THE NEW-ENGLAND MAGAZINTh JULY, 1832. ORIGINAL PAPERS. EARLY AMERICAN ARTISTS AND MECHANICS. NO. I. NATHANIEL HURJJ. THREE seemingly inglorious discoveries improved the world, and changed the affairs of men, more than any king, conqueror, or reformer ever did, viz, the discovery and use of Gun-Powder, the Mariners Compass, and the art of Engraving and Printing. The tw& last gradually banished barbarism, and humanized the world. The multiplication of books by the Ars Artium omnium Gon- servatrix, and of drawings by the beautiful art of Engraving, produced a radiance of knowledge which has secured the human race from those horrid shocks of Gothicism, which overran Greece and the Ro- man empire. When the Mariners Compass appeared to extend the world by the discovery of America, and the Telescope the Universe, Printing and the Engraving of maps, and the wonders of Astronomy, displayed their grandeur. For want of these, the ancients dwelt in comparative darkness. Authors had but just seen the facility of spreading their works by printing, when Sculptors and Painters seized hold of the discovery, to multiply their Rroductions, by cutting their pictures on copper, and impressing them on paper, to the great advantage of their art, and to the still gruater advantage of geography and natural history. Little, says Horace Walpole (Lord Orford,) did the monarchs of Egypt think, when they erected their enormous Pyramids, with a view to record and eternize their names, that a weed, then growing by their own river Nile, would one day be converted into more durable registers of fame, than all the stupendoas pyramids they could erect; and yet the use of paper and the art of printing, has ensured endless fame to the arts of Egypt, while its monarchs vainly sought it by enormous piles of stone. The verses of Homer, the works of Plato and of Aristotle have continued thousands of years without loss; in which time what numberless palaces, temples, castles, cities, kingdoms and empires have been demolished, and swept from VOL. III. 1 2 Early Artists and Mechanics. the face of the earth. May not printing, by moveable types, and by engravings on copper and on stone, be justly called the PRE5ERVING ART OF ALL OTHER ART5? Of the seven-and-twenty centuries, in which the memory and learn- ing of mankind have been exercised, scarcely six can be culled out as fertile in the sciences, or favorable to humanity; and all for want of the multiplication of books and drawings by the art of printing and engraving on brass or copper. By means of it the intellectual world was equally enlarged with the discoveries of the material one. The history of type-printing is well known to our readers, but that is not the case with Engraving. The history of Engraving and of Engravers is but little known amongst us; and we hope our first steps in it may encourage more able persons to pursue it with a persevering industry equal to its importance. The fine arts, so called, are generally traced to no higher a source than to the Grecians. We must go farther back for the art of engrav- ing. It was known to the builders of Solomons Temple, and we trace the word itself to a Hebrexv root. The word translated carving, in the 6th Chap. of 1 Book of Kings, is derived from the verb to plough, because its cuttings resembled furrows. Hence the Latin Vul- gate translates the Hebrew word by sculpsitand inciditand by ca3lavit, or embossing, and, perhaps, gilding. The Romans engraved on brass, as seen in the votive tablets in their temples of iEsculapius; but they never thought to impress their engrav- ings on paper. As the modern Italians led the way in Painting, so they led the van in Engraving. Marc Anthony Raimondi was patronized by Raphael, and engraved most of his works. The first book published with engraved figures was a book of anatomy at Padua, by Vesalius, which was translated into English by Gemini, who lived in Black Friars. About this time (1551) William Turner, Physician to the Duke of Somerset, published the first book of Botany in England, enti- tled a New Herball, a very curious and elegant production. It is in the old black letter, with a very handsomely flourished large capital letter at the beginning of each article. There is but one older book in our University Library, at Cambridge. Archbishop Parker took into his palace at Lambeth a German engraver named Hogenburgh, who engraved the bishops portrait on brass, and also that of the king. But the Low Countries, we mean Flanders and Holland, were the the- atre at that time of the fine arts. At Antwerp the first engraved map was published, entitled Theatrum Orbis Terrarum. Soon after that, Christopher Saxon, a native of Yorkshire, engraved a set of maps of the counties of England and Wales; at the corners whereof were, beside the royal arms, the pictures of the city of York, and the port of Hull. From stubborn plates of brass, they at length passed to the use of more flexible plates of copper; but they made little other improvement for nearly a century. In 1627 the engraved portraits of King James First, of queen Mary, and of queen Elizabeth, the Earl of North- umberland, the Duchess of Richmond, and Sir Thomas Gresham, appeared; but we forget the name of the artist, only that he was a for- eigner. King Charles I. was very fond of the art of engraving as well of painting, and encouraged both. He conferred upon VOEJtST, a Dutch- Early Artists and illiechanics. 3 man, the title of Engraver to the King. The same artist engraved portraits of the King, the Queen, and Nobility, from the paintings of his countryman, the celebrated VANDYKE, in a free and masterly style. This may be considered the era of the first good engravings in Eng- land. When Cromwell assumed the regal power, he by no means neglected the arts. The coins and medals struck in his reign, as well as miniature painting, exceeded all that appeared before his time. In Holland about this time flourished VOSTERMAN, who was patron- ized by the famous RUBENS, and where he was to Rubens what Voerst was in England to Vandyke. Vandyke himself executed sev- eral admirable etchings by aid of aqua-fortis, and the dry point, or fine engraving tool. The next engraver of eminence that appeared in Holland was HOLLAR. He too passed over into England, where, under the patronage of the Earl of Arundel, he produced some fine speci- mens of his art. But he was, what was rare enough among the Dutch, unsteady and given up to pleasure, and died poor. The famous PRINCE RUPERT, nephew of Charles I. after the death ~of his uncle, devoted his time to chemistry and philosophy, and, it is said, invented mezzotinto engraving. This is done by making numer- ous lines on copperplate close to each other, then at right angles, and lastly diagonally, so that, when impressed on paper, it makes one uni- form black impression, resembling fine black cloth. Then the picture is drawn upon it; and where the artist wishes to have the light and soft representations of flesh in the human countcnance, or in the dra- pery, he scratches ~and polishes the rough copper, so as to suit his de- sign. It has in some pictures a very pleasant effect; but it fails in the hair arni in the beard. Most of the engraved portaits from the paint- ings of Sir Joshua Reynolds were executed in mezzotinto. But after all the pains taken by the best artists, they fall short of the exquisite ~effect of the curved lines cut into the copper by the keen graver; so that the linear mode of this beautiful art, as we see it in the works of Mr. STRANGE, in England, and IIoIJBRAKEN, in Germany, still main- tain their merited pre-eminence. Some engravings of naked infancy, where there are no angles but all circulars, are really enchanting. There is more art and more nature in this mode of engraving than in any other. It requires more pains and demands more patience than any other mode. In speaking of the art of cngraving, we must not pass over in si- lence the name of GEORGE VERTUE, who, though not holding the ye- r y first rank in the execution of the art, was greatly distinguished in the history of it. He was born in London, 1684, died in 1756, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. He was a learned antiquarian, knew the history of painting and engraving, and of the artists in both branches, and was himself a very accurate and faultless professor of it. His works are numerous, carefully labored, but not remarkable for spirit. He redeemed from time and obscurity many valuable relics of former ages: hence he became a great favorite of Lord Orford. After Mr. Vertue came the less patronized but more ingenious Ho- GARTH, who was both engraver and painter. His original business was that of which, I believe, we have not yet a professor in these United States; I mean a mere silverplate engraver; as they have in England, and other monarchies, where there is a very important art and science, 4 Early Artists and Mechanics. which we know little or nothing about, viz, heraldry, or blazonry of no- Me genealogy. At the age of twenty-one, instead of copying the ridic- ulous monsters scratched on ensigns armorial, Hogarth wisely deter- mined to copy nature on copperlates, and on canvass. This led him to study not merely the human figure, but, in a particular manner, the human countenance in all the expressions of the heart and mind, and in this he exceeded every artist that preceded, or followed him. He was the great moral painter, and his peculiar excellency is as well known in this country as in his own. He practised etching rather than cutting with the graver, or style, by hand.; as it allowed of an abrupt, and often of a ragged manner, entirely adapted to most of his sub- jects; especially in pieces where drollery and burlesque, or ridiculous distress, predominated. He could paint almost all the eight parts of speech.* Engraving in the red-chalk manner is called stippling. The litho- graphic, or engraving on stone, now much in vogue, stands between the linear engraving and the mezzotinto; but every species of engrav- ing must yield the palm to the linear, or true sculpsit, or inc dit, or plough-furrow method, pursued by Houbraken, Strange, Woollet, and some other great masters in the art. The art of copperplate engraving is but of recent date in this coun- try. Prior to fifty years past we had no other than silver plate en- graving, and this not by persons who made it, as in Europe, their whole business, but by silversmiths. He who made the tankard, the vase, and the coffee-pot, executed the needed engraving; but when we commenced giving services of plate to heroes and other meritorious characters, the business gradually centred in persons who followed no other business. Amongst our seal-cutters, and die-engravers, and engravers on copper, was NATHANIEL HURD. His grandfather came from Eng- land, and settled in Charlestown, now connected to Boston by abridge, like the borough of Southwark with London. He died in that town in 1749, aged 70. His son Jacob married the only daughter of John Mason of Kingston, in the island of Jamaica, and died in the year 1758. He was the father of Nathaniel Hurd, who is the prominent subject of this memoir. In seal-cutting and die-engraving, Mr. Hurd was considered superior to any in the colonies. Coats of arms, pictures, and carvings were not much valued and sought after, a century ago, in New-England. rrhey approximated too near to graven images, in the view of our puritanical forefathers, to meet with much encouragement. Portrait painting, however, met with considerable countenance. They deemed it a mark of family affection, and individual respect and es- teem, so that from the time of Mr. Smyhert, who came over to this country with Dean Berkley, down to the period when Copley flourished as our first portrait painter, there were very few families, in easy cir- cumstances, who had not a picture by the hand of that very eminent American painter; but as to engravings on copperplate by ~an Ameri- can, there was hardly such a thing to be seen in NewJngland; and * The ostentatious nobility and gambling gentry appear to feel the reproaches from the press and the drama, while those in lower ranks were touched by the moral pencil of Hogarth, and started back with shame and affright from the mirror thus held up to them, and many were awak- ened to recollection and remorse. [Dr. Waterhouses Essay on JuNlus, p. 139.] EariN Artists and Mechanics. 5 those we had from England, of William Pitt, Generals Wolfe and Am- herst, and the King of Prussia, George Whitfield and John Wesley, in the Gentlemans Magazine, by Sylvanus Urban, were miserable produc~ tions. We had, from London, a few maps, by T. Kitchin, and s~ime, about the time of the Stamp Act, by Jeifries, geographer to the King, whose son died a few years since in the Boston almshouse, insane. About the year 1774, a mezzotinto engraver and print-seller came from London to Newport, Rhode-Island. He engraved one or two very good copies of Mr. Copleys portraits, especially one of a venerable clergyman; but the state of the country in regard to politics induced him to return home.* Hurd was a real genius. To a superior mode of execution he added a Hogarthian talent of character and humor. Among other things of his, he engraved a descriptive representation of a certain swindler, and forger of bills, named Hudson, a foreigner, standing in the pillory. In the crowd of spectators, he introduced the likenesses of some well- known characters, which excited much good-natured mirth. What has tended to make the name of flurd familiar to all, is the repre- sentation of the Seal of the University, surmounted with appro.. priate ornaments, with a plain spread curtain beneath, in which is writ- ten the name of the donor, who gave the book, or from what fund, or by what purchase, it came into the Library. This in 30,000 volumes is enough to give a humble degree of celebrity to Nathaniel Hard, without the ingenuity of his engraved escutcheon, which is pasted on the inner side of every volume. Some very curious and highly valuable books, that are not ailowed to be taken out by students, have the escutcheon printed in red ink. But whether in red or black ink, the name of N. Hurd, scalp. is affixed to all of them. Of the incidents of Mr. Hards life, little is now known, and all that is here given is gathered up from the remembrances of a few, who knew him as a man while they were children, and from the works he has left behind him. He was probably the first person who under- took to engrave on copper in the United States. We have seen a mini- ature likeness of the Rev. Dr. Sewall, minister of the Old South Church in Boston, engraved by Hurd, in the linear style, in 1764.t In this art he was his own instructer. There are still extant a few pictures of a different character, done on copper, by Hard, about the same period. One is a representation of the melnorable massacre of citizens, on the fifth of March, 1770. Another, and more remarkable one is that men- * A few years later than the period here mentioned, there were a number of mechanics of great genius in the arts of seal-cutting, and what was called Plate Work. We have seen a manuscript in the possession of the Hon. Judge Davis of Boston, written by his brother, the late Saoiuel Davis, Esq. of Plymouth, in which mention is made of a journeyman by the name of Vent, a native of Germany, who excelled in siver-plate engraving. He mentions also, Drigdon, Webb, Edwards, Pierpont, Bui-t, Bowyer, Parker, (the father of the late Chief Justice Parker) Delknap, Emery, Holmes, Tyler, Woodward, Frothiogham, Codner, and though last, not least, Paul Revere, with a biographical notice of whom we intend to enrich a future number of the Magazine. Of lord, who was dead before Mr. Davis commenced his apprenticeship in 1779, he says : In seal-cutting and die-siuking, he would be unrivalled in New-England, if not in the United-States, even now, [1810.] New-England manners, at the time he lived, were not propi- tious to workmen of fancy and taste; yet seals and shop-bills, and other productions of Hurd, claim peculiar respect, eve~ at the present polished era of art. It will be seen from this date, that Dr. Silliman has committed an error, in claiming for Mr. Don- little, of New-haven, the priority in point of time, among American engravers on copper. There are productions of Paul Revere, also, of a date considerably anterior to the earliest of Doolittles works. See Sillimans Journal of Science and the Arts, April, 1832. 6 Early Artists and Jiliechanics. tioned above, representing the punishment of two notorious rogues, a more particular history of which may be entertaining. In the year i76~2, there appeared in Boston, a curious character, who called himself Doctor Hudson. He gave out that he was a Dutchman; that he was possessed of a large fortune, and was traveling for his amusement. He was dressed very gaily; tried to push himself into gen- teel company; and, though rather expensive in his appearance, he shewed but little money and displayed no resources. He was well watched. After some time, a fellow was detected in putting off a note purporting to be from the Treasurer of the Province, which proved a counterfeit. His name was Howe; he confessed he was a partner in villany with Doctor Hudson, and that they had been privately engaged in making up a number of the Province notes, which were in high credit in this and the neighboring Provinces, and sold readily at an ad- vanced price. The Doctor was also taken into custody. They were tried and convicted; Hudson was ordered to the pillory and Howe to the whipping-post. The execution of their sentence was accompanied by a collection of an immense crowd, and immoderate exultation. Hurd immediately put out a caricature print of the exhibition, which excited much attention. Hudson was represented in the pillory, and at a short distance was Howe, stripping, near the whipping-post. The Devil is represented flying towards the Doctor, exclaiming, This is the man for me. In front of the print is the representation of a medall- ion, on which is a profile of Hudson, dressed in a bag-wig, with a sword under his arm, (as he generally appeared before his detection,) partly drawn from the scabbard, with the words Dutch Tuck, on the exposed part of the blade. Round the edge is THE TRUE PROFILE OF THE NOTORIOUS DOCTOR SETH HuDsoN, 176S. The Doctor is represented as addressing the multitude in the follow- ing speech, which is said to have been written by the celebrated wit and poet, Joseph Green. What mean these crowds, this noise and roar? Did ye ne er see a rogue before? Are villains then a sight so rare, To make you press, and gape, and stare? Come forward all, who look so fine, With gain as illy got as mine: Step upyou 11 soon reverse the show; The crowd above, and few below. Wellfor my roguery here I stand, A spectacle to all the land; High elevated on this stage, The greatest villain of the age. My crimes have been both great and many Equalled by very few, if any; And for the mischiefs I have done, I put this wooden neckclotl~ on. There HOWE his brawny back is stripping, Quite callous grown with often whipping. In vain you wear your whip-cord out; You 11 neer reclaim that rogue so stout. To make him honesttake my word You must apply a bigger cord. Sports of Childhood. Now all ye, who behold this sight, That ye may get some profit by t, Keep always in your mind, I pray, These few words that I have to say: Follow my steps, and you may be, In time, perhaps, advanced like me; Or, like my fellow-laborer HOWE, You 11 get, at least, a post below. [Sold by N. Hurd, near the Exchange, and at the Heart & Crown, in Cornhill, Boston.] Mr. Hurd, had he lived to a more advanced age, would doubtless have distinguished himself yet more in an art, in the exercise of which, it is evident, he took great (lelight, and for which, it is equally inani- fest, he had both taste and talent. He was born in Boston, Feb. 13, 1730, and died Dec. 17, 1777, before he had attained the age of forty- eight. There is an original picture of him, painted by Copley, in the possession of one of his relatives at Medford, Mass. From that pic- ture, a man by the name of JENNINGS (of whom we can learn little else) engraved a likeness in mezzotinto; and of that mezzotinto, the lithographic print which accompanies this memoir, is, as near as the different modes of engraving will admit, an exact copy. SPORTS OF CHILDHOOD. I have been young, and now am old. WHEN a happy child, I longed for manhood, and I am now a care- worn man. Reason and reality sway their stern sceptre over me, and their domination may be traced in my furrowed brow. Wisdom has scattered snows on my temples, and Prudence shot ice to my soul; the sports of the child have long been lost in the pursuits of the man. We should be too happy to die with resignation, could we retain amidst our experience and later knowledge, the buoyancy of youthful spirits, and continue to hope boldly and blindly in spite of disappoint- ment. That the boy is father to the man may be good poetry, but it is no true philosophy. The soul, indeed, is sexual, for how early does the feminine attach itself to finery and to dolls. I, who am of the less graceful sex, should have been an equestrian of note, were the indica- tions of character, in childhood to be trusted. A centaur was my type; before I was clad in trowsers, I was to be seen prancing in the garden, on a willow twig, like a witch upon a broomstick, and Sancho upon Clavileno, could not, in imagination move more swiftly. I was carried away by the impulse and the twig, and Orlando, mounted on Boyardo, felt less pride than I. My next aspirations were for arms; and Bellona, in spite of my zeal, would have smiled at my equipments. Bows and arrows, that ex- cited the mirth of Captain Dalghetty, before they stretched him on the earth, were my first arms. I could not use them with the skill of Tell, or even of the primitive archer A. Had a pumpkin been placed at two yards, on the head of an ox, I should have hit neither the one

Sports of Childhood. Now all ye, who behold this sight, That ye may get some profit by t, Keep always in your mind, I pray, These few words that I have to say: Follow my steps, and you may be, In time, perhaps, advanced like me; Or, like my fellow-laborer HOWE, You 11 get, at least, a post below. [Sold by N. Hurd, near the Exchange, and at the Heart & Crown, in Cornhill, Boston.] Mr. Hurd, had he lived to a more advanced age, would doubtless have distinguished himself yet more in an art, in the exercise of which, it is evident, he took great (lelight, and for which, it is equally inani- fest, he had both taste and talent. He was born in Boston, Feb. 13, 1730, and died Dec. 17, 1777, before he had attained the age of forty- eight. There is an original picture of him, painted by Copley, in the possession of one of his relatives at Medford, Mass. From that pic- ture, a man by the name of JENNINGS (of whom we can learn little else) engraved a likeness in mezzotinto; and of that mezzotinto, the lithographic print which accompanies this memoir, is, as near as the different modes of engraving will admit, an exact copy. SPORTS OF CHILDHOOD. I have been young, and now am old. WHEN a happy child, I longed for manhood, and I am now a care- worn man. Reason and reality sway their stern sceptre over me, and their domination may be traced in my furrowed brow. Wisdom has scattered snows on my temples, and Prudence shot ice to my soul; the sports of the child have long been lost in the pursuits of the man. We should be too happy to die with resignation, could we retain amidst our experience and later knowledge, the buoyancy of youthful spirits, and continue to hope boldly and blindly in spite of disappoint- ment. That the boy is father to the man may be good poetry, but it is no true philosophy. The soul, indeed, is sexual, for how early does the feminine attach itself to finery and to dolls. I, who am of the less graceful sex, should have been an equestrian of note, were the indica- tions of character, in childhood to be trusted. A centaur was my type; before I was clad in trowsers, I was to be seen prancing in the garden, on a willow twig, like a witch upon a broomstick, and Sancho upon Clavileno, could not, in imagination move more swiftly. I was carried away by the impulse and the twig, and Orlando, mounted on Boyardo, felt less pride than I. My next aspirations were for arms; and Bellona, in spite of my zeal, would have smiled at my equipments. Bows and arrows, that ex- cited the mirth of Captain Dalghetty, before they stretched him on the earth, were my first arms. I could not use them with the skill of Tell, or even of the primitive archer A. Had a pumpkin been placed at two yards, on the head of an ox, I should have hit neither the one 8 Sports of Childhood. nor the other. Robin Hood and Little John, though derided by Dal- ghetty, were to me the most honorable persons in history. Our youth- ful band, however, adopted or imitated some of the improvements in the art of war. We marched in paper caps, surmounted with a goose- quill; we girded ourselves with a belt of twine from which dangled a blade of wood. I have seen companies in the militia with no better discipline or equipments. All the sons of New-England have a tendency to mechanics; their aim is not to save labor, but to double the product. I was therefore early indoctrinated in the mystery of a mill, and soon built one, with no other tools than a jack-knife and a broken fork; it was what we called a trip-hammer, moved by water, to strike upon a wooden anvil. The dam was the work of days, and I conducted the water of Goose Creek to a new channel, and a fall of seven feet. The dam remains one of the monuments of my childhood. Few others exist, except those of memory and thought, which are deeply engraven on my soul. I forget the conversations and occurrences of yesterday, while I remember, freshly, the most trifling occurrences, or passing thoughts of childhood. It was but lately that I went by the place of the mill, in which if you should ask for the edifice, echo might answer, where ! and it afflicted me to feel how little I have found in what others call a pros- perous life, that has proved as satisfactory and innocent as the pur- suits of early youth. Had I been a lachrymose poet, I could have wept; but, being only a foolish elderly man, I doffed coat, and worked an hour in clearing the channel and repairing the dam. Two of my nephews came up and caught me in the fact; but they were children, and loved me the better for having with them this community of feeling. Is it I who am changed, or has nature changed around me? The birds are no longer cheerful to me, the morning air in a south-west wind no longer breathes of flowers, as when I was a child. I have lost, like Macbeth, that alacrity, and cheer of mind. I mourn, but ye woodlands, I mourn not for you. Ye are waving and green, and your dews are as brilliant as when I brushed them away; but I have no longer the sense of enjoyment. I am changed. Novelty and freshness no longer charm me; I am all habit. 1 have a course, not of pleasures, but of life, like that of the horse in his mill, and which he enjoys not, though custom renders it endurable. Admit the worn-out animal to the green pastures, and he no longer frisks and plays; but from habit, he still continues to walk round in a circle, even in cropping the clover. Where is my taste for the beautiful and the sublime? Yet is nature full of sublimity and beauty. Would that I were again a child, though the most ragged and bronzed, that ever climbed for a crows nest, and made loaves of mud by the way-side. Farewell! I may say with Madame Roland, splendid chimeras of youth, from which I have reaped so much de- light! sublime illusions, generous sacrifices, hope and happiness, farewell! P. 9 THE SCHOOLMASTER. CRAP. IV. RECOLLECTIONS OF THE METROPOLIS. Qui n a pas vu Paris, n a rien vu. Proverbe Fran~ais. Paris semblo ii mes yeux un Pais de Romans. Corneille. Le Mienteur. Guillot, qui a fait majat biaus dits, Dit quil na quo trois cent et dix, Rues ~t Paris vraiement, Le dous Seigneur du Firmament Et sa tr~s douce chore Mere Nous deffende do more amere. Guillot. Les Rues do Paris mises en vers anci ens. To a Stranger, who visits Paris without having, previously visited any of the principal European cities, the first week of his residence in the French metropolis is more like a dream than a reality. The pal- aces, the gardens, the splendid public edifices, the vast squares, the statues, and columns, and fountains, the noble bridges, the thronged streets, and the magnificent boulevards that encircle all, fill the mind of the stranger with astonishment and delight: and if the novelty and splendor around him do not force him to repeat the old proverb, that he ~vho has not seen Paris, has seen nothing, they will more than half persuade him that he is dwelling in the land of romance and a region of enchantment. My gentle reader, it does not enter into the plan, which I proposed to myself at the commencement of these papers, to give you a detailed description of the wonders and curiosities of the cities I have visited. I shall not, therefore, attempt to describe the palaces, gardens, and churches of Paris; but if you are disposed to stroll with me through the city, I will lead you to some of its pleasantest walks, and point out to you many things, which have a place in history, though per- chance you will not find them in the guide-hook. Sallying forth, then, from my chamber, in the quiet Faubourg Saint Germain, we lirst enter the Rue Vaugirard, and, advancing a few paces, turn to the left through an arched gate-way, guarded by a sen- tinel, and pass into the beautiful garden of the Luxembourg. The sun is just rising over the noiseless streets, and shooting his level rays aslant this little solitude, buried in the midst of a populous city. The freshness of the hour is delightful. The flowers, that surround the basin in the parterre, perfume the air, the birds are twittering in the trees, and the marble statues stretch their gigantic shadows along the gravel walks. Leaving, on the right hand, the Palace of the Lux- embourg, with its square antique pavilions, its long terraces and open galleries, we pass on, and, ascending a flight of stone steps, find our- selves among the trees. The slight building you see yonder is not a sentry-box but a bureau desjournaux; and the grave personages, whom you see here and there seated on the stone benches of the garden, and deeply engaged in reading, are not students, who have strolled forth to breathe the morning air, but restless politicians, eagerly poring over the columns of the morning paper, and inhaling the sweet breath of a ministerial proclamation. Farther on among the trees, and so dis- voL. iii.

