow proud step her glorious dames sweep by And I look; and lo! before the walls, Unnumbered hosts in flaming panoply; Chariotajike fire, and thunder-bearing steeds! I hear the shouts of battle: like the waves Of a tumultuous sea they roll and dash! In flame and smoke the imperial city sinks! Her walls are gone: her palaces are dust: The desert is around her, and within: Like shadows have the mighty passed away! Whence and how came the ruin? By the hand Of the oppressor were the nations bowed; They rose against him, and prevsiled: for he The haughty monarch who the earth could rule, By his own furious passions was oer-ruled: With pride his understanding was made dark, That he the truth knew not; and, by hisiusts; The crushing burthen of his despotism~ And by the fierceness of his wrath, the iiearts Of men he turned from him. So to kings Be he example, that the tyrannous And iron rod breaks down at length the hand That wields it strongest: that by virtue alone And justice monarchs swa the carts of men: For there hath God implanted love of these, And hatred of oppression; which, unseen And noiseless though it work; yet in the end, Even like the viewless elements of the storm, Brooding in silence, will in thunder burst! So let the nations learn, that not in wealth- Nor in the grosser pleasures of the sense; Nor in the glare of conquest; nor the pomp Of vassal ksngs, and tributary lands; Do happiness and lasting power abide: That virtue unto man best glory is; His strength and truest wisdom: and that vice Though for a season it the heart delight; Or to worse deeds the bad man do make strong; Brings misery yet, and terror, and remorse, And weakness and destruction in the end. So if the nations learn, then not in vain, The mighty one hath been; and is no more! THE BRITIsH ASSOCIATION will meet at Ed- inburgh, on Wednesday, the 31st of July, un- Ller the presidency of its founder, Sir David Brewster., A LOVER gazed on the eyes of his mistress till she blushed. He pressed her hand to his heart and said My looks have planted roses on thy cheeks; he who sows the seed should reap th~ harvest.

18 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. glad he does not imitate the forced simplicity with which Dr. Arnold tells the legends of early Rome; but it is too flat to describe Atalanta as beautiful and matchless for swiftness of foot, but living in the forest as a huntress, and unacceptable to Aphrodite. The redeeming point, and a great redeeming point it is, is the total absence of anything like affectation. All the peculiarities are genuine, and everything that is genuine in composition, though it cannot be admired, may be borne. But for this we should be compelled to class one of the best of English books among the very worst of English writ- ings. Mr. Grote must remember that no man who writes for posterity can afford to neglect the art of composition. The trimmer bark, though less richly laden, will float further down the stream of time, and when so many authors of real ability and learning are com- peting for every niche in the temple of fame, the coveted place will certainly be wonby style. It is this deficiency of art which can alone prevent Mr. Grotes history from completely superseding both the works already existing of the same magnitude. Neither the spirit of Mitford nor the solid sense of Thirlwall could long preserve them from eclipse. The light of the former indeed has long grown dim. He is always blundering, and his blunders are always on the Tory side. Arnolds good word has kept him a few years longer on our bookshelves. Dr. Thirlwall has higher quali- ties, but, not to mention that he has damaged himself by writing against Mitford instead of ~gnoring him, he is terribly dry, and Mr. Grote leaves him far behind in appreciation of all that belongs to Greece, in loving indus- try, in warmth of sympathy, and, well read scholars as they both are, in deep knowledge of his subject. The cheaper and more com- endious histories of course are not affected. ~ he light and credulous Goldsmith is still left to contend with the more correct but duller Keightley for the patronage of ingenu- ous youth. Perhaps both yield to the merit- orious little work published by the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. But a place, and an honorable place, is still left for any one who can tell the story of Greece in a succinct and lively form, availing himself of the light which Mr. Grote has shed upon the subject, cultivating candor and right sympa- thies, cutting short the ante-historical period, bringing strongly out the great states and the great men, limiting himself to two moderate volumes, and addressing himself especially to the unlearned and the young. UNIvERsITy OF NEW YORK.At a recent meeting of the trustees and faculty, the Rev. George W. Bethune, D.D., was unanimously elected Chancellor of the University, in the place of the Hon. Theodore Frelinghuysen. At the same meeting Mr. G. C. Anthon, form- erly of the College of Louisiana, son of the Rev. Dr. Anthon of this city, was chosen pro- fessor of Greek language and literature. NINEVEH. DY EDWIN ATHERSTONE. OF NIreEYEH, the mighty city of old; The queen of all the nations. At her throne Kings worshippd; and from her their subject crewne, Humbly obedient, held; and on her state Suismiss attended; nor such servitude Opprobrious named. From that great eminence How, like a star, she fell, and passed away; Such the high matter of my song shall be The vision comes upon me! To my soul The days of old return: I breathe the alr Of the young world: I see her giant sons. Like to a gorgeous pageant in the sky Of summers evening, cloud on fiery cloud Thronging upheaped, before me rise the wallp Of the Titanic city: brazen gates, Towers, temples, palaces enormous piled; Imperial NINEVEH, the earthly queen! In all her golden pomp I see her now; Her swarming streets ; her splendid festivals Her sprightly damsels to thc timbrels sound Airily bounding, and their anklets chime; Her lusty sons, like summer morning ray; Her warriors stern; her rich-robed ru era grave: I see her halls snubright at midnight shine; I hear the music of her banquetings; I hear the laugh, the whisper, and the sigh. A sound of stately treading toward me comes; A silken wafting on the cedar floor: As from Arabias flowering groves, an air Delicious breathes around. Tall, lofty browed, Pale, and majestically beautiful; In vesture gorgeous as the clouds of morn~ With slow proud step her glorious dames sweep by And I look; and lo! before the walls, Unnumbered hosts in flaming panoply; Chariotajike fire, and thunder-bearing steeds! I hear the shouts of battle: like the waves Of a tumultuous sea they roll and dash! In flame and smoke the imperial city sinks! Her walls are gone: her palaces are dust: The desert is around her, and within: Like shadows have the mighty passed away! Whence and how came the ruin? By the hand Of the oppressor were the nations bowed; They rose against him, and prevsiled: for he The haughty monarch who the earth could rule, By his own furious passions was oer-ruled: With pride his understanding was made dark, That he the truth knew not; and, by hisiusts; The crushing burthen of his despotism~ And by the fierceness of his wrath, the iiearts Of men he turned from him. So to kings Be he example, that the tyrannous And iron rod breaks down at length the hand That wields it strongest: that by virtue alone And justice monarchs swa the carts of men: For there hath God implanted love of these, And hatred of oppression; which, unseen And noiseless though it work; yet in the end, Even like the viewless elements of the storm, Brooding in silence, will in thunder burst! So let the nations learn, that not in wealth- Nor in the grosser pleasures of the sense; Nor in the glare of conquest; nor the pomp Of vassal ksngs, and tributary lands; Do happiness and lasting power abide: That virtue unto man best glory is; His strength and truest wisdom: and that vice Though for a season it the heart delight; Or to worse deeds the bad man do make strong; Brings misery yet, and terror, and remorse, And weakness and destruction in the end. So if the nations learn, then not in vain, The mighty one hath been; and is no more! THE BRITIsH ASSOCIATION will meet at Ed- inburgh, on Wednesday, the 31st of July, un- Ller the presidency of its founder, Sir David Brewster., A LOVER gazed on the eyes of his mistress till she blushed. He pressed her hand to his heart and said My looks have planted roses on thy cheeks; he who sows the seed should reap th~ harvest. THE GREEN HAND. 1, IF I WERE A VOICE. If I were a voice, a persuasive voice, That could travel the wide world through, I would fly on the beams of the morning light, And speak to men with a gentle might, And tell them to be true. Id fly, Id fly, oer land and sea, Wherever human heart might be, Telling a thie, or singing a song, In prasse of the rightin blame of the wrong. If I were a voice, a consoling voice, Id fly on the wings of air. The homes of sorrow and guilt Id seek, And cSlm and truthful words Id speak To save them from despair. Id fly, Id fly, oer the crowded town, And drop, like the happy sunlight, down Into the hearts of suffering men, And teach them to rejoice again. If I were a voice, a convincing voice, Id travel with the wind, And whenever I saw the nations torn By warfare, jealousy, or scorn, Or hatred of their kind, Id fly, Id fly, on the thunder crash, And into their blinded bosoms flash And, all their evil thoughts subdued, Id teach them Christian brotherhood. If I were a voice, a pervading voice, Id seek the kings of earth; Id find them alone on their beds at night, And whisper words that should guide them right Lessons of priceless worth Id fly more swift than the swiftest bird, And tell them things they never beard Truths which the ages for aye repeat Unknown to the statesmen at their feet. If I were a voice, an immortal voice, Id speak in the peoples ear And whenever they shouted Lilerty, Without deserving to be free, Id make their error clear. id fly, Id fly, on the wings of day, Rebuking wrong on my world-wide way, And making all the world rejoice If I were a voicean immortal voiceC. Mackay. From Blackwoods Magazine. THE GREEN HAND. lIT THE AUTHOR OF TOM CRIKGLES LOG. PART I. old ship, give us a yarn ! said the younger forecastle-men to an old one, on board of an Indiaman then swiftly cleav- ing the waves of the western Atlantic before the trade-wind, and outward-bound, with a hearty crew and a number of passengers. It was the second of the two dog-watches, and the ship being still in the region of evening twilights, her men in a good humor, and with leisure, were then usually disposed, as on this occasion, to make fast their roaming thoughts by help of a good yarn, when it could be got. There were plenty of individuals, amongst a crew of forty, calculated by their experience, or else by their flow of spirits and fancy, to spin it. Each watch into which they were divided had its especial story-tel- ler, with whose merits it twitted the other, and on opportunity of a general reunion, they were pitted against one another like two fighting-cocks, or a couple of rival novelists in more polished literary society at home. The one was a grave, solemn old North-Sea whaler with one eye, who professed to look down with contempt upon all raw head-work, on navigation compared with seamanship, and fiction against fact. As for himself, he rested all his fame upon actual experience, and told long dry narratives of old shipmates, S. & T. i~i.2 of his voyages and adventures, and sometimes of the most incredible incidents, with a gen- uine briny gusto which pleased the veteran stagers beyond expression. They were full of points of seamanshipexpedients for nice emergencies, tacks, knots, and splices. He gave the very conversation, of his characters, with all the says he and says I ; and one long recital of the old fellows turned upon the question between himself and a newfangled second mate ab6ut the right way to set up back-stays, in which he, the sailor, was proved correct by the loss of the sh4. The other story-teller, again, was a Wap- ping man; a lively, impudent young Cock- ney, who had the most miraculous faculty of telling liesnot only palpable lies, but lies absolutely impossible: yet they were so sub- limely told often, and he contrived to lug into them such a quantity of gorgeous tinsel orna- ment, as, in his happier eflbrts, decidedl~y to carry the day against his opponent. rhe London hand had seen lsfe too, of which, with respect to what is called the world, his competitor was as ignorant as a child. He had his sentimental vein, accordingly, in which he took the last love-tale out of some Penny Story-Teller or fashionable novel he had spelled over below, and turned it over into a parody. that would have thrown its unfortunate author into convulsions of horror, and his critics into shrieks of laugh- ter. The fine language of lords and ladies, of romantic heroines, or of foreign counts assJ bandits, was gravely retailed and gravely listened to by a throng of admiring jack- tars; while the old whaler smoked his pipe sulkily apart, gave now and then a scornful glance out of ihis weather-eye, and called it all high-dic and sogers gammon. On this occasion, however, the group for- ward did not solicit the services of either candidate, as they happened to have present among them a shipmate, who, by general confession, took the shine out of both, al- though it was rarely they could get hold of him. Old Jack, the captains private steward, was the oldest seaman on board, and having known the captain ,when the latter went to sea, had saifed with him al- most ever since he commanded a ship, as well as lived in his ,house on shore. He did not now keep his watch, nor take his trick at the helm, except when he chose, and was altogether a privi e e sort of a person, or one of the idlers. His name was Jacobs, which afforded a pretext for calling him Old Jack, with the sailors fondness for that Christian cognomen, which it is difficult to account for, unless because Jonah and St. John were seafaring characters, and the Ro- man Catholic holy clerk St. Nicholas was aptized Davy Jones; with sundry other reasons good at sea. But Old Jack was, at any rate, the best hand for a yarn in the Gloucester Indiaman, and had been once or twice called upon to spin one to the ladies and gentlemen in the cuddy. It was partly

THE GREEN HAND. 1, IF I WERE A VOICE. If I were a voice, a persuasive voice, That could travel the wide world through, I would fly on the beams of the morning light, And speak to men with a gentle might, And tell them to be true. Id fly, Id fly, oer land and sea, Wherever human heart might be, Telling a thie, or singing a song, In prasse of the rightin blame of the wrong. If I were a voice, a consoling voice, Id fly on the wings of air. The homes of sorrow and guilt Id seek, And cSlm and truthful words Id speak To save them from despair. Id fly, Id fly, oer the crowded town, And drop, like the happy sunlight, down Into the hearts of suffering men, And teach them to rejoice again. If I were a voice, a convincing voice, Id travel with the wind, And whenever I saw the nations torn By warfare, jealousy, or scorn, Or hatred of their kind, Id fly, Id fly, on the thunder crash, And into their blinded bosoms flash And, all their evil thoughts subdued, Id teach them Christian brotherhood. If I were a voice, a pervading voice, Id seek the kings of earth; Id find them alone on their beds at night, And whisper words that should guide them right Lessons of priceless worth Id fly more swift than the swiftest bird, And tell them things they never beard Truths which the ages for aye repeat Unknown to the statesmen at their feet. If I were a voice, an immortal voice, Id speak in the peoples ear And whenever they shouted Lilerty, Without deserving to be free, Id make their error clear. id fly, Id fly, on the wings of day, Rebuking wrong on my world-wide way, And making all the world rejoice If I were a voicean immortal voiceC. Mackay. From Blackwoods Magazine. THE GREEN HAND. lIT THE AUTHOR OF TOM CRIKGLES LOG. PART I. old ship, give us a yarn ! said the younger forecastle-men to an old one, on board of an Indiaman then swiftly cleav- ing the waves of the western Atlantic before the trade-wind, and outward-bound, with a hearty crew and a number of passengers. It was the second of the two dog-watches, and the ship being still in the region of evening twilights, her men in a good humor, and with leisure, were then usually disposed, as on this occasion, to make fast their roaming thoughts by help of a good yarn, when it could be got. There were plenty of individuals, amongst a crew of forty, calculated by their experience, or else by their flow of spirits and fancy, to spin it. Each watch into which they were divided had its especial story-tel- ler, with whose merits it twitted the other, and on opportunity of a general reunion, they were pitted against one another like two fighting-cocks, or a couple of rival novelists in more polished literary society at home. The one was a grave, solemn old North-Sea whaler with one eye, who professed to look down with contempt upon all raw head-work, on navigation compared with seamanship, and fiction against fact. As for himself, he rested all his fame upon actual experience, and told long dry narratives of old shipmates, S. & T. i~i.2 of his voyages and adventures, and sometimes of the most incredible incidents, with a gen- uine briny gusto which pleased the veteran stagers beyond expression. They were full of points of seamanshipexpedients for nice emergencies, tacks, knots, and splices. He gave the very conversation, of his characters, with all the says he and says I ; and one long recital of the old fellows turned upon the question between himself and a newfangled second mate ab6ut the right way to set up back-stays, in which he, the sailor, was proved correct by the loss of the sh4. The other story-teller, again, was a Wap- ping man; a lively, impudent young Cock- ney, who had the most miraculous faculty of telling liesnot only palpable lies, but lies absolutely impossible: yet they were so sub- limely told often, and he contrived to lug into them such a quantity of gorgeous tinsel orna- ment, as, in his happier eflbrts, decidedl~y to carry the day against his opponent. rhe London hand had seen lsfe too, of which, with respect to what is called the world, his competitor was as ignorant as a child. He had his sentimental vein, accordingly, in which he took the last love-tale out of some Penny Story-Teller or fashionable novel he had spelled over below, and turned it over into a parody. that would have thrown its unfortunate author into convulsions of horror, and his critics into shrieks of laugh- ter. The fine language of lords and ladies, of romantic heroines, or of foreign counts assJ bandits, was gravely retailed and gravely listened to by a throng of admiring jack- tars; while the old whaler smoked his pipe sulkily apart, gave now and then a scornful glance out of ihis weather-eye, and called it all high-dic and sogers gammon. On this occasion, however, the group for- ward did not solicit the services of either candidate, as they happened to have present among them a shipmate, who, by general confession, took the shine out of both, al- though it was rarely they could get hold of him. Old Jack, the captains private steward, was the oldest seaman on board, and having known the captain ,when the latter went to sea, had saifed with him al- most ever since he commanded a ship, as well as lived in his ,house on shore. He did not now keep his watch, nor take his trick at the helm, except when he chose, and was altogether a privi e e sort of a person, or one of the idlers. His name was Jacobs, which afforded a pretext for calling him Old Jack, with the sailors fondness for that Christian cognomen, which it is difficult to account for, unless because Jonah and St. John were seafaring characters, and the Ro- man Catholic holy clerk St. Nicholas was aptized Davy Jones; with sundry other reasons good at sea. But Old Jack was, at any rate, the best hand for a yarn in the Gloucester Indiaman, and had been once or twice called upon to spin one to the ladies and gentlemen in the cuddy. It was partly

THE GREEN HAND. 1, IF I WERE A VOICE. If I were a voice, a persuasive voice, That could travel the wide world through, I would fly on the beams of the morning light, And speak to men with a gentle might, And tell them to be true. Id fly, Id fly, oer land and sea, Wherever human heart might be, Telling a thie, or singing a song, In prasse of the rightin blame of the wrong. If I were a voice, a consoling voice, Id fly on the wings of air. The homes of sorrow and guilt Id seek, And cSlm and truthful words Id speak To save them from despair. Id fly, Id fly, oer the crowded town, And drop, like the happy sunlight, down Into the hearts of suffering men, And teach them to rejoice again. If I were a voice, a convincing voice, Id travel with the wind, And whenever I saw the nations torn By warfare, jealousy, or scorn, Or hatred of their kind, Id fly, Id fly, on the thunder crash, And into their blinded bosoms flash And, all their evil thoughts subdued, Id teach them Christian brotherhood. If I were a voice, a pervading voice, Id seek the kings of earth; Id find them alone on their beds at night, And whisper words that should guide them right Lessons of priceless worth Id fly more swift than the swiftest bird, And tell them things they never beard Truths which the ages for aye repeat Unknown to the statesmen at their feet. If I were a voice, an immortal voice, Id speak in the peoples ear And whenever they shouted Lilerty, Without deserving to be free, Id make their error clear. id fly, Id fly, on the wings of day, Rebuking wrong on my world-wide way, And making all the world rejoice If I were a voicean immortal voiceC. Mackay. From Blackwoods Magazine. THE GREEN HAND. lIT THE AUTHOR OF TOM CRIKGLES LOG. PART I. old ship, give us a yarn ! said the younger forecastle-men to an old one, on board of an Indiaman then swiftly cleav- ing the waves of the western Atlantic before the trade-wind, and outward-bound, with a hearty crew and a number of passengers. It was the second of the two dog-watches, and the ship being still in the region of evening twilights, her men in a good humor, and with leisure, were then usually disposed, as on this occasion, to make fast their roaming thoughts by help of a good yarn, when it could be got. There were plenty of individuals, amongst a crew of forty, calculated by their experience, or else by their flow of spirits and fancy, to spin it. Each watch into which they were divided had its especial story-tel- ler, with whose merits it twitted the other, and on opportunity of a general reunion, they were pitted against one another like two fighting-cocks, or a couple of rival novelists in more polished literary society at home. The one was a grave, solemn old North-Sea whaler with one eye, who professed to look down with contempt upon all raw head-work, on navigation compared with seamanship, and fiction against fact. As for himself, he rested all his fame upon actual experience, and told long dry narratives of old shipmates, S. & T. i~i.2 of his voyages and adventures, and sometimes of the most incredible incidents, with a gen- uine briny gusto which pleased the veteran stagers beyond expression. They were full of points of seamanshipexpedients for nice emergencies, tacks, knots, and splices. He gave the very conversation, of his characters, with all the says he and says I ; and one long recital of the old fellows turned upon the question between himself and a newfangled second mate ab6ut the right way to set up back-stays, in which he, the sailor, was proved correct by the loss of the sh4. The other story-teller, again, was a Wap- ping man; a lively, impudent young Cock- ney, who had the most miraculous faculty of telling liesnot only palpable lies, but lies absolutely impossible: yet they were so sub- limely told often, and he contrived to lug into them such a quantity of gorgeous tinsel orna- ment, as, in his happier eflbrts, decidedl~y to carry the day against his opponent. rhe London hand had seen lsfe too, of which, with respect to what is called the world, his competitor was as ignorant as a child. He had his sentimental vein, accordingly, in which he took the last love-tale out of some Penny Story-Teller or fashionable novel he had spelled over below, and turned it over into a parody. that would have thrown its unfortunate author into convulsions of horror, and his critics into shrieks of laugh- ter. The fine language of lords and ladies, of romantic heroines, or of foreign counts assJ bandits, was gravely retailed and gravely listened to by a throng of admiring jack- tars; while the old whaler smoked his pipe sulkily apart, gave now and then a scornful glance out of ihis weather-eye, and called it all high-dic and sogers gammon. On this occasion, however, the group for- ward did not solicit the services of either candidate, as they happened to have present among them a shipmate, who, by general confession, took the shine out of both, al- though it was rarely they could get hold of him. Old Jack, the captains private steward, was the oldest seaman on board, and having known the captain ,when the latter went to sea, had saifed with him al- most ever since he commanded a ship, as well as lived in his ,house on shore. He did not now keep his watch, nor take his trick at the helm, except when he chose, and was altogether a privi e e sort of a person, or one of the idlers. His name was Jacobs, which afforded a pretext for calling him Old Jack, with the sailors fondness for that Christian cognomen, which it is difficult to account for, unless because Jonah and St. John were seafaring characters, and the Ro- man Catholic holy clerk St. Nicholas was aptized Davy Jones; with sundry other reasons good at sea. But Old Jack was, at any rate, the best hand for a yarn in the Gloucester Indiaman, and had been once or twice called upon to spin one to the ladies and gentlemen in the cuddy. It was partly 18 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. because of his inexhaustible fund of good humor, and partly from that love of the sea which look& [ out through all that the old tar had seen and undergone, and which made him still follow the bowsprit, although able to live comfortably ashore. In his blue jacket, white canvas trowsers edged with blue, and glazed hat, coming forward to the galley to light his pipe, after serving the captains tea of an evening, Old Jack looked out over the bulwarks, sniffed the sharp sea-air, and stood with his shirt-sleeve fluttering as he put his finger in his pipe, the very embodiment of the scenethe model of a prime old salt who had ~ceased to rough it, but could do so yet if needful. Come, old ship ! said the men near the windlass, as soon as Old Jack came forward, give us a yarn, will ye ~ Yarn ! said Jack, smiling, what yarn, mates ~ Tis a fine night, though, for that samethe clouds fly high, and shes balling off a good ten knots sin eight bells. That she is, boso give us a yarn now, like a reglar old A 1 as you are ! said one. Vast there, mate, said a man-o -wars- man, winking to the iest, youre always a-cargo-puddling, Bill! Dye think Old Jack answers to any other hail nor the Queens ~ I say, old three-decker in ornary, we all wants one o your close-laid yarns this good night. Wiaaling Jim here rubs his down with a thought over much o the tar, an young Joe dips em in allow varnishso if you says INay, why, well all save our grog, and get drunk as soon as may be. W eli, well, mates, said Jaek, endeavor- in~ to canceal his flattered feelings, what is it to be, though P Lets see, said the m.an-o-wars-man aye, give us the Green Hand ! Aye, aye, the Green Hand ! exclaimed one and~Jl. This Green Hand was a story Old Jack had already related several times, but always with such amusing variations, that it seemed on each repetition a new one .the listeners testifying their satisfaction by growls of rough laughter, and by the em- phatic way in which, during a pause, they squirted their tobacco-juice on the deck. What gave additional zest to this particular yarn, too, was the fact of its hero being no less than the captain himself, who was at this moment on the poop quarter-deck of the ship, pointing out something to a group of ladies by the round-housea tall, handsome- looking man of about forty, with all the mingled gravity and frank good humor of a sailor in his firm, weather-tinted counte- nance. To have the power of secretly con- rasting his present condition and manners with those delineated by Old Jacks episode from the skippers previous biography, was The acme of comic delight to these rude sons of Neptune, and the narrator just hit this point. Ye see, began he, tis about six an twenty years gone since I was an able sea- man before the mast, in a small Indyman they called the Chester Castle, lying at that time behincr the Isle of Dogs, in sight of Grenidge Hospital. She was full laden, but there was a strong breeze blowing up that wouldnt let us get under weigh; and, besides, we waited for the most part of our hands. I had sailed with the same ship two voyages before; so, says the captain to me one day, Jacobs, theres a lady over at Greenwich yonder wants to send her boy to sea in the shipfor a sickening I spose. I am a going up to town myself, says lie, so take the quarter-boat and two of the boys and go ashore with this letter, and see the young fool. From what Ive heard, says the skip- per, hes a jackanapes as will give us more trouble than thanks. However, if you find the ladys bent on it, why, she may send him aboard to-morrow if she likes. Only we dont carry no young gentle men; and if lie slings his hammock here, you must lick him into shape. Ill make a sailor of him or a cabin-boy. Ay, ay, sir, says I, shoving the letter into my hat; so in half an hours time I knocks at the door of the ladys house, rigged out in my best, and hands over the screed to a fat fellow with red breeches and yallow swabs on his shoulders, like a captain of marines, that looked frightened at my hail, for I thout hed been deaf by the long spell he took before he opened the door. In five minutes I heard a womans vice ask at the footmanif there was a sailor awaiting below. Yes, marm, says he; and show him up, says she. Well, I gives a scrape with my larboard foot, and a tug to my hair, when I gets to the door of such a fine room above decks, all full o tables, an chairs, an sofers, an piangers, an them sort o highflying con- sarns. There was a lady all in silks and satins on one of the sofers, dressed out like a widow, with a pretty little girl as was play- ing music out of a large bookand a picter of a man upon the wall, which I at once logged it down for him shed parted company from. Sarvint, inaam, says I. Come in, my good man, says the lady. Youre a sailor P says sheasking, like, to be sure if I warnt the cooks mate in dish-guise, I fancy. Well, marm, I raps out, I make bould to say as I hopes I am Pan I catches a sight o myself in a big looking-glass be- hind the lady, as large as our sky-sail,and, being a young fellow in them days, thinks I, Blow me, if Betsy Brown asked me that now, Pd ask her if she was a woman ! Well, says she, Captain Steel tells me in this here letter, hes agoing to take my son. Now, says she, Im sore against itcouldnt you say someat to turn his mind ? The best way for that, yer ladyship, says I, is to let him go, if it was only the length of the Nore. The sea 11 turn his stomack for him, marm; I says, an then we can send him home by a pilot. He wanted for to go into the navy, says. the lady again, but I couldnt think on that for a moment, on THE GREEN HAND. 19 account of this fearful war; an, after all, as ye call it, and a lubber of a boy, before hell be safer in sailing at se~ nor in the long I But I wasnt goin to let him take army or navydont you think so, my good the jaw out o me, so I only laughed, an says man 3 Its all you knows about it, thinks I, Why, lm captain of the foretop at sea, I; how~ever, I said there wasnt a doubt on any how. Wheres your huniform, then 3 it. Is Captain Steel a rash man 3 says says the boy, lowering his tone a bit. 0, she. How so, marm 3 says I, someat I says, we doesnt alays wear huniform, ye taken aback. I hope he does not sail at know, sir. This heres what we call on- night, or in storms, like too many of his dress. Im sorry, sir, says the lady, I profession, Im afeard, says she; I hope he didnt ax you to sit down. No offence at always weighs the anchor in such cases, very all, marm, I says, but I took a couple o careful. Oh, in course, says I, not know- glasses of brandy as was brought in. I saw in, for the life of me, what she meant. I twas no use goin against the young chap; didnt like to come the rig over the poor so, when he asked what hed have to do lady, seem her so anxious like; but it was aboard, I told him nothing to speak of, cx- no use, we was on such different tacks, ye see. cept count the sails now and then, look over 0 yes, marm, I says, Captain Steel alays the bows to see how the ship went, and go reefs taupsls at sight of a squall brewing to aloft with a spy-glass. Oh, says his windrd; and were as safe as a church, then, mother, at this, I hope Captain Steel wont ye know, with a man at the wheel as knows never allow Edward to go up those danger- his duty. This relieves my mind, the lady ous ladders! Itis inyparticlar request he says, very much; but I couldnt think why should be punished if he does. Sartainly, she kept sniffing all the time at her smelling marm, Ill mention it to the captain, I says, bottle, as she wor agoin to faint. Dont an no doubt hell give them orders as you take it to heart so, yer ladyship, I says at speak on. The captain desired me to say last; Ill look after the young gentleman the young gentleman could come aboard as till he finds his sea-legs. Thank you, soon as he likes, says I, before goin out of says she; but, I beg your pardon, would the door. very weii, sir, says the lady, I you be kind enough for to open the winder, shall see the tailor this same afternoon, and and look out if you see Edward 3 I think get his clothes, if 5Q be it must. The last hes in the garding. I feel sich a smell of word I said was, putting my head half in pitch and tar ! I hears her say to the girl; again to tell em, There was no use gettin and says she to me again, Do you see Ed- any huniforms at present, seem the ships ward there 3call to him, please. Accord- sail-maker could do all as was wanted afte~r- ingly, I couldnt miss sight of three or four wards, when we got to sea. young slips alongside, for they made ~lenty Well, two or three days after, the ca~tain of noiseone of em on top of a water- arrel sent word to say the ship would drop own smoking a cigar; another singing out inside with the morning tide, and Master Collins of it for mercy; and the rest roaring round had better be aboard by six oclock. I went about it, like so many Bedlamites. No ashore with the boat, but the young gem- wonder the young scamp wants to go to mans clothes warnt ready yet; so it was sea, thinks 1, hes got nothin arthly to do made up he was to come aboard from Graves- but mischief. Which is the youn~ gentle- end the day after. But his mother and an man, marm 3 says I, lookin back into the old lady, a friend of theirs, would have it room Is it him with the cigar and the red theyd go and see his bed-room, and take a skull-cap 3 Yes, says the lady call him look at the ship. There was a bit of breeze up, please. Hallo ! I sings out, and all with the tide, and the old Indiaman bobbed runs off but him on the barrel, and Hallo ! up arid down on it in the cold morning; you says he. Youre wanted on deck, sir, I could hear the wash of water poppling on to says; and in five minutes in comes my young her rudder, with her running gear blown gemman, as grave as you please. Ed- out in a bend; and Missus Collins thought ward, says the mother, this is one of Cap- theyd never get up the dirty black sides of tam Steels men. Is he going to take the vessel, as she called em. The other me 3 says the young fellow, with his hands said her husband had been a captain, an she in his pockets. Well, sir, I says, tis a very laid claim to a snatch of knowledge. Sail- bad look-out, is the sea, for them as dont or, says she to me, as we got under the like it. Youll be sorry ten times over quarter, that there tall mast is the main- youve left sich a berth as this here afore bowsprit, aint it 3 and that other is the gal- you~re down Channel. The young chap lant bowling you call it, dont you 3 says looks me all over from clue to earing, and she. No doubt, marm, says I, winking to says he, My mother told you to say that ! the boys not to laugh. Its all right, I No sir, says I, I says it on my own hook. says. Howsoever, as to the bed-room, the Why did you go yourself then 3 says he. captain showed em over the cabin, and put I couldnt help it, answers I. Oh, says em off by saying the ship was so out of the impertinent little devil, but youre only order he couldnt say which rooms was to be one of the common sailors, aint you 3 Split which yet, though they neednt fear Master me, you little beggar 3 thinks I, if I doesnt Ned would get all comfortable; so ashore show you the odds betwixt a common sailor, the poor woman went, pretty well pleased, 20 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. considerin her heart was against the whole consarn. Well, the next afternoon, lying off Graves- end, out comes a wherry with young master. One of the men said there was a midshipman in it. Midshipman be blowed ~ says I; did ye ever see a reefer in a wherry, or sitting out o the stain-sheets 3 Its neither more nor less nor the greenhorn weve got. Why dont the bosun pipe to man side. ropes for him ! says th other; but, my eye, Bob, says he -to me; what a sio~ht of traps the chaps got in the boat! twill be enough to heel the Chester Castle to the side he berths upon, on an even keel. Do he mean to have the captains cabin, I wonder Up the side he scrambles, with the help of a side-ladder, all togged out to the nines in a span-new blue jacket and anchor buttons, a cap with a gould band, and white ducks made to fltas jemmy-jessamy a looking fellow as youd see of a cruise along Lon. don parks, with the waterman singing out alongside to send down a tackle for the dunnage, which it took a pair of purchase. blocks to hoist them out on board. Whats all this 3 says the mate, coming forard from the quarter-deck. Tis the young gem. mans traps, sir, I says. What the dev- il ! says the mate, dye think weve room to stow all this lumber 3 Strike it down into the forehold, Jacobsbut get out a blue shirt or two, and a Scotch cap for the young whelp first, if he wants to save that smooth toggery of his for his mammy. Youre as green as cabbage, Im feared, my lad ! says he. By this time the boy was struck all of a heap, an didnt know what to say when he saw the boat pulling for shore, except he wanted to have a sight of his bed-room. Jacobs, says the mate, laughing like an old bear, take him below, and show him his bed- room, as he calls it ! So down we went to the half-deck, where the carpenter, bosun, and three or four of the prentices, had their hammocks slung. There I left him to over- haul his big donkey of a chest, which his mother had stowed it with clothes enough for a. lord ambassador, but not a blessed thing fit to useI wouldnt a given my bit of a black box for the whole on it, ten times over. There was another chockful of gingerbread, pots o presarves, pickles, and bottles; and, thinks I, The old lady didnt know what shares is at sea, I reckon. Twill all be gone for footing, my boy, before youve seen blue water, or Im a Dutchman. In a short time we was up anchor, going down with a fast breeze for the Nore; and we stood out to sea that night, havin to join a convoy off Spithead. My gentleman was turned in all standing, on top o some sails below; and next day he was as sick as a greenhorn could be, cleaning out his land- ballast where he lay, nor I didnt see him till hed got better. Twas blowing a strong breeze, with light canvas all in aloft, and a single reef in the topsls; but fine enough for the Channel, except the rainwhen what does I see but the Green Hand on the weather qu~rter-deck, holding on by the be- laying-pins, with a yumbrella over his head. The men forard was all in a roar, but none of the officers was on deck save the third mate. The mate goes up to him, and looks in his face. Why, says he, you confounded long-shore picked-up son of a green-grocer, what are .you after 3 an he takes the article a slap with his larboard-flipper, as sent it fly- ing to leeward like a puff of smoke. Keep off the quarter-deck, you lubber, says he, giving him a wheel down into the lee-scuppers its well the captain didnt catch ye ! Come aft here, some of ye, sings out the third mate again, to brace up the main yard; and you, ye lazy beggar, clap on this moment and pull ! At this the greenhorn takes out a p air o gloves, shoves his fln~ers into em, and tails on to the rope behind. Well, dammit ! says the mate, if I ever see the likes o that! Jacobs, get a tar- bucket and dip his fists in it; lam him what his hands was made for! I never could bear to see a fellow ashore with his flippers shoed like his feet; but at sea, confound me, it would make a man green-sick over again ! If youd only seen how Master Collins I coked when bshoved his missy fingers into the tar, and chucked the gloves o board! The next moment he ups fists and made slap at me, when in goes the brush in his mouth; the mate gives him a kick astarn; the young chap went sprawling down into the half-deck ladder, where the car p enter had his shavin- glass rigged to crop his chinand there he gets another clip across the jaws from Chips. Now, says the mate, the chap 11 be liker a sailor to-morrow. Hes got some spunk in him, though, by the way he let drive at you, my lad, says he: that fellow 11 either catch the cat or spoil the monkey. Look after him, Jacobs, my lad, says the third mate; hes in my watch, and the cap- tain wants him to rough it out; so show him the ropes, and let him taste an end now an then. Ha! ha! ha ! says he again, laugh- ing, tis the first time I ever see a embreller loosed out at sea, and but the second Ive seen brought aboard even! Hes the greenest hand, sure enough, its been my luck to come across! But green they say s nigh to blue, so look out if I dont try to make a sailor of the young spark ! Well, for the next three or four days the poor fellow was knocked about on all hands; he d got to go aloft to the gallant cross- trees, and out on the yard foot-ropes the next morning, before breakfast; and, coming down, the men made him fast till he sent down the key of his bottle-chest to pay his footing. If he closed his eyes a moment in the watch, slash comes a bucket full o Channel water over him; the third mate would keep him two hours on end, larnin to rig out a stern- sail boom, or grease a royal mast. He led a dogs life of it too, in the half-deck: last come, THE GREEN HAND. 21 in course, has al~ays to go and fill the bread barge, scrub the planks, an do all the dirty jobs. Them owners prentices, Ach as he had for messmates, is always worse to their own kind by far nor the common sailors, as the long-shore folks calls a foremast-man. I couldnt help takin pity on the poor lad, being the only one as had seen the way of his up-bringing, and I felt a sort of a charge of him like; so one night I had a quiet spell with him in the watch, an as soon as I fell to speak kind-ways, there I seed the water stand i the boys eyes. Its a good thing, says he, tryin to gulp it down its a good thing mother dont see all this ! Ho, ho, says I, my lad, tis all but another way of bein sea-sick! You doesnt get the land cleared out, and snuff the sea blue breeze natral like, all at once! Howsever, my lad, says I, take my advicebring your hammock an chest into the foksle; swap half your fine clothes for blue shirts and canvas trowsers; turn-to ready and willing, an do all thats asked youyoull soon find the differ twixt the men and a few petty officers an prentices half out their time. The men II soon make a sailor of you: youll soon see what a seaman is; youll lam ten times the knowledge; an, add to that, youll not be browbeat and looked jealous on Well, next night, what does he do but follows what I said, and afore long most of his troubles was over; nor there wasnt a williner nor a readier hand aboard, and every man was glad to put Ned through anything hed got to do. The mates began to take note on him; and though the prentices never bit off callin him the Green Hand, before we rounded the Cape he could take his wheel with the best of them, and dear away a sternsail out of the top in handsome style. We were out -ten months, and Ned Collins stuck to the fork~sle throughout. When we got up the Thames, he went ashore to see his mother in a check shirt, and canvas trowsers made out of an old royal, with a tarpaulin hat I built for him myself. He wouldi have rue to come the next day over to the house for a supper; so, having took a kindness to the young chap, why, I couldnt say nay. There I finds him in the midst of a lot o soft- faced chaps and young ladies~ a spinning the wonderfullest yarns about the sea and the East Ingees, makin em swallow all sorts of horse-marines~ nonsense, about marmaids, sea- sarpents, and sich like. Hallo, my hearty ! says he, as soon as he saw me, heave a-head here and come to an anchor in this here blessed chair. Young ladies, says he, this is Bob Jacobs, as I told you kissed a marmaid hisself. Hes a wonderful hand, is Bob, for the fair ! You may fancy how flab- bergasted I was at this, though the young scamp was as cool as you please, and wouldnt ha needed much to make him kiss em all round; but I was alays milk-an-water along side of women, if they topped at all above my rating. Well, thinks I, my lad, I would- nt ha sa;id five minutes agone there was any- thing of the green about ye yet, but I see i~t will take another voyge to wash it all out. For to my thinkin, mates, tis more of a land-lubber to come the rig over a few poor creatures that never saw blue water, than not to know the ropes you warnt told. 0 Mis- ter Jacobs ! says Missus Collins to me that night, before I went off, dye think Ed- wards tired of that ere horridsome sea yet ~ Well, marm, I says, Im afeard not. But Ill tell ye, marm, says I, if you wants to make him cut the consarn, the only thing ye can do is to get him bound apprentice to it~ From what Ive seen of him, hes a lad that wont bear aught again his liberty; an I do believe, if he thought he couldnt get free, hed run the next day ! Well, after that, ye see, I didnt know what more turned up of it; for I went myself round to Hull, and ships in a timber-craft for the Baltic, just to see someat new One day, the third voyge from that time, on getting the length of Blackwall, we heare dof a strong press from the men-o- war; and as Id got a dreadful dislike to the sarvice, there was a lot of us marchant-men kept stowed away close in holes an corners tilli we could suit ourselves. At last we got well tired, and a shipmate o mine and I wanted to go and see our sweethearts over in the town. So we hired the slops from ~ Jew, and makes ourselves out to be a couple o watermen, with badges to suit, a carrying off a large parcel and a ticket on it. In the arternoon we came back again within sight of the Tower, where we saw the coast was clear, and made a fair wind along Rosemary Lane and Cable Street. Just then we saw a tall young fellow, in a brown coat, an a broad-brim hat, standing in the door of a shop, with a paper under his arm, on the look out for some one. Twig the Quaker, Bob ! my shipmate says to me. As soon as he saw us, out the Quaker stej~s, and says he to Bill, in a sleepy sort of a vice, Friend, thourt a waterman, I blieve ~ D it, yes, says Bill, pretty short like, thats what we hails or ~Dye want a boat, mas- ter l Swear not, friend, says the broad- brim; but what I want is this, you see~ We have a large vessel, belonging to our house, to send to Havannah, and willin to give double wages, but we cant find any mariners at this p resent for to navigate. Now, says he, 1 spose this onfortunate state o things is on account of the sinful war as is goin ontheyre afraid of the risk. Howsever, my friends, says he, per- haps, as you knows the river, ye could put us upon a way of engagin twenty or more bold mariners, as is not afeard of yen- tering for good pay P and with this he looks into his papers: and says Bill, Well, sir, I dont know any myselfdo you, Bob 3and he gives me a shove, and says under the rose, no fear, mate, says Bill, hes all 22 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. over greendont slip the chance for all hands of us at Jobsons. Why, master, I says, what ud you give them mariners you speaks on, now 3 Six pounds a month, friend, says he, looking up; but we gives tea in place of spirits, and we must have steady men. We cant wait, neither, says he, more nor three days, or the vessel wont sail at all. My eye ! says Bill, twont do to lose, Bob !stick to him, thats all. Well, sir, I says, I thinks I does have a notion of somet of the sort. If you sends your papers to Jobsons Tavern to- night, in the second lane twixt Barnaby Street and the Blue Anchor Road, over the water, why, Ill get ye as many hands to sign as you wants ! Thanks, friend, says the young broad-brim, 1 will attend to thine advice,so he bids us good day, and stepped into his door again. Bill, says I, as he went off, now I think on it, I cant help a notion Ive seen that chal?s face afore ! Very like, says Bill, tor the matter o that tis the same with methem broad-brims is so much of a piece ! But that ere fellow dont know nothing of ships, sure enough, or he wouldnt offer what he did, and the crimps houses all of a swarm with hands ! Take my word, mate, says I, its a paying trip, or he wouldnt do itleave a Quaker alone for that! Why, the chaps a arfitounster but I am blessed if he on J3 ooasstarched as if hed sat over a desk for twenty year ! Well, strike me lucky, mates all, if the whole affair warnt a complete trap! Down comes a clerk with the papers, sure enough but in ten minutes more the whole blessed lot of us was puckalowed, and hard an fast, by a strong press-gang. They put us into a cutter off Redriff Stairs, an the next noon all hands was aboard of the Pandora frigate at Sheerness. The first time of being mus- tered on deck, says Bill to me, Cuss my eyes, Bob, if there isnt the farnal Quaker I looked, and sees a midshipman in uniform like the rest, and so it was. The sly soft- sauderin beggar ! says I. All fair in war. and a press-mate ! says one o the frigates men. All the while I kept looking and look- ing at the midshipman; and at last I says to Bill when we got below, giving a slap to my thigh, Blessed if it aint! its the Green Hand himself! Green Hand ! says Bill, sulky enough, whos the Green Hand 3 Blow me Bob, if I dont think were the green hands ourselves, if thats what youre upon ! So I told him the story about Ned Collins. Well, says he, if a fellow was green as China rice, cuss me if the reefers mess wouldnt take it all out on him in a dozen watches. The softest thing I know, as you say, Bob, just now, its to come the smart hand when youre a lubber; but to sham green after that style, ye know, why, tis a mark or two above either you or I, messmate. So for my part, I forgives the young scamp, cause I ought to ha known better By the time the frigate got to sea, the story was blown over the whole maindeck many a good laugh it gave the different messes ; and B ill, the midshipman, and I, got the name of the Three Green Hands. One middle-watch, Mister Ned comes forard by the booms to me, and says he, Well, Bob Jacobs, you dont bear a grudge, I hope ! Why, says I, Mister Collins, twould be mutiny now, I fancy, you hem my officer ! so I gave a laugh; but I couldnt help feelin hurt a little, twas so like a son turnin against his father, as twere. Why, Bob, says he, did ye think me so green as not to know a seaman when I saw him 3 1 was afeared youd know me that time. Not I, sir, I answers: why, if we hadnt sailed so long in company, I wouldnt know ye now ! so master Ned gave me to understand it was all for old times he wanted to ship me in the same craft; but he knew my mishik- ing to the sarvice, though he said bed rather ha lost the whole haul of em nor myself. So many a yam we had together of a dark night, and or a couple of years we saw no small service in the Pandora. But if yed seen Ned the smartest reefer aboard, and the best liked by the men, in the fore-taupsi bunt in a gale, or over the maindeek hatch, with an enemys frigate to leeward, or on a spree ashore at Lisbon or Naples, you wouldnt ha said there was anything green in his eye, I warrant ye! He was made act- ing lieutenant of a prize he cut out near Chairboorg, before he passed examination; so he got me for prize bosun, and took her into Plymouth. Soon after that the war was ended, and all hands of the Pandora paid off. Master Ned got passed with flying colors, and confirmed lieutenant besides, but he had to wait for a ship. He made me say where Id be found, and we parted company for about a year. Well, I was come home from a short trip, and one day Leftenant Collins hunts me up I at Wapping Docks, where Id had myself I spliced, six years before, to Betsy Brown, an was laid up for a spell, havin seen a good deal of the sea. Ye must know the young leftenant was fell deep in love with a rich Indy Naboobs daughter, which had come over to take her back to the East ludgees. The old fellow was hard close-hauled against the match, notwithstanding of the young folks makin it all up; so hed taken out berths aboard of a large Companys ship, and bought over the captain on no account to let any kings navy man within the gang- ways, nor not a shoulder with a swab upon it, red or blue, beyond the ships company. But, above all, the old tyrant wouldnt have a blue-jacket, from stem to stain, if so be hed got nothing ado but talk sweet; I spose he fancied his girl was mad after the whole blessed cloth. The leftenant turns over this here log to me, and, says he, Ill follow her THE GREEN HAND. 23 to the worlds end, if need be, Bob, and cheat the old villain 3 Quite right too, sir, says I. Bob, says he, Ill tell ye what I wants you to do. Go you and enter for the Seringpatam at Blackwall, if youre for sea just now; Im goin for to scure my passage myself, an no doubt doorin the voyge some- thingli turn up to set all square; at any rate, Ill stand by for a rope to pull ! Why heres a go ! thinks I to myself: is Ned Collins got so green again, spite of all thats come an gone, for to thin the waves is a-goin to work wonders, or ould Neptune under the lines to play the parson and splice all ! Well, sir, I says, but dont you think the skipper will smoke your weather- roll, sir, at sea, as you did Bill Pikes an me, you know, sir 3 says I. Oh, Bob, my lad, says the leftenant, leave you that to me. The fellow most onlikest to a sailor on the Indymans poop will be me, and thats the way you11 know me Well, I did ship with the Seringpatam for Bombay. Plenty of passengers she had, but only clerks, naboobs, old half-pay fel- lows, and ladies, not to speak o children and nurses, black and white. She sailed without my seem Leftenant Collins, so I thought I was to hear no more on it. When the passengers began to muster on the poop, by the time we got out o Channel, I takes a look over the ladies, in coilin up the ropes aft, or at the wheel. I knowed the said girl at once by her good looks, and the old fel- low by his grumpy-yallow frontispiece. All on a sudden I takes note of a figger com- ing up from the cuddy, which I made out at once for my Master Ned, spite of his wig and a pair o high-heeled boots, as gave him the walk of a chap treading amongst eggs. When I hears him lisp out to. the skipper at the roundhouse if there was any fear of wind, twas all I could do to keep the juice in my cheek. Away he goes up to wind- ward, holding on by everything, to look over the bulwarks behind his sweetheart, givin me a glance over his shoulder. At night I see the two hold a sort of a collogue abaft the wheel, when I was on my trick at the helm. After a while there was a row got up amongst the passengers, with the old naboob and the skipper, to find out who it was that kept a singing every still night in the first watch, alongside of the ladies cab- in, under the poop. It couldnt be cleared up, howsever, who it was. All sorts o places they said it comed frommizen- chains, quarter-galleries, lower-deck ports, and davit-boats. But what put the old hunks most in a rage was, the songs was every one on em such as Rule Britannia, Bay of Biscay, Britannias Bulwarks, and All in the Downs. The captain was all at sea about it, and none of the men would say anything, for by all accounts twas the best pipe at a sea-song as was to be heard. For my part, I knowed pretty well what was afloat. One night a man comed forard from the wheel, after steering his dog-watch out, and Well Im blessed, mates, says he on the foksle, but that chap aft yonder with the ladyhes about the greenest hand Ive chanced to come across! What dye think I hears him say to old Yallowchops an hour agone 3 What was it, mate 3 I says. Says he, Do ye know, Sar Chawls, is the hoshun reely green at the linegreen ye know, Sar Chawls, reely green 3 No, sir, says the old na- boob, tis blue. Whoy, ye dont saay so! says the young chap, pullin a long face. Why, Jim, another hand drops in, thats the very chap as sings them first-rate sea-songs of a night! I seed him myself come out o the mizen-chains ! Hallo ! says another at this, then theres someat queer i the wind! I thought he gave rather a weather-look aloft, comm on deck i the morning! Ill bet a weeks grog the chaps desarted from the kings flag, mates ! Well, ye know, hereupon I could- nt do no less nor shove in my oar, so I takes word from all hands not to blow the gaff,* an then gives em the whole yarn to the very day, about the Green Handfor some- how or another, I was always a yarning sort of a customer. As soon as they heard it was a love consazn, not a man but swore to keep a stopper on his jaw; only, at findin out he was a leftenant in the Royal Navy, all hands was for touching hats when they went past. Howsever, things went on till wed crossed the line a good while; the leftenant was making his way with the girl at every chance. But as for the old fellow, I didnt see he was a fathom the nearer with him; though, as the naboob had never clapt eyes on him to know him like, twaint much matter before heaving in sight o port. The cap- tain of the Indyman was a rum old-fash- ioned codger, a or plain sailing and old waysI shouldnt say overmuch of a smart seaman. He read the sarvice every Sun- day, rigged the church an all that, if it was anything short of a reef-taupsl breeze. Twas queer enough, ye may think, to hear the old boy drawling out, As twas in the beginning, then, in the one key, Had aft the mainsheet, is now and ever shall be, Small pull with the weather- brace, Amen, Well the main- yard, The Lord be with you, Taupsl yard well ! As for the first orfi- cer, he was a dandy, know-nothing young blade as wanted to show off before the la- dies; and the second was afraid to call the nose on his face his own, except in his watch; the third was a good seaman, but ye may fancy the craft stood often a poor chance of being well handled. Twas one arternoon watch, off the west coast of Africay, as hot a day as I mind on, we lost the breeze with a s#ell, and just as * Let out the secret. 24 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. it got down smooth, land was made out, low upon the starboard bow, to the south-east. The captain was turned in sick below, and the first orflcer on deck. I was at the wheel, and I hears him say to the second how the land-breeze would come off at night. A little after, up comes Leftenant C6llins, in his black wig and his long-shore hat, an begins to squint over the sfarn to norwestard. Jacobs, my lad, whispers he to me, how dye like the looks o things 3 Not overmuch, sir, says I small enough sea-room for the sky there Up goes he to the first officer, aftcr a bit. Sir, says he, do ye notice how weve risen the land within the last hour and a half 3 No, sir, says the first mate what dye mean 3 Why, theres a cur- rent here, takin us inside the point, says he. Sir, says the Companys man, if I didnt know whats what, dye think Id lam it off a gentleman as is so confounded green 3 Theres nothing of the sort, he says. Look on the starboard quarter then, says the leftenant, at the man-o- war bird afloat yonder with its wings spread. Take three minutes look, says he. Well, the mate did take a minute or twos look through the mizen-shroud, and pretty blue he got, for the bird came abreast of the ship by that time. Now, says the leften- ant, dye think yed weather that there point two hours after this, if a gale come on trom the norwest, sir 3 Well, says the first mate, I daresay we shouldntbut what o that 3 Why, if youd cruised for six months off the coast of Africa, as Ive done, says the leftenant, youd think there was something ticklish about that white spot in the sky to norwest! But on top o that, the weather- glass is fell a good bit since four bells. Weather-glass ! the mate says, why, that dont matter much in respect of a gale, I fancy. Ye must understand, wea- ther-glasses want come so much in fashion at that time, except in the royal navy. Sir, says the mate again, mind your busi- ness, if youve got any, and Ill mind mine If 1 was you, the leftenant says, Id call the captain. Thank ye, says the mate call the captain for nothing ! Well, in an haur more the land was quite plain on the starboard bow, and the mate comes aft again to Leftenant Collins. The clouds was begin- ning to grow out of the clear sky astarn too. Why, sir, says the mate, Id no notion you was a seaman at all! What would you do yourself now, supposin the case you put a little ago 3 Well, sir, says~ Mr. C ol- lins, if youll do it, Ill tell ye at onee. At this point of old Jacks story, however, a cabin-boy came from aft, to say that the captain wanted him. The old seaman knock- ed the ashes out of his pipe, which he had smoked at intervals in short puffs, put it in his jacket-pocket, and got off fhe windlass end. Why, old ship ! said the man-o-wars-man, are ye goin to leave us in the lurch with a short yarn ? Cant help it, bo, said Old Jack; orders must be obeyed, ye know, and away he went. Well, mates, said one, what was the up-shot of it, if the yarns been overhauled already 3 I didnt hear it my- self. Blessed if I know, said several Old Jack didnt get the length last time hes got now. More luck ! said the man-o- wars-man; tis to be hoped hell finish it next time ! From Frasers Magazine for June. SOMETHING ABOUT A MURDER. FOUNDED ON FACT. A FAIR and gentle girl was Barbara Co- myn, the only daughter of one of the strictest and sternest old ministers that ever adhered to Calvin. Yet Mr. Comyn was thoroughly conscientious in all his views; and when he frowned, he did it not through love of frowning, but that he hoped, by gath- ering a cloud upon his brows, to bring down from those eyes upon which he frowned such showers of repentance as refresti and make green the soul sin-withered and sere from the harsh and hot suns of vice. He was, in truth, a worthy and good man; somewhat narrow of mind and bigoted of creed, it may be, but utterly incapable of committing an ungenerous or dishonorable action. Still, greatly as he loved his winsome daughter, much as he prized her for that dead womans sake, who, as long as she lay in his bosom, had brought him comfort, arid happiness, and honor, he was something over-harsh with her, niggardly in the bestowing of caresses, and liberal in the gift of unnecessary rebuke. Very severe, then, was his displeasure, when she confessed to him, with many blushes, that she loved her young Episcopalian kins- man, John Percival. The cousins had not been reared together, nor had they even met before the youth had passed his twenty-fifth, the girl her nine- teenth year. But we are not of the opinion that young peeple are the more prone to fall in love with each other for the being educated together in a sort of family domesticity. Such facts are contended for in fiction, but realities have convinced us that such things seldom happen; and if we ever have the for- tune to possess children of our own, and wish a son or daughter to wed a particular indi- vidual, we shall take good care, not only to conceal our intentions from them, but to keep the pair apart from all brother-and-sis- ter communism, until such time as each heart begins to have its natural craving for a con- genial spirit,when, in sooth, it looks for others than brothers and sisters to cling to. it is a very old, perhaps a very vulgar prov- erb, that familiarity breeds contempt ; and we assuredly think, that the constant fireside association of young folks, trained up together in bread-and-butter ease, is more apt to generate calm friendship than warm affection. if.