9 THE SCHOOLMASTER. CRAP. IV. RECOLLECTIONS OF THE METROPOLIS. Qui n a pas vu Paris, n a rien vu. Proverbe Fran~ais. Paris semblo ii mes yeux un Pais de Romans. Corneille. Le Mienteur. Guillot, qui a fait majat biaus dits, Dit quil na quo trois cent et dix, Rues ~t Paris vraiement, Le dous Seigneur du Firmament Et sa tr~s douce chore Mere Nous deffende do more amere. Guillot. Les Rues do Paris mises en vers anci ens. To a Stranger, who visits Paris without having, previously visited any of the principal European cities, the first week of his residence in the French metropolis is more like a dream than a reality. The pal- aces, the gardens, the splendid public edifices, the vast squares, the statues, and columns, and fountains, the noble bridges, the thronged streets, and the magnificent boulevards that encircle all, fill the mind of the stranger with astonishment and delight: and if the novelty and splendor around him do not force him to repeat the old proverb, that he ~vho has not seen Paris, has seen nothing, they will more than half persuade him that he is dwelling in the land of romance and a region of enchantment. My gentle reader, it does not enter into the plan, which I proposed to myself at the commencement of these papers, to give you a detailed description of the wonders and curiosities of the cities I have visited. I shall not, therefore, attempt to describe the palaces, gardens, and churches of Paris; but if you are disposed to stroll with me through the city, I will lead you to some of its pleasantest walks, and point out to you many things, which have a place in history, though per- chance you will not find them in the guide-hook. Sallying forth, then, from my chamber, in the quiet Faubourg Saint Germain, we lirst enter the Rue Vaugirard, and, advancing a few paces, turn to the left through an arched gate-way, guarded by a sen- tinel, and pass into the beautiful garden of the Luxembourg. The sun is just rising over the noiseless streets, and shooting his level rays aslant this little solitude, buried in the midst of a populous city. The freshness of the hour is delightful. The flowers, that surround the basin in the parterre, perfume the air, the birds are twittering in the trees, and the marble statues stretch their gigantic shadows along the gravel walks. Leaving, on the right hand, the Palace of the Lux- embourg, with its square antique pavilions, its long terraces and open galleries, we pass on, and, ascending a flight of stone steps, find our- selves among the trees. The slight building you see yonder is not a sentry-box but a bureau desjournaux; and the grave personages, whom you see here and there seated on the stone benches of the garden, and deeply engaged in reading, are not students, who have strolled forth to breathe the morning air, but restless politicians, eagerly poring over the columns of the morning paper, and inhaling the sweet breath of a ministerial proclamation. Farther on among the trees, and so dis- voL. iii. 10 The Schoolmaster. tant that their merry voices scarcely reach our ears, is a group of school-girls, who, under the watchful eye of a sage mamma, are enjoy- ing a game of quatre-coins or puss-in-the-corner. We will disturb neither the brown-study of the politician, nor the mirth of the school- girl, but continue our way along the edge of the grove and this range of marble statues, which look down upon us from their lofty pedestals. Most of them, you perceive, are broken and mutilated; one has lost a hand; another a foot, and another its nose. For this you may thank the revolution and the allied armies of the Bourbon restoration. We now enter the wide avenue of the Observatory, and, passing through an iron gate-way, leave the garden behind us. Beneath that tree on the right, fell the brave but unfortunate Marshal Ney: May heaven forgive his murderers! The quadrangular edifice in front of us is the Observatory, a building sacred to the study of astronomy. It was built in 1677, by order of Louis XIV. after the designs of Claude Perrault; and has four fafades corresponding to the four cardinal points. The line of the southern front corresponds with the latitude of Paris, and the halls are divided by a meridian, from which the French astronomers and geographers count their latitude. Let us turn and pass down this street, which leads us a little to the right. It is the Rue dEnfer. Startle not at the name, and as we pass along I will relate a tradition concerning it. In olden time, Saint Louis was so much edified by the accounts he heard of the austere and silent lives of the disciples of Saint Bruno,. that he invited a small brother- hood of that order to Paris, and gave them a house with gardens and vineyards at the village of Gen~ill~y,. which lies just beyond the barrier of Fontainbleau. From their windows, the taciturn monks could dis- cern the ancient l)alace of Vauvert, built near where we are now passing, by King Robert, but abandoned by his successors. The monks of Gentilly thought within, themselves how convenient this spot would be for a monastery and straightway the old chateau was haunted by strange apparitions and hobgoblins. Horrid groans were heard by night, and a band of spectres marched through the apart- ments, dragging heavy chains, and led by a huge green monster, half man and half serpent, wearing a long white beard, and wielding a heavy mace, with which, ever and anon, he menaced from the win- dows, those who were luckless enough to pass that way after dark. The haunted chateau inspired terror through the whole neighborhood. To calm the fears of the people, the good Carthusians of Gentilly asked it of Saint Louis, and had it for the asking, with all its ap- purtenances and dependencies. From that time to this, neither ghost nor devil has shown his face in the neighborhood; but in memory of the times of old the street still bears the name of his majestys abode. Let us now cross into the Rue St. Jacques. The noble edifice in the front of us is the church of St. Genevi~ve, built by Louis XV. Its form is that of a Grecian cross, its vast dome, composed of three cupo- las, rising over the common centre or nave. The portico in front is magnificent. It is supported upon twenty-two fluted columns, each five feet in diameter, and fifty-eight in height :a beautiful imitation of the Pantheon of Rome. We will not enter, lest the beauty of the interior should seduce us from our walk. Let us elbow our way through this noisy crowd of market-women that fill the street. One is The Schoolmaster. 11 driving before her a little donkey well laden with panniers of vege- tables, and another carries upon her back a basket of various kinds of fruit. Their shrill voices, and the clatter of their sabots upon the pavement, interrupt all conversation between us. In the quaint lan- guage of one of the old writers of the thirteenth century, Parmi Paris jusqu It Ia nuit, INe cuidiez vous quil br anuit, Que jIt ne seront It sejor: Oiez con crie au point du jor. Or i a fromage de Brie Au burre frl~s, n oublie mie. Cras ~O15 1 a, aoust de pesches, Poires de Chailbou, e nois fresches. .1 al cerises, or an ~verjus; Or lila por~e qajus; Or i a ol~s, or aus poriaus, Chaus pastez i a, chaus gastiaus. Or i a poisson de Bondies, Chaudes oubk~es renforcies, Las flauns chaus pas nes oublie; I ai chastaingues de Lombardie, Figuesde Melites sanz fin, I ai roisin d outre mer, roisin, I ai por~es, et s ai naviaus, I ni pois en cosse toz noviaus. Et autres choses assez crie, Que raconter ne vous sai nile; Taut i a denr~es It vendre Tenir ne me puis de despendre; Que se javoie, grant avoir, Et de chascun vousisse avoir De son mestier urre ~denr~e, Je auroit moultcorte dur~e.* (In the streets of Paris you hear the market-people cry from day- ~break till evening, nor think it fatigues them, for they never cease to cry Cherries! verjuice.! come buy my greens! eggs and onions! hot patties! hot cakes! Here s fine fish from Bondy! hot wafers, hot biscuit, dont forget ! Lombardy chestnuts! IJfaltese figs, without end! grapes of Palestine, grapes! greens and turnips! green pease in pods, fresh and new ! And other things in abundance they cry, which I cannot repeat. So many articles are there for sale, that I cannot refrain from spending. And ~f I had great wealth, and from each one wouldbuy an article in his line, my wealth would not last me long.) We are now, at the foot of the street, and are coming out upon the Quai-auz-Fleurs. On the left rise the conical roofs of the towers of the famous Conciergerie, and on the right the flower-market displays its treasures, and scatters its perfume. Before us sweeps the Seine, and the wide bridge, which seems to invite our footsteps to cross, is the Pont-au-change. It was formerly covered with houses four stories high; they were all demolished in 1788. In former times permission was given to the marchands d oiseaux, or venders of birds, to sell upon this bridge; in consideration of which privilege they were obliged to set at liberty two hundred dozen of their feathered prisoners when the King and Queen made their entr6e into the city. This was an * Les Cricries de Paris; par Guillaume de Ia Villeneuve. 12 The & hoolmaster. emblem of the liberty which the new monarch promised his people, signifying that the oppression of a former reign was at an end, and that now the rights and privileges of the people were to be scrupulously observed. At the entr6e of Isabeau de Bavi~,re, wife of the unfortunate Charles VI. a cord was stretched from one of the towers of the church of Notre Dame, to a house upon this bridge. A Genoese danced along this cord, holding a lighted flambeaux in each hand, descended to the bridge, and placing a crown upon the head of the queen, turned and re-ascended to the tower. As night had already set in, adds the an- cient chronicle which records this wonderful feat, he was seen by all Paris and the environs. From this same bridge, Louis de Bourdon, the paramour of Isabeau de Bavi~re, was, by order of the king, thrown into the river tied in a sack, upon which was written, Laissez passer lajustice du Roy ; (Let the justice of the king pass free.) We have now crossed the bridge, and stand upon pue of the islands of the Seine. It is the lie du Palais. In the days of the Roman Emperors the shores of this little island were the limits of the city. Both C~esar and Julian mention it by the name of Luteca. Turning to the left we pass down the quai. This little square that now opens to the right is the Place de Grave, the place of public executions, where the axe of the guillotine has spilt the blood of so many thousands. The large edifice which occupies the right side of the square is the celebrated H6tel-de- Ville, so famous in the history of the French Revolution. A short walk farther along the quai brings us out upon the middle of the Pont Neuf, a noble bridge, which, upon twelve massive arches of stone, bestrides the Seine, just where its waters unite at the western extremity of the lie du Palais. The equestrian statue in bronze, which stands in front of us, a little to the left, is Henry IV. erected in 1817. From the little terrace on which it stands we have a fine view down the river. The elegant bridge below us is the Pont des Arts, passing gracefully from pier to pier on light arches of iron. As you perceive, it is reserved for foot passengers. On its right is the Louvre, and on the left the Palais des Beaux-Arts, the Palace of the Fine Arts, where the sessions of the French Institute are held. We have now crossed the bridge and are upon the northern bank of the river. I will take you a few steps down this narrow street in order to point out to you the house in which the Admiral de Coligni was assassinated on the fatal night of Saint Bartholomew. It is the second house on the left. This low portal leads us into the little court-yard. From that window the dead body was thrown out; and on the very spot where we are now standing the infamous Duke of Guise wiped with his handkerchief the blood that disfigured the face of the old man, to satisfy himself that it was Coligni, and then, trampling the lifeless body beneath his feet, cried to them around him, We have made a good beginning; let us go on with our work. Retracing our steps, and taking the dark and narrow lane which lies before us, we soon emerge upon the little square of Saint Ger- nzain-lAuxerrozs. The old Gothic church upon the right is the church of Saint Germain-lAuxerrois, from whose tower the midnight bell gave the fatal signal for the massacre of Saint Bartholomew to commence. Directly in front d us is the magnificent fa~adc and col The Writings of Sir TValter Scott. 13 onnade of the Louvre. The central arch leads into its immense court- yard, and thence you may pass onward through a similar arch into the Place du Carrousel. We will not enter, but turn to the left, and pass on to the Pant des Arts. You see yonder little skifl, that is plying across the stream. This is the scene of the dialogue between Henri IV. and the boatman. Just after the peace of Vervins, the king, re- turning from the chase, clad in a simple garb, and accompanied by one or two gentlemen, crossed the ferry at this place. The king per- ceiving that the boatman did not recognize him, asked him what peo- ple said about the Peace. Faith, replied the boatman, I dont understand what this fine peace is; there is a tax upon every thing even upon this miserable little boat of mine, which hardly gains me a livelihood. But why does not the king regulate all these taxes ? said the monarch. Oh, replied the boatman, the king is a good fellow; but then he has a mistress, who must have so many gowns and baubles !and we poor fellows have to pay for all those things. Passe encore, si elle n etait qu d mi; mais on dit qu elle se fait caresser par bien d autres I This conversation so amused the king, that the next morning he sent for the boatman and made him repeat the whole in the presence of the fair Gabrielle dEstr~es, Duchess of Beaufort, who, enraged at the boatmans audacity, wished to have him hung. But the king said to her, You are beside your- self; this is a poor devil, whom misery has made ill-humored. He shall no longer pay a tax upon his boat, and I am sure he will always sing Vive henri, vice Gabrielle. But I see you are already fatigued. Yet a few moments patience, and we shall be in the garden of the Tuileries, where we can repose and refresh ourselves. Passing along the river-front of the Louvre and the Tuileries, a turn to the right, through this iron gate-way, brings us into the justly celebrated garden. Without stopping to observe the statues or the flower-plots, which adorn the parterre, let us pass diag- onally across these fine avenues and enter yonder little pavilion be- neath the terrace. There will we breakfast, for hark ! the palace clock is just striking ten. THE WRITINGS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. THE great variety of writers of the present day may be divided into two classes; those who appeal to the passions, and those who address themselves to the understanding. Of these, the former, and particu- larly the writers of poetry and fiction, possess, on many accounts, the advantage. There are certain springs in our natures, hidden, incom- prehensible, which require but the touch of a master to call them into immediate action. Among these, there is, perhaps, no one more dis- tinguished than the love of novelty. In the infant and the man of gray hairs, in the joyous gaiety of youth and amidst the bustling cares of manhood, in the sunshine of prosperity aud the gloom of adversity, you will find it the same absorbing passion. Its endless varieties in- trude from the dignified inquiries of the philosopher exploring the

The Writings of Sir TValter Scott. 13 onnade of the Louvre. The central arch leads into its immense court- yard, and thence you may pass onward through a similar arch into the Place du Carrousel. We will not enter, but turn to the left, and pass on to the Pant des Arts. You see yonder little skifl, that is plying across the stream. This is the scene of the dialogue between Henri IV. and the boatman. Just after the peace of Vervins, the king, re- turning from the chase, clad in a simple garb, and accompanied by one or two gentlemen, crossed the ferry at this place. The king per- ceiving that the boatman did not recognize him, asked him what peo- ple said about the Peace. Faith, replied the boatman, I dont understand what this fine peace is; there is a tax upon every thing even upon this miserable little boat of mine, which hardly gains me a livelihood. But why does not the king regulate all these taxes ? said the monarch. Oh, replied the boatman, the king is a good fellow; but then he has a mistress, who must have so many gowns and baubles !and we poor fellows have to pay for all those things. Passe encore, si elle n etait qu d mi; mais on dit qu elle se fait caresser par bien d autres I This conversation so amused the king, that the next morning he sent for the boatman and made him repeat the whole in the presence of the fair Gabrielle dEstr~es, Duchess of Beaufort, who, enraged at the boatmans audacity, wished to have him hung. But the king said to her, You are beside your- self; this is a poor devil, whom misery has made ill-humored. He shall no longer pay a tax upon his boat, and I am sure he will always sing Vive henri, vice Gabrielle. But I see you are already fatigued. Yet a few moments patience, and we shall be in the garden of the Tuileries, where we can repose and refresh ourselves. Passing along the river-front of the Louvre and the Tuileries, a turn to the right, through this iron gate-way, brings us into the justly celebrated garden. Without stopping to observe the statues or the flower-plots, which adorn the parterre, let us pass diag- onally across these fine avenues and enter yonder little pavilion be- neath the terrace. There will we breakfast, for hark ! the palace clock is just striking ten. THE WRITINGS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. THE great variety of writers of the present day may be divided into two classes; those who appeal to the passions, and those who address themselves to the understanding. Of these, the former, and particu- larly the writers of poetry and fiction, possess, on many accounts, the advantage. There are certain springs in our natures, hidden, incom- prehensible, which require but the touch of a master to call them into immediate action. Among these, there is, perhaps, no one more dis- tinguished than the love of novelty. In the infant and the man of gray hairs, in the joyous gaiety of youth and amidst the bustling cares of manhood, in the sunshine of prosperity aud the gloom of adversity, you will find it the same absorbing passion. Its endless varieties in- trude from the dignified inquiries of the philosopher exploring the 14 The Writings of Sir Walter Scott. secrets of nature, to the romantic curiosity of the novel-reader, turning from the sober occurrences of real life to pore over the high-wrought tale of imaginary distress. It is this which has lent to the chivalrous romances of the Troubadours and Proven9als their witchery; and which has thrown its charm over the glowing inspiration of the gifted Croly. Among these writers the name of Sir Walter Scott stands proudly pre-eminen{. He is one of those master spirits which exercise an un- controlable ~tscendancy over the minds of men; a being, moving and mingling among them like the cloud-enveloped LEneas, while sur- rounded by the immateriality of a world of his own creation. His poetry is marked by originality, and is altogether sui generis. It is not characterized by the pathos and sublimity of Milton, nor yet by the deep-burning thoughts of Byron, nor by the inimitable tenderness of Burns, nor by the palling voluptuousness of Moore. It is wild and picturesque as the scenery of his native mountains,harmony blended with strength. It is a living portraiture of the glories of ancient chivalry, when the hoary-headed minstrel chanted at the fes- tive board the valor of the warrior and the charms of his ladyc love ; and the shrill-sounding pibroch rallied each warlike clan around the standard of its feudal lord. In describing these scenes his song partakes of the wild imagery and soul-kindling poetry of the ancient scald, with its uncouth asperities softened down to modern taste. His poetry reminds us of a superb but fantastic edifice, in which the strength and massive beauty of the Gothic style is tastefully blended with the lighter and more graceful charms of the Corinthian. Not that the workings of his genius are mechanical, or shackled by the common-place thoughts of a secondary writer; it is unfettered as the mountain eagle, stooping from her eyry among the crags only to rise to a more daring flight. He is the mighty magician who trans- ports us by his wand to a land of which none but poets ever dreamed, and exhibits to us the dim forms of old, shadowed through the obscurity of the past. We imagine we can behold in his seclusion at Abbots- ford the scene in which The poets eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Glances from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poets pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. But it is in his fictitious prose writings that the astonishing powers of his genius are more fully developed. From him may justly be dated the commencement of a new era in this department of literature. The days are gone by, of the genii and demons of Arabian fiction, of the wild absurdities which called forth the keen satire of a Cervantes, of the mysterious horrors and infernal machinery of Mrs. Radcliffe, and of the ridiculous distortions of the old school of novelists, whose heroes seem as gods come down to us in the likenesses of men. His characters are drawn from real life, from a keen scrutinizing observa- tion of mankind; and you may find their living prototypes in all ages and conditions, from the proud royalty of England and the miserable pageantry of a petty prince of Dahomey, to the wandering gaberlunzie The Writings of Sir Walter Scott. 15 of Scotland, the tattered lazzaroni of Italy, and the sun-burnt gipsey of Austria. He has made deep and laborious researches into history, into the chronicles of long-forgotten dynasties, and the capacious re- cesses of his mind are the archives of Europe. Nor with the super- ficial eye of a casual observer has he regarded the present generation. He has made mankind the study of his life. He possesses a univer- sality of genius, capable of attempting any thing in this department; and this unbounded knowledge secures its accomplishment. Under the power of his creative imagination, history itself is transformed to romance; its mighty events in his hands become the scenes of a great drama, of which even the subaltern characters are drawn with the most surprising accuracy. He has embellished the sober detail of events with the charms of fiction. In the haughty, overbearing aristo- crat, and the stern, unyielding republican; in the subtle courtier full of chicanery and intrigue, and the free open-hearted warrior; in the infuriated zealot, the bigoted Papist, and the cold-hearted infidel; in the chimeras of the alchymist, and the charlatanry of the juggler, he has drawn vivid portraitures of distinguished historical personages. The hardened ferocity of the ruffian, the dogged obstinacy of the man of guilt, the listless apathy of idiocy, the counterfeited stupidity of cunning, the keen glance of intelligence, all passions of all men, he has read and portrayed them all with the hand of a master. He transports us, on a wing that never tires, through the rugged fastnesses of the Highlands and the spice-bearing groves of India, through the merry inn, the gorgeous palace, the mouldering tower and donjon keep, and the long antiquated hall with its rustling tapestry and colored, lanceolated windows, the gloomy cathedral and the gloomier convent, and exhibits to us the long trains of lords and vassals, kings, queens and knights, with their appropriate character and costume, till we are involved in a bewildered maze. His is the graphic pen to portray the sublime and the beautiful of nature, the glories of the day-dawn and the sombre beauty of evening, with its deep stillness broken only by the low moanings of affliction, or the wild warblings of the love-loin maniac, or ever and anon by fitful peals from the losal song of the bandit at his midnight carousal. But after all it may reasonably be asked, Of what serious benefit have these writings been to mankind? They may, indeed, have no very im- moral tendency, no sly insinuation of poisonous principles. His aim seems to have been to hold as it were the mirror up to Nature, to shew Virtue her own image, Scorn her own likeness, and to exhibit base-born profligacy and vice in their naked deformity. But what have doughty champions and weird beldames to do with the sober realites of life, or this working up of the passions with the prize of the high calling of our existence? It is to the mind what a stimulation of an- imal spirits is to the body,a momentary gratification, an unnatural excitement, which leaves it impotent, exhausted, and unfitted for manly effort. It is also followed by that diseased craving after novelty which, like the perpetual longing of the wretched victim of his appetite, is sat- isfied only with the cause of his ruin. Nor is it upon the elder part of the present generation that the deleterious influence is chiefly exerted; it is the young, and particularly the student, who are most endangered by the fatal fascination. How many a romantic young man, as he un- 16 Tue Farewell. gered to cast a last glance on the walls of his Alma Mater, has seers the brightest visions of the past darkened by the shade of many a mis- spent hour as it flitted palpably before him, hours, which this magical writer has stolen from Homer, from Demosthenes, from Quin- tillian and from Euclid, and which have rendered a midnight vigil over the sober page of Enfield and of Paley a vexation and a weariness. It is often a matter of great difficulty with the literary tyro to restrict himself to that modicum of light reading, which may serve as a health- ful relaxati9n to the mind in its tension over the more severe studies; and it is with this view that the rigid disciplinarian has prohibited all works of fiction with a sweeping denunciation. There is no denying7 that, to the natural man, a page of Ivanhoe affords more entertainment than a page of the Calculus. The extreme lies on either hand; and has not he a vitiated taste, who buries himself forever in the n~ore ab- struse studies in which scarcely one in a thousand shall ever follow him, and whose profound researches have little more intrinsic value than those of the ancient aichymist? Such an one delves, like the blind mole, with no eye for the beautiful and the sublime, and, as a pre- paratory step, divests himself of all communion with the belle lettres at once. We. are to be amused as well as instructed, and works of the imagination will be read while there are listless hours of a long sum- mers afternoon, or the solitary companionship of books of a blustering winters s eve. The successful author is assimilated with his readers by no ordinary tie, and those, who have accompanied the writer of the Waverly Novels from the threshold of his literary career to the scene of his last labors, will pray for a renewal of the veteran pilgrims age during his sojourn in the land of the olive and. the vine. C. S. M. THE FAREWELL. FAREWELL! and if ever unbidden shall start One thought to awake the remembrance of me, Dismiss it, false maiden, at once from thy heart, As freely as mine does its passion for thee. I do not upbraid thee, I breathe no regret, I scorn that a tear.drop~ should blister my line ; I can truly forgive, and I gladly forget That the love I recall for a moment was thine. To the eye there are fruits that are goodly, indeed, But ashes and hitterness lurk at the core; And he, who has leaned on a treacherous reed., That has broken or pierced him, should trust it no more~ At Fashions cold altar I bend not the knee, My spirit must bow at a holier shrine; Yield thou, if thou wilt, to her hollow decree,. And the sacred delights of affection resign. I shall envy no rival the prize he may gain ; The many-hued bow is t~ransportingly fair; But he who pursues it will find to his pain, lie has worshiped a cloud and grasped nothing but air~