24 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. it got down smooth, land was made out, low upon the starboard bow, to the south-east. The captain was turned in sick below, and the first orflcer on deck. I was at the wheel, and I hears him say to the second how the land-breeze would come off at night. A little after, up comes Leftenant C6llins, in his black wig and his long-shore hat, an begins to squint over the sfarn to norwestard. Jacobs, my lad, whispers he to me, how dye like the looks o things 3 Not overmuch, sir, says I small enough sea-room for the sky there Up goes he to the first officer, aftcr a bit. Sir, says he, do ye notice how weve risen the land within the last hour and a half 3 No, sir, says the first mate what dye mean 3 Why, theres a cur- rent here, takin us inside the point, says he. Sir, says the Companys man, if I didnt know whats what, dye think Id lam it off a gentleman as is so confounded green 3 Theres nothing of the sort, he says. Look on the starboard quarter then, says the leftenant, at the man-o- war bird afloat yonder with its wings spread. Take three minutes look, says he. Well, the mate did take a minute or twos look through the mizen-shroud, and pretty blue he got, for the bird came abreast of the ship by that time. Now, says the leften- ant, dye think yed weather that there point two hours after this, if a gale come on trom the norwest, sir 3 Well, says the first mate, I daresay we shouldntbut what o that 3 Why, if youd cruised for six months off the coast of Africa, as Ive done, says the leftenant, youd think there was something ticklish about that white spot in the sky to norwest! But on top o that, the weather- glass is fell a good bit since four bells. Weather-glass ! the mate says, why, that dont matter much in respect of a gale, I fancy. Ye must understand, wea- ther-glasses want come so much in fashion at that time, except in the royal navy. Sir, says the mate again, mind your busi- ness, if youve got any, and Ill mind mine If 1 was you, the leftenant says, Id call the captain. Thank ye, says the mate call the captain for nothing ! Well, in an haur more the land was quite plain on the starboard bow, and the mate comes aft again to Leftenant Collins. The clouds was begin- ning to grow out of the clear sky astarn too. Why, sir, says the mate, Id no notion you was a seaman at all! What would you do yourself now, supposin the case you put a little ago 3 Well, sir, says~ Mr. C ol- lins, if youll do it, Ill tell ye at onee. At this point of old Jacks story, however, a cabin-boy came from aft, to say that the captain wanted him. The old seaman knock- ed the ashes out of his pipe, which he had smoked at intervals in short puffs, put it in his jacket-pocket, and got off fhe windlass end. Why, old ship ! said the man-o-wars-man, are ye goin to leave us in the lurch with a short yarn ? Cant help it, bo, said Old Jack; orders must be obeyed, ye know, and away he went. Well, mates, said one, what was the up-shot of it, if the yarns been overhauled already 3 I didnt hear it my- self. Blessed if I know, said several Old Jack didnt get the length last time hes got now. More luck ! said the man-o- wars-man; tis to be hoped hell finish it next time ! From Frasers Magazine for June. SOMETHING ABOUT A MURDER. FOUNDED ON FACT. A FAIR and gentle girl was Barbara Co- myn, the only daughter of one of the strictest and sternest old ministers that ever adhered to Calvin. Yet Mr. Comyn was thoroughly conscientious in all his views; and when he frowned, he did it not through love of frowning, but that he hoped, by gath- ering a cloud upon his brows, to bring down from those eyes upon which he frowned such showers of repentance as refresti and make green the soul sin-withered and sere from the harsh and hot suns of vice. He was, in truth, a worthy and good man; somewhat narrow of mind and bigoted of creed, it may be, but utterly incapable of committing an ungenerous or dishonorable action. Still, greatly as he loved his winsome daughter, much as he prized her for that dead womans sake, who, as long as she lay in his bosom, had brought him comfort, arid happiness, and honor, he was something over-harsh with her, niggardly in the bestowing of caresses, and liberal in the gift of unnecessary rebuke. Very severe, then, was his displeasure, when she confessed to him, with many blushes, that she loved her young Episcopalian kins- man, John Percival. The cousins had not been reared together, nor had they even met before the youth had passed his twenty-fifth, the girl her nine- teenth year. But we are not of the opinion that young peeple are the more prone to fall in love with each other for the being educated together in a sort of family domesticity. Such facts are contended for in fiction, but realities have convinced us that such things seldom happen; and if we ever have the for- tune to possess children of our own, and wish a son or daughter to wed a particular indi- vidual, we shall take good care, not only to conceal our intentions from them, but to keep the pair apart from all brother-and-sis- ter communism, until such time as each heart begins to have its natural craving for a con- genial spirit,when, in sooth, it looks for others than brothers and sisters to cling to. it is a very old, perhaps a very vulgar prov- erb, that familiarity breeds contempt ; and we assuredly think, that the constant fireside association of young folks, trained up together in bread-and-butter ease, is more apt to generate calm friendship than warm affection. if. SOMETHING ABOUT A MURDER. 25 But, as we have said, our cousins were situated out of the town of Aberdeen, in a brought up asunder; he in England, of retired strath or valley, full of hazels and which country his father was an eminent sloe-bushes, with the Dee running through physician lately deceased, who had be- them like a huge silver snake. Although queathed to his only son his professional abil- little more than half a mile from Aberdeen, ity, with ample means of commencing his and much nearer the church of which Mr. career in a handsome manner. When he Comyn was minister, the manse seemed as first came to Scotland to visit his mothers lonely and quiet as if thirty miles lay be- sister, he found her a corpse; and there, in tween it and a busy, populous town. Now, the house of mourning, the consoler of the though Mr. Bruce had hired a sleeping apart- motherless Barbara, he learnt to love her ment in the cottage of Mr. Comyns bellman, with a sincerity of affection to which she or sexton, which stood hard by the kirk, he fully responded. Great was his vexation and spent all his spare time with his friend at the surprise to receive a stern denial of his suit manse, where his meals were invariably from the minister, who, although he had taken; and in addition to the wonderful never testified any degree of partiality for amount of polemical palaver we have hinted his wif& s nephew, had, nevertheless, evinced at, a wonderful deal of whisky-toddy did the no dislike of him. But when respectfully worthy minister and his guest contrive to called upon to assign a reason for so unex- swallow in the heat of their arguments. pected a rejection, he briefly said, that no Many a time and oft did good, innocent Miss child of his should with his blessing wed any Henny Comyn declare, that when the shake- man who was not a strict Presbyterian; and hands hour arrived, Mr. Bruce, puir man, that, moreover, he had other views for his seemed to toddle aff to his cosie beddie at daughter. Nor were the tears of his child, Davy Bains marvellously fu o the spirit ! nor the intercession in their favor of his kind- True it was; but the ancient virgin guessed. hearted but timid old maiden sister, of any not in her guilelessness, that the spirit was effect. His obstinacy was not to be subdued, an evil one, and elicited by man and fire nor his will opposed; and~~e unrelenting from the unsuspecting barleycorn. preacher, who taught humility, love, and At last, as we have said, Mr. Comyn spoke concord from his pulpit, and who could pro- out his wishnay, his commandsthat Bar- duce not one sensibfe reason or thwarting bara should prepare to receive Mr. Bruce as the attachment of two amiable creatures, a bridegroom in six months thereafter. And concluded the soene by flying into a furious now Mr. Bruce himself, a shy and dour mart passion, in which he gave John Percival at other times, found courage one day, after clearly to understand, that he was no longer dinner, to express his love; so lie really an acceptable, or even permitted, guest. called it, and so we suppose must we, in our The young man left the manse immediate- extreme ignorance of the precise category of ly, and was not slow in quitting Scotland; nomenclature to which the feelings that ac- but love, which teaches many things, taught tuated him belonged. Honest man! bigoted the kinsfolk means of keeping up, though at and selfish as he was, he was neither cruel rare intervals, an epistolary communionso by nature nor cross-grained; and he was frequently the one sustaining prop of two even moved by the pathetic and uk avow- divided hearts! al which Barbara made to him state A year or more passed, finding them true of her heart. But, though touc I her to each other. Barbara refused several ex- tears, he understood them not, trea hem cellent proposals of marriage, nor did her but as the natural mawkishness o lish father persecute her with expressed wishes sentimentality; nor had her assuran~v~hat for her acceptance of any of them; until, at she could never love any one but her c6usin length, lie introduced to her one Mr. Bruce, a John, power to dissuade him from the pr 4 wealthy cloth-merchant from Glasgow. He cution of his suit. He was void of all deli- was a man of about fifty years of age, of a cacy of feeling, was neither hurt nor dis- well-favored and portly presence, and ac- pleased with her confessed partiality for an- counted a sure and somewhat sour follower of other, but satisfied himself by quoting, mis- Mr. Comyns favorite creed. Barbara had quoting, and utterly perverting Scripture, frequently heard her father speak highly of and concluded by assuring her that it was his Glas,,ow friend, but as no warning had her bounden duty to obey her father before prepared her, she was very far from dreaming marriageher husband after. He had no of the character he was about to perform in doubt she would be very happy as his wife, her presence; and, indeed, the wooing of the for he was rich, and a steady Presbyte- honest clothier was neither very active nor nan ! And with this declaration, threaten- oppressive but, alas, for all that, it was ing a return in six months to claim her steadfast and resolute. handwhich he had the audacity to kiss A wonderful deal of what they deemed he left her for his Glasgow warehouses. religious discussion was carried on betwixt In this dire dilemNna the poor lassie knew Mr. Bruce and the minister during the visit not what course to pursue. Her aunt, al- of the former at the manse, which, we have though kind, indulgent, and pitying her, (for omitted to state, (though for certain reasons in youth she had had experience of a blighted we do not intend to give it a name,) was affection, and no woman-heart, that is not nat- 26 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. urally sour, passes through such trial without becoming sweeter)was bound in complete serfdom to her brother, and was quite unable to suggest any means or likelihood of release; so Barbara wrote a full account of her pre- dicament to her lover. Not long afterward, so cleverly disguised by dress as to deceive even herself, Percival was again at Aber- deendetermined, should all other methods fail, to carry off his kinswoman on the very eve of the bridal; and many a twilight evening, when the minister sat over ~is books or took his after-dinner nap, did those two young creatures meet, unnoticed and un- suspected, on the banks of the Dee. But those meetings must soon end, for six months have passed, and Mr. Bruceonce more lodged in the house of Davy Bainis come to wed and take home his reluctant bride. One eveningit was cloudy and threatened foul weather, though the summer air was warm and surcharged with flower-scents John Percival betook himself as usual to the customary trysting-place. It was a thick copse of hazel past which ranheard but not seenthe river; which, where the shrubbery ended, formed a dark, deep pool, so garnished by overhanging nut-trees that it had acquired the name of the Nut-hole. Beyond this pool lay the road to the manse; but as the trees here ceased to offer concealment, the Nut- tree-hole became the limits to Percivals at- tendance on his cousin in her way home- ward The rustic seat in the centre of the coppice was still unoccupied, and he began to fear that something had transpired to pre- vent her from coming. It was no use to lis- ten for the sounds of her light, advan- cing footsteps; for the Dee made so loud and incessant a sough as it tumbled from the steep bank that helped to form the Nuthole, that it drowned all lesser sounds. He was, however, sooa made conscious that there were sounds which no sough of tum- bling waters could drown; for, on a sudden, neither remote nor suppresed, a fierce, a piti- ful cry, like that of one in some dread life- peril, struck upon his ears, succeeded by the brcakg asunder ofthe boughs of trees, and then a plunge in the watera heavy plunge, that made itself heard above the monotonous murmur of the falling flood. Astonished, almost alarmed, he rose, and was hastening through the thicket toward the Nut-hole, whence the noise had proceeded, when, as he was about to cross the track that led from the manse to the main road to Aberdeen, he beheld flying toward him a dark-mantled figure: he knew it at once. Her hands stretched toward him, her face ghastly with the death-white of intense horror, Barbara staggered toward him, and with a sharp, short gasp, as if she dreaded to give utterance to deep fear by a louder sound, she fainted at his very feet. He thought no more of the Nut-hole, or of what might have happened there, absorbed in his solicitude for his beloved cousin, but his endeavors to restore her to animation were fruitless. The manse lay not two hun- dred yards distant; so at such a juncture, regardless of what the consequences might be to himself, he bore her in his arms; and not without some difficulty, for the track was narrow and broken up, and the night had darkened with falling rain. He reached the house. Fortunately, there was no one in the parlor but Miss Henny; and the startled maiden, seeing a stranger bearing the body of her niece, would have screamed, had he not at once whispered his own name, briefly explained what had happened, and entreated her to befriend them. Gae awa, gae awa, laddie, said she, as she quickly brought some vinegar from the sideboard and bathed her nieces brow with the refreshing liquid. My brither maunna see you; nor, if I can help it, sall he know acht o this. Gae awa, Johnny dear; hell be back, belive. Shes beginning to revive. Ill get her to bed, and tell him shes too ill to attend prayers. God bless you, my am dawtie, whats a this 3 added she, kissing the brow of the girl, whose eyes opened to perceive the retiring form of her cousin. If Barbara Comyn revealed to her good aunt thd~ cause of her fright and consequent illness, it is very certain that Miss Henny kept the secret. Next morning, indeed, though with a wan face, Barbara appeared at prayers; and Mr. Comyn had concluded reading a portion of the Gospel, when a pa- per, falling out of the Bible, arrested his at- tention for a moment. Only for a moment, however; for, mentally supplicating forgive- ness for that involuntary wandering of his thoughts from the act of worship in which he was engaged, the good man knelt and prayed with fervor. This sacred duty terminated, they sat down to the breakfast-table, and then the minister slowly opened the paper, glanced over it, turned deadly pale, and ex- claimed, The great and good God be around us! Let not the delusions of Satan prevail, but keep from us the evil spirits that make us see things that are not What is the matter, brither 3 cried the wondering Miss Henny, whilst, as though chained to the table, Barbara neither moved nor spoke. Take this, woman, said he, in a tremu- lous voice, and read it to me, that I may be sure the same awful words that meet my sight also meet yours. And the astonished Henrietta, taking the paper, read what foHows: Last night, after leaving you, I was stopped by your sexton, my landlord, David Bain, who led me out of the highroad to the Nut-hole, under pretence of showing me a large salmon which he had hooked but could not land. He there felled me to the earth, robbed me, and hung my body into the river Dee. Pray for the soul of SIMON BRUcE. SOMETHING ABOUT A MURDER. 27 When the awe-struck Henrietta ceased, she found that Barbara had fainted; and the minister, in a whirl of distracting thoughts to which he was unaccustomed, ascribing his childs swoon to terror, p laced the ominous paper in the Bible, and determined to make known the whole mysterious case at once to Mr. Craigie, the chief magistrate of Aber- deen. Not for a single instant did Mr. Comyn suspect a hoax, or imagine the affair to be only t~e mischievous trick of some idler. Indeed, such was not likely; the times were superstitious, nor were there any persons connected or at variance with the family who were liable to be suspected of ha~ng played off such a foolish an~ wicked jest at the ex- pense of the minister, even if any motive for doing so had existed. The minister, there- fore, hastened up stairs to change his coat, leaving the Bible containing the document from the dead on the table; while his sister, finding her niece better, left her to see that her brothers best hat and gloves were ready. We wonder what Barbara is about mean- while. Presently Mr. Comyn returned to the par- br, and putting the Bible in his pocket, (for he dared not again look at the horrible piece of writing,) set off at a quick pace for the town. Nor, as he hurried on, did he give a passing glance at the track which diverged from the highroad toward the Nut-tree-hole. The magistrate was at home, and great in- deed was his amazement when he heard the ministers story; but lo! when Mr. Comyn, reverently taking the Bible from his pocket, opened it to show Mr. Craigie the note, written as he declared in the peculiar hand- writing of his friend, he found nothing where he had deposited it but a piece of blank pa- per, folded up in the same form, but utterly void. And then in truth the worthy magis- trate waxed somewhat wroth; at first accus- ing Mr. Comyn of being credulously duped by some pawkie servant who owed him a grudge, and ending by setting him down as clean daft, doited, and dazed by too mickle study, (and in his ire he had very nearly added, too much toddy.) But, as in no amicable frame of temper the gentlemen were about to quarrel downright, the magis- trate asking the minister what proof he could adduce of Mr. Bruces not being alive and merry, a seasonable and loud knocking at the street-door interrupted them; and pres- ently a servant entered to announce that a drowned man had been found in the Dee, and that his body had been brought to the door! With shaking limbs the minister followed Mr. Craigie down stairs to the lobby, now full of people. It appeared that some men employed in the salmon fisheries had, within the last hour, dragged their nets, in which they had discovered the corpse of a man whose skull had been literally smashed in twain by a violent blow. It was, in fact, the body of Mr. Bruce. Here, indeed, was confirmation strange of th& statement which the mysterious and missing document had contained and both Mr. Craigie and the minister, exchanging looks that expressed their mutual dismay, were sorely perplexed in their own minds how to account for these singular events. The body was reverently laid out in the halb whilst the magistrate, summoning some of his of- ficials, and accompanied by the clergyman and one or two of the fishermen, proceeded to the cottage of David Bain. The bellman was not at home, having gone, they said, to Mr. Comyns, to inquire about his lodger, Mr. Bruce, who had not come home to his bed the night before, as was customary. Strange glances passed between the audit- ors; but a sign from the magistrate imposed silence, and they departed, determining to survey the Nut-hole, near which, in the river, the body had been found in the nets, after which they had no doubt they would find the sexton at the manse. As they threaded the thicket of hazel, at some dis- tance from the pool, one of the salmon-fishers declared, that from a plot of white-thorn and bramble-bushes he had seen the eyes of a foumart or polecat glare out upon him; and in a low voice, directing the attention of a comrade to the spot, they both imagined they could detect the figure of a man crouching among the trailing shrubs. Whispering their suspicion to Mr. Craigie, he ordered the whole p arty to join quietly in a search, and follow him and the minister to the Nut-hole. Thither, then, the magistrate, attended only by Mr. Comyn, proceeded; and who, think ye, found they there 3 A young man, handsome and well-dressed, in the undisguised apparel of a gentleman, stood there, evidently unconscious of the ad- vancing twain. He held a stout, club-like stick in his hand, which he was examining intentlyfor it was covered with blood, now dried, and amidst which stuck clots of hair! As the gentlemen came suddenly upon him he started, and dropped the stick; whilst Mr. Comyn, staring at him in wonder, for, as we have said, all disguise had been discard- ed, exclaimed John Percival, is this you 3 A question which the young man could have answered in the affirmative with strict veracity, but for the assertion from the mag- istrate which followed it up. And you, sir, are the murderer of Mr. Bruce ! Good God! what do you mean 3 cried the horrified youth. That stick, which you have just dropped, is covered with blood, said Mr. Craigie; a foul murder has been committed, and we find you with the supposed instrument of that murder, near the very spot where there is ground to believe the act was perpetrated. A fearful pang shot through Percivals frame, but conscious innocence made it brief, 28 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. and with a calmness of demeanor which guilt never could have assumed, and gravely smil- ing, ho turned to his uncle saying You cannot believe that I am guilty ~ No, no, John ! answered the individual appealed to. God forbid that I should judge you wrongfully, but But, interrupted the magistrate, not only does it appear that you have slain a man, but that, desirous of fixing your guilt upon another, you have written a letter, falsely accusing an innocent person of that crime. Letter ! repeated Percival, Sir, I do not oven know what you mean. Mr. Comyn, asked the magistrate, this young manthe nephew of my lamented friend, your late wifepaid court, as I un- derstand, to your daughter, and was by her rejected ~ By me, sirby me, Mr. Craigie, an- swered the clergyman the lassie never re- jected him, but 1 did. And the murdered man, slowly pro- nounced the magistrate, was the betrothed husband of Miss Comyn ~? Percival started violently, uttering an ejaculation of horror and wonder, for at last he saw the inferences which Mr. Craigie seemed willing to draw from circumstances that certainly looked suspicious. As God is my judge, that is the truth, replied the minister, and I had forgotten all about it. Oh! John Percival, as you are the nephew of my beloved Mary, answer me with truth, and say that you are innocent of this heinous deed ! I am indeed innocent, my dear uncle, said the young man; nor did I know until this moment who the unfortunate man was, of-whose untimely death I am accused. Here he is, gentlemen; weve got him safe and sound! cried several voices; and dragging a wild and haggard-faced man, the fishers and officials of justice approached the trio who stood by the N ut-tree-hole. The Lord be our guide ! exclaimed Mr. Comyn, it is really David Bain ! and as the wretched sexton struggled to free himself from the arms that pinioned him, the minis- ter, prompted by a sudden impulse, advan- cing toward him, and looking steadily in his face, said David Bain, look not to deny your crime, but confess it, and implore your Makers pardon, even at this the eleventh hour. In my Bible, this morning, I found a l)aper, written by the spirit of him you murdered here last night, and charging you with the commission of the deed. At these strange words, which in our mod- ern times might have produced mirth, the guilty creature, losing all self-possession, ut- tered a loud cry, and pointing to the bloody cudgel which still lay at the magistrates feet. exclaimed I did it with that! I did it with that and fell back in a fit. It would be easy to lengthen out our histo- riette into one of circumstantial evidence, trial, condemnation, and ultimate discovery; hut we have preferred telling it as it really happened. On the person of David Bain were found a pocket- oo and purse, recog- nized as the property of the late Mr. Bruce, and containing bank-notes and bills to a con- siderable amount; the sight of which, in the possession of his lodger, had evoked the cu- pidity of the bell-man. He made a full con- fession, and in due time suffered the penalty due to his offence. Meanwhile the minister, in the thankfulness of his soul to find his nephew guiltless, embraced him tenderly, and freely permitted that courtship to pro- ceed between his daughter and him, which he had before so strenuously opposed. One circumstance still remained a mystery, undeveloped to all save Barbaras aunt, Per- cbval, and the worthy magistrate,by whose advice, indeed, it was concealed from the minister; who, to his dying day, confidently believed that the paper he had found in his Bible had been p laced there by supernatural interposition. But the hand of the dead had nothing to do with it, as we mean to explain. On the evening of the murder, Barbara Comyn sallied forth to meet her cousin, leav- ing Mr. Bruce and her father discussing punch and polemics. She was later than usual, and as she sped along, she became aware of the approach from Aberdeen of an individual, whom she could not avoid meeting if she pro- ceeded direct to the tryst. She therefore stole into a different track, thinking to make a circuit which would occuj~y the time the stranger might take in passing the copse of hazels; but, unfortunately (or fortunately, was it ~), she met a poor woman, the wife of a neighboring peasant, who was on her way to the manse to implore some black currant jelly for a child suffering from sore throat. The call of distress was never disregarded by Barbara, and she flew back to the manse, procured the jelly, and giving it to the woman, hastened amidst falling rain to the trysting-place. As she was about to round the point which hid the Nut-hole from view, she heard the sounds of struggling feet and wrestling arms; and, regardless of danger to herself in her fears for Percival, she forced her way through some bushes, and beheld two men, in no friendly embrace, staggering on the very verge of the ool. Before she - could look again the one ad fallen on thA4~ earth; and the other, with a desperate blow of his stick on the head of the prostrate man, uttered an oath in a voice whose peculiar - tones were well-known to Barbara, and in the twinkling of an eye shoved the wounded man over the bank into the Nut-tree hole! Her blood curdling with horror, Barbara found no voice, no strength, to speak or stir; but she became, so to speak, all eye; and as the murderer, swiftly cramming into his hat and pockets something which she could not define, rose up, and forgetful of the cudgel, M[SCELLANJES. 29 which lay blood-dabbled on the grass, rushed from the place where he had taken the bur- den of a deadly sin upon his soul, she saw his face, and rQcognized her fathers sexton- David Bain. In terror, that found no tongue, she reached her lover, and beuame insensible; nor was it till her recovery, when she found herself alone with her aunt, that she felt how important to her future life might be the events of that night. She resolved, ere yet she spoke one word in reply to the questions of her aunt, to ascribe her swoon to anything but the real cause; and it was, perhaps, well she so deter- mined, for she remembered that, in her flight from the fatal spot where she had witnessed the perpetration of so foul a deed, she had picked up a letter, which she had hid in her bosom, scarcely conscious of what she did, yet, perhaps, imperceptibly awarewith the foresight of inexplicable convictionsthat it might yet prove of essential service. When she retired to her chamber, and had got rid of Aunt Henny, she took the paper from its concealment, and saw that it was the empty cover of a letter addressed to Mr. Bruce, at the house of David Bain, Sexton ; and then the certainty struck her of the murdered man being her affianced husband. The character of David Bain was marked by extreme avarice, and Barbaras conclusions as to the instigating cause of the crime he had committed were easily formed. But what means could she pursue in order to convict guilt, without at the same time ren- dering her own appearance before a public court of justice necessary 3 from which she shrank nervously, since the cause of her pres- ence in such a spot, and at such an hour, must of course be revealed. A sudden thought struck herand, wild as it was, she put it into instant execution. She knew her fathers belief in supernatural agency, and trusted strongly to the effect such a document as that which she now prepared would have upon him. She wrote the note which Mr. Comyn discovered in the Bible, imitating Mr. Bruces hand, which was peculiar, as closely as she could; and then, when the minister left it therea circumstance which, though she did not foresee, rejoiced hershe sub- tracted it thence, uninterrupted and unsus- pected. But when it pleased the Almighty to make manifest the murderer by the means thus strangely suggested to her, she confessed the whole to the indulgent Henny and her lover, and by their advice took the magis- trate also into her confidence. We have nothing more to relate, but that Barbara Comyn and John Percival were soon after united by the worthy minister; whilst Miss Henny was as busy as a bee in prepara- tions for the wedding, and as happy in wit- nessing the happiness of others as if she had never known a care of her own. Tmn~ns has abandoned politics and history for the summer to visit England. [From Charles Mackays New Volume of Poems, Egeria, & c.] THE GARDEN GATE. Stand back, bewildering politics! Ive placed my fences round~ Pass on, with all your party tricks, Nor tread my holy ground. Stand backIm weary of your talk, Your squabbles, and your hate: You cannot enter in this walk Ive closed my garden gate. Stand back, ye thoughts of trade and pelf! I have a refuge here: I wish to commune with myself My mind is out of gear. These bowers are sacred to the page Of philosophic lore; Within these bounds no envies rage Ive shut my garden door. Stand back, Frivolity and Show, It is a day of Spring; I want to see my roses blow, And hear the blackbird sing. I wish to prune my apple-trees, And nail my peaches straight; Keep to the causeway, if you please Ive ehut my garden gate. I have no room for such as you, My house is somewhat small: Let Love come Isere, and Friendships true Ill give them welcome all; They will not scorn my household stufi Or criticize my store. Pass onthe world is wide enough Ive shut my garden door. Stand back, ye Pomps! and let me wear The liberty I feel. I have a coat at elbows bare I love its dishabille. Within these precincts let me rove, With Nature, free from state; There is no tinsel in the grove Ive shut my garden gate. What boots continual glare and strife? I cannot always climb; I would not struggle all my life I need a breathing time. Pass onIve sanctified these grounds To friendship, love, and lore: Ye cannot come within the bounds Ive shut the garden door. POETICAL COMPOsITIONIf metre and mel- ody be worth anything at all, let them be polished to perfection; let an author keep his piece nine years, or ninety and nine, till he has made it as musical as he canat least, as musical as his othcr performances. Not that we counsel dilatory and piecemeal com- position. The thought must be struck off in the passion of the moment; the sword-blade must go red-hot to the anvil, and be forged in a few seconds: true; but after the forg- ing, long and weary polishing and grinding must follow, before your sword-blade will cut. And melody is what makes poetry cut; what gives it its life, its power, its magic in- fluence, on the hearts of men. It must ring in their ears; it must have music in itself; it must appeal-to the senses as well as to the feelings, the imagination, the intellect: then, when it seizes at once on the whole man, on body, soul, and spirit, will it swell in the heart, and kindle in the eyes, and constrain him, he knows not why, to believe and to obeyFraser, for Juiie.

M[SCELLANJES. 29 which lay blood-dabbled on the grass, rushed from the place where he had taken the bur- den of a deadly sin upon his soul, she saw his face, and rQcognized her fathers sexton- David Bain. In terror, that found no tongue, she reached her lover, and beuame insensible; nor was it till her recovery, when she found herself alone with her aunt, that she felt how important to her future life might be the events of that night. She resolved, ere yet she spoke one word in reply to the questions of her aunt, to ascribe her swoon to anything but the real cause; and it was, perhaps, well she so deter- mined, for she remembered that, in her flight from the fatal spot where she had witnessed the perpetration of so foul a deed, she had picked up a letter, which she had hid in her bosom, scarcely conscious of what she did, yet, perhaps, imperceptibly awarewith the foresight of inexplicable convictionsthat it might yet prove of essential service. When she retired to her chamber, and had got rid of Aunt Henny, she took the paper from its concealment, and saw that it was the empty cover of a letter addressed to Mr. Bruce, at the house of David Bain, Sexton ; and then the certainty struck her of the murdered man being her affianced husband. The character of David Bain was marked by extreme avarice, and Barbaras conclusions as to the instigating cause of the crime he had committed were easily formed. But what means could she pursue in order to convict guilt, without at the same time ren- dering her own appearance before a public court of justice necessary 3 from which she shrank nervously, since the cause of her pres- ence in such a spot, and at such an hour, must of course be revealed. A sudden thought struck herand, wild as it was, she put it into instant execution. She knew her fathers belief in supernatural agency, and trusted strongly to the effect such a document as that which she now prepared would have upon him. She wrote the note which Mr. Comyn discovered in the Bible, imitating Mr. Bruces hand, which was peculiar, as closely as she could; and then, when the minister left it therea circumstance which, though she did not foresee, rejoiced hershe sub- tracted it thence, uninterrupted and unsus- pected. But when it pleased the Almighty to make manifest the murderer by the means thus strangely suggested to her, she confessed the whole to the indulgent Henny and her lover, and by their advice took the magis- trate also into her confidence. We have nothing more to relate, but that Barbara Comyn and John Percival were soon after united by the worthy minister; whilst Miss Henny was as busy as a bee in prepara- tions for the wedding, and as happy in wit- nessing the happiness of others as if she had never known a care of her own. Tmn~ns has abandoned politics and history for the summer to visit England. [From Charles Mackays New Volume of Poems, Egeria, & c.] THE GARDEN GATE. Stand back, bewildering politics! Ive placed my fences round~ Pass on, with all your party tricks, Nor tread my holy ground. Stand backIm weary of your talk, Your squabbles, and your hate: You cannot enter in this walk Ive closed my garden gate. Stand back, ye thoughts of trade and pelf! I have a refuge here: I wish to commune with myself My mind is out of gear. These bowers are sacred to the page Of philosophic lore; Within these bounds no envies rage Ive shut my garden door. Stand back, Frivolity and Show, It is a day of Spring; I want to see my roses blow, And hear the blackbird sing. I wish to prune my apple-trees, And nail my peaches straight; Keep to the causeway, if you please Ive ehut my garden gate. I have no room for such as you, My house is somewhat small: Let Love come Isere, and Friendships true Ill give them welcome all; They will not scorn my household stufi Or criticize my store. Pass onthe world is wide enough Ive shut my garden door. Stand back, ye Pomps! and let me wear The liberty I feel. I have a coat at elbows bare I love its dishabille. Within these precincts let me rove, With Nature, free from state; There is no tinsel in the grove Ive shut my garden gate. What boots continual glare and strife? I cannot always climb; I would not struggle all my life I need a breathing time. Pass onIve sanctified these grounds To friendship, love, and lore: Ye cannot come within the bounds Ive shut the garden door. POETICAL COMPOsITIONIf metre and mel- ody be worth anything at all, let them be polished to perfection; let an author keep his piece nine years, or ninety and nine, till he has made it as musical as he canat least, as musical as his othcr performances. Not that we counsel dilatory and piecemeal com- position. The thought must be struck off in the passion of the moment; the sword-blade must go red-hot to the anvil, and be forged in a few seconds: true; but after the forg- ing, long and weary polishing and grinding must follow, before your sword-blade will cut. And melody is what makes poetry cut; what gives it its life, its power, its magic in- fluence, on the hearts of men. It must ring in their ears; it must have music in itself; it must appeal-to the senses as well as to the feelings, the imagination, the intellect: then, when it seizes at once on the whole man, on body, soul, and spirit, will it swell in the heart, and kindle in the eyes, and constrain him, he knows not why, to believe and to obeyFraser, for Juiie.