16 Tue Farewell. gered to cast a last glance on the walls of his Alma Mater, has seers the brightest visions of the past darkened by the shade of many a mis- spent hour as it flitted palpably before him, hours, which this magical writer has stolen from Homer, from Demosthenes, from Quin- tillian and from Euclid, and which have rendered a midnight vigil over the sober page of Enfield and of Paley a vexation and a weariness. It is often a matter of great difficulty with the literary tyro to restrict himself to that modicum of light reading, which may serve as a health- ful relaxati9n to the mind in its tension over the more severe studies; and it is with this view that the rigid disciplinarian has prohibited all works of fiction with a sweeping denunciation. There is no denying7 that, to the natural man, a page of Ivanhoe affords more entertainment than a page of the Calculus. The extreme lies on either hand; and has not he a vitiated taste, who buries himself forever in the n~ore ab- struse studies in which scarcely one in a thousand shall ever follow him, and whose profound researches have little more intrinsic value than those of the ancient aichymist? Such an one delves, like the blind mole, with no eye for the beautiful and the sublime, and, as a pre- paratory step, divests himself of all communion with the belle lettres at once. We. are to be amused as well as instructed, and works of the imagination will be read while there are listless hours of a long sum- mers afternoon, or the solitary companionship of books of a blustering winters s eve. The successful author is assimilated with his readers by no ordinary tie, and those, who have accompanied the writer of the Waverly Novels from the threshold of his literary career to the scene of his last labors, will pray for a renewal of the veteran pilgrims age during his sojourn in the land of the olive and. the vine. C. S. M. THE FAREWELL. FAREWELL! and if ever unbidden shall start One thought to awake the remembrance of me, Dismiss it, false maiden, at once from thy heart, As freely as mine does its passion for thee. I do not upbraid thee, I breathe no regret, I scorn that a tear.drop~ should blister my line ; I can truly forgive, and I gladly forget That the love I recall for a moment was thine. To the eye there are fruits that are goodly, indeed, But ashes and hitterness lurk at the core; And he, who has leaned on a treacherous reed., That has broken or pierced him, should trust it no more~ At Fashions cold altar I bend not the knee, My spirit must bow at a holier shrine; Yield thou, if thou wilt, to her hollow decree,. And the sacred delights of affection resign. I shall envy no rival the prize he may gain ; The many-hued bow is t~ransportingly fair; But he who pursues it will find to his pain, lie has worshiped a cloud and grasped nothing but air~ l OUR VILLAGE POET. OUR village is the very place where the muse of lyric poetry should take up her abode ;it is so quiet and green. The natives believe there is not so lonely a spot under the blue heavens; but strangers say, there is nothing particularly beautiful in the town, excepting, always, the graceful rounding of the hills, and the easy meandering of its little river. The poetry, inspired by our verdant scenery, is full of a serene and affectionate spirit. We have no rushing cataracts, sky- wrapped mountains, gloomy caverns, and sea-beaten cliffs, to awaken bold and startling thoughts. Byrons muse would have died of inani- tion if she had been exiled to our village. Most of our school-girls were scribblers. Our very best poet was Donald McAllister, one of our school-boys, who perished among the coral rocks in Madagascar seas. There was one remarkably dull boy in our parish. His parents died when he was about fourteen years old, leaving him nothing except a small poorly-furnished house and a few ragged books. The boy lived there all alone, gathering for fuel the decayed leaves and branches which were profusely scattered in the forest where his hut was situated, going every day to labor for his bread at Doctor Johnsons farm, and, at his leisure hours, poring over those ancient books. Sometimes a wealthy, generous-minded lady would bestow on him a worn-out coat, after heedfully cutting off the buttons and depositing them in her own work-box, or a hat and shoes, from which parts of the rim and soles had been abstracted. Sometimes he carried about coarse willow baskets which he had made in the long winter evenings by the light of a pitch-pine knot. He was considered dull, because be never played at ball, or hide-and-seek, with other boys. He could not understand a jest, even ~f he was himself the object of it, and, if it was more bluntly repeated, he did not return it, but the tear would glisten in his eyes, which some said, was mighty babyish for a great boy like him. If a school-mate struck him, instead of resenting the affront, he would treat the offender with kindness. A few supposed he was a coward, but a greater number believed it was because the Bible, his chosen book, commanded us not to avenge ourselves, but to return good for evil. He could not have been a coward, for he used to walk through the burying-ground to visit the graves of his parents, every moonlight evening. If he was ever questioned upon any subject, he only replied, No, Yes, or I cant tell; this was the most he was ever heard to say. But, although he was called stupid, he was very amiable, respectful to his superiors, and oblig- ing to all. No one could accuse him of a wicked action, or of neg- lecting to attend church. So he lived until he was eighteen years old, when an event occurred which tended to bring him greatly into notice. There was a pretty girl, named Sarah Cross, who lived about a mile from his cottage, to whom he had been accustomed to carry the first blown roses, and the finest peaches from his little garden. That was all. He never saw her more than twice a year,. excepting at church VOL. III. 3

l OUR VILLAGE POET. OUR village is the very place where the muse of lyric poetry should take up her abode ;it is so quiet and green. The natives believe there is not so lonely a spot under the blue heavens; but strangers say, there is nothing particularly beautiful in the town, excepting, always, the graceful rounding of the hills, and the easy meandering of its little river. The poetry, inspired by our verdant scenery, is full of a serene and affectionate spirit. We have no rushing cataracts, sky- wrapped mountains, gloomy caverns, and sea-beaten cliffs, to awaken bold and startling thoughts. Byrons muse would have died of inani- tion if she had been exiled to our village. Most of our school-girls were scribblers. Our very best poet was Donald McAllister, one of our school-boys, who perished among the coral rocks in Madagascar seas. There was one remarkably dull boy in our parish. His parents died when he was about fourteen years old, leaving him nothing except a small poorly-furnished house and a few ragged books. The boy lived there all alone, gathering for fuel the decayed leaves and branches which were profusely scattered in the forest where his hut was situated, going every day to labor for his bread at Doctor Johnsons farm, and, at his leisure hours, poring over those ancient books. Sometimes a wealthy, generous-minded lady would bestow on him a worn-out coat, after heedfully cutting off the buttons and depositing them in her own work-box, or a hat and shoes, from which parts of the rim and soles had been abstracted. Sometimes he carried about coarse willow baskets which he had made in the long winter evenings by the light of a pitch-pine knot. He was considered dull, because be never played at ball, or hide-and-seek, with other boys. He could not understand a jest, even ~f he was himself the object of it, and, if it was more bluntly repeated, he did not return it, but the tear would glisten in his eyes, which some said, was mighty babyish for a great boy like him. If a school-mate struck him, instead of resenting the affront, he would treat the offender with kindness. A few supposed he was a coward, but a greater number believed it was because the Bible, his chosen book, commanded us not to avenge ourselves, but to return good for evil. He could not have been a coward, for he used to walk through the burying-ground to visit the graves of his parents, every moonlight evening. If he was ever questioned upon any subject, he only replied, No, Yes, or I cant tell; this was the most he was ever heard to say. But, although he was called stupid, he was very amiable, respectful to his superiors, and oblig- ing to all. No one could accuse him of a wicked action, or of neg- lecting to attend church. So he lived until he was eighteen years old, when an event occurred which tended to bring him greatly into notice. There was a pretty girl, named Sarah Cross, who lived about a mile from his cottage, to whom he had been accustomed to carry the first blown roses, and the finest peaches from his little garden. That was all. He never saw her more than twice a year,. excepting at church VOL. III. 3 18 Our Village Poet. and singing-meetings in the school-house, and never said ten words to her in his life, perhaps. One day she was merrily skipping across the frozen mill-pond, when the ice suddenly gave way, and she sunk under the water. The miller saw her fall in, and came to her assistance, but she was entirely lifeless before he succeeded in getting her out. Many sad lamentations were sent up by old and young, and they were mingled with heart-felt gratitude, for many of the school-children had passed over the pond that very morning in perfect safety. Harry Brown attended her funeral, as all the parish did, and when he came to look at the corpse, he burst into tears, and sobbed aloud. From this time there was a visible change in his appearance. He was not so steady at his work as usual. He visited the burying-ground, morning and night, and planted a willow over Sarahs grave, where he used to sit reading his old books. He was always moving his lips as if whispering, besides which he purchased, at the store, quill after quill, and sheet after sheet of paper, until all were in the fidgets to know what he could find to do with it. At last it came out. He was turn- ing poet. The first poem he wrote was a lament for Sarah Cross, a most heart- melting thing. The next was an elegy for Tim Jeremys little girl. It also contained a notice of the kindness of Eleanor Wakefield, now Mrs. George Graves, who used to watch by its sick cradle. It was very much admired by Eleanor, to whom it was first shown. She handed it about to every body, and every body praised it and begged a copy. The third was on the death of Mrs. Deacon Haskell, who was beloved by every one for her benevolence and piety. And, as Ensign Jewett observed, now he had once set a-going, there was no stopping him. He expatiated in rhyme upon the stars, the pretty girls, the trees and birds, night and morning, the meeting-house, and all nature besidesgenerously enriching his poems with apposite quo- tations from Milton, Shakspeare, Homer and Virgil. A spirit of hum- ble devotion to God, and sincere love to man, were diffused in all his writings. The lines were usually a little irregular, and the style some- times rough. He had never conversed, and was only beginning to write, consequently he found himself greatly in want of words. He applied to his dictionary, which, indeed, furnished him with an abund- ance, but unfortunately he often selected those which were obsolete or unusual. Oar minister, however, took occasion to hand him some well-written modern works, the style of which he seemed greatly to admire and endeavored to imitate. What a change had taken place in this young mans prospects within a year! From a lonely, retiring boy, he had suddenly shot up into a mana poetall in a moment. He bethought himself that his costume was not quite befitting his new character, and forthwith he diligently went to work for Deacon Haskell until his means were sufficient to procure himself a complete suit of iron-gray, with a scarlet-and-green plaid cloak. When he came out, he was quite a noticeable figure in our singing-seats. He was elegantly tall and slender. His head was covered with heavy, bright- yellow natural curls. His light gray eyes were rather dull, unless he was in a revery, or animated by music, when the pupil of the eye would so dilate, that you would fancy the whole eye was black, and so sparkling one could hardly look at him. T was a pity he could Our Village Poet. 19 not converse. The language of the pen, and the unspeakable elo- quence of the eye, were all he could boast. When Squire Newells eldest daughter, Fanny, died, Harry Brown composed so pathetic an elegy upon her death, that her father gave him a flute, and her brother John offered to teach him to play it. It thrills my heart at this distance of time to remember how meltingly in The summer evening came the notes of Bonnie Doon and Auld Robin Gray across the little river, from the thick forest in which the poets cot was hiddenOh, it was the soul of melodyand the deep quiet of our green valley was in perfect unison with its sweet pensiveness. One Monday morning, Harry, as usual, hung out his iron-grays, and his green-and-scarlet cloak to air, while he was reading his chapter in the Bible. Very few mischievous and light-fingered people are there in our village, but there is no place entirely without them, and when the poet had replaced his Bible upon the shelf, covered his fire, swept the hearth, and gone out to look to his Sunday garment, he dis- covered that the green-and-scarlet cloak had mysteriously disappeared. He went back in great consternation to his arm-chair, and resting his head on his hands, pondered gloomily the abduction of his raiment. It cannot have gone away without help, and therefore somebody must have helped it away, reasoned he; but who? There was no trace of the thief, and the poet would not allow himself to suspect any one of the larceny. One thing I can do, thought he, and after pacing the room awhile, he sat down to write an advertisement directed to the person who took away a green-and-red cloak belonging to Harry Brown. In this document he meekly set forth that the person had injured him without a cause, but he freely forgave him, and would use no means to bring him to justice. He, however, besought him to re- member that he had been guilty of a great sina sin that would shut him out of heaven if he did not repent of itthat he might suddenly die, and find no space for repentance. At any rate, if he should per- sist in the evil course he had begun, it must inevitably bring him to the gallows. He was willing to allow him the use of the cloak until Saturday night, when he begged him to return it, as he could not otherwise attend church. It was winter, and we had then no stoves in our church. One copy of this advertisement, he nailed up on the door of the church, another on the store, and another on the central school-house. All that week, groups of men, or girls, or school-children, might be seen clustered around the notices, and one young man who had been reading them, was seen to retire in evident and irrepressible agita- tion. On Friday evening, the poet heard an inexplicable rustling among the bushes at his door, and, on opening it, he discovered his cloak upon the door-stone. He examined the pocket to see if the hymn-book was gone. It was there, in company with some silver pieces, which the penitent offender had offered as an atonement for his theft. Harry deposited them in the charity-box, as a thank-offering for the restoration of his cloak. This short-lived affliction served, on the whole, to do him good. It reminded him of the necessity of providing for a time of want or of losses, and he became more industrious, and began to lay up a portion f his small earnings. 20 Our Village Poet. How our L~oet, in spite of his rhyming propensities, could fall in love with, and marry plump Patty Gale, and how he managed to court her, with the aid of monosyllables only, was a marvel, passing the ability of our wisest heads to explain. But I had the story in co~jldence from Nancy, Pattys sister, and there was nothing so very remarkable in it, after all. He merely ad- dressed a sonnet to her, as he did to several of us village girls, and we, indeed, thought nothing of it, only that he remembered us kindly; but she (and she was a saucy girl) taking advantage of the affection- ate style of the poem, and her own good graces, (for she was, it must be conceded, extremely pretty-looking, only she was so plump) re- turned him an equally kind answer. There were some sentiments like these at the close of the sonnet Thus, day and night, I sigh and languish, Oh will you not regard my anguish? For you can save me if you will, And make me very happy still. My joy would never, never fail, If I could marry Patty Gale. Patty was quite unable to resist this affecting appeal. The tears rolled down her rosy cheeks while she perused it. She immediately re- turned him an answer, telling him she would be his wife and he might call and see her the next evening. She was sorry he had suf- fered so much on her account; but she could not blame herself, as she did not know of it before. It is a matter of some doubt whether Harry expected or even desir- ed any reply, least of all such a reply as this; but he visited her, and although the conversation was carried on pretty much without his aid, it was fully settled, with the consent of her parents, that they should marry next autumn. But in the autumn, her father was very ill, and therefore the wedding was deferred to winter, when the sleigh-bells rang a loud and merry peal as the long procession moved rapidly by in its way to Harry Browns cottage in the wood. You would hardly have recognized that old cottageit was so nicely painted and white- washed; for though Henry was poor, Capt. Gale was rich, and gener- ous, too, and it gave him sincere pleasure to contribute to his chil- drens comfort. Henry Brown has learned to talk and laugh, but he has forgotten his muse, his reveries, and his moonlight wanderings in the church- yard. With his marriage commenced the decline of poetry in our village, and we have not at present a solitary scribbler of rhyme among us. The river winds as calmly as ever. The green hills slope as graceful- ly, and the wild-birds carol as sweetly, but there is no minstrel to spread their praises in immortal song. If any stranger should have the curiosity to visit the poets birth- place, let him ride up the Shanobie road, (it is a very smooth, shady road, and not much out of the way) until he comes to the walnut wood, and, closely embowered by those heavy old trees, he may discover a little one-sided yellow cottage, with plenty of red and white rose- bushes and tall sun-flowers in front with glittering rows of tin milk- pans under the windows. It would afford him but little pleasure to Ugly Reflections. 21 look into the dwelling. He would only find a merry yellow-haired man and a plump black-eyed woman, and some half a dozen rosy romps of children. Abundance of good-nature is there, and health and industry, but the genius of romance and the spirit of poetry, long since unfolded their bright wings and flew away together. EVERALLIN. UGLY REFLECTIONS. 0 vnxnn are times When all this fret and tumult that we hear Seemeth inure stale than to the sextons ear His own dull chimes. Ding dong! ding dong! The workl is in a simmer like a sea Over a peat volcanowo is me All the day long. From crib to shroud, Nurse oer our cradles screameth lullaby, And friends in boots tramp round us as we die, Snuffling aloud. At mornings call The blear.eyed pug~dog welcomes in the sun, And flea.bit mongrels, wakening one by one, Give answer all. When evening dim Draws round us, then the lonely caterwaul, Tart solo, sour duet, and general squall These are our hymn. Women, with tongues Like polar needles, ever on the jar.~ Men, plugless stopcocks, whose deep fountains are Within their lungs. Children, with drums Strapped round them by the fond paternal ass, Peripatetics with a blade of grass Between their thumbs. Vagrants, whose arts Have caged some devil in their mad machine, Which grinding, squeaks, with husky groans between, Come out by starts. Cockneys that kill Thin horses of a Sundaymen, with clams, Hoarse as young bisons roaring for their dams, From hill to hill. Soldiers, with guns Making a nuisance of the blessed air, Promising youth and Patriots worse for wear, Punsters with puns! Storms, thunders, waves! Howl, crash, and bellow, for ye needs must roar Death, hug thy minions close, or men will snore Even in their graves! 0. W. H.

Ugly Reflections. 21 look into the dwelling. He would only find a merry yellow-haired man and a plump black-eyed woman, and some half a dozen rosy romps of children. Abundance of good-nature is there, and health and industry, but the genius of romance and the spirit of poetry, long since unfolded their bright wings and flew away together. EVERALLIN. UGLY REFLECTIONS. 0 vnxnn are times When all this fret and tumult that we hear Seemeth inure stale than to the sextons ear His own dull chimes. Ding dong! ding dong! The workl is in a simmer like a sea Over a peat volcanowo is me All the day long. From crib to shroud, Nurse oer our cradles screameth lullaby, And friends in boots tramp round us as we die, Snuffling aloud. At mornings call The blear.eyed pug~dog welcomes in the sun, And flea.bit mongrels, wakening one by one, Give answer all. When evening dim Draws round us, then the lonely caterwaul, Tart solo, sour duet, and general squall These are our hymn. Women, with tongues Like polar needles, ever on the jar.~ Men, plugless stopcocks, whose deep fountains are Within their lungs. Children, with drums Strapped round them by the fond paternal ass, Peripatetics with a blade of grass Between their thumbs. Vagrants, whose arts Have caged some devil in their mad machine, Which grinding, squeaks, with husky groans between, Come out by starts. Cockneys that kill Thin horses of a Sundaymen, with clams, Hoarse as young bisons roaring for their dams, From hill to hill. Soldiers, with guns Making a nuisance of the blessed air, Promising youth and Patriots worse for wear, Punsters with puns! Storms, thunders, waves! Howl, crash, and bellow, for ye needs must roar Death, hug thy minions close, or men will snore Even in their graves! 0. W. H. 22 LIFE BEYOND THE FRONTIER. PImHAPS some of our readers may have seen Carvers or School- crafts Travels. If they have, it may be that they know, albeit neither of the books is worth a brass pin as authority, that the Chippewa and Dahcotah tribes have waged war against each other so long that the origin of their hostility is beyond the ken of man. General Pike per- suaded them to make peace in 1800, but it lasted only till his back was turned. The agents for the government have brought about sev- eral treaties between the tribes, in ~vhich forgiveness, and friendship for the future, were solemnly promised. Indian hereditary hate is stronger than Indian faith, and these bargains were always violated as soon as opportunity occurred. Nevertheless, our executive gave orders, in 182, that a general congress of all the belligerent tribes on the frontier should be held at Prairie du Chien. They flocked to the treaty ground from all quarters, to see the sovereignty or majesty (we know not which is the better word,) of the United States, ably repre- sented by Governors Cass and Clark, who acted as commissioners. The policy of the United States on this occasion was founded on an error. It supposed that the quarrels of the Indians were occasioned by a dispute concerning the boundaries of their respective territories. Never was a treaty followed by more unhappy results, at least as far as it concerned the Dahcotahs. They concurred in the arrangement of their boundaries proposed by the commissioners, as they do in every measure proposed by an American officer, thinking that compulsion would otherwise be used. But they were not satisfied, nor had they reason to be, for their ancient limits were grievously abridged. All the Indians present had, or im- agined they had, another cause of complaint. They had been supplied with food, while the congress lasted, by the United States, as was the reasonable practice, for they cannot hunt and make treaties at one and the same time. Dysentery supervened on the change of diet. Some died on the ground, and a great many perished on the way from Prairie du Chien to their hunting grounds. Always suspicious of the whites, they supposed that their food had been poisoned; the arguments of their traders could not convince them of the contrary, and hundreds will die in that belief. Moreover, they did not receive such presents as the British agents had been wont to bestow on them, and they complained that such stinginess was beneath the dignity of a great people, and that it also showed a manifest disregard of their necessities. They were especially indignant at being stinted in whisky. It behooved the commissioners, indeed, to avoid the appearance of effecting any measure by bribery, but the barbarians did not view the matter in that light. To show them that the liquor was not withheld on account of its value, two barrels were brought upon the ground. Each dusky countenance was instantly illuminated with joy at the agreeable prospect, but they were to learn that there is sometimes a slip between the cup and the lip. Each lower jaw dropped at least six inches when one of the commis- sioners staved in the heads of the casks with an axe. It was a pity, said old Wakhpakootay, speaking of the occurrence, it ~vas a great