M[SCELLANJES. 29 which lay blood-dabbled on the grass, rushed from the place where he had taken the bur- den of a deadly sin upon his soul, she saw his face, and rQcognized her fathers sexton- David Bain. In terror, that found no tongue, she reached her lover, and beuame insensible; nor was it till her recovery, when she found herself alone with her aunt, that she felt how important to her future life might be the events of that night. She resolved, ere yet she spoke one word in reply to the questions of her aunt, to ascribe her swoon to anything but the real cause; and it was, perhaps, well she so deter- mined, for she remembered that, in her flight from the fatal spot where she had witnessed the perpetration of so foul a deed, she had picked up a letter, which she had hid in her bosom, scarcely conscious of what she did, yet, perhaps, imperceptibly awarewith the foresight of inexplicable convictionsthat it might yet prove of essential service. When she retired to her chamber, and had got rid of Aunt Henny, she took the paper from its concealment, and saw that it was the empty cover of a letter addressed to Mr. Bruce, at the house of David Bain, Sexton ; and then the certainty struck her of the murdered man being her affianced husband. The character of David Bain was marked by extreme avarice, and Barbaras conclusions as to the instigating cause of the crime he had committed were easily formed. But what means could she pursue in order to convict guilt, without at the same time ren- dering her own appearance before a public court of justice necessary 3 from which she shrank nervously, since the cause of her pres- ence in such a spot, and at such an hour, must of course be revealed. A sudden thought struck herand, wild as it was, she put it into instant execution. She knew her fathers belief in supernatural agency, and trusted strongly to the effect such a document as that which she now prepared would have upon him. She wrote the note which Mr. Comyn discovered in the Bible, imitating Mr. Bruces hand, which was peculiar, as closely as she could; and then, when the minister left it therea circumstance which, though she did not foresee, rejoiced hershe sub- tracted it thence, uninterrupted and unsus- pected. But when it pleased the Almighty to make manifest the murderer by the means thus strangely suggested to her, she confessed the whole to the indulgent Henny and her lover, and by their advice took the magis- trate also into her confidence. We have nothing more to relate, but that Barbara Comyn and John Percival were soon after united by the worthy minister; whilst Miss Henny was as busy as a bee in prepara- tions for the wedding, and as happy in wit- nessing the happiness of others as if she had never known a care of her own. Tmn~ns has abandoned politics and history for the summer to visit England. [From Charles Mackays New Volume of Poems, Egeria, & c.] THE GARDEN GATE. Stand back, bewildering politics! Ive placed my fences round~ Pass on, with all your party tricks, Nor tread my holy ground. Stand backIm weary of your talk, Your squabbles, and your hate: You cannot enter in this walk Ive closed my garden gate. Stand back, ye thoughts of trade and pelf! I have a refuge here: I wish to commune with myself My mind is out of gear. These bowers are sacred to the page Of philosophic lore; Within these bounds no envies rage Ive shut my garden door. Stand back, Frivolity and Show, It is a day of Spring; I want to see my roses blow, And hear the blackbird sing. I wish to prune my apple-trees, And nail my peaches straight; Keep to the causeway, if you please Ive ehut my garden gate. I have no room for such as you, My house is somewhat small: Let Love come Isere, and Friendships true Ill give them welcome all; They will not scorn my household stufi Or criticize my store. Pass onthe world is wide enough Ive shut my garden door. Stand back, ye Pomps! and let me wear The liberty I feel. I have a coat at elbows bare I love its dishabille. Within these precincts let me rove, With Nature, free from state; There is no tinsel in the grove Ive shut my garden gate. What boots continual glare and strife? I cannot always climb; I would not struggle all my life I need a breathing time. Pass onIve sanctified these grounds To friendship, love, and lore: Ye cannot come within the bounds Ive shut the garden door. POETICAL COMPOsITIONIf metre and mel- ody be worth anything at all, let them be polished to perfection; let an author keep his piece nine years, or ninety and nine, till he has made it as musical as he canat least, as musical as his othcr performances. Not that we counsel dilatory and piecemeal com- position. The thought must be struck off in the passion of the moment; the sword-blade must go red-hot to the anvil, and be forged in a few seconds: true; but after the forg- ing, long and weary polishing and grinding must follow, before your sword-blade will cut. And melody is what makes poetry cut; what gives it its life, its power, its magic in- fluence, on the hearts of men. It must ring in their ears; it must have music in itself; it must appeal-to the senses as well as to the feelings, the imagination, the intellect: then, when it seizes at once on the whole man, on body, soul, and spirit, will it swell in the heart, and kindle in the eyes, and constrain him, he knows not why, to believe and to obeyFraser, for Juiie. 30 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. POETRY OF THE LAST AGE AND number of Fr a AN ARAB GAMEThe Arabs are far more ENT.A writer in the last a- musable, far more jovial and open-hearted. sers Magazine says well that, there is in They have their coffee-houses every night, periodicals and elsewhere, a vast amount of and their religions festivities periodically, really poetic imagery, of true and tender they play at all sortsof complicated games, feelin~ and cultivated ingenuity, scattered resembling draughts and chess, and find u an down in the form of verse. We have means ingeniously to vary their sports. If no new great poets, but very many small ones they compromise their dignity, they succeed layers, as it were, and seedlings from the in whiling away their leisure time far more lofty geniuses of the last generation, showing successfully than the pride-stuffed Levantine. in every line the influence of Scott, Shelley, One of their amusementscalled the game of Burns, Wordsworth, and their compeers, see- plaffis worth mentioning, especially as it is ing often farther than their masters saw, but not only indulged in by the vulgar, but dwarfs on giants shoulders. Not that we formed the chief deligl~t of the venerable complain of this. Elizabethan ages must be Moharrem Bey himseIf. Two men, often followed by Caroline ones; and our second with respectable gray beards, sit on a carpet Elizabethan galaxy is past; Tennyson alone at a little distance one from the other. All survives, in solitary greatness, a connecting Easterns are usually dry smokers; but on link between the poetry of the past and this occasion they manage to foment a plen- that of the future. in poetry, and in tiful supply of saliva, and the game simply many other things, ours is a Caroline age; consists in a series of attempts on the part of greater than the first one, as every modern the two opponents to spit on the tips of each cycle in a God-taught world, will be nobler, others noses. At first, this cleanly inter- richer, wiser than its ancient analogue; change of saliva goes on slowly and deliber- but still a merely Caroline agean age of atelySocrates never measured the leap of pedantries and imbecilities, of effete rulers, a flea with more seriousnessbut presently side by side with great nether powers, as one receives a dab in the eye, another in the yet unaceredited, anarchic, unconscious of mouth. They begin to grow hot and angry. their own laws and destiniesan age of form- I hit your nose, cries one. No, it was alisms and Pharisaisms, of parties embittered my cheek ! replied the other. They draw a by the sense of their own decrepitudean little nearer, in order to ascertain the truth a~e of small men, destined to be the fathers by feeling; spit, spit, they still go, like two o great ones. And in harmony with this, vicious old cats; their palates grow dry; we- have a~oetic school of Herberts and their throats become parched; but the con- Vaughans, ithers and Daniels, to be fol- test continues, and they exhaust themselves lowed hereafter, it may be, by a Milton, of in making spittoons of each others faces and whom as yet the age has given no sign. beards. Hamlet and Laertes were not more eager and desperate. A hit, a very palpable DEATH-BED SUPERsTITIONsThe practice hit! they exclaim, as they hawk up their of opening doors and boxes when a person last supply of ammunition. Each denies the dies is founded on the idea that the minister truth; they mutually proceed to a verifica- of purgatorial pains took the soul as it es- tion, and the game of plaff often ends in a caped from the body, and flattening it against regular match of nose-pulling. Two Years some closed door, (which alone would serve Residence in a Levantine Family. the purpose,) crammed it into the hinges and hinge openings; thus the soul in torment was A MARRIAGE IN AMERICAA respectable likely to be miserably pinched and squeezed farmer came in from some distance, and mar- by the movement on casual occasion of such ned the cook. The bridegroom was about door or lid. An open or swinging door frus- fifty, and the bride was thirty years of age. trated this, and the fiends had to try some The landlord and many of his boarders as- other locality. The friends of the departed sistcd at the ceremony, which was performed were at least assured that they were not in the evening, and those of the boarders who made the unconscious instruments of tortur- had not been present were invited in after- ing the departed in their daily occupations. ward by the bridegroom to partake of wine The superstition prevails in the north as well and cake. After all were charged, he gave as in the west of England; and a similar this sentiment, Friendship to all, love to a one exists in the south of Spain, where I have I few, and hatred to none. So systematically seen it practiced. Among the Jews at Gib- were matters managed, that next morning raltar there is also a strange custom when a the bridegroom was sitting in the stove at the death occurs in a house; and this consists in bar at seven oclock, and at half-past seven pouring away all the water contained in any breakfasted as usual at the public table, at vessel, the superstition being that the angel which, of course, his wife, the cook, did not of death may have washed his sword therein, appear, and in the afternoon the happy pair left for their home. When I asked the land- OLD authors notice the training of camels lord what the wife was like, he answered, to move in measured time by placing the She is as pretty as a picture, and straight animal on gradually heated plates, and at the as a candle.Sir J. Alexanders Acadie, same time sounding a musical instrument, just published. MISCELLANIES. Si ARABIAN NIGHTS ENTERTAINMENTS IN OUR OWN TIMEThe Arabs, who have among them most imaginative and finished improvi- satan, compare the elegant movements of a beautiful bride to those of a young camel. The Thousand and One Nights, like most clever fables, have some foundation in fact, as is well known to the friends of the Arabian man of rank, who keeps his professed story- teller as an indispensable part of his estab- nshment. African travelers relate that these friends will assemble before his tent, or on the platform with which the house of a Moorish Arab is roofed, and there listen night after night, to a consecutive history, related for sixty or even one hundred nights in succession. The listeners on such occa- sions have all the air of being spell-bound, especially while hearing some of their native songs, which are frequently extemporized, full of fire, and appealing with irresistible force to the passions. I have seen, says Major Denham, a circle of Arabs straining their eyes with a fixed attention at one mo- ment and bursting with loud laughter; at the next melting into tears and clasping their hands in all the ecstacy of grief and sym- pathy.Leavesfrom the Diary of a Naturalist. THE LAST ~ LEAF. The last years leaf, its time is brief Upon the beechen spray; The green bud springs, the young bird sings Old leaf, make room for May: Begone, fly away, a eroom for May. Oh, green bud smile on me awhile, Oh, young bird, let my stay What joy have we, old leaf, in thee? Make room, make room for May: Begone, fly away, Make room for May.Philip Taylor. DIVINATION BT THE BIBLE AND KEYThis superstition is very prevalent amongst the peasantry of this and adjoining parishes. When any article is suspected to have been stolen, a Bible is procured, and opened at the 1st chapter of Ruth; the stock of a street door key is then laid on the 16th verse of the above eha ter, the hand.Ie protruding from the edge ol? the Bible; and the key is secured in this position by a string, bound tightly round the book. The person who works the charm then places his two middle fingers under the handle of the key, and this keeps the Bible suspended. He then repeats in suc- cession the names of the parties suspected of theft; repeating at each name a portion of the verse on which the key is placed, com- mencing, Whither thou goest, I will go, & c .When the name of the guilty party is pronounced, the key turns off the fingers, the Bible falls to the ground, and the guilt of the party is determined. The belief of some of the more ignorant of the lower orders in this charm is unbounded. I have seen it prac- ticed in other counties, the key being laid over the 5th verse of the 19th chapter of Proverbs, instead of the 1st chapter of Ruth. Godalming, April, 1850.Notes and Queries. SIR ThoMAs MORES HoUsEHoLDThe con- duct of this great mans house was a model to all, and as near an approach to his own Utopia as might well be. Erasmus says, I should rather call his house a school or uni- versity of Christian religion, for there is none therein but readeth or studieth the liberal sciences; their special care is piety and vir- tue; there is no quarreling or intemperate words heard; none are seen idle; which household that worthy gentleman doth not govern, but with all courteous benevolence. The servant men abode on one side of the house, the women on the other, and met at prayer time or on Church festivals, when More would read and expound to them. Ho suffered no cards or dice, but gave each one his garden-plot for relaxation, or set them to sing or play music. He had an affection for all who truly served him, and his daugh- ters nurse is as affectionately mentioned in his letters when from home as they are them- selves. Thomas More sendeth greeting to his most dear daughters Margaret, Elizabeth and Cecily; and to Margaret Giggs as dear to him as if she were his own, are his words in one letter ; and his valued and trustworthy domestics a p pear in the family pictures of the family ~by Holbein. They requited his attachment by truest fidelity and love; and his daughter Margaeet, in her last passionate interview with her father on his way to the Tower, was succeeded by Margaret Giggs and a maid-servant, who embraced and kissed their condemned master, of whom he said after, it was homely but very lovingly done. Of these and other of his servants, Erasmus remarks, after Sir Thomas Mores death, none ever was touched with the least sus- picion of any evil fame.Mrs. Hall, in the Art Journal. THE PASSION PLAY IN BAVARIAThiS year, the foreign journals state, is the year ot the passion play of the Ammergau in Bavaria. The last re presentation took place in the month of July; the spectators were betwixt eight and nine thousand, collected in an open air theatre; the corps of actors, three hun- dred and fifty in number, some of them, says a French account, men and women as old as eighty years. The play, which was written in 1633, and which had been recently retouched, is in twelve acts and eleven entracts interspersed with tableaux. The repre~entation 7lasted from eight oclock in the nsorrsing, till four in the afternoon, was most elaboi~ntely prepared, and perfectly executed. At its close, the actors fell on their knees and recited prayers ~n which they thanked God that their perform- ance had succeeded so well. They were of the peasant class, and almost all belonged to the Ammergau. This same Ammer-valley says the Athenceum, lies in a most pictu- resque country, betwixt Munich and Inn- spruckon the road by the Lake of Starem- berg and Partenkirch. 32 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. AnBAssAnons.Holland, Germany,France, America, Spain, send forth their eminent lawyers, historians, merchants, jurists, and publicists, to fill embassies and conduct ne~o- tiations; while we content ourselves with recruiting our diplomatic corps from the younger branches of the aristocracy, or from the sons of men of wealth apeing the manners and travestying the mode of life of the grand seigneurs, who conceive themselves made of the porcelain of earth~s clay. The Schim- melpennicks, the De Serres, the Rushes, the Wheatons, the Clays, the Adamses, the Jef- fersons, the Rufus Kings, the Daniel Websters, the Dr. Bankses, have all been lawyers; the Washington Irvings, the Bancrofts, the Gui- zots, the Bunsens, the Niebuhrs, the Hum- boldts, the Ancillons, were men of letters before and during the period they continued ambassadorsFraser. M. GuIzoT has been compelled to sell at auction a portion of his valuable and extensive library, and a London paper describes some of the more remarkable books, and states the prices for which they were sold. Comte Auguste de Bastard, Peintures et Ornemens des Manuscrits Fran~ais depuis le huiti~me si~cle jusquii la fin du seizi~me, 20 parts, all at p resent published, in five portfolios, Paris, 18 35. This splendid work was described as the most sumptuous, unique, and costly book that has ever been produced. Each part contains eight plates, copied from the most superb examples known to exist; they are colored and finished with gold and silver equal to the exquisite originals; the whole series extends to 160 engravings in 20 livrai- sons, each of which was sold to subscribers only at 1,800f., amounting in the whole to 36,000f., or in our money to 1,5001. No per- fect copy of this production has been offered for sale in this country prior to the present time; it was sold for 2001. Voyage de la Corvette lAstrolabe pendant les Ann~es, 1826, 1827, 1828, 1829, sous le Commande- ment de Capitaine dUrville, containing copi- ous descriptions of all the objects in science and history met with on the voyage, the whole being illustrated by splendid engravings, 301.; Voyage Pittoresque et Romantique en Bre- tagne, one of the most magnificent and ex- tensive works ever published on the scenery and antiquities of any part of the world; the illustrations to this were executed in the most superb style of lithography; the stones were broken as soon as the plates were printed; 26l. 5s. Sin STRATFORD CANKING.ThiS eminent civilian and ambassador, whose former resi- dence in this country is remembered with ~o much pleasure by his friends here, is thus referred to in a series of papers on the Diplo- macy, Diplomatists, and Diplomatic Servants of England, now in course of publication in Frasers Magazine: Re who has been forty- three years in the public service, who com menced his duties as precis-writer in the Foreign Office in July 1807, and who, having served as Secretary of Embassy to the Porte, as Envoy to the Swiss Confederation, as Min- ister to the United States, as Plenipotentiary on a special mission to Russia, as Plenipoten- tiary on a special mission to Spain, and as Ambassador three times near the Sublime Porte, is now serving with credit and advan- tage in that very Stamboul whose towers and minarets he first saw in 1505. THE SEVEN-MILE TUNNEL THROUGH THE ALPsDr. Granville says: To give at once some idea of the boldness of Chev. Mons un- dertaking, we may, in the first place, state that in its progress the tunnel must pass under some of the most elevated crests of Mont Cenis,one, in particular, where there will be 4,850 feet of mountain, capped with eternal glaciers, over head, at the middle of the tunnel, so that not only will the workmen and machinery in construction, and the pas- sengers and trains in transit, be buried to that depth in the heart of the mountain, but all idea of shafts, either to facilitate excava- tion, or to promote ventilation, must be out of the question. The breath of life itself must be respired, from either extremity, with arti- ficial aid, in shape of currents of fresh air transmitted, and of foul air withdrawn, by mechanical apparatus ever at work, at least during excavation, which is also itself to be effected by machinery of a new and simple nature, worked by water-power of mountain streams whereby the trains are also to be run through the tunnel, which ascends, from the northern or Savoy side, at Modane, all the way to its exit at Bardonn~che, with a gra- dient equal to 19 in 1000. The machine, once presented to the rock, projects into it simultaneously four horizontal series of sixteen scalpels, working backward and forward, by means of springs cased in, and put in motion by the same water power. While these are at work, one vertical series on each side works simultaneously up and down, so that together they cut out four blocks, or rather insulate four blocks on all sides, except on the rock behind, from which they are afterward de- tached by hand. It has been already ascer- tained that each of the two machines, at the opposite ends of the tunnel, will excavate to the extent of 22 feet a day, and it is estimated that the whole excavation will be completed in four years. The gallery to be perforated by the machines will be 13 feet wide by 7 feet high, and this once cut through, the bore will be enlarged by ordinary means to 25 feet in width and 19 feet in height, and a double line of rails laid. The estimated cost of this great tunnel is only 13,504,942f. It is to be imme- diately comsnenced at the north entrance. MEDICINE has killed as many people as war. Powder and pills are as fatal as powder and ball. Be careful, therefore, how you allow people to shoot them into you.

INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY VoL I. NEW YORK, JULY 8,1850. No. 2. STUDIES OF THE TOWN. THE LORGNETTE, the cleverest book of its thies of all sensible people, in a little harmless 1 kind (we were about to write, since the days ridicule of the foibles of the day, withoOt citing qf Addison, but to avoid possible disagreement say) personal instance; and it will be vastly easier, in since IRvING and PAULDING gave us Salma- such Babylon as ours, to designate a virtue, with~ gwadi, is still coming before us at agreeable inter- out naming its possessor! Still, you know me too vals, and will soon be issued in a brace of volumes well, to believe that I shall be frightened out of illustrated by BARLEY. The Author keeps his free, or even caustic remark, by any critique of promises,,, in the following paragraphs some the papers, or by any dignified frown of the lite time ago: rary coteries of the city his LORUNETTE of It would be very idle to pretend, my dear mine will range very much as my whim directs. Fritz, that in printing my letters, I had not some In morals, it will aim to be correct; in religion, to hope of doing the public a trifling service. There be respectful; in literature, modest; in the arts, are errors which need only to be mentioned, to be attentive; in fashion, observing; in society, free: frowned upon; and there are virtues, which an in narrative, to be honest; in advice, to be sound; approvilig word, even of a stranger, will encourage. in satire, to be hearty; and in general character Both of these objects belong to my plan; yet my whatever may be the critical opinions of the small strictures shall not be personal, or invidious. It litt6rateurs, or the hints of fashionable patrons, to will be easy, surely, to carry with me the sympa- 1 be onlyitself.~ 34 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. TENNYSONS NEW POEM.* THE popularity of TENNYSON, in this coun- try as well as in England, is greater than that of any other contemporary who writes verses in our language. We by no means agree to the justness of the common appre- hension in this case. We think Bryant is a greater poet, and we might refer to others, at home and abroad, whom it delights us more to read. But it is unquestionable that Tenny- son is the favorite of the hour, and every new composition of his will therefore be looked for with the most lively interest. His last work, just reprinted by TICKNOR, REED & FIELDS, of Boston, is thus described in the London Spectator of June 8th: IN MEMORIAM. Although only these words appear on the title-page of this volume of poetry, it is well known to be from the pen of Alfred Tenny- son. It is also known that the inscription IN MEMORIAM A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII. refers to Mr. Arthur Hallam, a son of the historian. It may be gleaned from the book, that the deceased was betrothed to a sister of Tennyson, while the friendship on the poets part has passed the love of women. Teel- ing, especially in one whose vocation it is to express sentiments, is not, indeed, always to be measured by composition; since the earn- est artist turns everything to account, and when his theme is mournful it is ~his cu$e to make it as mournful as he caii: but when a thought continually mingles with casual ob- servation, or incident of daily life, or larger event that strikes attention, as though the memory of the past were ever coloring the present, and that over a period of seventeen years, it must be regarded as a singular in- stance of enduring friendship, as it has shown itself in a very singular literary form. There is nothing like it that we remember, except the sonnets of Petrarch; for books of sportive and ludicrous conceits are not to be received into the same category. The volume consists of one hundred and twenty-nine separate poems, numbered but not named, and which in the absence of a more specific designation may be called occa- sional; for though they generally bear a reference to the leading subject, In Memori- ~m, yet they are n~t connected with sufficient closeness to form a continuous piece. There is also an invocatory introduction, and a clos- ing marriage poem, written on the wedding of one of the writers sisters, which, strange as it may seem, serves again to introduce the memory of the departed. The intervening f oems are as various as a miscellaneous col- ection; but the remembrance of the dead ever mingles with the thought of the living. His birth-day, his death-day, the festive re- joicings of Christmastide and the New Year, ~Ia Memoriam. B~ Alfred Tensspson. 1 vol. l2mo. Boston: Ticknor, Reed & Fields. 1550. recall him; the scenes in which he was a companion, the house where he was a wel- come guest, the season when the lawyers va- cation gave him leisure for a long visit, re- vive him to the mii~d. The Danube, on whose banks he diedthe Severn, by whose banks he appears to have been buriednay, the points of the compassare associated with him. Sometimes the association is slighter still; and in a few pieces the allusion is so distant that it would not have been perceived without the clew. Such is the following (one of several poems) on the New Year. civ. Ring ont, wild bells, to the wild sky, Tue flying cloud, the frosty light: The year ss dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go Ring out the false, ring in the true. Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of 1~ich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind. Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife; Ring in thu nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws. Ring out the want, the care, the sin, The faithkss coldness of this times; Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, But ring the fuller irsinstrel in. Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good. Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man nod free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be. The following is of more direct beanng on the theme, and is moreover one of those charming pieces of domestic painting in which Tennyson excels. LXXXYII. Witch-elms that counterchange the floor Of this flat lawn with dusk and bright; And thou, with all thy breadth and height Of foliage, towering sycamore How often, hither wandering down, My Arthur found your shadows fair, And shook to all the liberal air The dust and din and steam of town: He brought an eye for all he saw; He mixt in all our simple sports; They pleased him, fresh from brawllug courts And dusky purliens of the law. o joy to him in this retreat, Immantled in ambrosial dark, To drink the cooler air, and mark The landscape winking through the heat: O sound to rout the brood of cares, The sweep of scythe in morning dew, The gust that round the garden flew, And tumbled half the mellowing pears! Obliss, when all in circle drawn About him, heart and ear were fed To hear him, as he lay and read The Tuscan poets on the lawn: Or in the all-golden afternoon A guest, or happy sister, sung, Or here she brought the harp and flung A ballad to the brightening moon: Nor less it pleased in livelier moods, Beyond the bounding hill to stray, And break the livelong summer day With banquet in the distant woods;

34 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. TENNYSONS NEW POEM.* THE popularity of TENNYSON, in this coun- try as well as in England, is greater than that of any other contemporary who writes verses in our language. We by no means agree to the justness of the common appre- hension in this case. We think Bryant is a greater poet, and we might refer to others, at home and abroad, whom it delights us more to read. But it is unquestionable that Tenny- son is the favorite of the hour, and every new composition of his will therefore be looked for with the most lively interest. His last work, just reprinted by TICKNOR, REED & FIELDS, of Boston, is thus described in the London Spectator of June 8th: IN MEMORIAM. Although only these words appear on the title-page of this volume of poetry, it is well known to be from the pen of Alfred Tenny- son. It is also known that the inscription IN MEMORIAM A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII. refers to Mr. Arthur Hallam, a son of the historian. It may be gleaned from the book, that the deceased was betrothed to a sister of Tennyson, while the friendship on the poets part has passed the love of women. Teel- ing, especially in one whose vocation it is to express sentiments, is not, indeed, always to be measured by composition; since the earn- est artist turns everything to account, and when his theme is mournful it is ~his cu$e to make it as mournful as he caii: but when a thought continually mingles with casual ob- servation, or incident of daily life, or larger event that strikes attention, as though the memory of the past were ever coloring the present, and that over a period of seventeen years, it must be regarded as a singular in- stance of enduring friendship, as it has shown itself in a very singular literary form. There is nothing like it that we remember, except the sonnets of Petrarch; for books of sportive and ludicrous conceits are not to be received into the same category. The volume consists of one hundred and twenty-nine separate poems, numbered but not named, and which in the absence of a more specific designation may be called occa- sional; for though they generally bear a reference to the leading subject, In Memori- ~m, yet they are n~t connected with sufficient closeness to form a continuous piece. There is also an invocatory introduction, and a clos- ing marriage poem, written on the wedding of one of the writers sisters, which, strange as it may seem, serves again to introduce the memory of the departed. The intervening f oems are as various as a miscellaneous col- ection; but the remembrance of the dead ever mingles with the thought of the living. His birth-day, his death-day, the festive re- joicings of Christmastide and the New Year, ~Ia Memoriam. B~ Alfred Tensspson. 1 vol. l2mo. Boston: Ticknor, Reed & Fields. 1550. recall him; the scenes in which he was a companion, the house where he was a wel- come guest, the season when the lawyers va- cation gave him leisure for a long visit, re- vive him to the mii~d. The Danube, on whose banks he diedthe Severn, by whose banks he appears to have been buriednay, the points of the compassare associated with him. Sometimes the association is slighter still; and in a few pieces the allusion is so distant that it would not have been perceived without the clew. Such is the following (one of several poems) on the New Year. civ. Ring ont, wild bells, to the wild sky, Tue flying cloud, the frosty light: The year ss dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year is going, let him go Ring out the false, ring in the true. Ring out the grief that saps the mind, For those that here we see no more; Ring out the feud of 1~ich and poor, Ring in redress to all mankind. Ring out a slowly dying cause, And ancient forms of party strife; Ring in thu nobler modes of life, With sweeter manners, purer laws. Ring out the want, the care, the sin, The faithkss coldness of this times; Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, But ring the fuller irsinstrel in. Ring out false pride in place and blood, The civic slander and the spite; Ring in the love of truth and right, Ring in the common love of good. Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; Ring out the thousand wars of old, Ring in the thousand years of peace. Ring in the valiant man nod free, The larger heart, the kindlier hand; Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be. The following is of more direct beanng on the theme, and is moreover one of those charming pieces of domestic painting in which Tennyson excels. LXXXYII. Witch-elms that counterchange the floor Of this flat lawn with dusk and bright; And thou, with all thy breadth and height Of foliage, towering sycamore How often, hither wandering down, My Arthur found your shadows fair, And shook to all the liberal air The dust and din and steam of town: He brought an eye for all he saw; He mixt in all our simple sports; They pleased him, fresh from brawllug courts And dusky purliens of the law. o joy to him in this retreat, Immantled in ambrosial dark, To drink the cooler air, and mark The landscape winking through the heat: O sound to rout the brood of cares, The sweep of scythe in morning dew, The gust that round the garden flew, And tumbled half the mellowing pears! Obliss, when all in circle drawn About him, heart and ear were fed To hear him, as he lay and read The Tuscan poets on the lawn: Or in the all-golden afternoon A guest, or happy sister, sung, Or here she brought the harp and flung A ballad to the brightening moon: Nor less it pleased in livelier moods, Beyond the bounding hill to stray, And break the livelong summer day With banquet in the distant woods; LEIGH HUNT. 3% Whereat we glanced from theme to theme, Discussd the books to love or hate, Or touchd the changes of the state, Or threaded some Socratic dream; But if I praised the busy town, He loved to rail against it still, For ground in yonder social mill We rub esch others angles down. And merge, he said, in form and loss The picturesque of man and man. We talkd: the stream beneath us ran, The wine-flask lying couchd in moss, Or ~old within the glooming wave; And last, returning from a far, Before the crimaon-c)rcled star Had fallen into her fathers grave. And brushing ankle-deep in flowers, We heard behind the woodbine vail The milk that bubbled in the pail, And buzzings of the honeyed hours. The volume is pervaded by a religious feeling, and an ardent aspiration for the ad- vancement of society,as may be gathered from our first quotation. These two senti- inents impart elevation, faith, and resigna- tion; so that memory, thought, and a chas- tened tenderness, generally predomiimte over deep grief. The grave character of the theme forbids much indulgence in conceits such as Tennyson sometimes falls into, and the exe- cution is more finished than his volumes always are: there are very few prosaic lines, and few instances of that excess of natural- ness which degenerates into the mawkish. The nature of the planwhich, after all, is substantially though not in form a set of sonnets on a single themeis favorable to those pictures of common landscape and of daily life, redeemed from triviality by genial feeling and a perception of the lurking beau- tiful, which are the authors distinguishing characteristic. The scheme, too, enables him appropriately to indulge in theological and metaphysical reflections; where he is not quite so excellent. Many of the pieces taken singly are happy examples of Tenny- son, though not perhaps the very happiest. As a whole, there is inevitably something of sameness in the work, and the subject is unequal to its long expansion; yet its nature is such, there is so much of looseness in the plan, that it might have been doubled or trebled without incongruity. It is one of those books which depend upon individual will and feeling, rather than upon a broad subject founded in natu1~e and tractable by the largest laws of art. I4ence, though not irrespective of laws, such works depend upon instinctive felicityfelicity in the choice of topics and the mode of execution, felicity both in doing and in leaving undone: this high and perfect excellence, perhaps, In Memoriam has not reached, though omission and revision might lead very close to it. ETHERIZATIONA writer in the Medical Times says, The day, perhaps, may not be far off, when we shall be able to suspend the sensibility of the nervous chords, without acting on the center of the nervous system, just as we are enabled to suspend circula- tion in an artery without acting on the heartY LEIGH HUNT. ONE of the most delightful books of the season will be The Autobiography of LEIGH HUNT, which is being reprinted by Harper & Brothers, and wil[ very soon be given to the American public in an edition of suitable elegance. The last great race of poets and literary men, observes a writer in the London Standard, is now rapidly vanish- ing from the scene: of the splendid constella- tion, in the midst of which Campbell, Scott, Coleridge, Wordsworth, Shelley, Southey, Crabbe, and Byron, were conspicuous, how few remain! Moore (rapidly declining), Rogers (upward of eighty), Professor Wilson, Montgomery, and Leigh Hunt, are nearly all. It is fitting that we prize these few, as the remnants of a magnificent group, which can- not be expected very soon to be repeated. Leigh Hunt has, for nearly half a century, occupied a prominent place in the public eye, as a politician of a peculiarly bold and de- cided stamp, when boldness was necessary for the utterance of the truth; and as a poet and prose-writer of a singularly-genial and amiable character. As the chief founder and critic of the Examiner, he would doubtless occupy a high place in literary history, but as the author of Rimini he is entitled to a more enduring and enviable fame. This will always stand at the head of his works: but his Indicator, his London Journal, his Jar of Honey, and others, abound with the illustrations of a most imaginative and cor- dial spirit. We are glad to possess a good autobio- graphyof Leigh Hunt. It is the first we have from a long list of celebrated men; and ive us such correct, discerning, and deightfu~ insights into their usual life and true characters. Hazlitt, Lamb, Shelley, Keats, Byron, and a crowd of others become familiar to us in these pages. It was in the Examiner that the first compositions of Shel- ley and Keats were introduced to the British public; and the friendship which Mr. Hunt maintained with those poets, till their deaths, casts a sunshine over that portion of his life, which is peculiarly charming. Perhaps the two points of this Autobiog- raphy which will most attract the attention of the reader are the authors imprisonment for a libel on the Prince Regent, and his visit to Italy. In that imprisonment of two years, he was visited by Byron, Moore, Brougham, Bentham, and several other emi- nent men. In the journey to Italy, which was undertaken in order to co~iperate with Byron and Shelley in bringing out of the Liberal, Hunt had the misfortune to be deprived of Shelleys friendship, by death, immediately on his arrival and of the friend- ship of Byron, through incompatibilities of taste, and the jealous officiousness of Byrons friends, amongst whom Moore bore a promi- nent part. Mr. Hunt published a volume on the subject soon after his return to Eng

LEIGH HUNT. 3% Whereat we glanced from theme to theme, Discussd the books to love or hate, Or touchd the changes of the state, Or threaded some Socratic dream; But if I praised the busy town, He loved to rail against it still, For ground in yonder social mill We rub esch others angles down. And merge, he said, in form and loss The picturesque of man and man. We talkd: the stream beneath us ran, The wine-flask lying couchd in moss, Or ~old within the glooming wave; And last, returning from a far, Before the crimaon-c)rcled star Had fallen into her fathers grave. And brushing ankle-deep in flowers, We heard behind the woodbine vail The milk that bubbled in the pail, And buzzings of the honeyed hours. The volume is pervaded by a religious feeling, and an ardent aspiration for the ad- vancement of society,as may be gathered from our first quotation. These two senti- inents impart elevation, faith, and resigna- tion; so that memory, thought, and a chas- tened tenderness, generally predomiimte over deep grief. The grave character of the theme forbids much indulgence in conceits such as Tennyson sometimes falls into, and the exe- cution is more finished than his volumes always are: there are very few prosaic lines, and few instances of that excess of natural- ness which degenerates into the mawkish. The nature of the planwhich, after all, is substantially though not in form a set of sonnets on a single themeis favorable to those pictures of common landscape and of daily life, redeemed from triviality by genial feeling and a perception of the lurking beau- tiful, which are the authors distinguishing characteristic. The scheme, too, enables him appropriately to indulge in theological and metaphysical reflections; where he is not quite so excellent. Many of the pieces taken singly are happy examples of Tenny- son, though not perhaps the very happiest. As a whole, there is inevitably something of sameness in the work, and the subject is unequal to its long expansion; yet its nature is such, there is so much of looseness in the plan, that it might have been doubled or trebled without incongruity. It is one of those books which depend upon individual will and feeling, rather than upon a broad subject founded in natu1~e and tractable by the largest laws of art. I4ence, though not irrespective of laws, such works depend upon instinctive felicityfelicity in the choice of topics and the mode of execution, felicity both in doing and in leaving undone: this high and perfect excellence, perhaps, In Memoriam has not reached, though omission and revision might lead very close to it. ETHERIZATIONA writer in the Medical Times says, The day, perhaps, may not be far off, when we shall be able to suspend the sensibility of the nervous chords, without acting on the center of the nervous system, just as we are enabled to suspend circula- tion in an artery without acting on the heartY LEIGH HUNT. ONE of the most delightful books of the season will be The Autobiography of LEIGH HUNT, which is being reprinted by Harper & Brothers, and wil[ very soon be given to the American public in an edition of suitable elegance. The last great race of poets and literary men, observes a writer in the London Standard, is now rapidly vanish- ing from the scene: of the splendid constella- tion, in the midst of which Campbell, Scott, Coleridge, Wordsworth, Shelley, Southey, Crabbe, and Byron, were conspicuous, how few remain! Moore (rapidly declining), Rogers (upward of eighty), Professor Wilson, Montgomery, and Leigh Hunt, are nearly all. It is fitting that we prize these few, as the remnants of a magnificent group, which can- not be expected very soon to be repeated. Leigh Hunt has, for nearly half a century, occupied a prominent place in the public eye, as a politician of a peculiarly bold and de- cided stamp, when boldness was necessary for the utterance of the truth; and as a poet and prose-writer of a singularly-genial and amiable character. As the chief founder and critic of the Examiner, he would doubtless occupy a high place in literary history, but as the author of Rimini he is entitled to a more enduring and enviable fame. This will always stand at the head of his works: but his Indicator, his London Journal, his Jar of Honey, and others, abound with the illustrations of a most imaginative and cor- dial spirit. We are glad to possess a good autobio- graphyof Leigh Hunt. It is the first we have from a long list of celebrated men; and ive us such correct, discerning, and deightfu~ insights into their usual life and true characters. Hazlitt, Lamb, Shelley, Keats, Byron, and a crowd of others become familiar to us in these pages. It was in the Examiner that the first compositions of Shel- ley and Keats were introduced to the British public; and the friendship which Mr. Hunt maintained with those poets, till their deaths, casts a sunshine over that portion of his life, which is peculiarly charming. Perhaps the two points of this Autobiog- raphy which will most attract the attention of the reader are the authors imprisonment for a libel on the Prince Regent, and his visit to Italy. In that imprisonment of two years, he was visited by Byron, Moore, Brougham, Bentham, and several other emi- nent men. In the journey to Italy, which was undertaken in order to co~iperate with Byron and Shelley in bringing out of the Liberal, Hunt had the misfortune to be deprived of Shelleys friendship, by death, immediately on his arrival and of the friend- ship of Byron, through incompatibilities of taste, and the jealous officiousness of Byrons friends, amongst whom Moore bore a promi- nent part. Mr. Hunt published a volume on the subject soon after his return to Eng 38 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. land, which occasioned him a great deal of ill- will. To this publication he now refers with expressions of much regret, and with the calm- ness which has been produced by time. But it cannot be denied that he endured most mortifying and irritating provocations, which never could have taken p lace had Shelley lived. We are ~lad t a e has had an op- portunity of leaving a generous and forgiving record of this remarkable portion of his life: and certainly nothing can bemore delightful than his present account of it The greatest comfort I experienced,~) he says, in Italy was living in the same neighborhood, and thinking, as I went about, of Boccaccio. Boc- ~ father had a house at Maiano, supposed to have been situated at the Fiesolan extremity of the hamlet. That merry-hearted writer was so fond of the place that he has not only laid the two scenes of the Decameron~ on each side of it, with the valley which his company resorted to in the middle, but has made the two little streams which embrace Maiano, the Aifrico and the Men- sola, the hero and the heroine of his Nimphale ~ The scene of another of his works is on the banks of the Margnone, a river a little dis- tant; and the Dacameron is full of the neigh- boring villages. Out of the windows of one side of our house we saw the turret of the Villa Ghe- rardi, to which, according to his biographers, his joyous company~ resorted in the first instance. A house belonging to the Macchiavelli was near, a little to the left; and farther to the left, among the blue hills, was the white village, Settignano; where Michael Angelo was born. The house is still in possession of the family. From our win- dows on the other side we saw, close to us, the Fiesole of antiquity and of Milton, the site of the Boccaccio.house before mentioned; still closer, the ~ Valley of Ladies at our feet; and we looked over toward the quarter of the Mignone and of a house of Dante, and in the distance beheld the mountains of Pistria. Lastly, from the terrace in front, Florence lay clear and cathedraled before us, with the scene of Redis Bacchus rising on the other side of it, and the villa of Arcetri, famous for Galileo. Hazlitt, who came to see me there, beheld the scene around us with the admiration natural to a lover of old folios and great names, and confessed, in the language of Burns, that it was a sight to enrich the eyes. My daily walk was to Fiesole, through a path skirted with wild myrtle and cyclamen; and I stopped at the door of the Doccia, and sate on the pretty melancholy platform behind it, reading, or looking down to Florence. This is all very charming, yet hear what the author says further Some people, when they return from Italy, say it has no wood, and some a great deal. The fact is, that many parts of it, Tuscany included, has no wood to speak of: it wants larger trees in- terspersed with the small ones, in the manner of our hedge-row elms. A tree of a reasonable height is a god-send. The olives are low and hazy-looking, like dry sallows. You have plenty of these; but to an Englishman, looking from a height, they appear little better than brushwood. Then there are no meadows, no proper green lanes, no paths leading over field and stile, no hay- in June; nothing of that luxurious combina- tion of green and russet, of grass, wild flowers, and woods, over which a lover of nature can stroll for hours, with a foot as fresh as the stag~s; tin mixed with chalk-dust, and an eternal public path, and able to lie down, if he will, and sleep in clover. In shortsaving, alas! a finer sky and a drier atmospherewe have the best part of Italy in books; and this we can enjoy in England. Give me Tuscany in Middlesex or Berkshire, and the Valley of Lad ies between Jack Straws Castle and Harrow.... To me, Italy had a certain hard taste in the mouth: its mountains were too bare, its outlines too sharp, its lanes too stony, its voices too loud, its long summer too dusty. I longed to bathe myself in the grassy balm of my native fields. As a whole these volumes are full of inter- est and variety. They introduce us to nu- merous famous people, and leave us with a most agreeable impression of their author. THE MORMONS. THOMAS L. KANE, of Philadelphia, dis- tinguished himself very honorably a year or two ago by the vindication of the Mormons against calumnies to which they had been subjected in the Western States, and by ap- peals for their relief from the sufferings in- duced by unlooked-for exposure in their exodus to California. We are indebted to him for an interesting discourse upon the subject, delivered before the Historical Society of Pennsylvania. He concludes this perform- ance with the following observations, which we believe to be altogether just. Mr. KANE is a man of sagacity and integrity, and his opportunities for the formation of a wise opinion upon this subject were such as very few have possessed: I have gone over the work I assigned myself when I accepted your Committees invitation as fully as I could do without trespassing too largely upon your courteous patience. But I should do wrong to conclude my lecture without declaring in succinct and definite terms, the opinions I ha~ formed and entertain of the Mormon people. Ti~.i libels, of which they have been made the subject, make this a simple act of justice. Perhaps, too, my opinion, even with those who know me as you do, will better answer its end following after the narrative I ha given. I have spoken to you of a people; whose in- dustry had made them rich, and gathered around them all the comforts, and not a few of the luxu- ries of refined life; expelled by lawless force into the wilderness; seeking an untried home far away from the scenes which their previous life had en- deared to them; moving onward, destitute, hun- ger-sickened, and sinking with disease; bearing along with them their wives and children, the aged, and the poor, and the decrepid; renewing daily on their march, the offices of devotion, the ties of family, and friendship, and charity; sharing necessities, and braving dangers together, cheerful in the midst of want and trial, and persevering until they triumphed. I have told, or tried to tell you, of men, who when menaced by famine, and in the midst of pestilence, with every energy taxed by the urgency of the hour, were building roads and bridges, laying out villages, and planting corn- fields, for the stranger who might come after them, their kinsman only by a common humanity, and perddventure a common suffering,of men, who have renewed their prosperity in the homes they