22 LIFE BEYOND THE FRONTIER. PImHAPS some of our readers may have seen Carvers or School- crafts Travels. If they have, it may be that they know, albeit neither of the books is worth a brass pin as authority, that the Chippewa and Dahcotah tribes have waged war against each other so long that the origin of their hostility is beyond the ken of man. General Pike per- suaded them to make peace in 1800, but it lasted only till his back was turned. The agents for the government have brought about sev- eral treaties between the tribes, in ~vhich forgiveness, and friendship for the future, were solemnly promised. Indian hereditary hate is stronger than Indian faith, and these bargains were always violated as soon as opportunity occurred. Nevertheless, our executive gave orders, in 182, that a general congress of all the belligerent tribes on the frontier should be held at Prairie du Chien. They flocked to the treaty ground from all quarters, to see the sovereignty or majesty (we know not which is the better word,) of the United States, ably repre- sented by Governors Cass and Clark, who acted as commissioners. The policy of the United States on this occasion was founded on an error. It supposed that the quarrels of the Indians were occasioned by a dispute concerning the boundaries of their respective territories. Never was a treaty followed by more unhappy results, at least as far as it concerned the Dahcotahs. They concurred in the arrangement of their boundaries proposed by the commissioners, as they do in every measure proposed by an American officer, thinking that compulsion would otherwise be used. But they were not satisfied, nor had they reason to be, for their ancient limits were grievously abridged. All the Indians present had, or im- agined they had, another cause of complaint. They had been supplied with food, while the congress lasted, by the United States, as was the reasonable practice, for they cannot hunt and make treaties at one and the same time. Dysentery supervened on the change of diet. Some died on the ground, and a great many perished on the way from Prairie du Chien to their hunting grounds. Always suspicious of the whites, they supposed that their food had been poisoned; the arguments of their traders could not convince them of the contrary, and hundreds will die in that belief. Moreover, they did not receive such presents as the British agents had been wont to bestow on them, and they complained that such stinginess was beneath the dignity of a great people, and that it also showed a manifest disregard of their necessities. They were especially indignant at being stinted in whisky. It behooved the commissioners, indeed, to avoid the appearance of effecting any measure by bribery, but the barbarians did not view the matter in that light. To show them that the liquor was not withheld on account of its value, two barrels were brought upon the ground. Each dusky countenance was instantly illuminated with joy at the agreeable prospect, but they were to learn that there is sometimes a slip between the cup and the lip. Each lower jaw dropped at least six inches when one of the commis- sioners staved in the heads of the casks with an axe. It was a pity, said old Wakhpakootay, speaking of the occurrence, it ~vas a great Life be3~ond the Frontier. 23 pity! There was enough of it to have kept me drunk all the days of my life~ Wakhpakootays only feelings were grief and astonishment, but most of his fellows thought that this making a promise to the eye in order to break it to the sense was a grievous insult, and so they continue to regard it to this day. The next year a small party of Chippewas came to St. Peters, (about which there are four Dahcotah villages) on pretence of business with their father, the agent, but in reality to beg ammunition, clothing, and, above all, strong drink. The Dahcotahs soon gathered about the place with frowns on their faces and guns in their hands. Neverthe- less, three of the Chippeways ventured to visit the Columbian Fur Companys trading house, two miles froiui the fort. While there, they became aware of their danger, and desired two of the white men at- tached to the establishment to accompany them back, thinking that their presence might be some protection. They were in error. As they passed a little coppice, three Dahcotahs sprung from behind a log with the speed of light, fired their pieces into the face of the foremost, and then fled. The guns must have been double loaded, for the mans head was literally blown from his shoulders, and his white companions were spattered with his brains and blood. The survivors gained the fort without further molestation. Their comrade was buried on the spot where he fell. A staff was set up on his grave, which became a landmark, and received the name of The Murder Pole. The murder- ers boasted of their achievement, and with impunity. They and their tribe thought that they had struck a fair blow on their ancient enemies, in a becoming manner. It was only said, that Toopunkah Zeze of the village of the Batture aux Fi~vres, and two others, had each acquired a right to wear skunk skins on their heels and war-eagles feathers on their heads. A winter passed, and the murdered man was not revenged. In the spring, we had another striking proof of Indian regard to treaty stipu- lations and Indian love for American citizens; and also of the wisdom of the government that had expected to bind them with strips of paper, or parchment. Every one knows that the western-country French peo- ple make maple sugar in the spring. M. Methode, chose to set up his sugar camp at the mouth of Yellow river, two miles from Prairie du Chien. His wife, one of the most beautiful women we ever saw, ac- companied him with her five children. Beside these, the wolves and the trees were his only companions. A week elapsed, and he had not been seen at the Prairie. One of his friends, thinking that he might have been taken ill, and was unable to come for his supplies, resolved to visit his camp. On reaching the mouth of Yellow river the man shouted aloud, that Methode or his dog might answer, and thereby indicate in what exact spot in the woods his cabin stood. No answer was returned. After searching upwards of an hour, and calling till he was hoarse, he fell upon a little path which soon brought him to the ruins of a hnt that appeared to have been recently burned. All was as still as it might have been at the birth of time. Concluding that Methode had burned his camp and gone higher up the river, the honest Canadian turned homeward. He had not gone ten steps when he saw something that made him quicken his pace. It was the body of Methodes dog. The 24 Life beyond tile Frontier. animal had been shot with half a score of balls, and yet held in his dead jaws a mouthful of scarlet cloth, which, apparently, he had torn from an Indian calf. The man ran at full speed to the bank of the river, threw himself into his canoe, and paddled with all his might till he was out of gun shot from the shore. Having made what he had seen public, a party was soon assembled, all good men and true, and well armed. They soon gained the spot, and began to explore the ruins of the hut. The bodies of the whole family were there, and it was evident that accidental fire had not occasioned their death. They were shockingly mangled; Madame Methode in particular. Her husbands hand grasped a bloody knife, from which it was inferred that he had not fallen unavenged. Yet the stains might have come from his own person. When the coroners inquest sat, it appeared that a party of Winne- bagoes had been out, notwithstanding the treaty, against the Chippe- was, and had returned unsuccessful. Fifteen of them had been seen near the Yellow river two days after Methodes departure from the Prairie. It was ascertained that two Winnebagoes had been buried that night. The white party returned to the village; and, the next day, an Indian boy of fourteen admitted that he had seen Methodes camp while hunting, and had communicated his discovery to his companions. To make assurance doubly sure, Wamandoosgara-Ha, an Indian of very bad reputation, made his appearance in the village in a pair of red leggins, one of which had been torn behind. He came to tell the agent, Mr. Boilevin, how much he loved the Americans, and that he strongly suspected the Saques of the murder that had been com- mitted. He demanded a blanket and a bottle of whisky as a re- ward for his zealous friendship. Mr. Boilevin caused the friendly Winnebago to be arrested, and examined him closely. Then the mur- derer called up his Indian spirit, confessed his guilt, and implicated several others. A party of militia forthwith started for the nearest Winnebago camp. We are able to state (and we love to be correct in important particu- lars) that the captain wore neither plume nor sash, nor any thing else that might have made him conspicuous; that the men did not march in the style most approved on Boston common ; that they beat no drum before them; and that none of them had ever seen a sham-fight. No; each marched on his own hook, each carried a good rifle or north- west gun, and each kept his person as much out of sight as possible. The consequence was that the Indian camp was surprised and complete- ly surrounded, and the savages saw that their best, and, indeed, only course, was to surrender quietly. However, the whites found only one of those they sought in the camp, and took him away with them. The celebrated chief Descorrie followed them. Father, said he to Mr. Boilevin, you know that there are fool- ish young men among every people. Those who have done this thing, were foolish young men, over whom I and the other wise men have no control. Besides, when they went to Yellow river, they had just drank the last of a keg which you gave them yourself. It was the whisky, and not they, that killed Methode and abused his wife. Father, I think you should excuse their folly this time, and they will never do the like again. Father, their families are very poor, and if Life beyond the Frontier. 25 you will give them clothing and something to eat, you may be sure that they will never kill another white man.~~ I shall give them nothing, said the agent, and still be sure that they will never kill another man. They will assuredly be hanged. Your heart is very hard, father, replied Descorrie. Your heart is very hard, but I cannot think that it will be as you say. You know that if you take our young mens lives, we cannot prevent others from revenging them. Our warriors have always taken two lives for one. Our Great Father (the president) is not so hard-hearted as you are. Our young men have killed a great many of your people, and he has always forgiven them. At that time, Prairie du Chien had no great reason to boast of her administration of justice. A soldier, indeed, had been scourged at the public whipping post, a man of ninety had been fined for lewdness, an Indian had been kicked out of a wheat-field on which he was trampling, and the magistracy prided themselves not a little on these energetic acts of duty. A jail there was, but it was of wood, and stood so far from the village, that a prisoner might carve the logs at noon-day without much danger of detection. Scandal says, that the jailor was wont to bolt the door of it with a boiled carrot. Into this strong hold the criminals were put at nightthe place did not own a set of fettersand in the morning they were missing. Had they been left to their own devices, there is little doubt that thay would have re- mained to brave their fate, but it is thought that some white man advised them what their exact legal responsibilities were~ and advised them to escape. Coloned Willoughby Morgan commanded the military at Prairie dii Chien. He immediately caused two Winnebago chiefs to be seized, and informed the tribe that they would not be liberated till the mur- derers were delivered up. They were soon brought in, and as the civil authority had proved unable to keep them, they were committed to the garrison guard-house. Shortly after the garrison was broken up by order of the secretary of war, and the troops were removed to St. Peters, two hundred miles farther up. There was no appearance of the district judge who was to try the prisoners, and they wete there- fore transferred to St. Peters, there to await his coming. They had long to wait; so long, indeed, that they grew excessively obese and phlegmatic. In the following autumn another party of Chippewas came to St. Peters, and as they remembered what had happened the year before, they took care to arrive just at day-break and proceeded directly to the fort. There were twenty-four persons in the band, eight of whom were warriors; the rest were women and children. Their chief was Kweeweezaizhish, or the Flat Mouth, the great man of the Sandy Lake Chippewas. He led his little troop straight to the fort, where he unfurled and planted an American flag, and then demanded an interview with the agent and commanding officers. The I)ahcotahs soon learned what was passing, and by the time the gates were opened a considerable number of them had assembled to gaze upon the enemy. Presently the officers came forth, and de- sired the visiters to enter. Be not angry, father, replied the Flat Mouth, but I would rather say something here, before I enter your VOL. in. 4 26 Life 1~eyond the Frontier. wigwam or eat your bread. I desire that these Nahtooessies (enemies) should hear it. The colonel sent for the Chippewa interpreter, and when he had come, desired the chief to say on. Father, said the chief, you know that more than a year since, we made peace with your Nahtooessie children, because you desired us. We have kept the peace and listened to your advice, as we always do, for our American fathers are wise men and advise us for our good. These men know whether they have done so or not. I speak with a sick heart. We are but few here, and these men will not keep the peace with us. We ask ~you to protect us, as we would pro- tect you, if you should come into our country. The Colonel replied that he could have no concern with the quar- rels or wars of the Dahcotahs and Chippewas. If they fought any where else, he could not help it; but while they remained under his flag they should not be molested, provided they did not molest others. He bade them pitch their lodges on a spot within musket shot of the walls, and there, he said and thought, they would he safe. He would make their cause his own if any harm should come to them there. This speech being expounded to the Dahcotahs, they all ex- claimed, Hachee! hachee! hacheetoo ! i. e. that is it! that is right. The Flat Mouth then entered the fort and partook of American hospitality. He then explained the object of his visit. It was the old story, repeated the thousandth time. They were very poor; they had left their friends at home with heavy hearts, and hoped that their father would give them something to make them glad. In short, the endless catalogue of Indian wants was summed by a humble peti- tion for a little of their fathers milk (whisky) to make them cry for certain friends they had lost. This shameless beggary should not be taken as a proof of want of spirit. The main point in their political code is equality of property; he that has two shirts thinks it a duty to give one to him who has none. He who has none, thinks it no shame to ask one of him who has two. The effect of this system is, that they are always in want of every thing, and the application of their own principle of action to their ~vhite neighbors makes their company excessively troublesome. It is true that they are willing to reciprocate, as far as lies in their power, but then they never have any thing to give. On the occasion in question our Chippewa friends got, if not all they asked, yet more than they had expected. Then after having entertained the garrison with the buffalo dance, they left the fort and set up their lodges as they had been directed. In the afternoon Toopunkah Zeze arrived from the Batture aux Ffr~vres, with seven of his own band and one other. They went di- rectly to the Chippewa camp and entered the largest lodge, where it happened that there were just nine persons. The young Dahcotah above named held in his hand a pipe, the stem of which was gaily ornamented with porcupines quills and hair stained red. The Chip- pewas spread skins for his party, shook hands with them, invited them courteously to be seated. They also directed the women instantly to prepare a feast of venison, corn, and maple sugar, all of which articles were mixed together and placed before the Dahcotahs in brimming L~fe beyond the Frontier. 27 bowls. When the entertainment was over, Toopunkah Zeze filled the peace-pipe he had brought and passed it round. None rejected it, and all might, therefore, consider themselves pledged to peace, if not to love. The conversation then became general and amicable. The Chippewa women coquetted with the Dahcotah youths, who seemed in no wise disposed to consider them as enemies. No Dahcotah is suffered to wear a war eagles feather in his hair till he has killed his man. Toopunkah Zeze wore one for the Chippewa he had so treacherously slain the year before, as we have already re- lated. One of the fair Chippewas noticed it. You are young to wear that, said she. I shall wear another before I am much older, he replied. Certainly after so much friendly intercourse and so many demon- strations of good will, no one could have suspected any sinister pur- pose. The Chippewas, too, might have relied on their proximity to the fort. But, the heart of man is desperately wicked. The Dah- cotahs had shook hands and smoked the pipe of peace with their for- mer foes, had eaten of their fat and drank of their strong. At last, at sunset, they took their guns and rose to depart. The eight foremost halted outside the door, while the last held it aside with his foot, and all discharged their guns into the lodge, excepting one, whose piece missed fire. The assassins gave the Indian cri dejoi, and fled like deer. The guns were heard in the fort, and the news soon reached the commanding officer, who immediately ordered an officer to proceed to the nearest village with a hundred men, and apprehend as many Dahcotahs as possibly he could. No time was to be lost, for the night was fast coming up the horizon. The Chippewas who had not been hurt joined the party. Circumstances proved favorable to ihe enterprise; just as the party left the gate, upwards of a hundred armed Dahcotahs appeared on a low ridge near the fort. Captain di- vided his force, and despatched one party round a small wood to take the enemy in rear, while he advanced upon them in front. The Dah- cotahs kept their ground firmly. Some covered themselves with the scattered scrub oak trees, others laid down in the long grass. Guns were already cocked when the detached party appeared in their rear. Then the Indians gave way. Most escaped, but thirty were taken and speedily conveyed to the fort, where accommodations were pro- vided for them in the guard-house and the black-hole. The Chippe- was, too, removed their lodges into the fort, and the wounded were carried to the hospital. Eight balls had been fired into the Chippewa lodge, and every one todk effect. The wounds were the most ghastly that we ever saw made by bullets. The party had been lying, or reclining, on their mats; for there is no standing in a Chippewa lodge. Consequently the balls had passed through their limbs and bodies diagonally, tearing and cutting more than it is usual for pieces of lead to do, though as rag- ged as chewing can make them. One woman was killed outright, one man was mortally, and another severely wounded, the latter being shot through both ancle joints and crippled forever. All the rest were women and children., and more or less severely wounded. 28 Life beyond the Frontier. There was weeping and wailing in the Chippewa lodges that night. The noisy lamentations of the women broke the rest of the whole garrison; but no one desired them to be silent, for the rudest soldier there respected the sincerity of their sorrow. Never were Indian knives driven deeper into squaws flesh in token of grief than on that occasion. This practice of mortifying the body, on the death of friends, seems to be, and to have been, common to all rude people. The Jews clothed themselves in sackcloth and threw ashes on their heads; Achilles refused to wash his face till the funereal rites had been per- formed over the body of Patroclus. Now, the male Chippewas black- ened their faces, indeed, but they did not gash their arms. A soldier who spoke their language asked them why they did not conform to the ancient usage of their nation. Perhaps we shall have use for our guns to-morrow, replied the Little Soldier. We must lose no blood, though our hearts bleed, for we must be able to see straight over our gun barrels. The Little Soldier was right in his surmise and precaution. At early day dawn the commanding officer visited the wounded Chippe- was, and asked them if they could recognize any of their aggressors, in case they should appear before them. They replied eagerly in the affirmative. He then asked tbem why they had not been more on their guard. We respected your flag, replied the mortally wounded man, and thought that our enemies would do the same. The colonel then asked whether they had given the Dahcotahs no provocation. None, said the Chippewa, but we endured much. He pre.. sented the peace-pipe which the Dahcotahs had brought with them, and said that the hair with which it was ornamented had belonged to a Chippewa head. We know not how he made the discovery, but it is well known to all who have lived on the frontier, that an Indian, on seeing a scalp, can tell, with unerring certainty, to what tribe it be.. longs. The wounded men were then, with their own joyful consent, placed on litters and borne to the guard-house. The Dahcotah prisoners were paraded before them and they identified two of the number, as having belonged to the band of assassins. I deliver them into your hands, said the Colonel to the Chip- pewa warriors. They have deserved death, and you may inflict it, or not, as you think proper. If you do not, they must be tried by the laws which govern us Americans. I have no power to put them to death. You may let them go, if you please; I wash my hands of the matter. This speech was interpreted faithfully to the Chippewas, but none of them answered. Instead of speaking, they examined the flints and priming of their guns. The Little Soldier drew from be- neath his robe a few fathoms of cord., cut from an elk skin, and pre- sently secured the two criminals, fastening them together by the elbows. It was observed that he drew his knots rather tighter than was absolutely necessary; but no one blamed him. The Dahcotahs were then led forth. As soon as they passed the gate, the Chippewas halted and cocked their guns, for their vengeance was growing impatient~ You must not shoot them under our walls, said one of the officers. Lffe beyond the Frontier. 29 I hope you do not expect us to take them very far, replied a Chippewa. The procession then moved on. One of the Dahcotahs struck up the death song. The other attempted it, but did not succeed; his voice sunk into a quaver of consternation. The Chippewas led them to a rising ground, about two furlongs from the fort, there halted, and bade them run for their lives. They were not slow to obey the man- date, and their executioners gave them thirty yards law. At that dis- tance, six guns were discharged at them, and they fell dead. Instantly the prairie rang with the Chippewa en de joie, and the executioners rushed towards the corpses, with their knives bared, yelling like fiends. Twice and thrice did each plunge his weapon into the bodies of the prostrate foes, and then wipe the blade on his face or blanket. One or two displayed a ferocity which those only who saw, can entirely realise. They drew their reeking knives through their lips, and exclaimed, with a smack, that they had never tasted any thing so good. An enemys blood was better than even fire water. The whole party then spat upon the body of him who had feared his fate, and spurned it with their feet. They had not tasted his blood. It would, they said, have made their hearts weak. To him who had sung his death song, they offered no indignity. On the contrary, they covered him with a new blanket. They then returned to the fort. The colonel met them at the gate. He had prevented all over whom his authority extended from witnessing the scene just described, and had done his best to make the execution the exclusive business of the Chippewas. He now told them that the bodies of the slain must not be suffered to remain upon his land, where the spectacle might grieve the Dahcotahs who were innocent of their crime. The party retired, and proceeded to the slaughter ground. They took the dead Dahco- tahs by the heels, trailed them over the earth to the bluff, and there threw them over a perpendicular precipice a hundred and fifty feet high. The bodies splashed and sunk, and nothing more was ever seen or heard of them. Among the Dahcotahs detained in the guard-house was an old man named Khoya-pa, or the Eagles Head. We knew him wellhe once cheated us out of a considerable amount of merchandize; but it was in the way of trade, all fair, according to Indian ethics, and we bear him no malice. He had not slept during the night, but had tramped up and down the floor, deeply agitated, to the extreme disturbance of the sol- diers. One of those who were put to death, was his nephew. When this young man was designated by the wounded Chippewas as one of the assassins, and led forth to suffer death, his tears flowed; and when he heard the report of the guns which ended him, his emotion became uncontrollable. He immediately sent for the commanding officer. Father, said he, the band of the Batture aux Fi6vres are bad people. They are always getting themselves into trouble, and others are always sure to suffer with them. It was foolish to shoot the Chip.. pewa last year, but they did it, and perhaps one of my grand children will be scalped for it. What they have just done was a folly. They persuaded my nephew to join them, and he is dead. Let them take the consequences of their own act themselves, this time. I know where I can find two more of them, and if you will let me out I will 30 Lffe beyond the Frontier. bring them to you, and you may put them to death, as they deserve, or spare themas you please. if you slay them, I shall be glad; if you let them go, I shall be sorry. They ought not to be suffered to bring the whole nation into disgrace and trouble. If the Colonel lets him out, I wonder when we shall see him again V said one of the guard to another. At the judgement seat, I think, replied the other. The Colonel knew the Dahcotah character better. How long will it be before you return with the man-slayers ? said he to Khoya-pa. By sunset tomorrow night, replied the Eagle Head, I will be before your gate, and if I come alone, you may give my body to the Chippewas. The sun was high in the heavens when the Eagle Head departed, with his gun in his hand and his knife and tomahawk in his belt. It is sixty miles from St. Peters to the Batture aux Fi~ivres, and he ar- rived there early the next morning, having slept an hour or two in the woods near the village. He went straight to the lodge of Sagandoshee, or the Englishman, for so was the father of Toopunkah Zeze named. The family were already awake, and the murderer was relating his exploit with great glee when Khoya-pa entered. You have acted like a dog, said the old man to Toopunkah Zeze. So have you, he added, turning to the other assassin. Some one must die for what you have done, and it will be better that your lives be taken, than that others should die for your folly. There are no worse men than yourselves in our nation. I tell you, you must die. Rise and go with me, like men, or I will kill you like dogs where you sit. So saying, the old man cocked his gun and drew his tomahawk from his belt. The women began to scream and scold; the Englishmans brow grew dark, but no opposition was offered. Perhaps the men were afraid to harm the Eagle Head, for though he was not recognized as a chief, his sons and sons-in-law were many, and his influence was considerable. Any one who should have harmed him would have cer- tainly suffered for it. Besides, his reputation as an upright and valiant man was high; he was tall and erect, and age had not withered his muscles and sinews. Whatever motives might have restrained the families of the criminals from opposing the aged warrior, Toopankah Zeze showed no disposition to disobey him. He rose with the utmost alacrity, handed the Eagle Head a rope, and tendered his arms, to be tied. When he was secured he requested his father to thrust sharp oaken splinters through the muscular parts of his arms, that the Amer- icans might see that he cared not for pain. The Englishmanhis fathercomplied, without uttering a syllable! The other criminal was pale, trembled, and seemed wholly stupified by terror. However, he submitted passively to be tied. Now, said the Eagle Head, startwalk before me, and that briskly, for you must die at the American fort before sunset, and it is a long distance. Just before sunset that day the Colonel and another officer were standing at the gate of the fort. It is late, said the latter, and our old friend does not show himself yet. I do not think he will. He would certainly be a fool to conie back to what he thinks certain dan~ ger; for he had nothing to do with the murder. Life beyond the Frontier. 31 If I had kept him, replied the commanding officer, no good could have come of it. He was innocent, and could not have been convicted, supposing that any of our courts may be competent to try him. I believed that he would keep his word, and bring the real criminals, and I have no doubts about the propriety of the course I shall adopt with them. I trust the Eagle Head yet; and by heaven, he deserves to be trusted! Lookthere he comes, driving the two black sheep before him. Indeed, the old man and his prisoners came in sight at that moment. They soon arrived at the gate. Here they are, father, said the Eagle Head. Take them, and kill them, and if that is not enough for the safety of my people, take my life, too. I throw away my body freely. The white chief told Khoya-pa that he was at liberty from that mo- ment, and made him a liberal present, after which the old man with- drew. A hasty council was then held with the Chippewas, to whom the victims were tendered, as the two first had been. By this time a considerable number of the Dahcotahs had assembled about the prisoners. You must die now, said one man. The white chief has given you to the enemy. I know it, replied Toopunkah Zeze, and I am ready. I shall fall like a man. Bear witness of it. Here, Falling Leaf, take my blanketI shall have no use for it. Take my ear-rings, Gray Woman. He sat down upon the ground, and, with the aid of others, divested himself of his ornaments and apparel, which he distributed to those who stood nighest. His dauntless mein and handsome person made the whites, who looked on, sorry for him. He was in the bloom of youth, not above twenty at most, six feet high, and formed after Na- tures best model. Stain the Belvidere Apollo with walnut juice, and it will be an exact likeness of Toopunkah Zeze. He refused to part with the two eagles feathers. One of them he had not yet worn two days, he said, and he would not part with them. The Chippewas should see that a warrior was about to die. The companion of Toopunkah Zeze followed his example in giving away his clothing, quite mechanically, it seemed. It was evident, though he did not speak, that he was not equal to the circumstances in which he was placed. He was a villainous looking fellow; such a man, indeed, as a despotic sovereign would hang for his countenance. He had the most hideous hare lip that we ever saw, and was thence called by the Dahcotahs, The Split Upper Lip. He was known to most of the white men present as a notorious thief, a character very uncommon among Indian men, though not among Indian women. The Chippewa Chief, Flat Mouth, thus addressed the command- ing officer. Father, we have lost one life, and it is certain that one more will die of his wounds. We have already taken life for life, and it is all that our customs require. Father, do not think that I do not love our people whose blood has been shed. I would fain kill every one of the Nahtooessie tribe to revenge them, but a wise man should be prudent in his revenge. Father, we Sandy Lake Chippewas are a small, a very small band, and we are ill armed. If we provoke the Nahtooessees too far, they will come to our country in a body, and we are not able to resist them. Father, I am a very little, weak chief. (The varlet spoke falsely, for he was the biggest and most corpulent L~fe beyond the Frontier. Indian we ever saw.) Father, we have already had life for life, and I am satisfied. Up started the Little Soldier; fire in his eye. He was properly named, being a very little man, almost a dwarf. Yet he was thick set, active, and muscular, and his spirit was great. Little as he was, he enjoyed the repute of being the bravest and most successful warrior of Sandy Lake. He it was, whose brother had been slain the year before at the Murder Pole. Our father with the Flat Mouth, says that he is satisfied, said the Little Soldier. So am not I. We have had life for life, as he says, but I am not satisfied. This man, (pointing to Toopunkah Zeze) shot my brother last year, and the sun has not yet set twice, since he shot my wife also. This other aided him. They deserve to die, and they shall die. IIoh ! he added to the prisoners, signifying that they must march. Toopunkah Zeze sprung to his feet and began to sing his death song. It was something like the following, many times repeated. I must die, I must die, But willingly I fall. They can take from me but one life; But I have taken two from them. Two for one, two for one, two for one, & c. The Split Lip was wholly unable to imitate his brave companion. He burst into tears, and piteously implored the commanding officer to spare his life. He did not deserve to die, he said, for he was not guilty, lie had killed no onehis gun had missed fire. Here Toopunkah Zeze ceased singing, and indignantly interrupted him. You lie, dog. Coward, old woman, you know that you lie. You know that you are as guilty as I am. Hold your peace, and die like a mandie like me. Then, turning his face away with an ex- pression of exceeding contempt, he recommenced Two for one, two for one and strode forward, dragging the Split Lip after him. Arrived at the place of execution, the Chippewas gave them law, and fired. The Split Lip was shot dead on the spot. Toopunkah Zeze was also stricken through the body, but did not fall. One bullet had cut the rope which bound him to his companion, and he instantly started forward with as good speed as if he had been wholly unhurt. A shout of joy arose from a neighboring coppice, where a few Dahco- tahs had hidden themselves to witness the spectacle. Their joy was of short duration. The Little Soldiers gun had missed fire, but he picked his flint and leveled again. Toopunkah Zeze had gotten a hundred and fifty yards from his foes, when the second bullet struck and killed him instantaneously. After this catastrophe, all the Dahcotahs quitted the vicinity of Fort Snelling, and did not return to it for some months. It.was said that they formed a conspiracy, to demand a council, and kill the Indian Agent and the Commanding Officer. If this was fact, they had no opportunity, or wanted the spirit, to execute their purpose. The Flat Mouths band lingered in the fort till their wounded com- rade died. He was sensible of his condition, and bore his pains with Dramatic Reminiscences. 33 great fortitude. When he felt his end approach, he desired that his horse might be gaily caparisoned, and brought to the hospital window. The request was granted and his couch was wheeled to the window, so that he might touch the animal. He then took from his medicine bag a large cake of maple sugar and held it forth. It may seem strange, but it is true, that the beast ate it from his hand. His features were radiant with delight as he fell back on the pillow exhausted. His horse had eaten the sugar, he said, and he was sure of a favorable reception, and comfortable quarters in the other world. Half an hour after, he breathed his last. We tried to discover the details of his superstition, but could not succeed. It is a subject on which Indians unwillingly discourse. The sequel of this morsel of Indian history, may possibly appear in some future number of this Magazine. DRAMATIC REMINISCENCES. NO. V. FROM July 4, 1794, the play-house remained closed till Dec. 157, when its second season commenced with Shakspeares As you like it, and Rosina. The play was repeated on the succeeding Wednesday, after a prelude, called The Manager in Distress. The company now consisted of C. Powell and wife, S. Powell and wife, Jones and wife, Collins and wife, Hughes and wife, Bartlett, Tay- lor, Kenny, Heely, Hipworth, Villiers, Mrs. Heelyer, (afterwards Mrs. Graupner) Miss Harrison, (afterwards Mrs. Dickson) & c. & c. Among these Heely, Hipworth, Taylor, Villiers, Hughes and wife, and Mrs. Heelyer, were ne~v to the town. Taylor came before the audience first in Orlando, in As you like it. He was a great favorite for a considerable time, and might have con- tinued so to the end of his days, but for the sin of intemperance. In the course of this season, Colmans Mountaineers was brought out, and met with a degree of success, which, it is believed, has attended no other play in Boston; and this was owing to the uncommon excellence of Taylor in Octavian. His performance is spoken of at the present day, by those who saw it, as one of the highest exhibitions of dramatic tal- ent. When he returned to Boston, after having spent several years of dissipation and debauchery in a southern climate, his body diseased, his taste depraved, and his understanding besotted, he yet retained some indications of the genius, which had once delighted the audience and commanded the respect of his professional rivals. Ilipworth possessed great versatility of talent: He was respected for his good conduct, both before the ~ublic and in his private life.. One of thc earliest novelties of this season was Cumberlands comedy, f/ic Jew, in which the part of Sheva was allotted to Hipworth, and gained him much popularity. Vapid, in The Dramatist, was another part in which he excelled. There was naturally a kind of sibillation in his utterance, but his industry and skill in declamation so far conquered this defect, that it gave the audience no unpleasant sensation. Cato VOL. in. 5