38 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. land, which occasioned him a great deal of ill- will. To this publication he now refers with expressions of much regret, and with the calm- ness which has been produced by time. But it cannot be denied that he endured most mortifying and irritating provocations, which never could have taken p lace had Shelley lived. We are ~lad t a e has had an op- portunity of leaving a generous and forgiving record of this remarkable portion of his life: and certainly nothing can bemore delightful than his present account of it The greatest comfort I experienced,~) he says, in Italy was living in the same neighborhood, and thinking, as I went about, of Boccaccio. Boc- ~ father had a house at Maiano, supposed to have been situated at the Fiesolan extremity of the hamlet. That merry-hearted writer was so fond of the place that he has not only laid the two scenes of the Decameron~ on each side of it, with the valley which his company resorted to in the middle, but has made the two little streams which embrace Maiano, the Aifrico and the Men- sola, the hero and the heroine of his Nimphale ~ The scene of another of his works is on the banks of the Margnone, a river a little dis- tant; and the Dacameron is full of the neigh- boring villages. Out of the windows of one side of our house we saw the turret of the Villa Ghe- rardi, to which, according to his biographers, his joyous company~ resorted in the first instance. A house belonging to the Macchiavelli was near, a little to the left; and farther to the left, among the blue hills, was the white village, Settignano; where Michael Angelo was born. The house is still in possession of the family. From our win- dows on the other side we saw, close to us, the Fiesole of antiquity and of Milton, the site of the Boccaccio.house before mentioned; still closer, the ~ Valley of Ladies at our feet; and we looked over toward the quarter of the Mignone and of a house of Dante, and in the distance beheld the mountains of Pistria. Lastly, from the terrace in front, Florence lay clear and cathedraled before us, with the scene of Redis Bacchus rising on the other side of it, and the villa of Arcetri, famous for Galileo. Hazlitt, who came to see me there, beheld the scene around us with the admiration natural to a lover of old folios and great names, and confessed, in the language of Burns, that it was a sight to enrich the eyes. My daily walk was to Fiesole, through a path skirted with wild myrtle and cyclamen; and I stopped at the door of the Doccia, and sate on the pretty melancholy platform behind it, reading, or looking down to Florence. This is all very charming, yet hear what the author says further Some people, when they return from Italy, say it has no wood, and some a great deal. The fact is, that many parts of it, Tuscany included, has no wood to speak of: it wants larger trees in- terspersed with the small ones, in the manner of our hedge-row elms. A tree of a reasonable height is a god-send. The olives are low and hazy-looking, like dry sallows. You have plenty of these; but to an Englishman, looking from a height, they appear little better than brushwood. Then there are no meadows, no proper green lanes, no paths leading over field and stile, no hay- in June; nothing of that luxurious combina- tion of green and russet, of grass, wild flowers, and woods, over which a lover of nature can stroll for hours, with a foot as fresh as the stag~s; tin mixed with chalk-dust, and an eternal public path, and able to lie down, if he will, and sleep in clover. In shortsaving, alas! a finer sky and a drier atmospherewe have the best part of Italy in books; and this we can enjoy in England. Give me Tuscany in Middlesex or Berkshire, and the Valley of Lad ies between Jack Straws Castle and Harrow.... To me, Italy had a certain hard taste in the mouth: its mountains were too bare, its outlines too sharp, its lanes too stony, its voices too loud, its long summer too dusty. I longed to bathe myself in the grassy balm of my native fields. As a whole these volumes are full of inter- est and variety. They introduce us to nu- merous famous people, and leave us with a most agreeable impression of their author. THE MORMONS. THOMAS L. KANE, of Philadelphia, dis- tinguished himself very honorably a year or two ago by the vindication of the Mormons against calumnies to which they had been subjected in the Western States, and by ap- peals for their relief from the sufferings in- duced by unlooked-for exposure in their exodus to California. We are indebted to him for an interesting discourse upon the subject, delivered before the Historical Society of Pennsylvania. He concludes this perform- ance with the following observations, which we believe to be altogether just. Mr. KANE is a man of sagacity and integrity, and his opportunities for the formation of a wise opinion upon this subject were such as very few have possessed: I have gone over the work I assigned myself when I accepted your Committees invitation as fully as I could do without trespassing too largely upon your courteous patience. But I should do wrong to conclude my lecture without declaring in succinct and definite terms, the opinions I ha~ formed and entertain of the Mormon people. Ti~.i libels, of which they have been made the subject, make this a simple act of justice. Perhaps, too, my opinion, even with those who know me as you do, will better answer its end following after the narrative I ha given. I have spoken to you of a people; whose in- dustry had made them rich, and gathered around them all the comforts, and not a few of the luxu- ries of refined life; expelled by lawless force into the wilderness; seeking an untried home far away from the scenes which their previous life had en- deared to them; moving onward, destitute, hun- ger-sickened, and sinking with disease; bearing along with them their wives and children, the aged, and the poor, and the decrepid; renewing daily on their march, the offices of devotion, the ties of family, and friendship, and charity; sharing necessities, and braving dangers together, cheerful in the midst of want and trial, and persevering until they triumphed. I have told, or tried to tell you, of men, who when menaced by famine, and in the midst of pestilence, with every energy taxed by the urgency of the hour, were building roads and bridges, laying out villages, and planting corn- fields, for the stranger who might come after them, their kinsman only by a common humanity, and perddventure a common suffering,of men, who have renewed their prosperity in the homes they BRIDES FAREWELLRAMBLES IN THE PENINSULA. 37 have founded in the desert,and who, in their new built city, walled round by mountains like a fortress, are extending pious hospitalities to the destitute emigrants from our frontier linesof men who, far removed from the restraints of law, obeyed it from choice, or found in the recesses of their religion, something not inconsistent with human laws, but far more controlling; and who are now soliciting from the government of the United States, not indemnity,for the appeal would be hopeless, and they kno~v itnot pro- tection, for they now have no need of it,but that identity of political institutions and that commu- nity of laws with the rest of us, which was con- fessedly their birthright when they were driven beyond our borders. I said I would give you the opinion I formed of the Mormons: you may deduce it for your- selves from these facts. But I will add that I have not yet heard the single charge against them as a community, against their habitual purity of life, their integrity of dealing, their toleration of religious differences in opinion, their regard for the laws, or their devotion to the constitutional government under which we live that I do not from my own observation, or the testimony of others, know to be unfounded. 4~tigrnn1__~ndr~. THE BRIDES REVERIE. BY MRS. H. E. HEWITT. LONELY to-night, oh, loved one! is our dwelling, And tone and wearily hath gone the day; For thou, whose presence like a flood is swelling With joy my life-tidethou art far away. And wearily for me wilt go the morrow, While for thy voice, thy smite, I vainly yearn; Oh, from fond thought some comfort I will borrow, To wile away the hours till thou return! I will remember that first, sweet revealing Wherewith thy love oer my tranced being stole; I, like the Pythoness enraptured, feeling The god divine pervading all my soul. I wilt remember each fond aspiration In secret mingled with thy cherished name, Till from thy lips, in wildering modulation, Those words of ecstasy I love thee ! came. And I will think of all our blest communing, And all thy low-breathed words of tenderness; Thy voice to me its melody attuning Till every tone seemed fraught wsth a caress. And feel thee near me, while in thought repeating Tue treasured memories thou alone dost share Hark! with hushed breath and pulses wildly besting I hear thy footstep bounding oer the stair! And I no longer to my heart am telling The weary weight of loneliness it bore; For thou, whose love makes heaven within our dwelling, Thou art returned, and all is joy once more. TO - By Mrs. R. B. K. Ohs how I loved thee! how I blessed the hour, When first thy lips, wakssing my trusting heart, Like some soft southern gale upon a flower, Into a blooming hope, murmured we neer will partY Never to part! alas! the lingering sound rlsro the sad echoes ofp ale Memorys cave, Startles once more the hope my young soul found, Into bright hues, but, only for the grave Must we then part! ab, till this heavy hour, - Fraught with the leaden weight of sorrowsng years, I could have stemmed griefs tide like some light shower, Where shows a rainbow hope to quell all idle fears. But the dim phantoms of oershadowed pleasures, Gleaming thin gathering mists that cloud my heart, Lend but a transleul. ray, those fragile treasures And heavier darkuesa falls to gloom the thought We JUNE 22, iSM. [part ! ~1)vigina1 fnrrrq~nnbrnrr. RAMBLES IN THE PENINSULA. NO. II. GRENADA, May 26, 1850. MY DEAR FRIENDMy companion, Mr. Ronalds, left this morning in the dili- gence for Madrid, and I am, therefore, for the first time since I have been in Europe alone the only citizen of the United States at present in this ancient Moorish city: alone, I may almost say, in the midst of paradise. Yet the beauties of nature will not compen- sate for the solitude of the heart, which is continually yearning after sympathy; we wish for something beyond the pleasures of the eye, and I would that you were with me. I would take you up to the Albambra, and descant to you for hours upon its perfections and its romantic history. To rue this won- drous pile has become flimiliar; I have seen it at all hours of the day, and have visited it in the enchantment of moonlight; and never will pass from my memory the pleasant hours I have spent within its sacred precincts; I shall remember them and those who shared them with meforever. A few days since we made up a party and rode out to the fa- mous town of ~ianta Fe, in the delightful Vega, about eight miles away. We were all dressed in the gay costume of Andalusia, and presented, as you may imagine, a pictur- esque appearance; my companions were lively fellows, and we had a great deal of sport on the way. Santa Fe 15 now a dilapidated place, but its associations make it well deserv- ing a visit. It was built by Ferdinand, dur- ing the memorable siege of Grenada; it was here that Boabdil signed the capitulation of his city; and it was from this scot, too, that Columbus was dispatched on his mission of discovering a new world. The rich and fer- tile Vega, as we rode with the speed of the wind over it, seemed to me like a fairy land so luxuriant the vegetationso rich the meadows and fields of waving grainso ex- quisite the variety of cottages, and villages, and groves, dotting so vast a p lainso pure and transparent the atmosphere, that the most distant objects are as clearly defined as those nearest us. Imagine so lovely a land- scapethirty miles in length by twenty-five in width, surrounded by tremendous moun- tains,those of the Sierra Nevada, rising back of Grenada to the height of thirteen thousand feet above the level of the sea, their summits covered by a dazzling mantle of snow: imagine this, and you will have some faint idea of this beautiful Eden of Spain. It is worth a long pilgrimage to gaze but for one moment upon it, particularly from the Torre de la a o the Alhambra, whence I have beheld it, both in the bright, gay sunshine, and through the solemnly beautiful night, illumined by the stars and moon. The walks and gardens of Grenada are ex

BRIDES FAREWELLRAMBLES IN THE PENINSULA. 37 have founded in the desert,and who, in their new built city, walled round by mountains like a fortress, are extending pious hospitalities to the destitute emigrants from our frontier linesof men who, far removed from the restraints of law, obeyed it from choice, or found in the recesses of their religion, something not inconsistent with human laws, but far more controlling; and who are now soliciting from the government of the United States, not indemnity,for the appeal would be hopeless, and they kno~v itnot pro- tection, for they now have no need of it,but that identity of political institutions and that commu- nity of laws with the rest of us, which was con- fessedly their birthright when they were driven beyond our borders. I said I would give you the opinion I formed of the Mormons: you may deduce it for your- selves from these facts. But I will add that I have not yet heard the single charge against them as a community, against their habitual purity of life, their integrity of dealing, their toleration of religious differences in opinion, their regard for the laws, or their devotion to the constitutional government under which we live that I do not from my own observation, or the testimony of others, know to be unfounded. 4~tigrnn1__~ndr~. THE BRIDES REVERIE. BY MRS. H. E. HEWITT. LONELY to-night, oh, loved one! is our dwelling, And tone and wearily hath gone the day; For thou, whose presence like a flood is swelling With joy my life-tidethou art far away. And wearily for me wilt go the morrow, While for thy voice, thy smite, I vainly yearn; Oh, from fond thought some comfort I will borrow, To wile away the hours till thou return! I will remember that first, sweet revealing Wherewith thy love oer my tranced being stole; I, like the Pythoness enraptured, feeling The god divine pervading all my soul. I wilt remember each fond aspiration In secret mingled with thy cherished name, Till from thy lips, in wildering modulation, Those words of ecstasy I love thee ! came. And I will think of all our blest communing, And all thy low-breathed words of tenderness; Thy voice to me its melody attuning Till every tone seemed fraught wsth a caress. And feel thee near me, while in thought repeating Tue treasured memories thou alone dost share Hark! with hushed breath and pulses wildly besting I hear thy footstep bounding oer the stair! And I no longer to my heart am telling The weary weight of loneliness it bore; For thou, whose love makes heaven within our dwelling, Thou art returned, and all is joy once more. TO - By Mrs. R. B. K. Ohs how I loved thee! how I blessed the hour, When first thy lips, wakssing my trusting heart, Like some soft southern gale upon a flower, Into a blooming hope, murmured we neer will partY Never to part! alas! the lingering sound rlsro the sad echoes ofp ale Memorys cave, Startles once more the hope my young soul found, Into bright hues, but, only for the grave Must we then part! ab, till this heavy hour, - Fraught with the leaden weight of sorrowsng years, I could have stemmed griefs tide like some light shower, Where shows a rainbow hope to quell all idle fears. But the dim phantoms of oershadowed pleasures, Gleaming thin gathering mists that cloud my heart, Lend but a transleul. ray, those fragile treasures And heavier darkuesa falls to gloom the thought We JUNE 22, iSM. [part ! ~1)vigina1 fnrrrq~nnbrnrr. RAMBLES IN THE PENINSULA. NO. II. GRENADA, May 26, 1850. MY DEAR FRIENDMy companion, Mr. Ronalds, left this morning in the dili- gence for Madrid, and I am, therefore, for the first time since I have been in Europe alone the only citizen of the United States at present in this ancient Moorish city: alone, I may almost say, in the midst of paradise. Yet the beauties of nature will not compen- sate for the solitude of the heart, which is continually yearning after sympathy; we wish for something beyond the pleasures of the eye, and I would that you were with me. I would take you up to the Albambra, and descant to you for hours upon its perfections and its romantic history. To rue this won- drous pile has become flimiliar; I have seen it at all hours of the day, and have visited it in the enchantment of moonlight; and never will pass from my memory the pleasant hours I have spent within its sacred precincts; I shall remember them and those who shared them with meforever. A few days since we made up a party and rode out to the fa- mous town of ~ianta Fe, in the delightful Vega, about eight miles away. We were all dressed in the gay costume of Andalusia, and presented, as you may imagine, a pictur- esque appearance; my companions were lively fellows, and we had a great deal of sport on the way. Santa Fe 15 now a dilapidated place, but its associations make it well deserv- ing a visit. It was built by Ferdinand, dur- ing the memorable siege of Grenada; it was here that Boabdil signed the capitulation of his city; and it was from this scot, too, that Columbus was dispatched on his mission of discovering a new world. The rich and fer- tile Vega, as we rode with the speed of the wind over it, seemed to me like a fairy land so luxuriant the vegetationso rich the meadows and fields of waving grainso ex- quisite the variety of cottages, and villages, and groves, dotting so vast a p lainso pure and transparent the atmosphere, that the most distant objects are as clearly defined as those nearest us. Imagine so lovely a land- scapethirty miles in length by twenty-five in width, surrounded by tremendous moun- tains,those of the Sierra Nevada, rising back of Grenada to the height of thirteen thousand feet above the level of the sea, their summits covered by a dazzling mantle of snow: imagine this, and you will have some faint idea of this beautiful Eden of Spain. It is worth a long pilgrimage to gaze but for one moment upon it, particularly from the Torre de la a o the Alhambra, whence I have beheld it, both in the bright, gay sunshine, and through the solemnly beautiful night, illumined by the stars and moon. The walks and gardens of Grenada are ex

BRIDES FAREWELLRAMBLES IN THE PENINSULA. 37 have founded in the desert,and who, in their new built city, walled round by mountains like a fortress, are extending pious hospitalities to the destitute emigrants from our frontier linesof men who, far removed from the restraints of law, obeyed it from choice, or found in the recesses of their religion, something not inconsistent with human laws, but far more controlling; and who are now soliciting from the government of the United States, not indemnity,for the appeal would be hopeless, and they kno~v itnot pro- tection, for they now have no need of it,but that identity of political institutions and that commu- nity of laws with the rest of us, which was con- fessedly their birthright when they were driven beyond our borders. I said I would give you the opinion I formed of the Mormons: you may deduce it for your- selves from these facts. But I will add that I have not yet heard the single charge against them as a community, against their habitual purity of life, their integrity of dealing, their toleration of religious differences in opinion, their regard for the laws, or their devotion to the constitutional government under which we live that I do not from my own observation, or the testimony of others, know to be unfounded. 4~tigrnn1__~ndr~. THE BRIDES REVERIE. BY MRS. H. E. HEWITT. LONELY to-night, oh, loved one! is our dwelling, And tone and wearily hath gone the day; For thou, whose presence like a flood is swelling With joy my life-tidethou art far away. And wearily for me wilt go the morrow, While for thy voice, thy smite, I vainly yearn; Oh, from fond thought some comfort I will borrow, To wile away the hours till thou return! I will remember that first, sweet revealing Wherewith thy love oer my tranced being stole; I, like the Pythoness enraptured, feeling The god divine pervading all my soul. I wilt remember each fond aspiration In secret mingled with thy cherished name, Till from thy lips, in wildering modulation, Those words of ecstasy I love thee ! came. And I will think of all our blest communing, And all thy low-breathed words of tenderness; Thy voice to me its melody attuning Till every tone seemed fraught wsth a caress. And feel thee near me, while in thought repeating Tue treasured memories thou alone dost share Hark! with hushed breath and pulses wildly besting I hear thy footstep bounding oer the stair! And I no longer to my heart am telling The weary weight of loneliness it bore; For thou, whose love makes heaven within our dwelling, Thou art returned, and all is joy once more. TO - By Mrs. R. B. K. Ohs how I loved thee! how I blessed the hour, When first thy lips, wakssing my trusting heart, Like some soft southern gale upon a flower, Into a blooming hope, murmured we neer will partY Never to part! alas! the lingering sound rlsro the sad echoes ofp ale Memorys cave, Startles once more the hope my young soul found, Into bright hues, but, only for the grave Must we then part! ab, till this heavy hour, - Fraught with the leaden weight of sorrowsng years, I could have stemmed griefs tide like some light shower, Where shows a rainbow hope to quell all idle fears. But the dim phantoms of oershadowed pleasures, Gleaming thin gathering mists that cloud my heart, Lend but a transleul. ray, those fragile treasures And heavier darkuesa falls to gloom the thought We JUNE 22, iSM. [part ! ~1)vigina1 fnrrrq~nnbrnrr. RAMBLES IN THE PENINSULA. NO. II. GRENADA, May 26, 1850. MY DEAR FRIENDMy companion, Mr. Ronalds, left this morning in the dili- gence for Madrid, and I am, therefore, for the first time since I have been in Europe alone the only citizen of the United States at present in this ancient Moorish city: alone, I may almost say, in the midst of paradise. Yet the beauties of nature will not compen- sate for the solitude of the heart, which is continually yearning after sympathy; we wish for something beyond the pleasures of the eye, and I would that you were with me. I would take you up to the Albambra, and descant to you for hours upon its perfections and its romantic history. To rue this won- drous pile has become flimiliar; I have seen it at all hours of the day, and have visited it in the enchantment of moonlight; and never will pass from my memory the pleasant hours I have spent within its sacred precincts; I shall remember them and those who shared them with meforever. A few days since we made up a party and rode out to the fa- mous town of ~ianta Fe, in the delightful Vega, about eight miles away. We were all dressed in the gay costume of Andalusia, and presented, as you may imagine, a pictur- esque appearance; my companions were lively fellows, and we had a great deal of sport on the way. Santa Fe 15 now a dilapidated place, but its associations make it well deserv- ing a visit. It was built by Ferdinand, dur- ing the memorable siege of Grenada; it was here that Boabdil signed the capitulation of his city; and it was from this scot, too, that Columbus was dispatched on his mission of discovering a new world. The rich and fer- tile Vega, as we rode with the speed of the wind over it, seemed to me like a fairy land so luxuriant the vegetationso rich the meadows and fields of waving grainso ex- quisite the variety of cottages, and villages, and groves, dotting so vast a p lainso pure and transparent the atmosphere, that the most distant objects are as clearly defined as those nearest us. Imagine so lovely a land- scapethirty miles in length by twenty-five in width, surrounded by tremendous moun- tains,those of the Sierra Nevada, rising back of Grenada to the height of thirteen thousand feet above the level of the sea, their summits covered by a dazzling mantle of snow: imagine this, and you will have some faint idea of this beautiful Eden of Spain. It is worth a long pilgrimage to gaze but for one moment upon it, particularly from the Torre de la a o the Alhambra, whence I have beheld it, both in the bright, gay sunshine, and through the solemnly beautiful night, illumined by the stars and moon. The walks and gardens of Grenada are ex

BRIDES FAREWELLRAMBLES IN THE PENINSULA. 37 have founded in the desert,and who, in their new built city, walled round by mountains like a fortress, are extending pious hospitalities to the destitute emigrants from our frontier linesof men who, far removed from the restraints of law, obeyed it from choice, or found in the recesses of their religion, something not inconsistent with human laws, but far more controlling; and who are now soliciting from the government of the United States, not indemnity,for the appeal would be hopeless, and they kno~v itnot pro- tection, for they now have no need of it,but that identity of political institutions and that commu- nity of laws with the rest of us, which was con- fessedly their birthright when they were driven beyond our borders. I said I would give you the opinion I formed of the Mormons: you may deduce it for your- selves from these facts. But I will add that I have not yet heard the single charge against them as a community, against their habitual purity of life, their integrity of dealing, their toleration of religious differences in opinion, their regard for the laws, or their devotion to the constitutional government under which we live that I do not from my own observation, or the testimony of others, know to be unfounded. 4~tigrnn1__~ndr~. THE BRIDES REVERIE. BY MRS. H. E. HEWITT. LONELY to-night, oh, loved one! is our dwelling, And tone and wearily hath gone the day; For thou, whose presence like a flood is swelling With joy my life-tidethou art far away. And wearily for me wilt go the morrow, While for thy voice, thy smite, I vainly yearn; Oh, from fond thought some comfort I will borrow, To wile away the hours till thou return! I will remember that first, sweet revealing Wherewith thy love oer my tranced being stole; I, like the Pythoness enraptured, feeling The god divine pervading all my soul. I wilt remember each fond aspiration In secret mingled with thy cherished name, Till from thy lips, in wildering modulation, Those words of ecstasy I love thee ! came. And I will think of all our blest communing, And all thy low-breathed words of tenderness; Thy voice to me its melody attuning Till every tone seemed fraught wsth a caress. And feel thee near me, while in thought repeating Tue treasured memories thou alone dost share Hark! with hushed breath and pulses wildly besting I hear thy footstep bounding oer the stair! And I no longer to my heart am telling The weary weight of loneliness it bore; For thou, whose love makes heaven within our dwelling, Thou art returned, and all is joy once more. TO - By Mrs. R. B. K. Ohs how I loved thee! how I blessed the hour, When first thy lips, wakssing my trusting heart, Like some soft southern gale upon a flower, Into a blooming hope, murmured we neer will partY Never to part! alas! the lingering sound rlsro the sad echoes ofp ale Memorys cave, Startles once more the hope my young soul found, Into bright hues, but, only for the grave Must we then part! ab, till this heavy hour, - Fraught with the leaden weight of sorrowsng years, I could have stemmed griefs tide like some light shower, Where shows a rainbow hope to quell all idle fears. But the dim phantoms of oershadowed pleasures, Gleaming thin gathering mists that cloud my heart, Lend but a transleul. ray, those fragile treasures And heavier darkuesa falls to gloom the thought We JUNE 22, iSM. [part ! ~1)vigina1 fnrrrq~nnbrnrr. RAMBLES IN THE PENINSULA. NO. II. GRENADA, May 26, 1850. MY DEAR FRIENDMy companion, Mr. Ronalds, left this morning in the dili- gence for Madrid, and I am, therefore, for the first time since I have been in Europe alone the only citizen of the United States at present in this ancient Moorish city: alone, I may almost say, in the midst of paradise. Yet the beauties of nature will not compen- sate for the solitude of the heart, which is continually yearning after sympathy; we wish for something beyond the pleasures of the eye, and I would that you were with me. I would take you up to the Albambra, and descant to you for hours upon its perfections and its romantic history. To rue this won- drous pile has become flimiliar; I have seen it at all hours of the day, and have visited it in the enchantment of moonlight; and never will pass from my memory the pleasant hours I have spent within its sacred precincts; I shall remember them and those who shared them with meforever. A few days since we made up a party and rode out to the fa- mous town of ~ianta Fe, in the delightful Vega, about eight miles away. We were all dressed in the gay costume of Andalusia, and presented, as you may imagine, a pictur- esque appearance; my companions were lively fellows, and we had a great deal of sport on the way. Santa Fe 15 now a dilapidated place, but its associations make it well deserv- ing a visit. It was built by Ferdinand, dur- ing the memorable siege of Grenada; it was here that Boabdil signed the capitulation of his city; and it was from this scot, too, that Columbus was dispatched on his mission of discovering a new world. The rich and fer- tile Vega, as we rode with the speed of the wind over it, seemed to me like a fairy land so luxuriant the vegetationso rich the meadows and fields of waving grainso ex- quisite the variety of cottages, and villages, and groves, dotting so vast a p lainso pure and transparent the atmosphere, that the most distant objects are as clearly defined as those nearest us. Imagine so lovely a land- scapethirty miles in length by twenty-five in width, surrounded by tremendous moun- tains,those of the Sierra Nevada, rising back of Grenada to the height of thirteen thousand feet above the level of the sea, their summits covered by a dazzling mantle of snow: imagine this, and you will have some faint idea of this beautiful Eden of Spain. It is worth a long pilgrimage to gaze but for one moment upon it, particularly from the Torre de la a o the Alhambra, whence I have beheld it, both in the bright, gay sunshine, and through the solemnly beautiful night, illumined by the stars and moon. The walks and gardens of Grenada are ex 38 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. ceedingly beautiful. The principal p rome- therefore have my good industrious bees nade is called (and very appropriately) El before us, and the most gorgeous butterflies. Salon. It is of considerabte extentabout In the gardens on the hills sit schoolboys, eighty feet in width, with regular lines of and in the open air look out words in the lofty elms on either side, the bending branch- dictionary. On account of the game-laws es of which nearly meet in an arch over- there is no shooting now, and every thing in head. At both extremities of this charming hush and furrow, and on green branches, avenue is a large and handsome fountain of can enjoy itself right heartily and safely. ever-flowing water. The ground of the walk ln all directions come travelers along the is hardslightly curved, and as smooth and roads; they have their carriages for the clean as the floor of a ball-room, where con- most part thrown backthe horses have venient seats of stone, tastefully arranged branches stuck in their saddles, and the beneath the shade of the spreading trees, drivers roses in their mouths. The shadows seem to invite one to meditation and repose. of the clouds go trailing alongthe birds fly Outside of this lovely promenade, are blooming bet~~een them up and down, and journeymen gardens, teeming with roses and other flowers, mechanics wander cheerily omi with their which fill the air with fragrance, while through bundles, and want no work. Even when it them on one side runs the river Darre, and on rains we love to stand out of doors, and the other the Xeniegentle streams, whose breathe in the quickening influence, and the waters unite their melodious rippling to the wet does the herd~mnarm Imarm no more. And chorus of nightingales, ever singing above is it night, so sit we only in a cooler shadow their pleasant banks. But description is from which we plainly discern the daylight tiresome, especially when one is attempting on the northern horizon and on the sweet to present something beyond his power, so I warm stars of licavemi. XVlmeresoevcr I loo~, shall not fatigue you with it any longer; be- there do I find my beloved blue on tho fli.x sides, a worthy English curate, now my only in blossoms, on the corn-flowers, and tb~ rod- companion in this wretched hotel, is boring like endless heaven into which I W(iilih lain me so incessantly with conversation that I spring as into a stream. And now ii v-c find it difficult to collect any thoughts to put turn homeward again, we find niQeed but on paper. I wish he was already in heaven, fresh delight. The street is a true nnr,er~- as, surely, he well deserves to be. for in th evening after suppcm th ~. little It was my intention to have gone from this ones, though they have but a tow clothes p lace to Almeria on horseback, but as R. has upon theni, arc again let out into the oen left for Madrid, I shall return to Malaga, air and not driven under the bed-quilt as in probably, in the diligence to-night. It leaves winter. We sup by daylight, and hardly at 12 oclock, under an escort of six cavalry, know where the candlesticks are. in the which on this road is indispensably necessary. bed-chamber the windows are open day and From Malaga I shall take steamer for Yalen- night, and and likewise most of the doors. cia and Barcelona, and accordin~ to my pres- without danger. The oldest women stand ent calculations, will reach Paris about the by the window without a chill, amid sew. first of June next. F wants me to go to Ii lowers lie about everywhere-by the ink- ItalyI do not know exactly what course to standomi the lawyers papers on the jus- take, as traveling in Italy during the summer tices table, and time tradesmans counter. season is not considered healthy. I should The children make a great noise, amid one like to remain in France a month or so, in hears bowling of ninepin alloys half time order to improve myself in their language; night through our walks up and down the as for Spanish, I speak it with fluency and street; and talks aloud, and sees the stars ease already, and it is certainly one of the shoot in the high heaven. The foreign mu- most beautiful languages in the world. sicians, who wend their way homeward to- Yours, JOHN E. WARREN. ward midnight, go fiddling alomig the street to their quarters, and time whole neighbor- THE SUMMER NIGHT. hood runs to the window. The extra posts XA~TE are in the midst of Julyin the midst arrive later, and the horses neigh. One lies VI of summerof the most genial and by the noise in the window and droops pure-aired summer that we have had for asleep. The post-horns awake him and the years. How beautifully RICHTER, translated whole starry heaven bath spread itself open. by our Longfellow, of kindred genius, de- 0 God! what a joyous life on this little scribes the holy time! The summer alone earth. might elevate us. God what a season! In sooth, I often know not whether to stay in EMMA is from the German, and signifies the city, or go forth into the fields, so alike a nurse; Caroline, from the Latinnoble is it everywhere and beautiful. If we go minded; George, from the Greeka farmer; outside the city gate, the very beggars glad- Martha, from Hebrewbitterness; the beau- den our hearts, for they are no longer cold; tiful and common Mary is Hebrew, and and the post-boys who can pass the whole means a drop of salt watera tear; Sophia, night on horseback, and the shepherds asleep from Greekwisdom; Susan, from Hebrew in the op n air. We need no ~loomy house. a lily; Thomas, from Hebrewa twin; and We make ~ chamber out of every bush, and Robert, from Germanfamous in council