Dramatic Reminiscences. 33 great fortitude. When he felt his end approach, he desired that his horse might be gaily caparisoned, and brought to the hospital window. The request was granted and his couch was wheeled to the window, so that he might touch the animal. He then took from his medicine bag a large cake of maple sugar and held it forth. It may seem strange, but it is true, that the beast ate it from his hand. His features were radiant with delight as he fell back on the pillow exhausted. His horse had eaten the sugar, he said, and he was sure of a favorable reception, and comfortable quarters in the other world. Half an hour after, he breathed his last. We tried to discover the details of his superstition, but could not succeed. It is a subject on which Indians unwillingly discourse. The sequel of this morsel of Indian history, may possibly appear in some future number of this Magazine. DRAMATIC REMINISCENCES. NO. V. FROM July 4, 1794, the play-house remained closed till Dec. 157, when its second season commenced with Shakspeares As you like it, and Rosina. The play was repeated on the succeeding Wednesday, after a prelude, called The Manager in Distress. The company now consisted of C. Powell and wife, S. Powell and wife, Jones and wife, Collins and wife, Hughes and wife, Bartlett, Tay- lor, Kenny, Heely, Hipworth, Villiers, Mrs. Heelyer, (afterwards Mrs. Graupner) Miss Harrison, (afterwards Mrs. Dickson) & c. & c. Among these Heely, Hipworth, Taylor, Villiers, Hughes and wife, and Mrs. Heelyer, were ne~v to the town. Taylor came before the audience first in Orlando, in As you like it. He was a great favorite for a considerable time, and might have con- tinued so to the end of his days, but for the sin of intemperance. In the course of this season, Colmans Mountaineers was brought out, and met with a degree of success, which, it is believed, has attended no other play in Boston; and this was owing to the uncommon excellence of Taylor in Octavian. His performance is spoken of at the present day, by those who saw it, as one of the highest exhibitions of dramatic tal- ent. When he returned to Boston, after having spent several years of dissipation and debauchery in a southern climate, his body diseased, his taste depraved, and his understanding besotted, he yet retained some indications of the genius, which had once delighted the audience and commanded the respect of his professional rivals. Ilipworth possessed great versatility of talent: He was respected for his good conduct, both before the ~ublic and in his private life.. One of thc earliest novelties of this season was Cumberlands comedy, f/ic Jew, in which the part of Sheva was allotted to Hipworth, and gained him much popularity. Vapid, in The Dramatist, was another part in which he excelled. There was naturally a kind of sibillation in his utterance, but his industry and skill in declamation so far conquered this defect, that it gave the audience no unpleasant sensation. Cato VOL. in. 5 34 Dramatic Eeminiscences. was several times performed in the course of this season. Hipworth was dignified and eloquent in the principal character, and gave universal satisfaction. Shylock, Rover, Beverly, (in the Gamester) Petruchio, Jaffier, and Jaques (in As you like it) and numerous other characters of nearly equal importance in the drama, in all of which he was res- pectable, if not excellent, are spoken of as much above the ordinary standard of what is called respectable acting. At the close of the sea- son, he went to Charleston, S. C. with Jones and some other members of the company, where he died of yellow fever shortly after. Jones had been the principal low comedy actor for two seasons, and has never, in that line, been surpassed by any actor on the American stage; he was a great favorite with the audience. There was con- tinual discord between him and the manager; and their quarrels were sometimes obtruded before the public. On one occasion, Jones made an appeal in the newspapers, in which he charged Powell with unjust and oppressive conduct; a determined resolution to crush him; mean artifices of private enmity; overbearing insolence to him and Mrs. Jones, & c. The injustice, to which Jones alludes, was, perhaps, nothing more than the exercise of proper managerial authority, in the distribution of parts, and the general discipline of the stage, which is seldom submit- ted to without grumbling. A circumstance, in which this prevailing disposition appeared very ludicrous, happened this season. Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Hughes both, laid in their claim to the part of Cowslip in the Agreeable Surprise. One evening when it was performed, they both prepared for the character, both came on to the stage at the same in- stant, and each presented her bowl of cream to Lingo. Jones, who was playing the part of the Pedagogue, received the offering from his wife, and the rival Cowslip was obliged to retire from the contest. Jones went to Charleston as acting manager. He visited Boston the succeed- ing summer, and performed a few times in the early part of the au- tumn of 1796; after which he returned to Charleston, and died there, or in the vicinity, of a malignant fever. A Mrs. Spencer, of whom nothing else is now recollected, came out from England near the close of the season, and claimed the approba- tion and patronage of the town, in Belvidera, and two or three other tragedy heroines, but with little success. Collins, whose real name was Phipps, at the close of this season, left New-England, andy it is believed, gave up the profession some years since. His wife was Miss Whitfield, daughter of a very respectable actor of that name at Drury Lane. He died of yellow fever, in New- York. The Medium, or Happy Tea Party, a comedy, written by a citizen of thellinited States, was performed for the first, and only time, on the second of March. It was supported by the principal performers of the company. It was never printed, and no information respecting the authorship or the merits can now 1k obtained. Report attributed it to the reverend John Murray, minister of the Universalist church, but Mr. Murray publicly denied havino had any concern in it.* At the closing of the theatre in the spring of 1795, Powell had be- come bankrupt and was unable to renew his contract with the proprie * columbian centinel, March 4, 1795. Dramatic Reminiscences. 35 tors. The trustees appointed Col. John S. Tyler to succeed him as manager. Tyler engaged a part of Powells company, and made an arrangement with Mr. Hodgkinson, the New-York manager, to bring his company to Boston for a part of the season. Exclusive of the New- York company, Tyler had engaged S. Powell and wife, Harper and wife, Chambers and wife, Hughes and wife, Baker with his wife and daughter, Taylor, Villiers, Kenny, and Mrs. Pick. The company from New-York consisted of Hodgkinson and wife, Hallam and wife, Tyler and wife, Hamilton and wife, Johnson and wife, (then just from England,) Cleveland and wife, King and wife, Martin, (an American) Prigmore, Carr, Hallam, jun. Wools, Ashton, Durang, Mrs. Melmoth, Madame Gardie, Mrs. Brett, Miss Brett, Miss Sully, & c. Under the direction of Tyler and Hodgkinson, (the latter as stage- manager,) the theatre was opened on the 2d of November, with Mur- phys comedy, Know your own Mind. The annals of the Boston theatre cannot exhibit another catalogue of performers so numerous, embodying such an aggregate of talent, and so capable of filling with excellence and respectability every department of the drama. It is worthy of record, that the tragedies of Macbeth and Othello had not been attempted in Boston till this season. Macbeth was first performed on the 31st of December; Macbeth, Mr. Hodgkinson; Lady Macbeth, Mrs. S. Powell. Othello was first represented on the 13th of January, for the benefit of Hallam, senior, and wife; Othello, by Hodgkinson. Among the novelties brought forward were Reynoldss comedy of The Rage, Cumb~rlands Wheel of Fortune, and Holcrofts Deserted Daughter. The part of Joanna in this piece was done by Mrs. John- son,a lady, whose talents as an actress, and amiable qualities in pri- vate life, have been the theme of many a panegyric and many a pleas- ant recollection to her acquaintance. Johnson and his wife remained some years in the New-York~company, and then went to England, where he died. Mrs. Johnson returned 4o America, and died at New- York, in 1821. Hodgkinsons company closed their performances on the 20th of January, and left the town immediately for New-York. The acting management of the theatre devolved on J. B. Williamson, from Covent ~iarden theatre, who opened on the 25th of January, with Othello, the manager personating the Moor. Previous to the tragedy, Harper de- livered an introductory address, written for the occasion. The tragedy was followed by The Spoiled Child; Little Pickle, by Mrs. Williamson. This was her first appearance in America. She was the celebrated Miss Fontenelle, from Covent Garden theatre, the original Moggy MGilpin in OKeefes opera of The Highland Reel. She has never been surpassed in parts of a light and lively cast by any of her suc- cessors. In representations of natural and unaffected simplicity, too, she was admirable. Her Ophelia has been spoken of as fascinating beyond all parallel. Mrs. Arnold, from Covent Garden, made her debut in Rosetta, in Love in a Village. She was the best performer in serious opera that had then appeared in America. Her figure was fine for the stage, her deportment graceful and attractive, her voice exquisitely melodious, her articulation accurate and distinct. She left Boston at the end of 36 Dramatic Reminiscences. the season, for the southern states. It is believed that she died not many years after, in Virginia. Baker and his family returned to the theatre, and played during Williamsons management. Hughes and wife, S. Powell and wife, Harper and wife, Mrs. Arnold, Villiers, Taylor, Hamilton, Chambers, and some others of less note, filled up the company. Williamson was an actor of very considerable powers, both in trag- edy and comedy. He was a scholar, too, of more numerous accom- plishments than a majority of actors can boast. His mind was often employed in composing or altering something, for dramatic representa- tion; and his prologues, epilogues, and other occasional addresses, show that he possessed considerable poetical genius. The following Address was written and recited by him, on the evening of the 22d of February, and made part of a medley, which was got up in honor of the birth-day of Washington. 5HE GENIUS OS COLUMDIA. THROUGH the wide circuit of the posting Sun, With brightening beam, has many a LUSTRE run, Since on the area, Fortunes stars, combined With Glorys constellations, blessed mankind; And Nature, joyous of the Fate& decree, Marked in her calendar this day of glee; A day (kind Heaven) which hailed my favorite son, My loved, my brave, my godlike WASHINGTON. A day like this, Colombians ALL revere, Who hold their country, or their feedom dear; for next the hour! which gave our nation birth, Is that which placed a Washington on earth. Not the famed chief of Israels tribes of yore, More toils encountered, and more perils bore, When he from Egypts proud oppression fled, And through the sea the wandering Hebrews led, Than did your matchless Washington subdue, When he devoted life and fame to you; When, hovering oer, to guard your pilgrim way, By night your pillar, and your cloud by day, He fought your battles, and your counsels blest, Till victorys eagle perched on Freedoms crest. Retired from war, the HERO he resigns; And, called from Vernons groves, the statesman shines. Beneath his sway, may art and science claim The prize of fortune, and the meed of fame; While to Potomacs banks the MU5R5 wing, And in the arbor of his laurels sing By foreign wants and prosperous marts inspired, Industrious ENTERPRIZE my sons have fired; My soil already Europes ports supplies My canvas floats in either Indias skies. From cursed ALdERs, the ransomed prisoner leaps, And low in earth the Indian hatchet sleeps ; While pleased Ouso, as his waters run Through woods, whose tops excluded yester sun, Sees in his stream inverted towns descend, And new-born states along his banks extend. In the drear dungeon, where FAYETTE reclines, This happy hour with least benignance shines My youths warm friend, my sister Gallias pride, To freedoms cause, by principle allied. No lust of gain her generous breast could move, He scorned all trophies, but my peoples love. * Gen. Lafayette was then in the prison of Olnuta. Dramatic Reminiscences. But now, alas! by cruel fetters chained, By friends neglected, and by foes disdained, While oer these realms his grief-swollen eyes are cast, And lingering dwell on scenes he here has passed, His pallid cheek, with fond remembrance, glows, And thaws the tear which cold misfortune froze. Thrice glorious WASHINGTON! thy name shall live, While gratitude can lisp, or fame survive! Wide as thy blessings shall diverge thy praise, And splendid as thy deeds thy glory blaEe; On all alike, thy equal lustre streams, And gilds those clouds, that envy thee thy beams. Though honest zeal my sons to feud betray, No discord eer shall cloud thy natal day; Nor one thin vapor raised by envy, soar, From Hudsons source, to .6lltamahas shore. And oh! just Heaven, who with propitious eyes, Hast seen my empire into being rise, If yet, indulgent to Columbias cause, You geard her union, and protect her laws, Oh! bid, on Times most tardy axle, roll That distant hour, which chills my peoples soul, When every eye, that now in smiles appears, Shall keep this solemn festival in tears. In the couvse of the season a young lady of Boston, made her debut in the character of Julia, in H. Siddonss Sicilian Romance. Her reception was probably not very flattering, as her second and last ap- pearance, in the same part, was announced a few days afterward. Some expectations of her success were, however, indulged by the man- ager, who honored her attempt with the following Prologue, which was spoken by Mrs. Williamson. It is written with more of the gen- uine spirit and style ~of the prologues of the preceding century, than are usually found in the modern prologues of the English stage. OccAsIONAL ~ROLOO~JE. Bless me! what here again? well this is clever; Our lucky barque makes frequent tripsand never Returns to port, unfreighted with your favor! Our little Jabal, sees with pride to-night, How well your re stowed ,I think you re pretty tight. So kindly packed together, I dare say Not one ill-tiatured thought can here fetch way: Though Candor, Taste, and Judgement, who are come As cabin passengers, have always room. Small though our barque is, yet well built and sound; No fears that she will ever run aground! The OWNERS, tootoo spirited to shrink, Will never see their gallant vessel sink; If (with a pilots care) in the command Our captain steers her, with an artists hand; That hope s our venture; boldly we embark it, Nor wish to seek, or find a better market. To-night, one novel article s on board ; A sample merelydrawn from natures hoard A native, young adventurer comes forth; The growth is genuineyou must rate its worth: The tender plant puts forth its trembling leaves, Even shrinking from the favor it receives; New to the art,a stranger to its laws I come a suppliantin my sexs cause! Come, do now, be good humoredtis by half More pain to you, Im sure, to frown than laugh. 38 Dramatic Reminiscences. I found that secret out, as, in your eyes, I ye marked the beams of genuine pleasure rise! To our young friend, within, shall I impart This cluethis master-key to gain the heart? To nature true, your judgement cant be fickle; You 11 raise, (perhaps) another LITTLE PICKLE, Grateful as is the first and all you own, Nursed, reared, and tutored, by your smiles alone. Candor, and critic taste, have kindly viewed The first expansion of the opening bud; And through the oerwhelming blushthe stifled power., Augured the future harvests ripened store. Merit is ever modestto be led, Like your own INDEPENDENCE, from its shade, Requires a fostering art, a guardian arm, To shield the growth from each insidious harm So worth expandsand so your freedom grew; And such your glorious Leader proved to you With watchful care, with patient toil, he reared The healthful plant,and as he watched, he cheered The rapid growthtill nations saw it rise, A solid column, towering to the skies. 0 be to merit, opening to your view, What nature was to man, and WASHINGTON to you! The season closed about the first of May. Tyler withdrew from the concern, and the trustees leased the theatre to Williamson for a term of years. In the course of the spring of 1796, the project of building a new theatre was started, a subscription opened, and almost immediately filled up. Such was the prevailing taste for theatrical performances, that men of capital were willing to invest their property to almost any ~amount in the erection of theatres; and mechanics did not hesitate to take shares in payment for their labor. Contracts were made, the building went on rapidly, and before the first of January, 1797, the Hay-Market theatre, an immense wooden pile, proudly overtopping very other building in the metropolis, was completed. It is believed That the idea of raising a rival theatre was first suggested by C. Powell, or some of his friends, who thought him injured by the pro- ~prletors of the Federal-street theatre; but there was another and a more potent principle exerted in producing the establishment, than ~mere theatrical rivalry, and that was, political feeling. Political excite- ment, at that time, between the parties then denominated Federal and Jacobin, was high and furious. Every man joined himself to one or the other of these parties, and each was jealous of the ascendency of the other. It was suspected, and not without some reason, that party politics, which pervaded almost every private as well as public concern, had some influence in the management of the Federal-street theatre; and that the trustees, who were all of the Federal school of politics, had upheld and justified the manager in the introduction of pieces, tending to provoke the resentments and animosities of their political opponents. It was customary, (and, very naturally so,) for the actors,. who were all emigrants from the English stage, to interpolate jests and witticisms, at the expense of the French, who were then at war with England; and these often gave great offence, excited disapprobation, and some- times created great uproar in the house. The anti-federal, (or, as it was then called, the Jacobin) party, were so extremely sensitive, that Dramatic Reminiscences. 89 they took great offence at the representation of the Poor Soldier pretending that the character of Bagatelle was a libel on the charac- ter of the whole French nation. They were encouraged in this, by the French consul, then residing in Boston. A pretty smart quarrel was excited between him and the editor of the Boston Gazette; and the controversy, at last.,. became so bitter, that a mob, on one occasion, attempted to stop the performance of this farce, and did considerable damage to the benches, doors, and windows of the theatre. After a short recess, which commenced about the last of May, Will- iamson again drew up the curtain of the Federal-street stage. He retained many of the principal performers of the preceding season, and enriched the company, by adding the talents of Chalmers, Bates, and Mrs. Whitlock. Chalmers was introduced on the first night of the season, as Vapid, in The Dramatist. Mrs. Whitlock came out in Isabella, in Southerns Fatal Marriage, and repeated the part several times within a short period. Bates was reserved till the season was near two months advanced, and then brought forward as Justice Wood- cock, in Bickerstaffs delightful opera, Love in a Village, and Sharp, in the Lying Valet. Jones, who had returned from Charleston, to pass the summer in New-England, joined the company at the com- mencement of the season, and played for several weeks, with a popu- larity, equal to that which attended his first performances. Mr. and Mrs. Rowson, Mr. and Mrs. Hogg, and their daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Solomon, with two daughters, and Mr. Downie, were in the Federal- street company this season. The evening of the fourteenth of December, deserves commemora- tion in this work, as that on which commenced the dramatic career of WILLIAM CHARLES WHITE. This gentleman belonged to a very re- spectable family of Boston. He was employed in the counting-house of a merchant; but becoming more fascinated with the pages of Shakspeare, than those of the ledger, he resolved to make an experi- ment of his talents on the stage. His extreme youth, genteel educa- tion, extensive connections, and promising talents, attracted a nume- rous and critical audience. The part he selected for this experiment, was Young Norval, and his success was so satisfactory to himself and his friends, that he repeated the part the next week, and, a short time after, appeared in Tancred, first time in Boston. In the month of December, the Hay-Market theatre was completed. It was an immense building, constructed entirely of wood. It had three tiers of boxes, and a gallery. The lobbies and staircases were spacious and convenient. On each side of the stage was a suite of dressing rooms, constructed in wings projecting from the second story of the main edifice, and nearly on a level with the stage. The entrance to the pit was up a flight of steps. This theatre was first opened on Monday, the 26th day of Decem- ber. C. Powell had made a voyage to England during the preceding summer, to complete his company by the enlistment of recruits; and returned with Mr. and Mrs. Barrett, Mr. and Mrs. Simpson, three Misses Westray (daughters of Mrs. Simpson by a former marriage) and a corps of ballet dancers and mimes. Among these were the cel- ebrated French performers, Francisquy, Val, Leg~, and their wives. The company was numerous, and embraced a great variety and excel- 40 A Poets Repiniiags. lence of talent. The opening play was the Belles Stratagem, which was thus cast. Doricourt, S. Powell; Sir George Touchwood, Mar- riot, (first appearance;) Flutter, C. Powell; Saville, Dickson, (first appearance on any stage;) Courtall, Taylor; Villars, a young Ameri- can; Hardy, Simpson, (first appearance;) Letitia Hardy, Mrs. S. Powell; Lady Frances, Miss Hughes; Miss Ogle, Miss. Harrison, (afterwards Mrs. Dickson;) Mrs. Racket, Mrs. Simpson, (first appear- ance.) The comedy was succeeded by a masquerade, ballet, panto.. mime, & c. in which the whole corps displayed their powers to their utmost extent. On the Wednesday following, Barrett made his first bow to the American audience, in the character of Ranger. Mrs. Barretts first appearance was in Mrs. Beverly, in Moores popular tragedy of the Gameste~x A POET~ S REPININGS. I have got, In exehangeof a hundred. and fifty men, three hundred and odd pounds. J& ca FALSTAFF. TRULY, these are the days of fact, And one must have a deal of tact, To like them to his dreams; One day, among the men of trust, In Fancys eyes will fling much dust, And file-like, rub away the rust That dims young Genius beamsL Such books as tell of olden time And fairy tale,the ancient rhyme Of knightly deeds and thoughts sublimer Are now forbidden things; The trumpet, sounding sharp and shrill, No longer bids the life.blood thrill; And plodding merchants bind the wifl Of our degenerate kings. Honor! what is it? t is a word That once, if but a breath were heard, Suspicious, like a startled bird, The sword flew from its sheath; The knighttrue valorscorned his life, So honor led him to the strife, And dearer far than child or wife, Was pure and stainless wreath. But nowwe ye craven hearts, indeed! He who would look for honors meed, Need not in field of battle bleed, Nor tilt with reekless foe; Money s your only touchstone now ; T will plaster up a broken vow, T will hide the wrinkles on the brow, T will hush the voice of wo. T will give the lover all success With her, who, were he portionless, Would neer bend haughty brow to blese Such suitor with her hand; It is a charm that opens doors That more than lost respect restores And while a wound is fresh, yet pours Its consolations bland.