38 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. ceedingly beautiful. The principal p rome- therefore have my good industrious bees nade is called (and very appropriately) El before us, and the most gorgeous butterflies. Salon. It is of considerabte extentabout In the gardens on the hills sit schoolboys, eighty feet in width, with regular lines of and in the open air look out words in the lofty elms on either side, the bending branch- dictionary. On account of the game-laws es of which nearly meet in an arch over- there is no shooting now, and every thing in head. At both extremities of this charming hush and furrow, and on green branches, avenue is a large and handsome fountain of can enjoy itself right heartily and safely. ever-flowing water. The ground of the walk ln all directions come travelers along the is hardslightly curved, and as smooth and roads; they have their carriages for the clean as the floor of a ball-room, where con- most part thrown backthe horses have venient seats of stone, tastefully arranged branches stuck in their saddles, and the beneath the shade of the spreading trees, drivers roses in their mouths. The shadows seem to invite one to meditation and repose. of the clouds go trailing alongthe birds fly Outside of this lovely promenade, are blooming bet~~een them up and down, and journeymen gardens, teeming with roses and other flowers, mechanics wander cheerily omi with their which fill the air with fragrance, while through bundles, and want no work. Even when it them on one side runs the river Darre, and on rains we love to stand out of doors, and the other the Xeniegentle streams, whose breathe in the quickening influence, and the waters unite their melodious rippling to the wet does the herd~mnarm Imarm no more. And chorus of nightingales, ever singing above is it night, so sit we only in a cooler shadow their pleasant banks. But description is from which we plainly discern the daylight tiresome, especially when one is attempting on the northern horizon and on the sweet to present something beyond his power, so I warm stars of licavemi. XVlmeresoevcr I loo~, shall not fatigue you with it any longer; be- there do I find my beloved blue on tho fli.x sides, a worthy English curate, now my only in blossoms, on the corn-flowers, and tb~ rod- companion in this wretched hotel, is boring like endless heaven into which I W(iilih lain me so incessantly with conversation that I spring as into a stream. And now ii v-c find it difficult to collect any thoughts to put turn homeward again, we find niQeed but on paper. I wish he was already in heaven, fresh delight. The street is a true nnr,er~- as, surely, he well deserves to be. for in th evening after suppcm th ~. little It was my intention to have gone from this ones, though they have but a tow clothes p lace to Almeria on horseback, but as R. has upon theni, arc again let out into the oen left for Madrid, I shall return to Malaga, air and not driven under the bed-quilt as in probably, in the diligence to-night. It leaves winter. We sup by daylight, and hardly at 12 oclock, under an escort of six cavalry, know where the candlesticks are. in the which on this road is indispensably necessary. bed-chamber the windows are open day and From Malaga I shall take steamer for Yalen- night, and and likewise most of the doors. cia and Barcelona, and accordin~ to my pres- without danger. The oldest women stand ent calculations, will reach Paris about the by the window without a chill, amid sew. first of June next. F wants me to go to Ii lowers lie about everywhere-by the ink- ItalyI do not know exactly what course to standomi the lawyers papers on the jus- take, as traveling in Italy during the summer tices table, and time tradesmans counter. season is not considered healthy. I should The children make a great noise, amid one like to remain in France a month or so, in hears bowling of ninepin alloys half time order to improve myself in their language; night through our walks up and down the as for Spanish, I speak it with fluency and street; and talks aloud, and sees the stars ease already, and it is certainly one of the shoot in the high heaven. The foreign mu- most beautiful languages in the world. sicians, who wend their way homeward to- Yours, JOHN E. WARREN. ward midnight, go fiddling alomig the street to their quarters, and time whole neighbor- THE SUMMER NIGHT. hood runs to the window. The extra posts XA~TE are in the midst of Julyin the midst arrive later, and the horses neigh. One lies VI of summerof the most genial and by the noise in the window and droops pure-aired summer that we have had for asleep. The post-horns awake him and the years. How beautifully RICHTER, translated whole starry heaven bath spread itself open. by our Longfellow, of kindred genius, de- 0 God! what a joyous life on this little scribes the holy time! The summer alone earth. might elevate us. God what a season! In sooth, I often know not whether to stay in EMMA is from the German, and signifies the city, or go forth into the fields, so alike a nurse; Caroline, from the Latinnoble is it everywhere and beautiful. If we go minded; George, from the Greeka farmer; outside the city gate, the very beggars glad- Martha, from Hebrewbitterness; the beau- den our hearts, for they are no longer cold; tiful and common Mary is Hebrew, and and the post-boys who can pass the whole means a drop of salt watera tear; Sophia, night on horseback, and the shepherds asleep from Greekwisdom; Susan, from Hebrew in the op n air. We need no ~loomy house. a lily; Thomas, from Hebrewa twin; and We make ~ chamber out of every bush, and Robert, from Germanfamous in council AUTHORS AND BOOKS. 39 MR. JAMES AND COPYRIGHTIt appears that the visit of Mr. G. P. II. James, with which we are presently to be honored, is not, after all, solely for the gratification of the natural curiosity of the author of the book with so many titles, as some time ago he advised one of his correspondents here. The London News observes incidentally: The long-vexed question of an interna- tional copyright with our transatlantic cou- sins shows symptoms of rising to a speedy crisis. Up to a recent period the Yankees had all the advantage of the defective state of the law. They could steal freely from our literary richness; whereas, not only had they little of their own to be robbed of, but their handful of authors took very good care to secure English publishers, and, therefore, En~lish copyrights, for their works. This defense, however, a recent law decision has wrested from the Coopers and Irvings of the States; so that English booksellers have now a perfect right to treat American authors as American booksellers have long been in the habit of serving English authors. And there is something just in this lex tclionis. If Dickens may be reprinted and sold for a shillin~ in New York, why may not Cooper he reprinted and sold for a shilling in Lon- don 3 At all events, the reprisal system will possibly incline our Yankee neighbors to listen to reason, and to favor the embossy which Air. James, the novelist, is to undertake to the States, with a view qf making prelimi- nary arrangements for a full end satisfactory code directed against all future international literary free-booting. R. H. STODDARD is preparing for the press of Ticknor, Reed & Fields, a collection of his Poems, to include most of those he has con- tributed to the periodicals since the appear- ance of his Footprints, two years ago. The hook will be welcomed by the lovers of genu- ine poetry. Mr. Stoddard is a young man of unquestionable genius, and we have been pleased to observe that there is a decided improvement from time to time in his com- positions, indicating the industry and wise direction of his studies, in refinement of taste, elegance of finish, and a rapid and vigorous expansion of his imagination. His master- piece, thus far, is The Castle in the 4ir, ~tly praised by our neighbor of the Albian, as one of the finest productions of the present time. We do not know of any poet at home or abroad to whose fame it would not have added new luster. In the July number of the Knickerbocker we find the following Dirge, which is not unworthy of him: Theres a new grave in the old church.yard, Another mound in Ihe snow; And a maid whose soul was whiter far, Siceps in her shroud below. Tue winds of March are piping loud, And tue snow comes down for hours; But by.aud.by tue April rains Will bring the sweet May flowers. The sweet May flowers will cover her grave, Made green by the April rain; But blight will lie on our memories, And our tears will fall in vain ! INEDITED CORRESPONDENCE OF GOETHE AND SCHILLERBy many friends of German liter- ature it will be remembered that Goethe, dur- ing his life, carefully preserved a particular portion of his papers and letters, which he in 1827 transferred to the government of Wei- mar, on the condition that the box in which they were contained should not be opened until the present year. The 17th of May was the date fixed upon, and in accordance with the will of the deceased poet, his heirs and those of his brother poet Schiller were on that day judicially summoned to Weimar to witness the opening of the case. Of Schillers descendants there were p resent on the occa- sion, his eldest son and eldest daughter, and the widow of Ernst von Schiller. Goethe was represented by his daughter-in-law and his two grandsons, Wolfgang and Walther, who came from Vienna, their present place of residence, for the purpose. Schillers eldest son is chief inspector of forests in Wurtem~- berg. Madame de Junot and Frau von Goethe were also present. The box on being opened was found to contain a full correspondence between Schiller and Goethe, ready arranged for the press. A codicil in Goethes will pro- vides for their publication. Most of the letters, all of Schillers in fact, are autograph. ALBERT SMITH AND PRoTECTIoN.The Spectator, misled by a statement in the Morn- ing Post, to the effect that a Mr. Albert Smith was present, by invitation, at a Pro- tectioluist meeting at Wallingford, made some caustic remarks on the supposed adhesion of the witty novelist to the cause of dear bread. The latter, astounded thereby, sends the Spectator a note, in which he says: The Sphinx, at which you pleasantly af- firm I came home laughing from Egypt, never propounded a darker puzzle to any of its victims than you have to me. From last weeks Spectator I learn, for the first time, that I was at a Protection meeting at Wal- lingford on some particular day, and that I wept at the prices of 1845. Allow me to assure you that I never was at Wallingford in my life; nor, indeed, did I ever attend a public meeting anywhere. 1 have not the slightest notion what the pricesI p resume of cornwere in 1845; and I should never THE CouNTEss OssoLT, (Margaret Fuller,) think of expressing an opinion, in any way, we learn from the Tribune, will be in New upon politics, except against that school York about the 2O~h of the present month. which abuses respectability and philanthro- Her work on Italy will be given to the press pizes mischievous riff-raff. immediately after her arrival.

AUTHORS AND BOOKS. 39 MR. JAMES AND COPYRIGHTIt appears that the visit of Mr. G. P. II. James, with which we are presently to be honored, is not, after all, solely for the gratification of the natural curiosity of the author of the book with so many titles, as some time ago he advised one of his correspondents here. The London News observes incidentally: The long-vexed question of an interna- tional copyright with our transatlantic cou- sins shows symptoms of rising to a speedy crisis. Up to a recent period the Yankees had all the advantage of the defective state of the law. They could steal freely from our literary richness; whereas, not only had they little of their own to be robbed of, but their handful of authors took very good care to secure English publishers, and, therefore, En~lish copyrights, for their works. This defense, however, a recent law decision has wrested from the Coopers and Irvings of the States; so that English booksellers have now a perfect right to treat American authors as American booksellers have long been in the habit of serving English authors. And there is something just in this lex tclionis. If Dickens may be reprinted and sold for a shillin~ in New York, why may not Cooper he reprinted and sold for a shilling in Lon- don 3 At all events, the reprisal system will possibly incline our Yankee neighbors to listen to reason, and to favor the embossy which Air. James, the novelist, is to undertake to the States, with a view qf making prelimi- nary arrangements for a full end satisfactory code directed against all future international literary free-booting. R. H. STODDARD is preparing for the press of Ticknor, Reed & Fields, a collection of his Poems, to include most of those he has con- tributed to the periodicals since the appear- ance of his Footprints, two years ago. The hook will be welcomed by the lovers of genu- ine poetry. Mr. Stoddard is a young man of unquestionable genius, and we have been pleased to observe that there is a decided improvement from time to time in his com- positions, indicating the industry and wise direction of his studies, in refinement of taste, elegance of finish, and a rapid and vigorous expansion of his imagination. His master- piece, thus far, is The Castle in the 4ir, ~tly praised by our neighbor of the Albian, as one of the finest productions of the present time. We do not know of any poet at home or abroad to whose fame it would not have added new luster. In the July number of the Knickerbocker we find the following Dirge, which is not unworthy of him: Theres a new grave in the old church.yard, Another mound in Ihe snow; And a maid whose soul was whiter far, Siceps in her shroud below. Tue winds of March are piping loud, And tue snow comes down for hours; But by.aud.by tue April rains Will bring the sweet May flowers. The sweet May flowers will cover her grave, Made green by the April rain; But blight will lie on our memories, And our tears will fall in vain ! INEDITED CORRESPONDENCE OF GOETHE AND SCHILLERBy many friends of German liter- ature it will be remembered that Goethe, dur- ing his life, carefully preserved a particular portion of his papers and letters, which he in 1827 transferred to the government of Wei- mar, on the condition that the box in which they were contained should not be opened until the present year. The 17th of May was the date fixed upon, and in accordance with the will of the deceased poet, his heirs and those of his brother poet Schiller were on that day judicially summoned to Weimar to witness the opening of the case. Of Schillers descendants there were p resent on the occa- sion, his eldest son and eldest daughter, and the widow of Ernst von Schiller. Goethe was represented by his daughter-in-law and his two grandsons, Wolfgang and Walther, who came from Vienna, their present place of residence, for the purpose. Schillers eldest son is chief inspector of forests in Wurtem~- berg. Madame de Junot and Frau von Goethe were also present. The box on being opened was found to contain a full correspondence between Schiller and Goethe, ready arranged for the press. A codicil in Goethes will pro- vides for their publication. Most of the letters, all of Schillers in fact, are autograph. ALBERT SMITH AND PRoTECTIoN.The Spectator, misled by a statement in the Morn- ing Post, to the effect that a Mr. Albert Smith was present, by invitation, at a Pro- tectioluist meeting at Wallingford, made some caustic remarks on the supposed adhesion of the witty novelist to the cause of dear bread. The latter, astounded thereby, sends the Spectator a note, in which he says: The Sphinx, at which you pleasantly af- firm I came home laughing from Egypt, never propounded a darker puzzle to any of its victims than you have to me. From last weeks Spectator I learn, for the first time, that I was at a Protection meeting at Wal- lingford on some particular day, and that I wept at the prices of 1845. Allow me to assure you that I never was at Wallingford in my life; nor, indeed, did I ever attend a public meeting anywhere. 1 have not the slightest notion what the pricesI p resume of cornwere in 1845; and I should never THE CouNTEss OssoLT, (Margaret Fuller,) think of expressing an opinion, in any way, we learn from the Tribune, will be in New upon politics, except against that school York about the 2O~h of the present month. which abuses respectability and philanthro- Her work on Italy will be given to the press pizes mischievous riff-raff. immediately after her arrival. 40 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. Dn. H~FER AGAINST DR. LAYARD.Dr. ilcefer, a well-known savant in France and Germany, has astonished the Parisians by the publication of a work in which he boldly denies the authenticity of the ruins of Nm- eveh. Even admitting, he says, that the ruins of Nineych remain, it is impossible that they can be in the place which Dr. Layard has explored; and, moreover, the Assyrian- like sculptures and inscriptions found in the supposed Nineveb, were the work of a later. and a different people, who had the affecta- tion of imitatinn Assyrian taste. BOTIL ROGERS AND WILSoN, it is said, have declined the laureateship. Referring to the office, the Daily Neus has a very prosy sim- ile A dog, of any sense or self-respect, with a tin- ettle tied to his tail, acutely feels the misery and degradation of the mu- sic he is compelled to make. What the tin- kettle is to the dog, the yearly Ode is to the muse. The board, if you please, but not the annoyance and irritation of the jangle. Mr. GEORGE H. BORER is at present en- gaged in preparing for the stage his new play of The Betrothal. A correspondent who has seen it in manuscript, and for whose criti- cal opinion we have a very high respect, pro- xiounces it superior, both in action, combiria- tion and development of character, and general management of the plot, to any of his previous dramatic writings. It will p rob- ably be brought out next fall, not on y in this city and Philadelphia, but in London, where his tragedy of Calay nos had such a successful run. We believe Mr. Boker will yet demonstrate that the art of dramatic writing is not lost, nor likely to be while we retain the language of Shakspeare, Jonson and Fletcher. BATARD TAYLOR will deliver the poem be- fore the societies of Harvard College on the 18th inst. Among his predecessors have been Charles Sprague, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Edward Everett, W. C. Bryant, George Bancroft, Frederick H. Hedge, and some dozen others of the first rank in letters. JOHN G. WHITTIER, we are sorry to learn, has been for some time in ill health. He is living quietly upon his farm in Haverhill, on the Merrimack. BROWNINGS ~ CHRISTMAS - E V E.With treat peculiarity and eccentricity, Mr. Brown- in~ is a genuine poet. Whether eccentricity is inseparable from genius we shall leave it to Others to determine. Mr. Turners peculiar- ities have admirers, and some persons affect to discover merits in Mr. Carlyles German style. Mr. Brownings poetic powers raise him almost above ordinary trammels, but it has been justly remarked of him, that tran- 8cendentalism delivered in doggerel verse has throughout the effect of a discord. From the Illustrated London News. GEN. ANDRE SANTA CRUZ. THIS valiant soldier has lately arrived In I London as Minister Plenipotentiary from the Republic of Bolivia to the English Court. He before visited Europe in the character of exile, but his misfortune is in a measure re- paid by the importance and dignity of his present position. General Andr6 Santa Cruz was born in 1794, at La Paz, the capital of one of tho provinces of Bolivia, and is a direct descend- ant, through his mother, from the Incas of Peru. He began his military career imme- diately upon quitting college, in the Spanish army, wherein he attained the rank of Lieu~ tenant-Colonel. He joined the liberating army in 1820, when Peru proclaimed her inde- p endence, and by his valor and tactics, large- I y contributed to maintain the proclamation. In 1821, as a reward for his services, he was promoted to the rank of Colonel, and in con- junction with General Sucre, assisted to raise the standard of liberty in the State of Ecua- dor. It was in the course of this campaign that the battle of Pichincha was fought, in which Santa Cruz distinguished himself at the head of the advanc tkl guard. These services ilttracted the attention of General Bolivar, and won for him the rank of General of Brigade. He was next engaged with Gen- eral Bolivar in the celebrated campaigns of Xemiu and Ayacucho, which closed the wars of independence, in 1824. The achievements of General Santa Cruz in the course of these campaigns were re- warded by the dignity of Grand Marshal of Peru, and the government of the depart- ments of Chuquisaca and La Paz. His sa- gacious administration in his latter capacity marked him out as the fittest Governor of Peru, to which high post he was quickly nominated by his admirer and friend General Bolivar. The national records of this period bear ample testimony to the enlightened pol- icy and the systematic prudence with which General Santa Cruz presided over the desti- nies of Peru. He retired from his post in 1827, in consequence of the defection of part of the army from his staunch friend Bolivar, and accepted the comparatively insignificant appointment of Minister Plenipotentiary to the Governmeists of Chili and Buenos Ayres. In 1829, a serious rebellion, that threatened irretrievable disasters, having broken out in the Republic of Bolivia, the friends of order appealed to their old friend General Santa Cruz as being the only man capable of re- establishing public tranquillity. His firmness and mercy had the rapid effect of calming the excited spirits of the rebels; and as soon as public confidence was restored, he placed the financial affairs of the country on a firm footing, and in conjunction with wise coun- selors, drew up the civil and penal codes, which were published within the period of his discretional government. In 1831, the

40 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. Dn. H~FER AGAINST DR. LAYARD.Dr. ilcefer, a well-known savant in France and Germany, has astonished the Parisians by the publication of a work in which he boldly denies the authenticity of the ruins of Nm- eveh. Even admitting, he says, that the ruins of Nineych remain, it is impossible that they can be in the place which Dr. Layard has explored; and, moreover, the Assyrian- like sculptures and inscriptions found in the supposed Nineveb, were the work of a later. and a different people, who had the affecta- tion of imitatinn Assyrian taste. BOTIL ROGERS AND WILSoN, it is said, have declined the laureateship. Referring to the office, the Daily Neus has a very prosy sim- ile A dog, of any sense or self-respect, with a tin- ettle tied to his tail, acutely feels the misery and degradation of the mu- sic he is compelled to make. What the tin- kettle is to the dog, the yearly Ode is to the muse. The board, if you please, but not the annoyance and irritation of the jangle. Mr. GEORGE H. BORER is at present en- gaged in preparing for the stage his new play of The Betrothal. A correspondent who has seen it in manuscript, and for whose criti- cal opinion we have a very high respect, pro- xiounces it superior, both in action, combiria- tion and development of character, and general management of the plot, to any of his previous dramatic writings. It will p rob- ably be brought out next fall, not on y in this city and Philadelphia, but in London, where his tragedy of Calay nos had such a successful run. We believe Mr. Boker will yet demonstrate that the art of dramatic writing is not lost, nor likely to be while we retain the language of Shakspeare, Jonson and Fletcher. BATARD TAYLOR will deliver the poem be- fore the societies of Harvard College on the 18th inst. Among his predecessors have been Charles Sprague, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Edward Everett, W. C. Bryant, George Bancroft, Frederick H. Hedge, and some dozen others of the first rank in letters. JOHN G. WHITTIER, we are sorry to learn, has been for some time in ill health. He is living quietly upon his farm in Haverhill, on the Merrimack. BROWNINGS ~ CHRISTMAS - E V E.With treat peculiarity and eccentricity, Mr. Brown- in~ is a genuine poet. Whether eccentricity is inseparable from genius we shall leave it to Others to determine. Mr. Turners peculiar- ities have admirers, and some persons affect to discover merits in Mr. Carlyles German style. Mr. Brownings poetic powers raise him almost above ordinary trammels, but it has been justly remarked of him, that tran- 8cendentalism delivered in doggerel verse has throughout the effect of a discord. From the Illustrated London News. GEN. ANDRE SANTA CRUZ. THIS valiant soldier has lately arrived In I London as Minister Plenipotentiary from the Republic of Bolivia to the English Court. He before visited Europe in the character of exile, but his misfortune is in a measure re- paid by the importance and dignity of his present position. General Andr6 Santa Cruz was born in 1794, at La Paz, the capital of one of tho provinces of Bolivia, and is a direct descend- ant, through his mother, from the Incas of Peru. He began his military career imme- diately upon quitting college, in the Spanish army, wherein he attained the rank of Lieu~ tenant-Colonel. He joined the liberating army in 1820, when Peru proclaimed her inde- p endence, and by his valor and tactics, large- I y contributed to maintain the proclamation. In 1821, as a reward for his services, he was promoted to the rank of Colonel, and in con- junction with General Sucre, assisted to raise the standard of liberty in the State of Ecua- dor. It was in the course of this campaign that the battle of Pichincha was fought, in which Santa Cruz distinguished himself at the head of the advanc tkl guard. These services ilttracted the attention of General Bolivar, and won for him the rank of General of Brigade. He was next engaged with Gen- eral Bolivar in the celebrated campaigns of Xemiu and Ayacucho, which closed the wars of independence, in 1824. The achievements of General Santa Cruz in the course of these campaigns were re- warded by the dignity of Grand Marshal of Peru, and the government of the depart- ments of Chuquisaca and La Paz. His sa- gacious administration in his latter capacity marked him out as the fittest Governor of Peru, to which high post he was quickly nominated by his admirer and friend General Bolivar. The national records of this period bear ample testimony to the enlightened pol- icy and the systematic prudence with which General Santa Cruz presided over the desti- nies of Peru. He retired from his post in 1827, in consequence of the defection of part of the army from his staunch friend Bolivar, and accepted the comparatively insignificant appointment of Minister Plenipotentiary to the Governmeists of Chili and Buenos Ayres. In 1829, a serious rebellion, that threatened irretrievable disasters, having broken out in the Republic of Bolivia, the friends of order appealed to their old friend General Santa Cruz as being the only man capable of re- establishing public tranquillity. His firmness and mercy had the rapid effect of calming the excited spirits of the rebels; and as soon as public confidence was restored, he placed the financial affairs of the country on a firm footing, and in conjunction with wise coun- selors, drew up the civil and penal codes, which were published within the period of his discretional government. In 1831, the MISCELLANIES. 41 National Congress elected him Constitutional Defeated in this direction, the Chilian troops President of l3olivia and Captain-General of directed their course to the northern provinces, the national forces; and, moreover, confirmed where Orbegosos rebel band were collected. the clause in the will of General Bolivar, Gen. Santa Cruz, in the ardor of his determina.. which bequeathed the medal of honor to tion to rid the territory of the Confederation him. His occupation of the Presidential from this treacherous foe, undertook a march of chair, to which he was reelected in 1835, two hundred leagues, under the severity of was marked by unusual commercial and finan- which many of his troops sank, and the re- cial prosperity, and the yearly revenue al- sult of which was his defeat at Yungay, by ways exceeded the annual expenditure. He the rebel forces. The defection of Generals aid reat attention, also, to the diffusion of Ballivian and Velasco, who commanded two g nowledge. powerful divisions of the army of the Con Peru, harassed and divided by internal dis- federation, made this disaster irretrievable. sension, turned, as his native country had General Santa Cruz was obliged to retire to turned in the hour of trouble, to General Guayaquil, whence he subsequently betook Santa Cruz. It was proposed to form a con- himself with his family to Europe. He has federation of the two republics. This pro- lately been accredited by his native country ~ositioa was carried out and solemnly rati- Minister Plenipotentiary in London and Paris. lied m 1835; whereupon the Peruvians, un- There are few public men who have held der the protection of their former chief so many important public trusts with such magistrate, laid down arms, and prepared to universal popularity. The liberality of the enjuy the blessings of peace. 1 he Confed- Generals views, his sagacity in council, and eration was confirmed by a convocauon of the above all, the purity of his patriotism and Congresses of Cicuani, Huawra, and Tapacari, the unselfish nature of his administrations, in 1836, and General Santa Cruz was named are claims upon the gratitude of South Amer- Protector of the Confederation. In his ica that wilf command wider recognition in capacity of Protector, the General made a times to come even than they obtain at the triumphant entry into Lima, in 1837, where present time. the deliberations of a General Congress of the Confederation were at once opened, and the constitution of the Confederation was determined upon. The Protectors liberal policy had secured the sympathy and esteem of all enlightened nations, gave an impetus to native enterprise and industry, and above all, restored the credit of Peru by acknow- ledging and liquidating the English liabili- ties. This prosperous state of things was suddenly checked by the appearance of a hostile Chilian fleet, which seized upon the fleet of the Confederation in the port of Cal- lao, without any previous declaration of war, and by the landing of a Chilian expedition on the Intermedios, accompanied by a hand- ful of Peruvians who were hostile to the Confederation. This expedition was soon subdued by the skill of General Santa Cruz, who exacted from it the treaty of Paucaupa- ta, and then allowed free egress from the territory of the Confederation. This gener- osity on the part of the Protector was met by treachery on the part of Chili, directly her army was once more on Chilian ground. At this time the Government of Buenos Ayres made an unsuccessful attack upon the Confederation. The enemies without having been successfully repulsed, the prosj~erous condition of the Confederation continued, till General Orbegoso, one of the founders of the Confederation, rebelled, and en- listed the troops under his command in his eanse. This internal rebellion afforded a fresh and favorable opportunity for renewed hostility from without, and the result was that within a short space of time Chilian troops occupied Lima. On the appearance of General Santa Cruz, however, the foes were compelled to evacuate and re-embark. THE CELL OF TIlE BEEHive-bees not only differ from wasps in building their comb with a material secreted by themselves, but they also differ in the mode in which they construct their cells. All the wasps which 1 have hitherto described have their tiers of cells single; now, the honeycomb is invaria- bly double. And, moreover, whilst all these wasps and hornets arran~e their cells hori- zontally, the bee arranges its comb vertically. I think it needless to enter into very minute descriptions of the honeycomb, as all my readers are doubtless perfectly familiar wit h its appearance. Each cell, like that made by the wasp, is hexagonal, and the cells are put together in a manner which secures the great- est strength for the least possible material. Kirby and Spence state that Maraldi found that the great angles were generally 10 de- grees 28 minutes, and the smaller ones 70 degrees 32 minutes; and M. K6nig, an em- inent mathematician, calculated that they ought to be 109 degrees 26 minutes, and 70 degrees 34 minutes, to obtain the greatest strength with any given amount of material.7 Lord ~rougham states that he has discovered that the bee is right and the mathematician was wrong, and that other mathematicians with whom he has communicated agree with him, and have detected the source of the errorInstinct and Reason. DISASTERS of life, like convulsions of the earth, lay bare the primary strata of human nature: they expose to us elements we might forget, or supj~ose to be transmuted by the al- chemy of civilization. In this respect they are, like those geological expositions, useful lessons and mementoes to the lawmaker. 42 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. ORIENTAL CARAVANS. the horizon were reflected with extreme pre- cision; and the delusion of its being a sheet or pilgrim-caravan, pursues its of water was thus rendered perfecL He had by night, and by torch- often seen the Egypt: light. I\i~ving~ab~ut four oclock in the there he always found it ot a whitish eclor, afternoon, it travels without stopping till an like morning mist, seldom lying steadily on hour or two after the sun is above the hon- the plain, almost continually vibrating; but zon. The extent and luxury of these pilgrim- in the case above described the appearance ages in ancient times especially, almost exceed was very different, and bore the most coin- belief. Haroun, of Arabian Ni~ hts celebrity, plete resemblance to water. This exact sim- performed the pilgrimage no less than nine ilitude the traveler attributes to the great times, and with a grandeur becoming the dryness of the air and earth in the desert commander of the faithful. The caravan of where he beheld it. There, too the appear- the mother of the last of the Abassides num- ance of water approached much nearer than hered one hundred and twenty thousand in Syria and I~4ypt, being often not more camels. Nine hundred camels were em- than two hundred paces from the beholders, ployed merely in bearing the wardrobe of whereas he had never seen it before at a dis- one of the caliphs, and others carried snow tance of less than half-a-mileFraser, June. ~vith them to cool their sherbet. Nor was Bagdad alone celebr4ed for such pomj~ and LETTER FROM THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. luxury in fulfilling the directions ot the A short time since, (says the Court Journal,) Koran. The Sultan of Egypt, on one occa- the rector of a parish in one of the midland sion, was accompanied by five hundred counties, having obtained subscriptions to- camels, whose luscious burdens consisted of ward the restoration of his church, still found sweetmeats and confectionery only; while himself unable to meet all the claims which two huiidred and eighty were entirely laden the outlay had occasioned. To supply the with pomegranates and other fruits. The deficiency, he wrote to many persons of itinerant larder of this potentate contained wealth and eminence, politely soliciting their one thousand geese and three thousand fowls. aid. The following is a copy *f th3 reply Even so late as sixty years since, the pilgrim- which he received to the application made caravan from Cairo was six hours in passing to his Gi~ace: one who saw the procession. F. M. the Duke of Wellington presents The departure of such an array, with its his compliments to Mr. . As Mr. thousands of camels glittering in every van- feels that his letter needs apology, the Duke ety of trappings, some with two brass field- will say no more on that subject; but he pieces eachothers with bells and streamers, must add, that as there is not a church, others, again, with kettle-drummers, chapel, glebe-house, school, or even a pago- others, covered with purple velvet, with men da, built from the north to the south pole or walking by their sides playing on flutes and within the utmost limits of the earth, to fiageolets,some glittering with neck ama- which he (the Duke of Wellington) is not ments and silver-studded bridles, variegated called upon to contribute, the Duke is sur- with colored beads, and with nodding plumes prised that Mr. , having already raised of ostrich feathers on their foreheadsto say 7,500 toward the restoration of his church, nothing of the noble, gigantic, sacred cameL, should make application to the Duke, who decked with cloth of gold and silk, his bridle has nothing to say either to or to studded with jewels and gold, led by two shire. sheiks in ureen, with the ark or chapel con- Immediately upon the receipt of this, the taming the Koran written in letters of gold, reverend gentleman was offered five guineas forms a dazzling contrast to the spectacle for the autograph, which he readily accept- it not unfrequently presents before its mis- ed, entering the amount in his subscription- sion is fulfilled. Numbers of these gaily list as the Duke of Wellingtons contribution caparisoned creatures drop and die miserably, to the fund. and when the pilgrimage leaves Mecca the air is too often tainted with the effinvia reek- 3L~VrUt h9~. ing from the bodies of the camels that have sunk under the exhausting fatigue of the Ma. RichARD J. WYATT, an eminent Eng- march. After he had passed the Akaba, hish sculptor, died at Rome on the 29th of near the head of the Red Sea, the whitened May, after a few days illness, and was buriej bones of the dead camels were the land-marks in the Protestant burial-ground. The hearse which guided the pilgrim through the sand- was followed by the British Consul, the Amer- wastes, as he was led on by the alternate ican Charg6 dAffairs, and about fifty friends hope and disappointment of the mirage, or and artists of all nations. Mr. Wyatt wenz serab, as the Arabs term it. Burckhardt to Rome in 1822, and worked for Mr. Gib- describes this phenomenon as seen by him son. After a few years he commenced his when they were surrounded during a whole career, in which he has been so successful. days march by phantom lakes. The color It is said that he has executed commissions was of the purest azure,so clear, that the to the extent of 20,000 sterling. He was in shadows of the mountains which bordered the fifty-seventh year of his age.

42 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. ORIENTAL CARAVANS. the horizon were reflected with extreme pre- cision; and the delusion of its being a sheet or pilgrim-caravan, pursues its of water was thus rendered perfecL He had by night, and by torch- often seen the Egypt: light. I\i~ving~ab~ut four oclock in the there he always found it ot a whitish eclor, afternoon, it travels without stopping till an like morning mist, seldom lying steadily on hour or two after the sun is above the hon- the plain, almost continually vibrating; but zon. The extent and luxury of these pilgrim- in the case above described the appearance ages in ancient times especially, almost exceed was very different, and bore the most coin- belief. Haroun, of Arabian Ni~ hts celebrity, plete resemblance to water. This exact sim- performed the pilgrimage no less than nine ilitude the traveler attributes to the great times, and with a grandeur becoming the dryness of the air and earth in the desert commander of the faithful. The caravan of where he beheld it. There, too the appear- the mother of the last of the Abassides num- ance of water approached much nearer than hered one hundred and twenty thousand in Syria and I~4ypt, being often not more camels. Nine hundred camels were em- than two hundred paces from the beholders, ployed merely in bearing the wardrobe of whereas he had never seen it before at a dis- one of the caliphs, and others carried snow tance of less than half-a-mileFraser, June. ~vith them to cool their sherbet. Nor was Bagdad alone celebr4ed for such pomj~ and LETTER FROM THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. luxury in fulfilling the directions ot the A short time since, (says the Court Journal,) Koran. The Sultan of Egypt, on one occa- the rector of a parish in one of the midland sion, was accompanied by five hundred counties, having obtained subscriptions to- camels, whose luscious burdens consisted of ward the restoration of his church, still found sweetmeats and confectionery only; while himself unable to meet all the claims which two huiidred and eighty were entirely laden the outlay had occasioned. To supply the with pomegranates and other fruits. The deficiency, he wrote to many persons of itinerant larder of this potentate contained wealth and eminence, politely soliciting their one thousand geese and three thousand fowls. aid. The following is a copy *f th3 reply Even so late as sixty years since, the pilgrim- which he received to the application made caravan from Cairo was six hours in passing to his Gi~ace: one who saw the procession. F. M. the Duke of Wellington presents The departure of such an array, with its his compliments to Mr. . As Mr. thousands of camels glittering in every van- feels that his letter needs apology, the Duke ety of trappings, some with two brass field- will say no more on that subject; but he pieces eachothers with bells and streamers, must add, that as there is not a church, others, again, with kettle-drummers, chapel, glebe-house, school, or even a pago- others, covered with purple velvet, with men da, built from the north to the south pole or walking by their sides playing on flutes and within the utmost limits of the earth, to fiageolets,some glittering with neck ama- which he (the Duke of Wellington) is not ments and silver-studded bridles, variegated called upon to contribute, the Duke is sur- with colored beads, and with nodding plumes prised that Mr. , having already raised of ostrich feathers on their foreheadsto say 7,500 toward the restoration of his church, nothing of the noble, gigantic, sacred cameL, should make application to the Duke, who decked with cloth of gold and silk, his bridle has nothing to say either to or to studded with jewels and gold, led by two shire. sheiks in ureen, with the ark or chapel con- Immediately upon the receipt of this, the taming the Koran written in letters of gold, reverend gentleman was offered five guineas forms a dazzling contrast to the spectacle for the autograph, which he readily accept- it not unfrequently presents before its mis- ed, entering the amount in his subscription- sion is fulfilled. Numbers of these gaily list as the Duke of Wellingtons contribution caparisoned creatures drop and die miserably, to the fund. and when the pilgrimage leaves Mecca the air is too often tainted with the effinvia reek- 3L~VrUt h9~. ing from the bodies of the camels that have sunk under the exhausting fatigue of the Ma. RichARD J. WYATT, an eminent Eng- march. After he had passed the Akaba, hish sculptor, died at Rome on the 29th of near the head of the Red Sea, the whitened May, after a few days illness, and was buriej bones of the dead camels were the land-marks in the Protestant burial-ground. The hearse which guided the pilgrim through the sand- was followed by the British Consul, the Amer- wastes, as he was led on by the alternate ican Charg6 dAffairs, and about fifty friends hope and disappointment of the mirage, or and artists of all nations. Mr. Wyatt wenz serab, as the Arabs term it. Burckhardt to Rome in 1822, and worked for Mr. Gib- describes this phenomenon as seen by him son. After a few years he commenced his when they were surrounded during a whole career, in which he has been so successful. days march by phantom lakes. The color It is said that he has executed commissions was of the purest azure,so clear, that the to the extent of 20,000 sterling. He was in shadows of the mountains which bordered the fifty-seventh year of his age.

42 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. ORIENTAL CARAVANS. the horizon were reflected with extreme pre- cision; and the delusion of its being a sheet or pilgrim-caravan, pursues its of water was thus rendered perfecL He had by night, and by torch- often seen the Egypt: light. I\i~ving~ab~ut four oclock in the there he always found it ot a whitish eclor, afternoon, it travels without stopping till an like morning mist, seldom lying steadily on hour or two after the sun is above the hon- the plain, almost continually vibrating; but zon. The extent and luxury of these pilgrim- in the case above described the appearance ages in ancient times especially, almost exceed was very different, and bore the most coin- belief. Haroun, of Arabian Ni~ hts celebrity, plete resemblance to water. This exact sim- performed the pilgrimage no less than nine ilitude the traveler attributes to the great times, and with a grandeur becoming the dryness of the air and earth in the desert commander of the faithful. The caravan of where he beheld it. There, too the appear- the mother of the last of the Abassides num- ance of water approached much nearer than hered one hundred and twenty thousand in Syria and I~4ypt, being often not more camels. Nine hundred camels were em- than two hundred paces from the beholders, ployed merely in bearing the wardrobe of whereas he had never seen it before at a dis- one of the caliphs, and others carried snow tance of less than half-a-mileFraser, June. ~vith them to cool their sherbet. Nor was Bagdad alone celebr4ed for such pomj~ and LETTER FROM THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. luxury in fulfilling the directions ot the A short time since, (says the Court Journal,) Koran. The Sultan of Egypt, on one occa- the rector of a parish in one of the midland sion, was accompanied by five hundred counties, having obtained subscriptions to- camels, whose luscious burdens consisted of ward the restoration of his church, still found sweetmeats and confectionery only; while himself unable to meet all the claims which two huiidred and eighty were entirely laden the outlay had occasioned. To supply the with pomegranates and other fruits. The deficiency, he wrote to many persons of itinerant larder of this potentate contained wealth and eminence, politely soliciting their one thousand geese and three thousand fowls. aid. The following is a copy *f th3 reply Even so late as sixty years since, the pilgrim- which he received to the application made caravan from Cairo was six hours in passing to his Gi~ace: one who saw the procession. F. M. the Duke of Wellington presents The departure of such an array, with its his compliments to Mr. . As Mr. thousands of camels glittering in every van- feels that his letter needs apology, the Duke ety of trappings, some with two brass field- will say no more on that subject; but he pieces eachothers with bells and streamers, must add, that as there is not a church, others, again, with kettle-drummers, chapel, glebe-house, school, or even a pago- others, covered with purple velvet, with men da, built from the north to the south pole or walking by their sides playing on flutes and within the utmost limits of the earth, to fiageolets,some glittering with neck ama- which he (the Duke of Wellington) is not ments and silver-studded bridles, variegated called upon to contribute, the Duke is sur- with colored beads, and with nodding plumes prised that Mr. , having already raised of ostrich feathers on their foreheadsto say 7,500 toward the restoration of his church, nothing of the noble, gigantic, sacred cameL, should make application to the Duke, who decked with cloth of gold and silk, his bridle has nothing to say either to or to studded with jewels and gold, led by two shire. sheiks in ureen, with the ark or chapel con- Immediately upon the receipt of this, the taming the Koran written in letters of gold, reverend gentleman was offered five guineas forms a dazzling contrast to the spectacle for the autograph, which he readily accept- it not unfrequently presents before its mis- ed, entering the amount in his subscription- sion is fulfilled. Numbers of these gaily list as the Duke of Wellingtons contribution caparisoned creatures drop and die miserably, to the fund. and when the pilgrimage leaves Mecca the air is too often tainted with the effinvia reek- 3L~VrUt h9~. ing from the bodies of the camels that have sunk under the exhausting fatigue of the Ma. RichARD J. WYATT, an eminent Eng- march. After he had passed the Akaba, hish sculptor, died at Rome on the 29th of near the head of the Red Sea, the whitened May, after a few days illness, and was buriej bones of the dead camels were the land-marks in the Protestant burial-ground. The hearse which guided the pilgrim through the sand- was followed by the British Consul, the Amer- wastes, as he was led on by the alternate ican Charg6 dAffairs, and about fifty friends hope and disappointment of the mirage, or and artists of all nations. Mr. Wyatt wenz serab, as the Arabs term it. Burckhardt to Rome in 1822, and worked for Mr. Gib- describes this phenomenon as seen by him son. After a few years he commenced his when they were surrounded during a whole career, in which he has been so successful. days march by phantom lakes. The color It is said that he has executed commissions was of the purest azure,so clear, that the to the extent of 20,000 sterling. He was in shadows of the mountains which bordered the fifty-seventh year of his age.

42 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. ORIENTAL CARAVANS. the horizon were reflected with extreme pre- cision; and the delusion of its being a sheet or pilgrim-caravan, pursues its of water was thus rendered perfecL He had by night, and by torch- often seen the Egypt: light. I\i~ving~ab~ut four oclock in the there he always found it ot a whitish eclor, afternoon, it travels without stopping till an like morning mist, seldom lying steadily on hour or two after the sun is above the hon- the plain, almost continually vibrating; but zon. The extent and luxury of these pilgrim- in the case above described the appearance ages in ancient times especially, almost exceed was very different, and bore the most coin- belief. Haroun, of Arabian Ni~ hts celebrity, plete resemblance to water. This exact sim- performed the pilgrimage no less than nine ilitude the traveler attributes to the great times, and with a grandeur becoming the dryness of the air and earth in the desert commander of the faithful. The caravan of where he beheld it. There, too the appear- the mother of the last of the Abassides num- ance of water approached much nearer than hered one hundred and twenty thousand in Syria and I~4ypt, being often not more camels. Nine hundred camels were em- than two hundred paces from the beholders, ployed merely in bearing the wardrobe of whereas he had never seen it before at a dis- one of the caliphs, and others carried snow tance of less than half-a-mileFraser, June. ~vith them to cool their sherbet. Nor was Bagdad alone celebr4ed for such pomj~ and LETTER FROM THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON. luxury in fulfilling the directions ot the A short time since, (says the Court Journal,) Koran. The Sultan of Egypt, on one occa- the rector of a parish in one of the midland sion, was accompanied by five hundred counties, having obtained subscriptions to- camels, whose luscious burdens consisted of ward the restoration of his church, still found sweetmeats and confectionery only; while himself unable to meet all the claims which two huiidred and eighty were entirely laden the outlay had occasioned. To supply the with pomegranates and other fruits. The deficiency, he wrote to many persons of itinerant larder of this potentate contained wealth and eminence, politely soliciting their one thousand geese and three thousand fowls. aid. The following is a copy *f th3 reply Even so late as sixty years since, the pilgrim- which he received to the application made caravan from Cairo was six hours in passing to his Gi~ace: one who saw the procession. F. M. the Duke of Wellington presents The departure of such an array, with its his compliments to Mr. . As Mr. thousands of camels glittering in every van- feels that his letter needs apology, the Duke ety of trappings, some with two brass field- will say no more on that subject; but he pieces eachothers with bells and streamers, must add, that as there is not a church, others, again, with kettle-drummers, chapel, glebe-house, school, or even a pago- others, covered with purple velvet, with men da, built from the north to the south pole or walking by their sides playing on flutes and within the utmost limits of the earth, to fiageolets,some glittering with neck ama- which he (the Duke of Wellington) is not ments and silver-studded bridles, variegated called upon to contribute, the Duke is sur- with colored beads, and with nodding plumes prised that Mr. , having already raised of ostrich feathers on their foreheadsto say 7,500 toward the restoration of his church, nothing of the noble, gigantic, sacred cameL, should make application to the Duke, who decked with cloth of gold and silk, his bridle has nothing to say either to or to studded with jewels and gold, led by two shire. sheiks in ureen, with the ark or chapel con- Immediately upon the receipt of this, the taming the Koran written in letters of gold, reverend gentleman was offered five guineas forms a dazzling contrast to the spectacle for the autograph, which he readily accept- it not unfrequently presents before its mis- ed, entering the amount in his subscription- sion is fulfilled. Numbers of these gaily list as the Duke of Wellingtons contribution caparisoned creatures drop and die miserably, to the fund. and when the pilgrimage leaves Mecca the air is too often tainted with the effinvia reek- 3L~VrUt h9~. ing from the bodies of the camels that have sunk under the exhausting fatigue of the Ma. RichARD J. WYATT, an eminent Eng- march. After he had passed the Akaba, hish sculptor, died at Rome on the 29th of near the head of the Red Sea, the whitened May, after a few days illness, and was buriej bones of the dead camels were the land-marks in the Protestant burial-ground. The hearse which guided the pilgrim through the sand- was followed by the British Consul, the Amer- wastes, as he was led on by the alternate ican Charg6 dAffairs, and about fifty friends hope and disappointment of the mirage, or and artists of all nations. Mr. Wyatt wenz serab, as the Arabs term it. Burckhardt to Rome in 1822, and worked for Mr. Gib- describes this phenomenon as seen by him son. After a few years he commenced his when they were surrounded during a whole career, in which he has been so successful. days march by phantom lakes. The color It is said that he has executed commissions was of the purest azure,so clear, that the to the extent of 20,000 sterling. He was in shadows of the mountains which bordered the fifty-seventh year of his age. THE DOM OF DANTZIG. 43 From Frasers Magazine. THE DOM OF DANTZIC. FOUNDED ON FACT. CHAPTER I. flUMIGER, my own Dumiger, you desired Lime not to disturb you this night; but you surely cannot know how late it is. I am lonely and weary, and could not resist coming to you; there is a long line of pale light behind the Artimshof, it must be the day breaking; yes, there, the old worn-out clock is striking five, and you are worn out, Dumi- ger, so leave your work to sleep; and the young girl blushed deeply as she spoke. The light in the apartment had burnt out unperceived by Dumiger; but although pale andthin was the streak of mornings dawn, was sufficient to show that in that room was standing a form, beautiful from its full- ness and ripeness. She who addressed the man who was sitting at the table was a bride but nine days since, and absorbing indeed must have been the pursuit which kept him from her side. She had thrown a shawl loosely over her shoulders, which fell in many folds down to her bare feet; her hair, of that singular thickness which all nations admire, but which the Germans alone as a nation possess, was coiled around her small and classic head; there was on her cheek that soft bloom which is called into existence by love alone, and which makes the pulses of youth beat quickly as it gazes. Nothing was wanting to complete her excellenceneither that refinement which poets love to dwell on sometimes to the prejudice of other qualities, nor that perfection of feature, the admiration of which is the first characteristic of early passion; and yet, notwithstanding, when she placed her hand upon her husbands shoulder the touch did not arouse him from his reverie. His forehead was pressed by both his hands as if to restrain the pulsations of the temples; implements of all description lay around him; small wheels, and springs of different con- structions, segments of circles, and various sections bore evidence to the deep nature of his studies, and to the exertion which merited repose. The girl sighed as she looked at the surroundino chaos she took one hand gently n and unresistingly on his part from his face, and pressed it to her own. While she gazed fondly upon the jale~ wan countenance which it had conceale , it seemed, alas! to dawn alowly upon her that this confused heap of material was but an indication of ideas equally disturbed, and energies as broken. To whom had she wedded herself 3 To a man whose whole soul was absorbed in one idea, and that an idea which evidently sepa- rated him from her, which created a gulf between them, that not fame, nor power, nor boundless wealth, could ever fill up, for that gulf is fathomlessthe gulf of ambition, for which ambition barters, as in this instance, its enjoymentmanhood too often its truth and old age its repose. V. ~. 2 had linked her destiny to such a man, and now she felt the full import of the vow she had made, of the pledge she had taken. ?3he had done so wittingly, knowingly, with consideration; but not until that moment had the full force of her position burst upon her. Dumiger, she again whispered in the small, still voice of love; bending her lips to his hand at the same time, Dumiger ! There was silence, for he slept. But slowly, as though by a secret sympathy, he awoke to consciousness: he looked wildly around the room, and then turned a keen, earnest gaze on the form near him. Marguerite, my love, he said gently, and then he put his arm around her waist, and pressed his lips to hers, you promised me, Marguerite, that you would let me toil through this night. So I did, Dumiger, she replied; but I felt nervousandwretched; I could not sleep: besides, look out, the night is already passed, it is quite morning, and very chilly too, she said, as she drew her shawl closer round her bosom. Yes, you will catch cold, my darling. Leave me. And you, Dumiger, will you remain here, poring over these volumes, and torturing your brains 3 I am sure, that you will suc- ceed far more easily (for I never doubt your success, but lament the price you will have to j~ay for it), you will succeed far better by giving yourself more rest, and working by day instead of night; your check is quite pale, Dumiger: now, in your boyhood, you have lines marked on your forehead which in others are the result of pain and toil. Your eyes have lost She was about to add, their brightness, when as though a sudden ray of light had flashed through them, they gleamed with even more than their wonted intelligence. Marguerite, Marguerite, he exclaimed, clasping her in his arms, you know not what you are saying. Look here ! and he rose hurriedly from his seat and drew her toward the window; do you see that star in the east, how bright it is, that you can even distinguish the ray it sheds from the gray light which breaks from behind those masses of clouds 3 By that light I tell you I shall succeed in my most extravagant ex~ pectations. How many anxious nights I have waited for that star! Until I saw it I had no~ hopenow, my hope can scarcely find expres- sion. I am grateful to Thee, 0 I~rovidence, for this revelation, for the accomplishment of all my wishes ; and he bowed his head as though in adoration, and almost sank on his knees. Marguerite looked at him as if she dreaded that his brain was turned. Dumiger inter- Pr eted that look; for what look is there that ove cannot interpret 3 No, Marguerite, I am not mad, believe me. This toil has not yet turned my brain, though it might indeed have done so, for it is sad