40 A Poets Repiniiags. lence of talent. The opening play was the Belles Stratagem, which was thus cast. Doricourt, S. Powell; Sir George Touchwood, Mar- riot, (first appearance;) Flutter, C. Powell; Saville, Dickson, (first appearance on any stage;) Courtall, Taylor; Villars, a young Ameri- can; Hardy, Simpson, (first appearance;) Letitia Hardy, Mrs. S. Powell; Lady Frances, Miss Hughes; Miss Ogle, Miss. Harrison, (afterwards Mrs. Dickson;) Mrs. Racket, Mrs. Simpson, (first appear- ance.) The comedy was succeeded by a masquerade, ballet, panto.. mime, & c. in which the whole corps displayed their powers to their utmost extent. On the Wednesday following, Barrett made his first bow to the American audience, in the character of Ranger. Mrs. Barretts first appearance was in Mrs. Beverly, in Moores popular tragedy of the Gameste~x A POET~ S REPININGS. I have got, In exehangeof a hundred. and fifty men, three hundred and odd pounds. J& ca FALSTAFF. TRULY, these are the days of fact, And one must have a deal of tact, To like them to his dreams; One day, among the men of trust, In Fancys eyes will fling much dust, And file-like, rub away the rust That dims young Genius beamsL Such books as tell of olden time And fairy tale,the ancient rhyme Of knightly deeds and thoughts sublimer Are now forbidden things; The trumpet, sounding sharp and shrill, No longer bids the life.blood thrill; And plodding merchants bind the wifl Of our degenerate kings. Honor! what is it? t is a word That once, if but a breath were heard, Suspicious, like a startled bird, The sword flew from its sheath; The knighttrue valorscorned his life, So honor led him to the strife, And dearer far than child or wife, Was pure and stainless wreath. But nowwe ye craven hearts, indeed! He who would look for honors meed, Need not in field of battle bleed, Nor tilt with reekless foe; Money s your only touchstone now ; T will plaster up a broken vow, T will hide the wrinkles on the brow, T will hush the voice of wo. T will give the lover all success With her, who, were he portionless, Would neer bend haughty brow to blese Such suitor with her hand; It is a charm that opens doors That more than lost respect restores And while a wound is fresh, yet pours Its consolations bland. A Poets Repinings. 41 Alas! for dreaming boys and girls Yet joy for old and crabbed churis, When diamonds, gold, and glittering pearls, Can have such potent power; We may not muse on days of old, When he who noblest actions told, Reaped the reward of brave and bold Sure love in ladys bower. Yet dreams of ancient time are sweet, And the rapt youth with joy will greet The hour when shade and silence meet, And young stars break their seals; Then dreams spread out their silken wings, Forth on her journey Fancy springs, And to the realm of warrior kings On swiftest pinion steals. Shadows, in distance dimly seen, Come forth with lance and armor sheen Banners wave gaily oer the scene; Bugles wake lofty song; Knighthood holds tournay there to-day Thrills through the veins the trumpets bray Rush the wild sounds of battle fray, The war-cry loud and long. A battle has been lost and won The day of doubtful strife is done, And brightly the descending sun Streams oer the victor band; The shout of victory and the song Of triumph sweep the air along, While echos gnyest tones prolong The sounds oer all the land. The blushing maiden welcomes back Her lover from his bloody track, With kiss and smile of pride; Her hand in hiswho would not be A belted knight of chivalry, Victorious lover, such as he, With such a beauteous bride Yet t is but fancy. In these days There is no meed for stirring lays; And he who thinks to rhyme for praise, Must be a carpet knight; The parlor for his battle-field, A ladys fan to serve for shield, Soft words the arms for him to wield, And dangerless the fight. The music of our peaceful home, Is, twice a year, the fife and drum, Or, nightly, the musquitos hum, Boding small danger near; The lance is changed for clerkly pen, And we, like honest, harmless men, While praising times that once have been, Rejoice that we are here. t if Li A CHAPTER ON FIELD SPORTS. EXPERIMENTAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL. I BEGIN with the first person singular, partly because I love to talk about myself, and partly that my readers may know that their adviser speaks from experience. There are infinite varieties of gun-barrels, each of which has its admirers, who will uphold that it is superior to all others. Every owl thinks its own young the handsomest. You will, no doubt, have been acquainted with some old and renowned sportsman, who has told you that he has killed a single pigeon with his favorite gun, at a hundred yards. Do not, therefore, buy a piece of the precise length and calibre he recommends. Setting exaggeration aside, the good man has told you of a single shot only. He has forgotten that he has missed a thousand times at a less distance. The ticket which draws the highest prize is remembered ; the blanks are forgotten. rrake it as a rule, that when you fire at a small bird more than forty-five yards off, you are more likely to miss than to hit. Your aim may be true, yet your shot may so scatter, that the object shall remain untouched. The utmost possible distance that hail-shot will kill, is something like twenty rods. I have killed a duck, at a hundred and twenty yards, but it was one of a flock; my shot were great Bs, and the drop that killed him, struck him in the head. It was mere chance. Sometimes a single hint, in a dull sermon, hits the conscience of some individual sinner. To shoot woodcocks, partridges, and such birds as rise suddenly, fly irregularly, and drop soon, a short gun is best. Charge heavily with fine shot; fill the atmosphere with particles of lead. When your dog points, cock your piece, and place your finger on the trigger. When the bird rises, point your gun at him, and fire. It is ten to one that some grain strikes him. Thus, if you let fly a volley of compliments at a lady, some will assuredly take effect. Woodcocks and partridges are very like the fair; once touched, though never so slightly, you are sure of them. I have heard some sportsmen say that they took aim at woodcocks; and, perhaps, they spoke truly, but I never could. I believe there is not one man in fifty whose eye and hand are as quick as a woodcocks wing. Some of the best cock-shooters I have known, do not bring the gun to the shoulder at all, but point and fire, breast high, like the British Infantry. A long barreled piece is best to shoot at aquatic fowls, and all such birds as fly steadily. Some persons aim before them, and let them cross the track of their shot. I do not think that this way will suit any but men whose motions are very quick. I have always used to take aim at the bird, and accompany him in his flight, with the sights, for a short distance. Thus the shot gets two motions; the one of the bird, and the other of the projecting power. To test this principle, stand on the deck of a canal boat, and throw an apple into the air. It gets the motion of the boat, and returns, not to the point in space from which it was propelled, but directly into your hand. Just so a lawyer humors his client, never firing across his temper, and thus bags him with certainty.

A CHAPTER ON FIELD SPORTS. EXPERIMENTAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL. I BEGIN with the first person singular, partly because I love to talk about myself, and partly that my readers may know that their adviser speaks from experience. There are infinite varieties of gun-barrels, each of which has its admirers, who will uphold that it is superior to all others. Every owl thinks its own young the handsomest. You will, no doubt, have been acquainted with some old and renowned sportsman, who has told you that he has killed a single pigeon with his favorite gun, at a hundred yards. Do not, therefore, buy a piece of the precise length and calibre he recommends. Setting exaggeration aside, the good man has told you of a single shot only. He has forgotten that he has missed a thousand times at a less distance. The ticket which draws the highest prize is remembered ; the blanks are forgotten. rrake it as a rule, that when you fire at a small bird more than forty-five yards off, you are more likely to miss than to hit. Your aim may be true, yet your shot may so scatter, that the object shall remain untouched. The utmost possible distance that hail-shot will kill, is something like twenty rods. I have killed a duck, at a hundred and twenty yards, but it was one of a flock; my shot were great Bs, and the drop that killed him, struck him in the head. It was mere chance. Sometimes a single hint, in a dull sermon, hits the conscience of some individual sinner. To shoot woodcocks, partridges, and such birds as rise suddenly, fly irregularly, and drop soon, a short gun is best. Charge heavily with fine shot; fill the atmosphere with particles of lead. When your dog points, cock your piece, and place your finger on the trigger. When the bird rises, point your gun at him, and fire. It is ten to one that some grain strikes him. Thus, if you let fly a volley of compliments at a lady, some will assuredly take effect. Woodcocks and partridges are very like the fair; once touched, though never so slightly, you are sure of them. I have heard some sportsmen say that they took aim at woodcocks; and, perhaps, they spoke truly, but I never could. I believe there is not one man in fifty whose eye and hand are as quick as a woodcocks wing. Some of the best cock-shooters I have known, do not bring the gun to the shoulder at all, but point and fire, breast high, like the British Infantry. A long barreled piece is best to shoot at aquatic fowls, and all such birds as fly steadily. Some persons aim before them, and let them cross the track of their shot. I do not think that this way will suit any but men whose motions are very quick. I have always used to take aim at the bird, and accompany him in his flight, with the sights, for a short distance. Thus the shot gets two motions; the one of the bird, and the other of the projecting power. To test this principle, stand on the deck of a canal boat, and throw an apple into the air. It gets the motion of the boat, and returns, not to the point in space from which it was propelled, but directly into your hand. Just so a lawyer humors his client, never firing across his temper, and thus bags him with certainty. Field Sports. 43 It is said, that the longer the barrel, the closer and farther it carries the shot. I doubt it. After a certain length of tube, the rest evidently increases the friction; the power to be overcome is greater ; conse- quently, the shot cannot range so far as it would were the barrel shorter. Why should the drops strike closer? Three feet of tube will confine and direct them as well as ten. I have found, by experiment, that a barrel of three feet ten inches, carried its shot as close as a longer bore of the same calibre. Trust me, there is no advantage in an excessively long gun, in these respects. Certainly you may shoot more truly with it. There must, almost always) be some trifling inaccuracy in the aim, and the longer the gun, the less it will affect the range. How- ever, this advantage of the long barrel is counterbalanced by its clum- siness and fatiguing weight. Your solid men are always tiresome. I have heard it advanced, that a bell-muzzled gun scatters the shot more than a straight, cylindrical tube. I believe the contrary, having tried an experiment with two guns of equal length and bore, the one bell- mouthed, the other not. The only reason I can give for the fact, is, that in the straight tube the shot expand more violently for confine- ment; in the other, the gradual expansion moderates this violence. Just so a clergymans son is more licentious than other young men. The metal of your barrel is a matter of some consequence. Brass will not answer for any but a human engine. The stuff is too light, and the recoil is consequently too violent. I shall never forget having fired a brass pistol with the charge of an ordinary iron one. My fingers were sadly lacerated, almost broken. Cast steel is liable, in a less degree, to the same objection. Besides, a cast steel barrel can scarcely be without.a flaw, which may affect the range, or increase the probability of bursting. Cast iron is yet worse ; a barrel made of cast iron will assuredly burst, sooner or later. Wrought iron is the best material, and the more it has been ~vrought, the better. We owe this discovery to the Moors. The temper of their lance heads and scymeters was unmatched. For a long while, a Spanish-barreled gun was esteemed the best. The more iron is wrought, the softer and tougher it becomes. Horse-shoe nails, welded together, are esteemed the best material for gun barrels, and justly. A leaden barrel would shortly wear out; a steel or brass barrel is affected by vibration. Neither of these effects is to be feared in a stub and twist barrel. Again, when a cast steel, cast iron, or brass barrel bursts, the frag- ments fly in every direction, to the great danger of the gunner and his companions. A stub and twist barrel, on the contrary, merely rends, and rarely injures any one. The same principles apply to the boilers of steamboats, and the human passions. Percussion locks are best on some accounts. They are water proof, and explode quicker than ordinary flint locks. There is no derange- ment of aim, in consequence of hanging fire, with a percussion lock. But a gun with a percussion lock has not so great a range as another of equal length and bore. It is like your quick-tempered man, \vhose anger does not reach far. Gunpowder burns very quick, but there is a limit to the velocity of its ignition. But a certain quantity will burn in any gun barrel. Fire an overcharged gun over snow, and you will find the superfluous particles strewed before the muzzle. All over the exact charge is a 44 Field ~Sports. superfluity, and operates merely as so much wadding. It only increase the friction, and therefore diminishes the range. The explosion of percussion powder is too quick. It drives the powder out of the barrel before it can be ignited. For woodcock or target shooting, I should prefer a percussion lock. For a long shot, I should like a common flint lock better. The fragments of a percussion cap usually fly in all directions, thereby endangering the eyes of the gunner and his companions. This difficulty is easily obviated. Let the hammer of your lock be well hollowed, and it will confine the pieces of the shattered cap, or give them a downward direction. Thus, hide your irregularities, and they will do you little harm. In selecting a lock, take one of which the work is raised from the plate, so that no two pieces rub upon each other. As to the temper, you must trust to chance. Take notice, that no flint lock is or can be water proof. One may be perfectly tight at first, but a few weeks wear will loosen it. The parts of a closely fitted lock remind me of man and wife, as they soon wear each other out. A smooth-bored gun can never throw a single ball with perfect accuracy. The bore cannot be perfectly smooth, the metal of the barrel cannot be of equal density in all its parts, the bullet itself can- not be perfectly globular, and cannot fit the barrel exactly. Any of these matters will cause a variation between the line of sight and the line of fire. However, a thick, smooth bore will serve ordinary pur- poses at short distances. To make your bullet go true, see that there be no windage, that is, that there be no vacant space between it and the barrel. If it he not lar,~,e enough for the bore, envelope it in a rag or bit of leather. A rifle barrel corrects all these inaccuracies. If the ball be too heavy on one side, and, therefore, swerves, the next spiral revolution brings it back again. A bullet from a smooth bore has, probably, four motions, viz, one forward, one parabolic, caused by the power of gravity, one caused by its own inaccuracy of figure, and one rotary from the same cause. The two latter do not occur when it is propelled from a rifle. A rifle ball has three motions only, the parabolic, the forward, and the spiral. Thus, the regular motion of principle cor- rects the eccentric flight of passion. A rifle barrel should be thick, that the metal may not vibrate. The grooves should be distinctly but not deeply cut. There is a manifest disadvantage in increasing their number. There should be enough of them to give the ball the spiral motion, and no more. Six will affect this purpose; all over that number increase the friction, and conse- quently diminish the range. The ball should be enveloped in a wrap- per thick enough to make it fit closely, but not too thick. It is a common, but a considerable error, to suppose that the tighter the ball is rammed, the truer and farther it goes. The contrary is the case. The explosion is the more dangerous, indeed, but that does not accel- erate the velocity of the bullet; it merely strains the metal of the barrel. A tightly-loaded gun is like a woman trusted with a secret. Both are in danger of bursting. There are different tastes with regard to the length and calibre of rifle barrels. With a short one, you get sight quicker; with a long Field Sports. one, ~ny trifling deviation from the line of aim is of the less conse- quence. Habit must decide in this matter. Something more positive may be said respecting the calibre. A large bore holds up the ball better than a small one. Accuracy in rifle shooting depends, when the barrel is good and properly charged, on the sights, and the poise of the piece. The barrel should never be bright; the glimmer deceives the eye, especially in a hot day. The whole piece should be so poised that it may bal- ance at the exact l)oint where it is upheld by the left arm in taking aim. When so balanced, the arm has but one force to resist; that of gravity. When the muzzle or butt preponderates, both arms are strained, and the trigger is rarely pulled at the proper instant. The eyes move together; the eye and the finger do not. Your forward sight may be of brass or silver; the latter is best, because brightest and least liable to rust. The hinder sight should be black, that the contrast may catch the eye the more readily, and cannot be, like a gentlemans coat, too finely cut. The sights should not be parallel to the bore. Every child knows that a bullet drops from the line of its propulsion the instant it leaves the muzzle of the gun. The line of aim over the sights, therefore, should point lower than the line of fire, that is, the exact direction of the bore. The bullet crosses and rises above the line of sight the moment it leaves the piece, but the force of gravity brings it down again till it strike the earth. The point where the line of sight inter- sects the line of fire the second time, is the point blank, or, as the French call it, the but en blanc. A gun will shoot with perfect accu- racy at the point blank distance, and no other. If you shoot at an object short of the point blank, you must aim under it; if it be beyond, you must aim over. However, you may make the point blank any distance you please, between ten and a hundred and fifty yards, by a careful adjustment of the sights. I have found, by experiment, that a Harpers Ferry rifle, which is about three feet long and throws a ball of half an ounce, drops its lead eighteen inches in a hundred yards. If it be intended to make its point blank a hundred yards, its line of sight should therefore point eighteen inches above the centre at that distance. So a preacher aims above the comprehension of his auditors, and makes a more certain impression. I know no rule for the quantity of the charge. As much powder as will burn should be put into the barrel; but the bulk will depend on the quality of the grain, and can only be ascertained by experiment. The western riflemen place the bullet on a plane surface, and take as much powder as will cover it for a regular charge. It is a very good practical rule. It is an error, to suppose that a high glazing increases the strength or quickness of gunpowder; on the contrary, it does not ignite so readily. A polished person is not so liable to be set on fire by insolent sparks as another. All guns which load at the breech or pretend to combine the prop- erties of the rifle and smooth bore, are inventions of the evil one, which no true-bred sportsman will carry. They cannot be kept in order, nor will they serve the purposes for which their inventors intended them for any considerable length of time. One of these hermaphrodite guns may be compared to a beast between the grayhound and pointer, which 46 Field Sports. has neither the nose of the one nor the legs of the other. The me~ chanism soon wears loose, and the safety of the gunner is compromised. No good gunner will ever fire shot from his rifle, or use an iron ramrod. Either of these practices injures the furrows, thereby affect- ing the direction of the bullet. Ladies who cook, draw, and play on the piano, seldom perform all their avocations perfectly well. Ducks are best shot in the morning early, and in stormy weather. The noise and inclemency of the weather make them unwilling to rise, and prevent them from hearing the approach of the gunner. A single duck is easier to kill flying than sitting. His flight is perfectly steady; a greater portion of his body is exposed, and his feathers are more open to the slugs. A ducks breast will often turn shot sitting. I would recommend smaller shot for duck-shooting than is commonly used in New-England. That commonly called pigeon-shot is quite big enough. Ducks may be advantageously approached in a boat or canoe, cov- ered with bushes. In some parts of the country they fly in a regular track, where sportsmen station themselves in huts of brush, and shoot them as they pass. Do not take your eye off from a duck when he passes apparently un- harmed by your discharge. The whole species is much more tenacious of life than any bird of the grouse kind. I have known a mortally wounded mallard to fly more than a mile before he dropped. Thus a pious miss carries the arrow of Cupid a good way without showing it, but she drops at last. Watch wood-ducks in the spring, and you may possibly find their nests in the hollows of old trees. If the birds be not edible at that season, their eggs are. It will not be amiss to take a pewter spoon with you, to tie to the end of a stick. The eggs often lie beyond arms length. If you see two wild geese and cannot get them both in range, shoot the female. The male will return within shot by the time you will have re-loaded. Either ducks or geese may be decoyed by one of their own species, whose feet you may fasten to a floating log for securitys sake. Do not do this with a hammer and nails, however; a cord will serve your purpose as well, and show more humaiuity. Those who put out the eyes of decoy-ducks and pigeons, deserve to be crucified. They do not even improve the decoy; for a bird that can see will quack as loud and flutter as well as one that is blind. A dog (a small, red one is best) may be trained to decoy ducks. The sportsman takes his con- cealed stand, and the animal runs backward and forward on the shore. The ducks come nigh, probably actuated by curiosity, and are shot. Insects and women affect bright colors in the same manner, and often suffer by it. Swans and loons may be decoyed by a red handkerchief. Tie it to a bush where it will flap in the wind, and conceal yourself. -The birds will, in t~vo instances out of three, leave their offing to he killed. Speaking of loons, you may always kill them, at a reasonable distance, by firing through the leaves of a bush thick enough to conceal th ~1ash of your gun. Field Sports. 47 Deer can rarely be hunted successfully on horseback, in this coun- try. In an open plain a good horse will soon overtake a deer, but if a wood be nigh, the fat and greasy citizen will immediately take shelter in it. In the northern part of New-York, deer are killed in the following manner. Their tracks in any particular district are well known, and the sportsmen station themselves at what are called the runwa3ls, with their rifles. Staunch dogs are then set on the track, and the animal rarely escapes. But this is waste of time, which the spoil does not repay. The better way is to range the woods, and trust to your knowledge of the animals habits. Deer cannot run a great while. The Indians take a fresh track, and follow it. If they start the quarry before they get within shot, they still follow. In fifteen or t~venty miles the deer gives out, and suffers himself to be approached. Few besides Indians can hunt deer successfully in this manner. if a deer is running fast by you, utter a sharp cry, or whistle shrilly, and he will tarry long enough for you to aim. If he bounds away with his tail erect, there is little use in following him; but if his tail drops, follow him up. The animal often runs long before he falls, and seldom drops on the spot where he is struck. If you are a good, quick shot, rely on a single ball. If your hand and eye are slow, load with two, or take a smooth bore and try buck shot.. In like manner, a wary mother will not discharge one unmarried daughter at a mans head, but try all she has at once. If one glances, another may hit. Above all, be cool. I have seen an excellent shot at a target miss the broadside of a buffalo at fifteen paces. His ex- citement blinded him, and shook his nerves. If, in your passage through the woods, you observe a pollard whose bark is scratched, examine it closely. If there be gray hairs sticking to the trunk, be assured that there is a raccoon in it. You have then nothing to do but to fell the tree. If you wish to make an especial quest for raccoons, it is best done after the first winter snow. Find their tracks in the day, and repair to the spot by moonlight. You will probably find them feeding, or at play. Moonlight is very dangerous to virgins and raccoons. I shall say nothing of the manner of taking wolves, because the animal is good.for nothing, and is very difficult to kill. I could speak largely on this head, but as there are very few wolves in New-England, it is hardly worth while. English travelers come the nearest to the species of all the beasts that come among us. Bears are very easily tracked, and with a hardy horse, you will soon overtake one. One or more dogs,the more noisy and cowardly the better,are of great use in hunting this animal. They will not hurt him, but they will so torment his ears with their noise, and his haunches with their teeth, that he will climb a tree in a pet, and you can come up at your leisure and shoot him. Bears sometimes winter in trees, and I would advise you to examine every large one you pass, attentively. If a bear turn upon you, it is of little use to run; for he can outstrip most men. Wait till he is within three paces, when you may be sure of inflicting an instantaneously mortal wound. If yoti are far from human habitations and have hunted all day without success, and are hungry, repair to the nearest swamp and 48 humors of an Oriental. shoot a dozen bull frogs. You may take my word that they are excel- lent eating. Prejudice has banished frogs and blackbirds from the tables of New-England, though I can find hundreds who will readily make affidavit that nothing is better than either. So endeth the chapter. HUMORS OF AN ORIENTAL. TRANSLATED FROM THE PERSIAN OF THE TOOTER NAMEE. TALE I. How a body may sell too many oats for a shilling; or the story of the Oat that was turned out of oftice. ONCE upon a time there dwelt in a desert a certain Lion, who was mighty famous and formidable in his day and generation. The num- bers of unfortunate quadrupeds, who had found a long home in his insatiable maw, are beyond computation. But even a Lion cannot last forever. He became old and decrepit; and in this state happened one day to fall down a rocky precipice and knock out his grinders. This became a serious misfortune; for whenever he ate his dinner afterwards, he made such a mumbling job of it, that great pieces of meat stuck in his teeth. Now the Lion, like all old nabobs who love good eating, was accustomed to take a nap after dinner; and, as commonly fell a snoring with his mouth open, the mice would creep slily in and nibble the tit-bits among his ivory, whereby the Lions nap was broken, and great disturbance and vexation caused him. The Lion bore the annoyance for some time, not knowing how to de- vise a remedy; but, after having his gums tickled in this manner for three or four weeks, he sent for the fox and laid the case before him. The fox put on a long face, and after weighing the matter deliberately, advised his majesty to call in the cat. The Lion sent for the cat and ordered her to stand sentry. The cat took her post, and when the mice came the next time, thinking to play their old gum-game in the Lions jaws, bounce! she sprang among them, and the whole troop scampered off pell-mell. Now was tranquility restored, and the Lion slept well in spite of his teeth. He promoted the cat, as in duty bound; for a man in office should always be ready to give his friend a lift. The cat was no fool, but managed the affair with a foresight and calculation that would have done honor to a grand vizier. If I kill the mice, quoth she to herself, the Lion will have no need of my services, and then I may go whistle; but if I content myself with scaring them away, I shall be the Lions body guard for life ! True to this maxim, she never put one of the mice to death, but only gave them a dab or two with the fore-paw, or a back-handed wipe with the end of her long tail. Things went on swimmingly, and the cat lived in clover. But one day, the cat went off to gossip with an acquaint- ance in the neighborhood, and left her kitten to do duty. Young puss no sooner saw the mice approach, than she sprang upon them and demolished the whole brood in a jiffy. The Lion, finding there were no more mice to trouble him, was suddenly seize(l with a reforming