THE DOM OF DANTZIG. 43 From Frasers Magazine. THE DOM OF DANTZIC. FOUNDED ON FACT. CHAPTER I. flUMIGER, my own Dumiger, you desired Lime not to disturb you this night; but you surely cannot know how late it is. I am lonely and weary, and could not resist coming to you; there is a long line of pale light behind the Artimshof, it must be the day breaking; yes, there, the old worn-out clock is striking five, and you are worn out, Dumi- ger, so leave your work to sleep; and the young girl blushed deeply as she spoke. The light in the apartment had burnt out unperceived by Dumiger; but although pale andthin was the streak of mornings dawn, was sufficient to show that in that room was standing a form, beautiful from its full- ness and ripeness. She who addressed the man who was sitting at the table was a bride but nine days since, and absorbing indeed must have been the pursuit which kept him from her side. She had thrown a shawl loosely over her shoulders, which fell in many folds down to her bare feet; her hair, of that singular thickness which all nations admire, but which the Germans alone as a nation possess, was coiled around her small and classic head; there was on her cheek that soft bloom which is called into existence by love alone, and which makes the pulses of youth beat quickly as it gazes. Nothing was wanting to complete her excellenceneither that refinement which poets love to dwell on sometimes to the prejudice of other qualities, nor that perfection of feature, the admiration of which is the first characteristic of early passion; and yet, notwithstanding, when she placed her hand upon her husbands shoulder the touch did not arouse him from his reverie. His forehead was pressed by both his hands as if to restrain the pulsations of the temples; implements of all description lay around him; small wheels, and springs of different con- structions, segments of circles, and various sections bore evidence to the deep nature of his studies, and to the exertion which merited repose. The girl sighed as she looked at the surroundino chaos she took one hand gently n and unresistingly on his part from his face, and pressed it to her own. While she gazed fondly upon the jale~ wan countenance which it had conceale , it seemed, alas! to dawn alowly upon her that this confused heap of material was but an indication of ideas equally disturbed, and energies as broken. To whom had she wedded herself 3 To a man whose whole soul was absorbed in one idea, and that an idea which evidently sepa- rated him from her, which created a gulf between them, that not fame, nor power, nor boundless wealth, could ever fill up, for that gulf is fathomlessthe gulf of ambition, for which ambition barters, as in this instance, its enjoymentmanhood too often its truth and old age its repose. V. ~. 2 had linked her destiny to such a man, and now she felt the full import of the vow she had made, of the pledge she had taken. ?3he had done so wittingly, knowingly, with consideration; but not until that moment had the full force of her position burst upon her. Dumiger, she again whispered in the small, still voice of love; bending her lips to his hand at the same time, Dumiger ! There was silence, for he slept. But slowly, as though by a secret sympathy, he awoke to consciousness: he looked wildly around the room, and then turned a keen, earnest gaze on the form near him. Marguerite, my love, he said gently, and then he put his arm around her waist, and pressed his lips to hers, you promised me, Marguerite, that you would let me toil through this night. So I did, Dumiger, she replied; but I felt nervousandwretched; I could not sleep: besides, look out, the night is already passed, it is quite morning, and very chilly too, she said, as she drew her shawl closer round her bosom. Yes, you will catch cold, my darling. Leave me. And you, Dumiger, will you remain here, poring over these volumes, and torturing your brains 3 I am sure, that you will suc- ceed far more easily (for I never doubt your success, but lament the price you will have to j~ay for it), you will succeed far better by giving yourself more rest, and working by day instead of night; your check is quite pale, Dumiger: now, in your boyhood, you have lines marked on your forehead which in others are the result of pain and toil. Your eyes have lost She was about to add, their brightness, when as though a sudden ray of light had flashed through them, they gleamed with even more than their wonted intelligence. Marguerite, Marguerite, he exclaimed, clasping her in his arms, you know not what you are saying. Look here ! and he rose hurriedly from his seat and drew her toward the window; do you see that star in the east, how bright it is, that you can even distinguish the ray it sheds from the gray light which breaks from behind those masses of clouds 3 By that light I tell you I shall succeed in my most extravagant ex~ pectations. How many anxious nights I have waited for that star! Until I saw it I had no~ hopenow, my hope can scarcely find expres- sion. I am grateful to Thee, 0 I~rovidence, for this revelation, for the accomplishment of all my wishes ; and he bowed his head as though in adoration, and almost sank on his knees. Marguerite looked at him as if she dreaded that his brain was turned. Dumiger inter- Pr eted that look; for what look is there that ove cannot interpret 3 No, Marguerite, I am not mad, believe me. This toil has not yet turned my brain, though it might indeed have done so, for it is sad 44 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. and hard to labor night after night in pursuit of an object so distant and yet so prized. You ask me why I labor through the night 3 Fool- ish child! why you must know that the clock for which the city has offered so extravagant a prize, and to obtain which, not I alone, but so many others are wasting their health and squandering their youthyou must know that this clock is not only to tell the bour of the day, and the month of the year, but to contain within its works the secret of the movements of the heavenly bodies ;that to obtain this prize they must read the wonders of the skies, and penetrate its mysteries. It is a wild and fearful study, Margueritea study, the pursuit of which is not calculated by the hands on the dial- p late. Even now I marvel at the audacity of the men who pro- posed such a design, and the boldness of those who, like myself, have undertaken to fulfill it. You cannot imagine, Marguerite, how such contemplations remove one from the world in which we live. Until I knew you, Marguerite, I cared for and thought of nothing else. And even now, Dumiger, is this not the case 3 said she, with a gentle smile. No, to your love I owe all, Marguerite, he answered. It seemed to purify my feel- ings, to elevate my mind to the height of this vast argumentuntil I knew you there was a link wanting in my life. When I used to ponder on the marvelous love of the Infinite, which could work out this wondrous system, and give man the faculty and the desire of comprehending it, I felt that the mind con- tained capacities long concealed from its owner; I felt that even in this world there must be at some time a perfect revelation of perfect love to man, beyond that love of nature which is to be derived from the study of this worlds natural laws and those of the lights which rule it. I was then unsatisfied, Marguerite, for there was a void in my heart which nothing could fill up; and I remember once meeting with a passage in a favorite author which said, that whosoever had a faculty or sensation unemployed could not be happy. I was in that situation; but stran~e to say, absorbing as the passion of love is, when I once understood this great mystery I was better able to devote all my energies to science. I had often heard it said, that a pure and holy affection is the purest and surest source of energy and greatnessuntil I knew you, Marguerite, I gave no credit to the saying. And this star, Dumiger, which is growing fainter and fainter 3 It was the one evidence wanting to prove the accuracy of my calculations. Lookhere, Marguerite, and he rose from the table with weak and faltering steps, and drew back a curtain which was drawn across a corner of the small room. There she saw a small clock of exquisite manufacture, a complicated mass of machinery-so complicated that it would have looked like fabled labor to have even put it into motion, or regulated it when in motion. Look here, continued Dumiger, here is the result of two years toil. I have already adapted these works to each other: it is, as you may perceive, a representation of the heavenly bodies; but I could not satisfy myself that my own calculations were correct until I saw this star which I expected to rise as it has risen this morning. ~ ow, Margue- rite, my best beloved, you have seen it burning brightly in that spot of the heavens, it is a pledge of our future love and of my great successI accept it with humility and grati- tude. Yes, now, Marguerite, I will retire with you; a great fact has been accomplished. If a or is virtuous, if to exercise the faculties be a part of the discipline of life, then, even if I die now, I have not lived unworthily, and my labor has not been wholly in vain. What think you, my Marguerite 3 She looked her answer in those dark, speak- ing, lustrous eyes. The greatness of his mind had passed to hers; the mysterious sympathy of kindred souls united them. She was proud of him; and her eyes finshed lightning, and her cheek flushed deeply, as she replied I can forgive you now, Dumiger, all your neglect, in the hope of seeing you famous and honored by all your fellow-townsmen. Ay, Marguerite, replied Dumiger, there it is; it is fame for itself I care forto be great, powerful and wealthy, is a matter of but small importance. One can live without ran~ with- out power, without wealth, and perhaps be all the happier for wanting them. This little room, small and ill-furnished though it be, contains in it as much happiness as any one heart can enjoy. If we have everything we desire, what care I in how small a compass they may be expressed 3 For instance, I would not yield one of your kisses, Margue- rite, for all the palace of the Grand Master can offer. Some of my friends have richer abodes, but what matter 3 Where did Van Eyck, who immortalized himself by that one painting, known throughout Europe as the Dantzic picture, reside 3 Why, in one of those wretched buildings, ill supported by and illars near the Grime Thor, but ~vl his ellow-townsmen are at this mo- ment prouder of than they are of the Artim- shof or the Stockthurm. How did Andreas Steck live 3 In obscurity and penury, without one smile of good fortune to gild the darkness of existence. But do you suppose that these men were unhappy 3 Oh no, Marguerite, to make everything in nature beautiful there is but one element in nature essential, and that is light. To make everything in the heart rejoice there is but one sensation essential, it is love. How think you, Marguerite 3 Her only reply was a long, long kiss. And they retired to rest as the hells of the city chimed in the merry morning, arousing in that city its slumbering passions, fears, loves, difficulties, and perils, which had been for long hours buried in sleep. But amid the various sounds which began to echo through the streets, there was one wanting to give THE DOM OF DANTZIC. evidence that the dawn. of a great town was previously to the period when we are writing, breaking. No clock worthy of the noble to enter a family of distinction as a humble Dom, imitated by Ritter of Strasburg from friend and teacher. There Dumiger chauced St. Sophia, arrested the attention ot those to meet her. When first he met he lured; who were starting forth on their several pil- and like all men of earnest purpoSe, he loved grimages of toil or joy; none had yet been with no common passion. 1 he family were wrought worthy of the mighty majestic pile of that kind so frequently met with in society which overshadowed the free city, and reared affecting great consideration for those whom its towers lofty as the great League to whose fate has placed beneath them, but expressing wealth it owed its orioin. To construct such consideration in such terms as made it almost a clock was the object for which Dumiger an offense, and proving their vanity in the labored; and not he alone, but hundreds of very manner in which they affected humility. skilled workmen, toiled anxiously through the She at once accepted Dumiger, though sonie long autumn nights, for the citizens of Dant- months elapsed before it was possible for them zic loved that glorious fane whose lofty towers to niarry. At last, by dint of great exertion, looked upon their birth, and beneath whose they laid aside sufficient money to commence shadow the noblest of their freemen were the world with. Dumiger had the small buried. To connect their names with that apartment, within whose narrow limits his great monument, seemed to them to be an mind expanded to the contemplation of the object well worthy of the noblest and oldest vast field of inquiry on which he presumed to commercial houses. Two years had been enter, and he transported Marguerite to her allowed for the undertaking, and the time new home; there to indulge in imaginations of for deciding the prize was drawing near; love, boundless and visionary, as his were of and amongst all who toiled to win it, none ambition. more zealously labored in the work than The day following that which we have Dumiger Lichtnau, known to history as described there was a great annual ffie at Dumi.~er of IDantzic. Dantzic. The free city for the time donned its freest and most joyous manners~ it was one of those days in which honest burghers, CiIAPTER ~ and most especially honest burghermasters, I F it be a grateful sight to behold the young delight, because they are then enabled to put and happy when all life is bright before them, on their greatness with their broadeloths; and when the soil which they tread on is covered every flag and inscription in the streets is a with flowers, and the only murmurs which tribute to their past, and an incentive to their they hear are the murmurs of soft breezes, renewed exertions. Fortunately the day rose and the only sighs are sighs of passion; not in more than ordinary brightness; the 1~viott- less beautiful is it to see the young linked law and the Radaw, two streams which flow tonether in love, struggling with adversity; through the center of Dantzic, reflected the to see two beings whose sole object in life it is variegated masses of colors worn by those who to alleviate the daily toil of each other; to thronged their banks; Commerce had for that whom every effort of self-denial through the day deserted the lofty mart and still loftier object of its exercise becomes a blessing; to warehouse to muse by the side of the river whom the future is full of promise, because which bore her richest freights; processions exertion gives confidence, and self-confidence from the neighboring villages marched with is the source of all hope. There is something music at their head into the city, bearing the very touching in the sight of those whom the devices of their various trades, and when the world deserts, or to whose interests the world crowd separated to let them p ass, the captains is at best indifferent, arousing all their ener- of companies and humbler officials drew them- gies to battle with adverse circumstances. selves up as they traversed the rude, ill-fash- rhen every little addition to the daily com- ioned pavement of the picturesque and antique forts is prized, as the result of independence gabled city. It was the fete of the patron and of honorable exertionin a word, as the saints of the town,strange evidence of a reward of labor: every holiday arrives fraught future state, even among those who reflect not merely with enjoyment, but with blessing. but little; for there as ever all men turn To such there are sources of happiness, which alike to some mysterious guardian for protec- the gay, the wealthy, the children of lifes sun tion, and like this city are consecrated to know nothing of, but which in their noonday some faith. In the midst of these happy career of splendor and greatness they might groups, which were collected at every corner well stop to envy, and filled every gasthof, moved Dumiger and On such an existence Marguerite had Marguerite, most blessed and happy where entered. Hers was a simple history, told in all looked smiling and contented. Margue- Cew words, but connected with long previous rite was the envy of all brides, and of those chapters of passions and regrets; for she was who wished to become,so; and there was not the child of love, begotten in tears, and a young burgher of distinction who had not brought up in one of those admirable found- at some time or another looked upon her with ling establishments which prevail in Germany, admiring gaze, and followed her to the palace and are at once the incentives to love and the in which she dwelt, and loitered under her protection of its offspring. She left it a year window,-where, however, the thin Slinht 46 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. curtain was rarely if ever drawn aside to account did she intend to accept the suit; satisfy the vanity of the gazer or to kindle and then, in spite of his gratification at the her own. She was of a very admirable certainty that his son could not make a mar- beauty, as perfect as is commonly found in riage which he thought so discreditable, his nature, which fancy can at will outwork, vanity was wounded at her decision, and even tall, of excellent symmetry, with a clear, while he praised Marguerites disinterested noblc brow, the proudest type of Natures conduct, in his heart he was garnering up glory. There were few in town who did not hatred against her. A blow to vanit is ter- y know her, at all events, from reputation, and rible, and it is a blow which the humblest that reputation was spotless. Of Dumigers and weakest can give as well as the most appearance we cannot say as much: he would powerful, in the contempt or even the indif- have been decidedly plain but for the indica- ference expressed for the pursuit in which we tions of genius which his countenance afforded, are interested, or for the object which we His forehead was marked with the lines of have attained. So much of our opinion of patient and anxious thought; but these evi- the value of an object depends on the price dences, if they did not serve to please the which others set upon it, that it is sufficient gazer, at least commanded his respect. He to know others are indifferent to it for our- was somewhat bent by premature exertion~ selves to undervalue it. But Marguerite tue hair, even at that early age, was thin and went forward in her career of happiness, scanty on the temples; his step was slightly quite ignorant of the dislike she was leaving enfeebled by want of proper exercise. Alto- behind her. She told Frederick the truth, gether he was a very remarkable man from that she loved Dumiger, and kindly added, the intellectual power which every lineament that but for this circumstance she might one expressed; yet altogether he was scarcely day have loved him; and then with a light such a person as would have been considered heart she left the splendid palace for the likely to awaken a strong passion in a young abode of poverty. girl like Marguerite. For it is too true that, They moved on together, those two young to use the expression of a writer of that age, and loving beings, and so intent were they on ii aveit lair dun~ lime qul arcit recootr6 per their own happiness, so concentrated in each liasarci im corps et qmi scm tirait coetmc ii other, that they did not observe how the pen. VOlt, crowd through which they passed fell back And yetso strange a being is woman in admiration, but at last Dumiger caught desirous like the l-Iindoo wife to sacrifice her- the expressions of their faces, and saw the self on whatever altar she raises in her heart, glance which accompanied them, and then Alarguerite, in order to marry Duiniger, had he almost looked nobly born, so proud became refused the greatest offers,amouast others, his step and steadfast his gaze. The long no less a person than the son of that house market (surrounded with its fantastic gables, into which she had been received. But irre- stran ~e, rickety, and picturesque, which spective of the affection which she felt for looked as though they retained the expres- Dumiger, she was in her nature proud and sion of the angular, quaint, rococo faces of haughty, and she would not hax e consented, those by whom the houses were formerly ten- even under other and less favorable circum- anted) was crowded with all that was gay stances, to have entered where she was and animated in Dantzic; around the foun- despised by the rest of the family. It may tains, somewhat rude in their execution but he imagined how great indignation was ex- admirable in their models, the peasants from cited in this man by her refusal, the more the neighborhood were congregated. Pres- especially as, like Dumiger, he thought him- ently the crowd, which had momentarily self a proficient in science and the meehani- become greater and still greater, swayed cal arts, and was one of those who in his way backward and forward like the tide in a was laboring for the prize so soon to be harbor when a noble vessel enters its gates. awarded by the city. It merit was to be the They made place for a herald, who rode on test of success, he had but little chance; but horseback surrounded by his deputies, and where is that man and where are those minds gave notice in an audible voice that on that with whom rank and power have not their day week the Supreme Council would meet weight He was, therefore, if not the most to decide on the merits of the different pieces formidable by intellect, at all events by cir- of mechanism which were to be submitted to cumstance, the one of Dumigers competitors their judgments, and which were to be sent the most to be dreaded, for his father was the in three days previously. Then the herald president of that council which presided over recited the rewards which the great and free the destinies of Dantzie, and who usurped city offered to the most successful competi- more than imperial authority. He t~elonged tors: they were worthy of the great League to the ancient house of Albrecht, Grand Mas- of which Dantzie was the head :A house to ter of the Teutonic Knights, and oldest free- be kept up at the expense of the State, to be man of the Hanseatic League. A strange, styled the most honorable, a ring of honor, proud man, who when he learned indirectly but above all, a laurel wreath, and to have that his son Frederick was in love with Mam~- precedence immediately after the Supreme guerite, indulged in a storm of fearful indig- Council itself. Such was the attachment of nation, until he found from her that on no the inhabitants of Dantzic to their town and THE DOM OF DANTZIC. 47 its glories that its embellishment was dearer quil abode to revel in publicity. One so to them than any personal or material advan- standing above the wild hum of tumultuous tages. But it is probable that these honors enjoyment would in silent thought have mar- would not have been so great on the present veled at the strange drama performing as it occasiou had the Grand Master not been fully were at his feetthe sad and fearful mixture impressed with the belief that his own son of the shadows and lights of life and death, would succeed in the contest, and add the market-place, and close at hand the another and the greatest to the honors which burial-ground. Talk of contemplation in the belonged to his house. Marguerite and wild solitudes of the country, how much more Dumiger pressed forward through the crowd is there room for contemplation in the crowded to hear the proclamation read, and the blood I mart and the bustling thoroughfare! Where flowed in their cheeks as they listened. Dumi- is the river whose current is so rapid as the ger turned to look at Marguerite, her eyes current of life, or at time so dangerous and were moist with love and admiration; he treacherous? Where is the tide whose ebb pressed her arm fondly, and said in a low and flow is so uncertain as the ebb and flow voice, j of existence 3 Where arc to be found winds Now, Marguerite, will you forgive me the and waves more boisterous than those which hours passed in solitude, in selfish silence, ao~itate the human heart 3 Where is the when you know how highly the city estimates shore so strewn with wrecks as the heart with this work to which my nights and days have the broken memorials of passion which may been devoted 3 have long since swept over it 3 If Nature in Her only answer was a ~lance of affection its solitude affords calm enjoyment, in its which thrilled throu~h his frame, human development it affords matter for It was night, they were tired of wandering deeper thought; if the view from the moun- about, and entered one of the numerous cefrs I tam-top, extending over hill and dale, expand which had been temporarily erected in cele- the mind, to stand above the wild tumult of bration of the day. In the center of the a town equally exalts the imagination and Grande Place a stage was built for dancing, conveys knowledge, even while it compels the and when the band played its liveliest tunes gazer to pass out of himself. the bright-eyed dancers swept round in ad- As they approached a coffee-house on the mirable time; the variegated lamps which same side of the street as the Dom, Margue- hung around the square checkered the pave- rite proposed to Dumiger to remain there, ment with every variety of hue, cast such a where they could best see the dancing, and glory on the fountain that its outline was she drew a chair toward her. worked as it were with threads of gold. All No, no, not here ! exclaimed Dumiger; these different colors and shapes were re- and he took her across the square to another flected in the rippling waves of the ever- house of greater reputation. rolling waters. Youths in the gayest dresses But it was not on this account that Dumi- strutted away their proud hour of triumph ger preferred it, but because it had a view of with that graceful vanity of pretension which the Pom; he could there contemplate the youth so well becomes, or flirted with the space which was left for the clock, of which tender maidens, who in silver-laced bodice he fondly believed he was making the model. and scarlet skirt, with their brows encircled He pictured to himself that tower, the wonder with interwoven wild flowers, sat round the and admiration of the town; that on the spot brink of the fountain, where the murmurs of where he was then sitting numbers would the ever-falling waters could best conceal the crowd to view the wonderful machinery fash- murmurs of love. And above all this gor- ioned by his genius. geous tumult and bright excitement the moon The history of the caft to which he took rem her throne of silver clouds rose like a Marguerite was curious; it had been opened virgin queen: the bold architecture of the not less than one hundred and twenty years Dom stood in clear relief, some parts as without being once entirely closed. It was, though sculptured out of heavens light, in peint of fact, formed by two houses, which while the depths of the arches were buried were used alternately to allow of the neces- in mysterious shade, emblematic of the faith sary repairs and cleansings. On such an oc- to which it was dedicated,in part clear to casion as the present they were both thrown the fresh comprehension of the youngest open,the one part was for persons of the child, and again full of deep and fathomless second rank, amongst which Dumiger and mysteries. Athwart the flood of light which Marguerite now classed themselves; the filled the square, the deep shade of this noble other was reserved for the people of the Dom was thrown, like the dark visions of the higher order, for in this city of popular insti- future which sometimes fall upon the heart tutions and liberal opinions the distinction of in its hours of brightest enjoyment. If one classes was very strictly preserved. had stood that night on the lefty tower and Marguerite and Dumiger ordered some looked forth on the vast multitude, he need slight refreshment. Marguerite was enjoy- not, Asmodeus-like, have unroofed the houses ing that repose which is so anrecable to the to read the history of human life or the pas- mind after the semisation of strong happiness; sions of the human heart, for life and passion Dumiger, with his head resting on his hand, had gone forth that night from many a tran- was gazing on the lofty tower of the Dom, 48 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. and the light fleecy clouds, which appeared Large fortune ! they both exclaimed; to be almost attracted by the glittering vane. where are you to get it, student 3 Have At that moment a rude hand slapped his you found an old cave in the Grime Thor, shoulder. Dumiger, with a fortune buried, as the old You here, Dumiger ! said Carl. Why, romances have it 3 2onfound it, man, I thought you were poring Yes, I shall soon discover a fortune, ex- over dull tomes of the University library, or claimed the boy, now fairly excited, and his worshiping a saint, and he took off his hat cheeks glowing with animation; and more to Marguerite. Here is Krantz, your old than a fortune. Fame and honors shall be friend Krantz, whom you have not seen since heaped upon us. Do you imagine that I have we were all at Bonn together; so I will drink been wasting the last three years of my life 3 with you as well as he did three years since, do you believe that the ambition which was when we reveled in Rhenish. the subject of your illusive aim at college is Dumiger seized the extended hand, a gleam dead 3 No! look here, Carl and Krantz, this shot across his mind; the three years of ab- day week will see me famous, and ennoble straction and thought appeared to be swept my family till it vies even with the Grand away; he only beheld hi~ two boon compan- Masters. ions; his countenance was lightened of a You are mad, said Carl. dozen years. No, I am speaking words of soberness Marguerite, these are two friends of said he, with an earnestness which carried mine, he said; it is getting late and cold. conviction even to those wild spirits. I tell See, the lights on the fountains are burning you that I have an inward confidence that I very dim, and the benches are deserted. You shall win this prize which was proclaimed to- will not grudge me this one night for acquain- day, that my name will be associated with the tance sake, dear Marguerite? I shall not be proudest fame ever reared in iDantzic. Oh, late, but I must grant myself one bottle to- the nights and days of toil, the hopes and night to drink to my success. What, angry, fears which have agitated me, for the last my Marguerite ! three years: these will account to you for the She was not angry, but she thought that paleness of my cheek, and my vacant look. love in life is of rare fulfillment. Again Well, I have this day completed the test another night of loneliness: yesterday it was which the accuracy of my work is prove a disagreeable necessity, now an agreeable and now I hold I shall be great. excitement, but both alike led to a lonely He spoke so loud that his voice echoed room and a lonely heart. But in the shade through the peristyle; it disturbed one not Dumiger pressed her hand, and assured her the least interested in the conversation, Fred- with many kisses that he would return within crick Asprecht. He lent an attentive ear to two hours, and she tried to feel satisfied and all that fell from the speakers lips, and then assured. The three friends sat down; a he learned that not only had he been robbed larger table replaced the small stand which of an affection which he had striven to win, had been exclusively devoted to ices; three but that the same man who had married bottles of huge dimensions were brought from Marguerite was about to take from him the the cellar; pledge after pledge was received possibility of obtaining a prize he sought for. and given. Dumiger became a different man, In the vanity of his pretensions he could not save that at moments, in the midst of some believe it possible that Dumiger really was burst of louder hilarity, the cloud of ambition not at the moment speaking extravagantly; would cross his brow and seem to furrow it, it was not until he listened attentively, and and then he would fold his arms across his heard him give a detailed account of the breast, as if to repress the outbreak of his nature of his mechanism, that he saw (for soul. It was during one of these moments of he was not wanting in scientific knowledge) abstraction that Carl turned suddenly round. that Dumigers confidence was far from mis- Why, Dumiger, he exclaimed, you do placed. Frederick, when he had heard suffi- not fill your glass! In former days, man, cient, left the p lace with a heavy heart, and you were of a very different mood. Has mar- with melancholy step retired to his chambers riage so tamed you 3 Wont Marguerite of luxury. allow it ~ He entered the Grand Masters palace, and Krantz and the two friends made the place passed through the vast marble ball, where ring with their rude students laugh. the banners hung against the walls, and de- Ha! ha! I, why I am in excellent spirits, vices and armorial bearings testified to the said Dumiger, filling a bumper with the antiquity and gallantry of his race. The strongest of the wines upon the table. I lofty roof, supported by vast ashen beams, ought to be in good spirits, for I have every- echoed to each step as it rang on the pave- thing to make me so. ment. Sculpture and painting decorated the Ay, the most beautiful girl in Dantzic for several galleries; but he passed by all Un- a wife, said Carl. noticed, for he had one object in view which With a large fortune 3 said Krantz, absorbed all others, and rendered him now laughing. indifferent to the luxuries and grandeur by That will come, replied Dumiger, heated which he was surrounded. To his surprise by wine, when lie entered a colonnade full of the TilE POM OF DANTZIC. choicest flowers, which united the extreme scheme and plan seem well founded. How- wings of the vast building, he found his ever, neither the man nor his production will father walking there with an anxious, timid find great favor in the council while I have step, and his manner was nervous and influence there; he may exaggerate his uneasy. merits. Frederick, said the old man, one of those I think not, said Frederick. But there dignified, astute, tall, gray-bearded, and keen- is one way to get rid of his competition, said eyed men, whom we find in the picture gal- Frederick, laying his hand on the hilt of his leries of the middle ages, dressed in a suit of sword. stately black, with the golden chain of his No, no, young man; take your hand order, and riband of the Fleece, I wa~ very from your sword: I will have no brawling, anxious to see you, my son. The influence no bloodshed, like those common burgh- of our house is deserting us; you have not ers, whose sons are even now rustling attended the council latelythere is a major- through the market-place. But wait a little; ity organizing against us. You should be at night gives counsel. I think I have a way your po~r, my son. The first element of sue- far more practical and less hazardous than cess in t~[~ is industrypatient, untirin in- that which you proposeleave the matter in dustry; it is to this we owe the fortunes of my hands, Frederick. I am glad to find you our ho~is~. the very decorations which I wear, have some spirit, that it has not all been dis- the consideration with which I am trcate(l, sipated on that foolish girl; there is always and the old man curled the long, taperina hope in man where there is energy. What I moustache, partly in pride, partly in anger. feared was that you might become a mere But, my father, you forget that I am dreamer, and struggle through an idle, vapor- wholly occupied in my studiesthat you in g existence; now I hold that you are worthy yourself urged me to contend for the prize of your name, although the conviction has which the city givesthat you considered I reached me in an unpleasant form. But this would be the readiest means of extend- leave this to me, all will be right; you have ing your family influence. only one thing to do. to send Hoffman to me Forget! exclaimed the old man indig- to-morrow morning. nantly. Forget ! and his spurs clanged Hoffman the silversmith, who lives at the upon the pavement. I am not quite so old corner near the senate house i asked Fred- as to forget thusneither do I forget that crick. you wasted three months in makiiig love to Precisely, replied the Count, and soon that jungfrau Marguerite, and three more his firm unbroken step was heard ringing in months in lamenting her loss, even after she the distance. had spurned you, you son of the chief citizen Frederick went out on the balcony to mcdi- of Dantzic. You suecced in nothing, sir; tate on what possible steps his father prop~sed unstable as water, you trifle away all exist- taking to overrule the opposition of Dumiger. ence. Now tell me, you solitary student, With all his frivolity and dissipation he was where have you been to-night 3 Of course greatly ambitious, and most anxious te sus- not wasting every moment in the holiday tam a reputation he had long enjoyed of with your boon companions, and making having it in his power to command success love to all the peasants 3 Speak, sir. in any pursuit to which he chose to direct his it is true, my father; I was at the fair, attentionthat Alcibiades and Admirable replied Frederick, submissively. Crichton character which is the principal You tell the truth at any rate, continued source of failure to many men in life. With the Count, somewhat touched by his frank- the exception of the hours wasted in the use- ness. Well, then, we wont say anything less pursuit of Marguerite, he certainly had more about the past and Marguerite; but not in the present instance been wanting in tell me as frankly what prospect you have of exertion, and he also had, like many other success in the competition for this famous chief burghers in IDantzic, turned his atten~. clock, for on that will greatly depend the tion to mechanical pursuits; it was the first power of sustaining our family influence. time, he now felt convinced, that those exer- So appealed to, Frederick thought it wise tions would be all thrown away. As he at once to prepare his father for the truth. looked down from the lofty gallery in which He told him that until that evening he had he was standing on the dense circle of happy imagined that he pos ssed every prospect of dancers, who were whirling round and round obtaining the prize, ad then he repeated all in the center of the square; as he heard the that he had overh~ rd Dumiger asserting. joyous laugh from the numerous groups who In the bitterness of his spirit he inveighed thronged the coffee-houses; as the plumes of against him as a pci onal enemy, and as he the guards waved in the moonli ht, and the spoke vehemently an. I earnestly, his fathers light flashed on the bright uniforms. and eyes glistened with vmgeance and pleasure, brighter cheeks which reposed upon them: for he saw that the dignity of the father had he began to think how idle was a life of am- passed into his son; he had never seen the bition, how far happier he was when as a boy youth so excited, he now felt that he was he joined in the merry supper; when the worthy of the old time-? onored race. clear, bright, sparkling wine represented the Ah, he said, Dc niger again; and his free spirits of those who drank it; whea S. & T. e.4 60 INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. maidens, with gay hearts and light golden hair, sought his love. Give me back these joys,~~ he exclaimed in agony; give me that youth which graced the pursuits of love, and which dignified every enjoyment; take from me that ambition, which only leads to misery in its failure and to disappointment in its fulfillment. CHAPTER III. HOFFMAN, the silversmith, whom the count desired to see, was one of those men who have existed at all times and in all coun- tries, who trade on the exertions of those who possess more energy and perseverance than themselves, and who really do seem essential to the great mechanism of society. He had from time to time rendered assistance to Pumiger, who, unfortunately at the pres- ent moment owed him a large sum of money, which it would take a long time to liquidate. The count also had dealings with the silver- smith; for in the quartier faif all classes meet and jostle each other. But Hoffman was a superior man of his order, he knew the secret history of most of the important burgh- ers, was consulted on many very delicate subjects, and could have published more scandal than any Sunday Chronicle of these more modern days. The count was like all other counts, incessantly in debt; so, when Hoffman was ordered to attend on the Grand Master, he did not doubt tha.t the mandate originated in the ordinary necessity, and he prepared himself accordingly to evade or con- cede. Some time previously the count had found it necessary to part with a great por- tion of his old family plate, and as it was during the passion of his son for Marguerite, and after J)umiger had carried off the prize, he had discovered from the loquacious gold- siaith all the particulars relative to Dumiger, snd amongst others the account of his pecu- niary obligations, and that Hoffman had a bond from him for a very large sum in his possession. The object of the counts present interview with Hoffman was to know on what terms he could purchase the bond; and when the jeweler arrived, the bargain was soon concluded. Hoffman thought the bond would never be paid, and so the count purchased it for three times its apparent value. On the previous evening Dumiger returned flushed and excited to his house. The mo- ment his friends had left him, he began to regret the confidence he had placed in them, and the frankness with which he had ex- pressed himself. He retained but a very slight recollection of all that he had said, but he thought it was quite sufficient to have aroused the ridicule of those around him. Most painful of all sensations, the vague sense of a folly committed, the extent and the consequences of which are alike unknown to us! As he approached his home it seemed to him that he had profaned his affection for Marguerite by mentioning her name in that rude society, and broken her confidence by alluding to his hopes and his fears. While his secret had been confined to his own breast, or communicated only to Marguerite, his confidence in himself had never for a mo.~ ment been weakened; but now that others were made acquainted with his convictions and his hopes, they seemed to him exagger- ated and unfounded. He had for a moment forgotten that the, chief secret of success in all undertakings in life is Silence. Silence in the scheming, silence in the execution, silence in the fulfillment ; half the charm that had given him strength was lost now that he had opened his breast and disclosed its secrets to others. And it was with a feel- ing approaching to disgust that he entered his workroom, and saw all the material of his grcat enterprise scattered about the floor. He went to lvlarguerites room. She was sleeping with all the freshness of youthful dreams glowing on her cheek; after the tu- mult of the day the stillness of that room soothed his spirit. He reflected how little satisfactory were all these pursuits compared to the tranquillity of home, but then, even as he sat by the bedside, and with her hand in his, pondered on the past and futurea pageant as it were, robed in cloth of gold and purple, and laurel-crowned, swept by him; and the glory of being pr& minent among his fellow-men flashed upon his soul. If he should fail . A cold damp settled on his brow at the thought, for in that event all his time had been thrown away, and there was no possibility of his meeting his various engagements. It was not one Hoff- man but many that beset him, although Hoffman was truly the most avaricious of his tribe, where all were greedy. And then, as he gazed on the lovely countenance by his side, he thought of the affection which had resigned all luxury, and, far above all luxury, that consideration which women so prize, for him, and that he had brought her to a home where she had to deny herself many of those comforts to which she had been accustomed. He regretted the deed. Still more did he regret the time that he had that night wasted, and the money that he had squan- dered; but it was too late for repentance. All that he could now do was to nerve his energies for the toil of the morrowthat morrow which comes to all men, the faii~h of the procrastinator, the hope of the~stt~erer, the mercy of the unbeliever. -~ He awoke in the morning with renewed resolution, but his brow was still heated with the dissipation of the ~previous night, and his hand shook as he applied himself to his work. After a couple of hours, however, when Mar- guerite ha~ taken her place by his side, he forgot Dantzic, Carl, and Krantz, all the an- noyances which threatened him. He was absorbed in his pursuit, and Marguerite was looking over wit her attention not less ab- sorbed than his own, when to their astonish- ment the magnificent carriage, with the THE DOM OF DANTZIC. 51 heavy, sleek, overfed horses, of the Count Albrecht, rolled up to the door. Look here, Dumiger, exclaimed Mar- guerite, running to the window with a wo- mans curiosity flushing her cheek. Here is the Grand Masters carriagewhat can he be doing at this house 3 He must be calling on the new arrivals who took the apartments on the first-floor yesterday, said Dumiger, scarcely looking up from his work, on which all his attention was concentrated. They are beautiful horses, and the manes and tails are decorated with ribands which would furnish me with sashes for a whole life, thought Marguerite; but she avoided giving utterance to her feeling, lest Dumiger should interpret it into an expression of regret at having given up the prospect of ever ob- taining all these luxuries. Marguerite had just left the window when a heavy step was heard on the stair, and a loud knock at the door roused Dumiger from his fit of abstraction, nearly making him jump from his chair. The impulsive Come in ! which he uttered, was immediately suc- ceeded by the appearance of the Count. Dumiger, like most men of deep thought tud habits of abstraction, was diffident. He stood for some moments thunderstruck with- out performing any of the usual courtesies of society. Marguerite in her surprise im- agined that she must have been guilty of some great negligence while residing in the palace, with which the Count now came to reproach her. The silence was broken by the Count him- self, who nodded kindly, almost familiarly to Marguerite, and without any further cere- mony took the chair from which Dumiger had just risen. I called to see whether you were comfort- able, Marguerite, in you.r new abode. It is small, continued the Count, as lolling back in his chair he touched the wall with the back of his head: I suppose, however, that you will some day be able to afford a larger. do not wish to trespass upon your confi- dence, but as I have the liveliest gratitude for the admirable manner in which you, Marguerite, discharged all your duties while you were with me, you must let me evince my recollection of them by a small wedding present. And the Count laid a rouleau of gold pieces on the table. Oh, sir ! exclaimed Dumiger, seizing the Counts hand with effusion, you are so kind; but I can assure you that we are quite happy here. When one is truly attached to an- other, the little sacrifices of life become a plea- sure, and Dumigers eyes so filled with tears, that he did not perceive the quiet, cold sneer on the Counts upper lip; but Marguerite remarked it. Moreover, she knew the Count wellhis vast ambition, his supercilious pride; she had caught the inflection of his tone when he spoke to Dumiger, and she knew that when he affected that winning, cajoling manner, he was always the most dangerous, and most to be suspected. So her only answer or acknowledgment was a low courtesy, and the blood mantled in her cheek, but whether from gratitude or some sterner feeling the Count was unable to divine. He looked at her for some time under his long gray eyelash; Marguerite met the look calmly and composedly. Dumiger was bust- ling about~quite in an ecstacy of delight, aiid for the time entirely forgot the clock and the Dom. Not so the Count, he was curiously scanning all the various parts of the compli- cated machinery which were lying round him. He waited until Marguerite should retire be- fore he judged it right to commence speak- ing to Dumiger on the subject that was next his heart, but Marguerite did nOt seem at all disposed to give him the opportunity. Womans prescience of danger for those she loves is wonderful. Without being able to assign any definite reason, Marguerite felt that the mans presence boded her no good; and it was therefore with a troubled spirit that she heard the Count, after looking sev- cml times at his watch, suggest that he wished to speak to Dumiger alone. Dumiger looked at Marguerite, who thought it wiser at once to~take the hint than to allow the Count to suppose that she at all question- ed the sincerity of the kind interest which he affected to take in her. He waited until the door was fairly closed, and then drew his chair near to Dumigers. The latter, quite unaccustomed to the neighborhood of so great a man, immediately withdrew his seat to a more deferential distance; but the di- mensions of the room speedily put a stop to the retrogression and his modesty by arrest- ing his chair. Dont be afraid, said the Count to Dumi- ger, in a somewhat harsher tone than he had yet used, for he was an impatient and testy old man. Dont draw your chair back in that way. I wish to speak to you privately and confidentially. Dumiger held his breath. What could the Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights have to say to him 3 for, whatever might be his future greatness, at all events i~s promise could be known but to few others. You were out last night, continued the Count. You went to a wine-shopyou spoke loudlyyou drank deeply. As the Count continued Dumigers cheeks glowed. The Count must have heard all that he said. His heart sank within him as he recalled his weakness: but his mind was soon settled on that point by the Count. And when you spoke, continued he, you talked very wildly of becoming a great man; of obtaining more enduring fame than any of our noblest citizens. By the bye, you did me the honor to class me amongst those you were destined to triumph over. It was a wild, idle thought, said Dumi- gem, faltering forth a thousand apologies. INTERNATIONAL WEEKLY MISCELLANY. I did not know what I said. Two friends intended to be very kind, but whose inflec- led me into this error. I am sure you will tion manifested a bitter disappointment, forgive me, sir: I was excited; my brain was and when you have succeeded, will you be in that state I really did not know what I happier ~ Do you think, Dumiger, that great- said. Who ever could have repeated this to ness adds to happiness ~ Ah, you know little your Excellency 3 of the world it you believe this. Besides, No one repeated it, said the Count, so remember, you may fail, and then how bitter you need not entertain any mistrust of your your disappointment will be friends. One of my household overheard Dumiger was seated with his arms folded you; and his ear having caught the sound of and scarcely paying any attention to the my name, he listened attentively, that is all. Counts observations: his mind was wander- But what does it signify 3 You did just as ing amid the planets. all young menay, and the best of our Look, Dumiger, you are attached to Mar- young men, dodrank deep of the Rhenish. guerite. like you the better for it. And then, by all At the name of Marguerite, Dumiger accounts, you had some cause for excitement, raised his head and concentrated all his at- for you believe you are to win the greatest tention. prize that Dantzic has ever proposed for one You love her better than all the world 3 of her citizens. Far better, said Dumiger. The scene of the last night passed from For her, like a man of heart, you would Dumigers memory when the hope of fame sacrifice everything 3 continued the wily and the prospect of success were mentioned. Count. His whole countenance changed, his eye Dumiger nodded his head in assent. brightened, and the nostril dilated. Even the clock 3 You heard that, also, your Excellency 3 A glow mantled over Dumigers cheek; he he said. Well, then, I need not scruple to was about to answer in the affirmative, when tell you the truth. Yes, I have labored night he remembered that the clock had been his and day, and I hope to obtain the reward of companion for five years past. He had lived all this self-sacrifice; and now I draw near with it, breathed his own life into its move- the goal my blood is excitedI am fevered ments,sh& uld he renounce the clock 3 It, by my hopes. Look here, sir, and forget- as well as Marguerite, had become a part of ing all his fears and etiquettes, he took the himself; it had long stood him in the place of Count by the arm and led him to a curtain family, of love, of all those enjoyments which which was drawn across a corner of the youth so wantonly and earnestly clings to. room where the model-clock was placed. The results of success, ambition, honors, Here is the work; it approaches comple- wealthall this he would give up for Mar- tion; is it not worthy of the prize 3 guerite; but his clockhe hesitated. Even to the most unpracticed eye this The Count repeated the question. model of a great work appeared to be of ad- At that moment a sweet voice might be mirable skill. So complicated was the ma- heard caroling one of those simple national chinery, that the marvel seemed to be how it airs which are dear to all nations and all was possible so nicely to have arranged its times. Marguerite had a soft, winning voice, various parts, that they could find sufficient well adapted to the song she was singing. space for working. Massive weights were The Count, as well as Dumiger, paused in his regulated by springs of such fine texture, conversation; the color rose again to Dumi- that it was surprising how they could possi- gers face as he thought how nearly he was bly have been made by a mans rude hand. on the point of sacrificing his faith, and The movement was perfectly noiseless, so loving the work of his own hands more than beautifully were the balances arranged the admirable work of Nature which had around the principal works of the clock been bestowed upon him, and, as he listened, itself: the heavenly bodies were moving in he lowered his voice and said, harmony and regularity; the face of the For her I would sacrifice even the clock! clock had not yet been affixed, so the whole You shall, exclaimed the Count. of the interior operations of the machinery I shall ! said Dumiger, starting from his were apparent. The Count gazed astonished seat. Now in what way do you mean, my at the result of long perseverance and indom- Lord Count 3 itable energy. Dumiger stood beside him You know, said the Count, the value holding the massive curtain aside, and de- of the prize which is offered by the town. It lighting in the Counts amazement. At is worth little in money. The honor is con- length he allowed it to fall, exclaiming, with sidered sufficient. Then you are to be given pardonable self-love, Surely this must sue- high place amongst the good citizens, a ceed ! laurel crown, to ride a white horse, and sun- The Count resumed his seat, and, for some dry other trumperies. time, was unable to regain the composure The Count looked at Dumiger while he ap- which he had lost by the sight which he had plied the word trumperies to those results seen. Dumiger sat buried in thought. which the latter had so impatiently striven And when you have succeeded, Dumi- for,for which he had been laboring night ger, said the Count, in a voice which he and day. These outward signs of the results THE DOM OF DANTZIC. of great ambition,these to be called trum- peries! Dumiger looked at the Count with astonishment. And yet, said he, it is for such trum- peries men sacrifice their lives, sometimes their characters. The old Count colored slightly as he gave a glance at the riband and star which he wore. Men did sometimes say that the Grand Master had not ohtained all his hon- ors without sundry sacrifices of one kind and another. Dumiger had not intended any allusion to these rumors, and he was sur- prised at the Counts change of color, for which, at the moment, he was unable to assv~n a reason. Well, said the Count hesitatingly, as you say you prefer Marguerites love even to your ambition, let us suppose, that in one moment you were able to attain certain wealth, to place her in a position worthy of her high qualities, to be at once on an equal- ity with those of her fellow-citizens, who have hithertopardon me the wordtreated her as an inferior; let us suppose that by some extraordinary powers all this could he immediately realized ;then let me ask you, would you sacrifice your clock 3 Dumiger marveled as he listened. He pic- tured Marguerite adorned with all those in- cidents which lend a new charm even to beauty like hers. He thought, with that vanity which clings to all men,-he thought if she were so much admired in her rustic dress, what would she be if she could rival in luxury and grace the chief ladies of Dantzic3 He looked round the room, and instead of the rudely-carved, worn-out chairs, he pic- tured the most graceful and luxurious sofas; instead of two small, and, in spite of all Marguerites taste and exertion, rather dusty and ungraceful-looking rooms, a suite of mag- nificent apartments, where he could gratify every taste and find people willing to come and applaud it. All this passed through his mind, and he did not perceive how curiously the Count was regarding him; but at last Dumiger was recalled to himself, and he thought how little occasion there was for him to draw such pictures, as they could never be roalized; and why should he annoy himself by considering this proposition, which could only be made to him in joke. But why, he said to the count, do you make me such a suggestion, when I can never hope to obtain this 3 The Count paused a moment, as though to examine Dumigers countenance still more attentively, and then said, You shall obtain this wealth, and much more. I ! exclaimed Dumiger, with astonish- ment. Yes, said the Count; at a great price, I know; at a price, however, which I think you will still be willing to pay for itfor your clock. My clock worth that ! said Dumiger, who will give it to me 3 It was the first time that Dumiger had tested, by the opinion of another, the value of the great work which he had achieved, and it gratified him to hear the magnificent offer. I, said the Count, I will give you all that I have said; nay, more, I will use all my influence to have you placed high on the great book of the citizens. You shall have everything to make life happy. Give me the clock; sign me a paper, making over this clock to me; declaring, at the same time, that it is your free act and