48 humors of an Oriental. shoot a dozen bull frogs. You may take my word that they are excel- lent eating. Prejudice has banished frogs and blackbirds from the tables of New-England, though I can find hundreds who will readily make affidavit that nothing is better than either. So endeth the chapter. HUMORS OF AN ORIENTAL. TRANSLATED FROM THE PERSIAN OF THE TOOTER NAMEE. TALE I. How a body may sell too many oats for a shilling; or the story of the Oat that was turned out of oftice. ONCE upon a time there dwelt in a desert a certain Lion, who was mighty famous and formidable in his day and generation. The num- bers of unfortunate quadrupeds, who had found a long home in his insatiable maw, are beyond computation. But even a Lion cannot last forever. He became old and decrepit; and in this state happened one day to fall down a rocky precipice and knock out his grinders. This became a serious misfortune; for whenever he ate his dinner afterwards, he made such a mumbling job of it, that great pieces of meat stuck in his teeth. Now the Lion, like all old nabobs who love good eating, was accustomed to take a nap after dinner; and, as commonly fell a snoring with his mouth open, the mice would creep slily in and nibble the tit-bits among his ivory, whereby the Lions nap was broken, and great disturbance and vexation caused him. The Lion bore the annoyance for some time, not knowing how to de- vise a remedy; but, after having his gums tickled in this manner for three or four weeks, he sent for the fox and laid the case before him. The fox put on a long face, and after weighing the matter deliberately, advised his majesty to call in the cat. The Lion sent for the cat and ordered her to stand sentry. The cat took her post, and when the mice came the next time, thinking to play their old gum-game in the Lions jaws, bounce! she sprang among them, and the whole troop scampered off pell-mell. Now was tranquility restored, and the Lion slept well in spite of his teeth. He promoted the cat, as in duty bound; for a man in office should always be ready to give his friend a lift. The cat was no fool, but managed the affair with a foresight and calculation that would have done honor to a grand vizier. If I kill the mice, quoth she to herself, the Lion will have no need of my services, and then I may go whistle; but if I content myself with scaring them away, I shall be the Lions body guard for life ! True to this maxim, she never put one of the mice to death, but only gave them a dab or two with the fore-paw, or a back-handed wipe with the end of her long tail. Things went on swimmingly, and the cat lived in clover. But one day, the cat went off to gossip with an acquaint- ance in the neighborhood, and left her kitten to do duty. Young puss no sooner saw the mice approach, than she sprang upon them and demolished the whole brood in a jiffy. The Lion, finding there were no more mice to trouble him, was suddenly seize(l with a reforming Humors of an Oriental. 49 fit. His body guard were informed that his majesty had no further occasion for their services; and both cat and kitten were obliged to cut and run. MORAL. A shrewd politician knows how to make rogues useful. Great knaves thrive only by winking at the knavery of their under- strappers. TALE II. How one trick may serve a turn till it is met in the face by another; or the story of the Goldsmith and Carpenter. A GOLDSMITH and a carpenter were once boon companions; and, being in pretty easy circumstances, passed the most of their lives in junketting and making merry. Pity it is that so pleasant a life could not last forever; but just at the moment when these jovial fellows fancied themselves the happiest of men, their last coin was expended, and they found themselves a couple of miserable dogs. They tried to borrow money, but, as ill luck would have it, cash hRppened to be particularly scarce wherever they applied. In short, they were at their wits end to get a living, yet managed, by hook and by crook7 to escape starvation. One day, in strolling about the country, they came to a temple, when a thought struck the goldsmith. Let us feign ourselves Brahmins, said he to the carpenter, and get admission into the temple; who knows but we shall find good pick- ing there? No sooner said than done; they stretched their faces into a dismally pious look, and bolted in. Here they found a great number of golden idols, and numerous Brabmins worshiping. Our two rogues, nothing abashed, fell to imitating them, and so well did they sham the devotee, that the Brahmins left the temple in their charge. When night came, they seized the idols and decamped. Having reached a lonely part of the woods, they buried the idols under a tree, and agreed to let them lie snug till the fame of the theft had blown over. But when were a couple of rogues knownto lay their heads together, without, in the end, plotting to cheat each other? Ere a week had passed, the goldsmith went by stealth, dug up the idols, and hid them in a place of his own. Next morning, going with the carpenter to the tree, and finding them gone, he feigned a terrible rage, and laid the theft upon the carpenter. You chip of a crooked log, he exclaimed, no one but you could have stolen them. The carpenter was thun- derstruck; but, after hearing the goldsmith storm away at such a rate, he became convinced that his worthy partner was the real thief. However, feigning not to suspect him, he replied, you are out of your wits to lay such a thing to my charge; it must have been the rascally Brahmins, who tracked us to the spot, and nosed out the hiding-place of their blockhead deities. The goldsmith pretended to be pacified, and they both returned; home to their families. The carpenter set his wits to work to cjrcum- vent his old friend. He procured a log of wood, and made a figure exactly resembling the goldsmith, and clothed it in the dress he usually wore. Then going to a bears den in the woods, he got a pair of young cubs, and kept them constantly about it; and when hungry~ VOL. in. 7 60 Humors of an Oriental. they were taught to eat out of the bosom of the image. After some time the carpenter made a feast and sent for the goldsmith and his family; after dinner, while the children were playing about the gar- den, he stole away the two sons of the goldsmith, and shut them up in the cellar. Then making a tremendous halloo, he ran after the gold- smith, and cried out Oh! my friend, your children are lost! a great she bear just now came out of the wood and fell to licking them with her tongue, when they were suddenly transformed into cubs, and ran away with her. The goldsmith would not believe a word of the story, and became furious, as the carpenter persisted in it. You villain, said he, you have murdered them, because you think I cheated you in the affair of the golden images; but you shall not make a fool of me so. On this, he dragged him before the Cady, where the whole case was argued. Nobody, of course, believed any thing of the carpenters tale, and the Cady was about to give sentence, when the carpenter begged for a moments delay. Your worship must allow, said he that if these unfortunate youths should again behold their father, they would, not- withstanding their transformation, give some token that they recognized him, in which case, the truth of my story would be pretty clear. The Cady agreed to this, and the goldsmith readily consented to such proof, adding with a laugh, when you can find a cub that shall call me daddy, I must be a bear with a vengeance, not to father the brute! Say you so ! exclaimed the carpenter, then singe my mustachies if I dont think I see the little pets coming. At this moment, the cubs being purposely let loose, burst into the court, and running to the goldsmith, sprang upon his bosom and began nuzzling and smacking at a furious rate. The whole assembly were struck with aston- ishment, and the goldsmith, fully believing his sons bewitched, with- drew his complaint, and confessed his thieving to the carpenter. The latter promised to restore the boys to their lost shape, if the goldsmith would disgorge the whole of the booty; but before the affair could be settled, the whole roguery came to light, and the two sharpers were soundly bastinadoed. TALE III. How a blockhead may blunder into good fortune; or the story of the Jackall, who became a great personage by accident. THERE was once a Jackall, the most prying and pragmatical of all his tribe; he was continually thrusting his nose into every bodys busi- ness; and though his meddling propensity got him into many a scrape, nothing could cure him of his inclination to peep into every nook and corner that he could espy. One day, as he was sharking about for something new, he entered the shop of a dyer and began reconnoiter- ing here and there. In attempting to peep into a pot of indigo, he fell in, and got his hide dyed completely blue. He made a shift to scramble out and escape to the woods, where he no sooner appeared, than all the animals began staring at him, thinking him to be some strange non-descript. Nothing so potent with the multitutde as nov- elty, and our hero became the wonder and admiration of all quadru- peds. To make a long story short, old Blueskin was chosen king, although he knew as much about governing as an oyster does of Humors of an Oriental. 51 running a race. Having attained to this great dignity, his head be- came completely turned, and he began to imagine himself in reality, a quadruped of great genius. Whenever he went abroad he was received with shouts of Blueskin forever! Hurrah for Blueskin ! In short, what will you have of it? totally forgetting that his wondrous dignity was only skin deep, and that he was a poor dolt of a jackall at bottom, he resolved to muster an army and conquer the world. So getting his rank and file together, he put himself at their head and set out; but before he had completed a days march, there came on a violent rain and, no shelter being at hand, his majesty got so soundly drenched that his hide was washed clean, and the cheat discovered. Hereupon, the beasts, enraged at the humbug, fell upon him tooth and claw ; one gave him a poke, and another a scratch, and his Majesty, King, Conqueror, and Generalissimo, was fain to scamper off to the woods in double quick time, carrying with him no remnant of his dignity but a skin full of sore bones, and the knowledge that lie was one of the sorriest varlets that ever wagged a tail. MORAL. Many a dull fellow passes for something prodigious, by stumbling into an indigo pot. The cheat may last during fair weather, but a rainy day spoils all. TALE IV. How a man may put his wits to a bad purpose by aping his betters; or the story of the Barber and the Brahmins. A CERTAIN merchant, by his numerous deeds of charity, had ex- hausted an ample fortune and become utterly destitute. He found no way of retrieving his condition, and began to despond. One night, in a dream, a genius appeared to him and accosted him in these words; Friend of the poor, whenever thou hast need of money, call upon my name, and I will shortly enter thy house in the shape of a Brahmin; then strike me with a stick and I shall be transformed to gold ! In the morning the merchant called upon the name of the genius, and presently a Brahmin entered; the merchant gave him a blow with his staff, and he instantly became a mass of solid gold. When he had occasion for money he broke off a finger, nose, or other limb, till the whole was gone; the genius being called upon again, the process was repeated. This enabled the merchant to live according to his hearts desire. But there happened to be a meddlesome barber in the neigh- borhood, who, seeing a Brahmin now and then going into the mer- chants house, could not be easy till he had found out his business. So one day he dogged him into the house, and peeped through a cranny, where he was a witness to the whole business of gold-making. By the beard of the Prophet ! he exclaimed, this is rare business; a Brahmin is profitable stock to work upon. I 11 een have a slap at the loons myself. So hastening home, he invited into his shop all the Brahmins he could find in the streets, locked himself in with them, and placed them on stools all around the room. Then, taking a stout cudgel, he began to bang them over their pates, one by one, but his cus- tomers not relishing such a wooden benediction, fell upon him with such fury that the poor shaver would fain have run out of his hide like a snake in spring time. After thumping him black and blue, they let him off 52 A Morning in June. and went their way, giving him half a copper to buy a plaster for his bruises. The unfortunate barber grumbled sadly at his ill luck; but so much wisdom was pummeled into him by the adventure, that he made no more attempts to manufacture gold, but ever after stuck to his soap-dish. MORAL. Whoever meddles with matters above his understanding, will be apt to get a rap over the knuckles. Every mans fist will not make a battering ram. A MORNING IN JUNE. The sun is rising, The sun is rising, And soft and blue is the summer sky; The silver mist dissolves on the lea, The dew hangs trembling in crystal drops, And see and see! How the sunshine bathes the forest tops, And the mountain summits, cold and high. The sun is rising, The sun is rising, And the robin opens his golden eye, From his woodland covert green and dark, He comes to shake the dew from his wings~ And hark! and hark! A joyful carol he sings, he sings, As he floats away in the clear blue sky. The sun is rising, The sun is rising, And the spring oerleaping its grassy brink, Like a mimic volcano, sends the brook From its little crater of yellow sand, And look! and look! Where the woodland monarchs around it stand; Like a traveler, the Morning stoops to drink. The sun is rising, The sun is rising, While shrill from the farm.yard crows the cock, And the cottage cur continnes to bark, They have long been mocking the sluggard day, And hark! and hark! From the smoky city far away How drowsily tolls the lazy clock L.

52 A Morning in June. and went their way, giving him half a copper to buy a plaster for his bruises. The unfortunate barber grumbled sadly at his ill luck; but so much wisdom was pummeled into him by the adventure, that he made no more attempts to manufacture gold, but ever after stuck to his soap-dish. MORAL. Whoever meddles with matters above his understanding, will be apt to get a rap over the knuckles. Every mans fist will not make a battering ram. A MORNING IN JUNE. The sun is rising, The sun is rising, And soft and blue is the summer sky; The silver mist dissolves on the lea, The dew hangs trembling in crystal drops, And see and see! How the sunshine bathes the forest tops, And the mountain summits, cold and high. The sun is rising, The sun is rising, And the robin opens his golden eye, From his woodland covert green and dark, He comes to shake the dew from his wings~ And hark! and hark! A joyful carol he sings, he sings, As he floats away in the clear blue sky. The sun is rising, The sun is rising, And the spring oerleaping its grassy brink, Like a mimic volcano, sends the brook From its little crater of yellow sand, And look! and look! Where the woodland monarchs around it stand; Like a traveler, the Morning stoops to drink. The sun is rising, The sun is rising, While shrill from the farm.yard crows the cock, And the cottage cur continnes to bark, They have long been mocking the sluggard day, And hark! and hark! From the smoky city far away How drowsily tolls the lazy clock L. 53 REMINISCENCES OF A RETIRED MILITIA OFFICER. NO. iii. AT the end of my last number, I left the valiant Captain Smashem of the Rantipole Sharpshooters, in manifest danger of an indictment for a riot, and a court martial for disobedience of orders,and my val- iant self with uniform torn, and face bruised, so as to vie in colors with the rainbow; my body, it is true, in a situation not very enviable, but my soul borne aloft on the wings of glory. My experience has taught me that most things, in this world of chance and changes, happen differently from our anticipations; this remark is especially true of promotions in the militia. Captain Smashem, for in- stance, according to any rational calculation, was, as they say, com- pletely dished; there was an end, one would have imagined, to his mili- tary career; fbr who would -have thought of trusting a man with com- mand., who -had showed himself so unwilling to obey? and what reason could-possibly be urged for promoting an officer in the militia, who had proved himself so extremely deficient in that indispensable accomplish- mentthe art of running away? Yet in the face and eyes of these good and sufficient reasons to the contrary, Captain Smashem found favor with his compatriots and fel- low-soldiers. The idea of a court martial was soon given over; the events on Booby Hill being generally considered of a character not sufficiently serious to merit the consideration of so grave a tribunal ; the thought of an indictment was very generally scouted, lest it should lead to undesirable collisions between the civil and military authority; Captain Smashems misbehavior at the great sham-fight passed gradu- ally into oblivion; and, within less than three years from that event, he was chosen major-general of the division to which we both belonged. If that magnanimity of spirit, which I have ever especially studied, and which has enabled me to support a dignified composure, alike on the muster-field, and in the Applesbury Almshouse, did not now come to aid, my readers can scarcely imagine the terms of strong disdain, in which I should speak of Smashems promotion: That he, an illiterate blacksmith; skillful in nothing but hammering iron, and beating his neighbors; a man of no merit or military science whatever, should thus be placed at the head of a division; while I, college-learned, devoted heart and soul to the military profession, who had given my nights and days to Steuben, and who had sacrificed my time, my fortune, and the dearest affections of my heart, for the honor of promotion in the militia, still remained a mere captain of Light Infantry! I was tempted, (and who would not have been?) to throw up my commission at once, and to renounce forever, the service of an ungrateful country. And perhaps my country would have lost my invaluable services, and I myself, retiring from the bustle and confusion of military life, should have ended my days in sweet, domestic, inglorious obscurity, had not the hand of fate, which intended me for no such humble, though happy station, visited me at this time with certain domestic afflictions, which drove me back upon the military profession, for solace and support. My readers must be very well aware of die passion I entertained for Marianne Fairservice. Indced, it was her vivid exclamation, at the

53 REMINISCENCES OF A RETIRED MILITIA OFFICER. NO. iii. AT the end of my last number, I left the valiant Captain Smashem of the Rantipole Sharpshooters, in manifest danger of an indictment for a riot, and a court martial for disobedience of orders,and my val- iant self with uniform torn, and face bruised, so as to vie in colors with the rainbow; my body, it is true, in a situation not very enviable, but my soul borne aloft on the wings of glory. My experience has taught me that most things, in this world of chance and changes, happen differently from our anticipations; this remark is especially true of promotions in the militia. Captain Smashem, for in- stance, according to any rational calculation, was, as they say, com- pletely dished; there was an end, one would have imagined, to his mili- tary career; fbr who would -have thought of trusting a man with com- mand., who -had showed himself so unwilling to obey? and what reason could-possibly be urged for promoting an officer in the militia, who had proved himself so extremely deficient in that indispensable accomplish- mentthe art of running away? Yet in the face and eyes of these good and sufficient reasons to the contrary, Captain Smashem found favor with his compatriots and fel- low-soldiers. The idea of a court martial was soon given over; the events on Booby Hill being generally considered of a character not sufficiently serious to merit the consideration of so grave a tribunal ; the thought of an indictment was very generally scouted, lest it should lead to undesirable collisions between the civil and military authority; Captain Smashems misbehavior at the great sham-fight passed gradu- ally into oblivion; and, within less than three years from that event, he was chosen major-general of the division to which we both belonged. If that magnanimity of spirit, which I have ever especially studied, and which has enabled me to support a dignified composure, alike on the muster-field, and in the Applesbury Almshouse, did not now come to aid, my readers can scarcely imagine the terms of strong disdain, in which I should speak of Smashems promotion: That he, an illiterate blacksmith; skillful in nothing but hammering iron, and beating his neighbors; a man of no merit or military science whatever, should thus be placed at the head of a division; while I, college-learned, devoted heart and soul to the military profession, who had given my nights and days to Steuben, and who had sacrificed my time, my fortune, and the dearest affections of my heart, for the honor of promotion in the militia, still remained a mere captain of Light Infantry! I was tempted, (and who would not have been?) to throw up my commission at once, and to renounce forever, the service of an ungrateful country. And perhaps my country would have lost my invaluable services, and I myself, retiring from the bustle and confusion of military life, should have ended my days in sweet, domestic, inglorious obscurity, had not the hand of fate, which intended me for no such humble, though happy station, visited me at this time with certain domestic afflictions, which drove me back upon the military profession, for solace and support. My readers must be very well aware of die passion I entertained for Marianne Fairservice. Indced, it was her vivid exclamation, at the 54 Reminiscences of a sight of the Applesbury Light Infantry, while it was yet commanded by Captain Doggett, which, as I have already related, first kindled in my bosom the flame of military ambition. Miss Fairservice was not gen- erally reputed handsome, hut she was certainly a very remarkable girl. I know not what it was, but there was a fascination about her, which no one could withstand; many people, at their first introduction, called her affected, and pretended to think her disagreeable, bnt no one ever tarried long within the sphere of her influence, who did not love her. She had a s~veetness and gentleness of temper, combined with great spirit and intelligence, and every word she uttered was in such a soft, enchanting voice, that I firmly believed, though she could not have cap- tured, she might, at least, have captivated, an entire regiment: And for my part, I positively declare, that although the exigences of my military career have carried me from the most northerly corner of Essex, even to the island of Nantucket, and from the utter extremity of Cape Cod, far west among the mountains of Berkshire; and though, as became a soldier, I have always had an eye upon the ladies; yet I have never seen the woman, who could stand a moments competition with Marianne Fairservice. I loved herand my readers, who must by this time have some idea of the serious, enthusiastic turn of my temperament, may easily imagine how much is expressed in that single word. The very day on which I was chosen captain of the Applesbury Light Infantry, I had put up my sign, as an attorney in the village, and, on the evening of that same event- ful day, I found courage to tell Miss Fairservice how much I loved her. She acknowledged a mutual passion, and we were engaged. It was necessary that the engagement should be kept secret for the present, for Mariannes father had taken some unaccountable dislike to me; and, though I tried my very best, to get into the good graces of the old gentleman, I had not the slightest success. My inclination to serve my country as a militia officer, which, had the old fellow possess- ed one single spark of patriotism or public spirit, would have gained me his approbation and applause, was with him, a theme of constant jests and derision; and many is the time, I have had the greatest difficulty in the world, to prevent myself from returning most impertinent an- swers to his impertinent observations. He carried his hostility to me so far, that, finally, having some sus- picion how matters stood between Marianne and myselg he resolved to leave the town; that absense and change of scene might prevail, where paternal authority was found inefficacious. He chose a residence some forty miles distant from Applesbury; and, some time after his re- moval, Marianne was sent to Boston, wbere her charms and accom- plishments soon made her famous in the circles of fashion, and she was surrounded by beaux and dandies of the first order, against whose ele- gant impertinences, and graceful bandinage, a poor rural militia officer, and country attorney stood a very slight chance of successfully con- tending. It is not necessary to mention the tears and promises with which Marianne and myself separated, nor particulaly to describe the scheme of secret correspondence which was arranged between us. The lady, I believe, loved me sincerely; but I am inclined to think, (though in this I may very probably be mistaken, and I hope I am,) that the sweet Retired Militia Officer. 55 gentleness of temper, which made every thing she did and said so pe- culiarly feminine and fascinating, incapacitated her for any very deep and serious attachment. Our correspondence, which was extremely constant at first, as obsta- cles increased, grew less frequent. It was impossible for me to see Marianne at her fathers house; and, for a considerable time after she was sent to Boston, I was detained at Applesbury in settling a quarrel between my drummer and my first serjeant, which threatened to in- volve my company in irretrievable confusion, and which cost me eight months hard labor to bring to a happy termination. Having finished this weighty business, and finding a moments leisure to attend to my own affairs,somewhat alarmed at Mariannes long silence, I resolved to pay her a visit. It was nearly a year and a half since I had seen her; and now, that we were to meet, it was, of necessity, in that cold, distant, and unrestrained way, which is worse, if any thing, than not meeting at all. For the lady, at whose house she was visiting, had been particularly requested by Mariannes father, to keep an eye upon his daughter; and, also, on all such gentlemen from the country, as might honor her with a call. We met, however; and I found Mari- anne more charming than ever. She assured me that her affections re- mained unchanged; and I was happy, but I cannot boast of having made myself very agreeable. There was an embarrassment that almost completely overpowered me; that stiffened my limbs and tied my tongue; and my emotion was so excessive, that I was obliged to keep silent for fear of betraying it. On the whole, this unlucky visit did me much more harm than good, since Marianne would no doubt have re- mained constant to me much longer than she did, had I not foolishly exposed myself to so disadvantageous a contrast with the several ad- mirers who were already making her advances. The ladies of New-England, however they may be surpassed by the ladies of other countries in beauty, in wit, in temper, in accomplish- ments, in ardor, in constancy, far excel all the rest of the female world in~prudence; a virtue, no doubt, very great, but which I and some others who have soared above the common level, cannot help regarding with a certain degree of contempt. Now Marianne possess- ed her full share of this virtue; and as she was arrived at the mature age of twenty, she resolved that love should triumph no longer over reason. She saw me somewhat awkward and ungainly,(for I had not yet acquir- ed that military air and assured carriage, for which, in maturer life, I was famous;) my career of promotion in the militia seemed to be cut short; and, what was much worse, my property was gradually wasting, and I had no business in my profession. She resolved to make a handsome retreat, and, accordingly, wrote me ~vord, that she had long considered herself as a clog and impediment to the eagle-flights of my ambition; that nothing, she was assured, could long delay my promotion, were it not that all my time and thoughts were absorbed in my affection for her; that she had resolved to sacrifice her own private feelings to my advantage and the good of the country; and she, therefore, had the pleasure to inform me that she was shortly to be married to Mr. Work- ington, an elderly gentleman, as I afterwards discovered, a merchant of Boston, whom all the world had set down, the ten years last past, for 56 Reminiscences of a an old bachelor. So ended my engagement with Marianne Fairservice; yet not my affection for her; for I love her to this hour as well as ever. Let those inveigh against the ladys inconstancy who are confident of their own virtue. For my part, I do not find it very difficult to excuse her. When an engagement is once publicly announced, there are a hundred motives to keep the parties constant to it; but a long persever- ance in a secret engagementabsence and temptation intervening requires a steadiness of temper, which it is in vain to expect in a wo- man,at least, in any woman with blue eyes and a light complexion~ The marriage of Miss Fairservice made a complete revolution in my affairs. Had she proved constant to me, my military spirit would, per- haps, have soon evaporated, and I should have shortly become a thriv- ing country attorney. My life would have been less glorious, and pro- bably more happy; my name would never have been sounded abroad as a great military commander; andy perhaps, I should not have died in an almshouse. But to imagine what might have been is useless and idle. The iron hand of Fate engrasps us; our fortunes are determin- ed by an invisible agency; our destiny is allotted to us, and must be accomplished,and Fate, Fortune, and Destiny, conspired to make me the most famous of militia officers. Not three days after I received Mariannes farewell letter, there was a grand review of the brigade to which I belonged. The troops were to be reviewed by General Smashem, who was to rendezvous with his suite at Black Sams tavern, about a mile from the parade ground, and there await the arrival of an escort. Though my heart was torn by a thousand contending emotions, I was on the ground with my company at a very early hour~ and was detached by Brigadier General Spitfire to do the escort duty to Major-General Smasheni. The orders I received were in the following words,for the issue of this escort duty makes it necessary to be particular: You will proceed, with all convenient des- patch, to Black Sams tavern, and there wait till nine oclock, A. M. at which hour, precisely, you will take up your line of march for the pa- rade ground, acting as an escort to the major-general and his suite. It may well be imagined, that this particular duty was not much to my mind; but, suppressing all personal feelings, in the true spirit of mil- itary obedience, I resolved that the orders I had received should be executed to the letter. I arrived at Black Sams tavern about half past eight, and found the general and his staff, with their coats off, in the midst of a high carousal. My officers and myself were invited to join them, which invitation I thought proper to decline. After waiting some time, the wooden clock in the bar-room began to strike nine, but nei- ther the general nor his attendants began to show any intention of moving. I waited till it was precisely nine, by my own watch, which had lately been set by the sun, when I ordered my music to strike up, and marched off my company at double quick time. The sound of my drums brought half a dozen coatless officers to the windows; they called to me to stop; they protested that General Smash- em had torn a hole in his regimental breeches, and could not possibly move till the chamber-maid had mended it; the generals aids came running after me, hatless and out of breath, with express orders from the general to march back and wait his convenience; but I turned a deaf ear to them all, and pushed off with great speed for the parade ground. Retired Militia Oflicer. 57 In about half an hour after I had taken my place in the line, Gene- ral Smashem and his staff came riding up in great disorder, and after a brief interview between Brigadier Spitfire and the Major-General, I suddenly found my sword taken from me, and myself put under arrest. General Smashems friends were very loud against me, and a court- martial was soon after detailed for my trial. I would enter at length into this trial, and state the evidence and ar- guments adduced on both sides, were it not that the said evidence, being carefully taken & swn in writing by the acting Judge Advocate, and contained in five large folio volumes, is preserved in the office of the Adjutant-General of this Commonwealth, where, also, may be found the summing up of the Judge Advocate, and my defence also, togeth- er with the opinion of the court, delivered at length, each contained in ten quires of large foolscapto which interesting collection of doc- uments I hereby refer my readers. The fact, whether the General had or had not torn his breeches, or whether the delay was or was not occa- sioned by this cause, was made a very serious question. The evidence touching that point is contained in the third and fourth of the above- named volumes, which will be found the most interesting of the collec- tion. But without entering into details, suffice it here to say, that after a laborious session of fifty days, the court adjourned,, after having unani- mously determined honorably to acquit me. The ground taken by the court was, that I had obeyed the orders I had received from the Briga- dier-General; that, till the Major-General had assumed the command of the brigade, he might justly be regarded as a mere stranger, of whom I was not obliged to take any notice further than my orders ex- tended; and that, as the Major-General did not choose to be ready to be escorted, at the hour which had been previously arranged between. himself and the Brigadier, on which arrangement my orders had been predicated, I did very well to obey my orders and march away with- out him. Nor did my triumph end here. For this court-martial having called me into notice, the memory of my deeds of valor on Booby Hill, which time had a little obscured, began to be resuscitated; my name was again in every bodys mouth; my laurels bloomed afresh, and, the colo- nel of our regiment dying just about this time, I was unanimously elected his successor. BELLEROPHON BURDOCK. DEATH AND THE LADY. A DUET. DEATH. COME, lady fair, away with me; To-night thy wedding night must be. Hark, hearst thou not the ravens croak Proclaim the bans from yonder oak? The guests attend amidst the gloom, And damps that fill thy houses tomb; Their sockets void and fieshless jaws, To grace the rite, will grin applause; 8 voL. III.

Retired Militia Oflicer. 57 In about half an hour after I had taken my place in the line, Gene- ral Smashem and his staff came riding up in great disorder, and after a brief interview between Brigadier Spitfire and the Major-General, I suddenly found my sword taken from me, and myself put under arrest. General Smashems friends were very loud against me, and a court- martial was soon after detailed for my trial. I would enter at length into this trial, and state the evidence and ar- guments adduced on both sides, were it not that the said evidence, being carefully taken & swn in writing by the acting Judge Advocate, and contained in five large folio volumes, is preserved in the office of the Adjutant-General of this Commonwealth, where, also, may be found the summing up of the Judge Advocate, and my defence also, togeth- er with the opinion of the court, delivered at length, each contained in ten quires of large foolscapto which interesting collection of doc- uments I hereby refer my readers. The fact, whether the General had or had not torn his breeches, or whether the delay was or was not occa- sioned by this cause, was made a very serious question. The evidence touching that point is contained in the third and fourth of the above- named volumes, which will be found the most interesting of the collec- tion. But without entering into details, suffice it here to say, that after a laborious session of fifty days, the court adjourned,, after having unani- mously determined honorably to acquit me. The ground taken by the court was, that I had obeyed the orders I had received from the Briga- dier-General; that, till the Major-General had assumed the command of the brigade, he might justly be regarded as a mere stranger, of whom I was not obliged to take any notice further than my orders ex- tended; and that, as the Major-General did not choose to be ready to be escorted, at the hour which had been previously arranged between. himself and the Brigadier, on which arrangement my orders had been predicated, I did very well to obey my orders and march away with- out him. Nor did my triumph end here. For this court-martial having called me into notice, the memory of my deeds of valor on Booby Hill, which time had a little obscured, began to be resuscitated; my name was again in every bodys mouth; my laurels bloomed afresh, and, the colo- nel of our regiment dying just about this time, I was unanimously elected his successor. BELLEROPHON BURDOCK. DEATH AND THE LADY. A DUET. DEATH. COME, lady fair, away with me; To-night thy wedding night must be. Hark, hearst thou not the ravens croak Proclaim the bans from yonder oak? The guests attend amidst the gloom, And damps that fill thy houses tomb; Their sockets void and fieshless jaws, To grace the rite, will grin applause; 8 voL. III. 58 Death and the Jlad2j. Their rotting shells phosphoric light Must be the lamps we use to-night, Their shrouds, the couch whereon must lie The happy pairthyself and I. LADY. Avaunt, grim king, it is not thy hour, Nor art thou fit for a bridal bower; The tomb s no place for the wedding noose, Its damps would dim my rouge and ceruse; I can show good cause, and sufficient in law, Though the bans be cried, for declining thy paw The canons all say, and say what s true, One woman cant be the wife of two. The youth who carried my troth to sea Will come back next month to love and me, With his fair broad brow and his step so firm, A far fitter playmate, sure, than the worm. DEATH. I thought of that, and stretched him on The deck his conquering arm had won; Deep he lies, stitched fast in his cot, Hugging a double-headed shot; That tie is broke, and thou art free So, no excuse, away with me. LADY. Ah me! hot tears from my eyelids fall But that cant help one that s dead at all. Though he sleeps sound the billows below, I yet may catch another, you know. And then, if you quench the light of these eyes, The world of fashion in darkness lies; Beau Lively told me it would. Then pray, Sweet, amiable Death, a while yet stay, Till Time my head with powder sprinkles; Then come with rheumatism and wrinkles. To pity now thine ear incline, For the worlds sake, if not for mine. DEATH. Then, lady, live a while, but know The dimples that adorn thee so Shall yield, one short month hence, their place To deeper pit-marks on thy face; No wrinkled hag, no grave-yard ghoul Shall sport abroad a cheek so foul; Nay, een Beau Lively shall contrive To cut the greatest fright alive. LADY. Stay, stop, dear Deathand wilt thou go ? Abridegroomthou,andleavemeso! Wait but a moment, till I call For my new straw and cashmere shawl. Hard case, alas! yet I rejoice At having even Hopsons choice. Here, take my arm and lead the way, Im ready,prithee no delay. 59 STEPHEN GIRARD.* YE who listen with credulity to the whispers of avarice, and pursue with eagerness the phantoms of gain, listen to the history of Stephen Girard, lord of ten millions. In the early stages of society, courage and bodily strength conferred distinction; and of such was the fame of Hercules, whom we are ac- customed to consider a hero: but had he lived now, the poets them- selves as well as the judges, would have called him a felon. Com- merce has changed the world; and, in consequence, ambition becomes avarice, for wealth is power. Gold will buy almost every thing that a rich man covets, but opinion; this is above its purchase; and though wealth may give power, honor it cannot bestow. There was no place, in the Elysium of the poets, for the rich; and the scripture has shown us the fate of Dives. Of Stephen Girard we know nothing but what his biographer, Mr. Simpson, has told us, and the authority seems to be unexceptionable. The utility of wealth ends not with the first acquirer. In the present state of the world, the rich man may live forever in his acts of benev- olence; he may bequeath his wealth where it will for ages be applied to the relief of the afflicted, and enjoy a posthumous existence in the gratitude of remote generations. That Stephen Girard did, indeed, labor for this high renown, and this noble charity, seems to be denied by every act of his sordid life; still the fact is useful though the motive may not have been pure. The wealth, that he could not carry away, he has well bequeathed. France, says the Plutarch of the American Cresus, had the honor of giving birth to Stephen Girard, though France has many things to forget before she will rest her glory on this circumstance. The sun rose upon him for the first time on the memorable 24th of May, A. D. 1750. At the age of ten he left the paternal roof as a cabin boy, in which capacity his fidelity and acuteness, made him so acceptable to his master, that he always addressed him as my Ste- phen. In due time, he became a skipper himself, sailing between New-York and New-Orleans. Veaus soon became an ally of Neptune, if Love did not disturb the pursuits of navigation. Girard, no longer a youth, and never in his most palmy estate an Adonis, was suddenly penetrated with the attractions of a nymph in a pastoral costume, which includes neither stockings nor shoesas she was standing at a pump. Of Mrs. Girard,for so the lass became,there is but one opinion; that she was a modest and most attractive brunette of six- teen, at the age when she allied herself as unhappily as Beauty was allied in the nursery tale. Of Love is born Happiness, saith the apologue, but in this case the offspring was a changeling. Discord sprung from the union, and insanity followed~ The temper of Girard was unlike that of the first martyr. If he was kind in his domestic relations, it was more than could be safely predicted of one who was universally hard and crabbed in all others. In 1777, he left his grocery, which he had kept in Philadelphia, for a small farm at Mount Holly, where his chief employment was bottling claret and cider; for he was always Biography of ~5tephen Girard, by Strplieii Simpsoo, Esq

59 STEPHEN GIRARD.* YE who listen with credulity to the whispers of avarice, and pursue with eagerness the phantoms of gain, listen to the history of Stephen Girard, lord of ten millions. In the early stages of society, courage and bodily strength conferred distinction; and of such was the fame of Hercules, whom we are ac- customed to consider a hero: but had he lived now, the poets them- selves as well as the judges, would have called him a felon. Com- merce has changed the world; and, in consequence, ambition becomes avarice, for wealth is power. Gold will buy almost every thing that a rich man covets, but opinion; this is above its purchase; and though wealth may give power, honor it cannot bestow. There was no place, in the Elysium of the poets, for the rich; and the scripture has shown us the fate of Dives. Of Stephen Girard we know nothing but what his biographer, Mr. Simpson, has told us, and the authority seems to be unexceptionable. The utility of wealth ends not with the first acquirer. In the present state of the world, the rich man may live forever in his acts of benev- olence; he may bequeath his wealth where it will for ages be applied to the relief of the afflicted, and enjoy a posthumous existence in the gratitude of remote generations. That Stephen Girard did, indeed, labor for this high renown, and this noble charity, seems to be denied by every act of his sordid life; still the fact is useful though the motive may not have been pure. The wealth, that he could not carry away, he has well bequeathed. France, says the Plutarch of the American Cresus, had the honor of giving birth to Stephen Girard, though France has many things to forget before she will rest her glory on this circumstance. The sun rose upon him for the first time on the memorable 24th of May, A. D. 1750. At the age of ten he left the paternal roof as a cabin boy, in which capacity his fidelity and acuteness, made him so acceptable to his master, that he always addressed him as my Ste- phen. In due time, he became a skipper himself, sailing between New-York and New-Orleans. Veaus soon became an ally of Neptune, if Love did not disturb the pursuits of navigation. Girard, no longer a youth, and never in his most palmy estate an Adonis, was suddenly penetrated with the attractions of a nymph in a pastoral costume, which includes neither stockings nor shoesas she was standing at a pump. Of Mrs. Girard,for so the lass became,there is but one opinion; that she was a modest and most attractive brunette of six- teen, at the age when she allied herself as unhappily as Beauty was allied in the nursery tale. Of Love is born Happiness, saith the apologue, but in this case the offspring was a changeling. Discord sprung from the union, and insanity followed~ The temper of Girard was unlike that of the first martyr. If he was kind in his domestic relations, it was more than could be safely predicted of one who was universally hard and crabbed in all others. In 1777, he left his grocery, which he had kept in Philadelphia, for a small farm at Mount Holly, where his chief employment was bottling claret and cider; for he was always Biography of ~5tephen Girard, by Strplieii Simpsoo, Esq 60 Stephen Girard. ready to engage in any thing for gain, and never permitted pride to interfere with profit. In 17852, he took, on a lease often years, with a privilege of removal, a range of stores, and the rents so rose, that he considered this as the commencement of his fortune. In 1790, Mary Girard, his wife, was admitted as an insane patient into the Pennsyl- vania Hospital, where she died, in 1315. Her husband attended the funeral; on which occasion, when leaving the grave, he said, it is very well. For her, perhaps, it was very well; that lacerated heart had found its long-desired and late repose. Better had it been for her to have been the wife of a poor and kind laborer, than the envied consort of the Great Banker. Having dissolved a partnership, in which he was engaged with his brother, Stephen Girards prosperity advanced rapidly. At the insur- rection of the blacks in St. Domingo, he had two vessels at Cape Fran~ois. Numbers of the rich deposited their movable wealth on board, and returned on shore only to be massacred. The heirs, also, were cut oil; and no claimants appeared for about fifty thousand dol- lars, which, therefore, became vested in Girard. After this, John Girard died, leaving Stephen his executor; and it was long after~vards, on the marriage of one of his nieces, that the secret came out that the deceased was rich. The benevolent Stephen preferred to hold over his brothers children the belief of dependence, that they might the more implicitly bend to his hard authority; for no one supposes that he was ever otherwise than just in intention, in all his pecuniary dealings~ Mr. Simpson, who writes like ~ cashier, and who compares his sub- ject with Cato, C~esar, and Napoleon, supposes, that, at this time, it was a leading motive with Girard, so to live, that he might die rich for the sake of immortality. Mr. Simpson falls into many inconsis- tencies, by making one gratuitous and most unfounded supposition; that Girard had in his heart, that hard receptacle ofgranite, any prompt- ing of benevolence, or longing after immortality. Morose, he admits him to be; friends and relations might die; misery, in her most humble and suffering shape might plead at his feet, and be spurned without a pittance; yet, the biographer believes, and requires his readers to believe, that the unmoved and immovable Girard, was pursuing plans of future benevolence, by which his fame might be carried to distant ages, and from which he was not to be a moment diverted, by any present existing suffering that he might have relieved by the smallest gift. Some anomalies exist, however, in all characters; and Girard would sometimes relieve suffering when he could do it without expense, and in a manner truly glorious, did the whole course of his life allow us to believe that he was actuated by feeling. We refer to his acts in the yellow fever. His avarice is called by his biographer not so much a love of money as a desire to control its destination. But there are nice shades of character, that no one but Bulwer, who makes a sage or hero of any thing, could reconcile. He had always a strange propensity for quacking the sick, as much as Czar Peter had for pulling teeth, and was ever ready to prescribe confi- dently in any case. In the pestilence which swept off thousands in Phila- delphia, no man was more active and adventurous in affording personal Stephen Girard. 61 relief than Girard. He went through the duties of a director and a nurse at the hospital, and the yellow cheek of the infected has been laid upon his, when he removed them from their dwellings. The biographer relates of Girard, that up to 1824 he fed well, and hazards an opinion that perhaps no man enjoyed life more than Stephen Girard; and he truly did enjoy it in the best sense, for he ate what pleased his palate, and drank what he wns most fond of, good claret. This is the most concise definition, that ever philosopher made of the enjoyment of life. It is known that Girard had, for some time,~200,000 in the hands of the Barings, which he could by no means get when he called for it. It was paid, however, at last, in various ways, partly in shares of the United States Bank. When a renewal of the charter was refused, Giraid deter- mined,therefore,to have a bank of his own. He accordingly bought the banking house at $120,000, and commenced banking with a capital of $12,000 000 while the immense deposites of the National Bank in his iiiiiTt~Tincrea~ed his resources. Girard was known to the public chiefly as a banker; for this is the most general reputation in a coun- try, where, according to the Quarterly Review., no two people meet and talk for a moment without using the word dollar. Perhaps no man was better known to the Philadelphians, his future heirs, than the great banker; and it was as common for them, in his life, to describe him as harsh, vulgar, and sordid, to a great degree, as it is now gen- eral to represent him as a philanthropist, fit to stand by Howard. There can be no doubt, that if he could have carried away his wealth, he would not have left it behind. That he made in many respects a good disposition of it, will be readily admitted; but how far this plan was conceived, till after a violent shock of his system, and how far he was led into it by his legal or other advisers, does not appear. It is proba- ble, however, that it was his own plan: there are characteristic marks upon it. He had no relatives whom he loved; he ioved no one, and none loved him in return. No length or fidelity of.service, excited in him a feeling of friendship or gratitude. He had nephews and nieces; among these, some must have been found, if not all, that~ had his heart been made of penetrable stuW would have softened it into the feeling that generally springs up between a patron and his dependents, or a childless man and his brothers children. It is true that he did not omit these relatives in his will, but he had no place for them in his affections. He had no affection; he followed one ruling passion of avarice, and though he sometimes gave in chari- ty, it was capriciously and rare. Mr. Simpson admits that he had at all times a perfect horror of parting with property, without an equivalent. He was a just man, but it was not after the manner of Aristides: he paid his dues and performed his contracts, for these were parts of his profession or pursuit. But no man was ever more rigid in exacting the provisions of a contract, and when he had, on his part, complied with the requisitions of one, he would do no more. He has been known, once at least, to plead the Statute of Limitations, to avoid a small claim, that seemed equitable and just. It was not in the bond. When he lost a lawsuit, says Mr. Simpson, wo to his household. He poured out a torrent of invective on all around him that were in any way his dependents. His obstinacy was somctimes stronger even 62 Stephen Girard. than his avarice. When he could not get mowers at his own price, he has suffered his grass to stand and go to waste, or converted it into pasture; for, says his biographer, when he had once taken his stand he never yielded. No more impression could be made upon his un- derstanding than upon his feelings. In person, he was as little attractive as in temper. His deportment was rough and vulgar. He had the sight of but one eye, and his regards were generally stern and thoughtful, rather seeking the ground than meeting an opposing look. His religious opinions were those of an enlightened Pagan. In his will, he directs that the scholars in the college shall be instructed in the purest principles of morality, so that they may have a love of truth, sobriety, and industry, and adopt such religious tenets as their matured reason may enable them to pre- fer. Happily, it seems to be the general principle in Christian com- munities, that the wheat should be sowed before the tares spring up. A further provision in the government of the college is, that no eccle- siastic whatever, on any occasion, shall ever be admitted within the precincts of the institution. The picture given by Mr. Simpson of Girard, though apparently fair, is an unfavorable one, while his biographer ranks him among the great of the earth; and it is but a natural consequence that his two hundred thousand legatees should regard him as one of the good. Nothing disposes the mind more to overlook the faults of the de- parted, than to be remembered in the will. To him that receives, at least, all faults should be covered with the mantle of charity. Shakspeare shows the great revulsion of feeling in the Roman populace, caused by reading Ca~sars will. 4 Cit. T were best he speak no harm of Bratus here. 1 Cit. This Cnsar was a tyrant. 3 Cit. Nay, that s certain: We are blessed that Rome is rid of him. .4nt. But here s a parchment with the seal of Cusar. I found it in his closet, t is his will. To every Roman citizen he gives, To every several man, seventy.five drachms. 2 (it. Most noble Cesar, we 11 revenge his death. 3 Cit. 0 royal Cusar. .qmt. Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, His private arbors, and new-planted orchards, On this side Tyber; he hath left them you, And to your heirs for ever; common pleasures, To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves. Here was a Cusar: When comes such another? 1 Cit. Never, never :Come, away, away: Well burn his body in the holy place, And with the brands fire the traitors houses. L. ft 63 A VISION. WHEN I was a wanderer, I was once in Surat, where I made the ac- quaintance of a Brahmin, so liberal, that he had much converse with me, though, according to his creed, I was of an impure caste, and it was in Brabminical strictness, a pollution for him to permit me to ap- proach within ninety-six feet. He was a director in the Banyan hospi- tal, where sick and wounded animals are attended to with as much kindness as is sometimes thrown away in more enlightened countries, upon ungrateful men. Young man, said the Hindoo philosopher, for such he was, what motive has led you, at these years, so far from your home, and what compensation do you expect for such a sacrifice of the affections ? I have hut one motive, said I, that is, curiosity; which, if strict- ly analyzed, may be found composed of a desire to escape from scenes where I had ceased to be happy, and to find, in distant lands, a substi- tute for happiness, in change of scene and emotions of novelty. It is a vain pursuit, said the Brahmin, and, continued he, I have been better instructed in a vision. I saw, said he, in a dream, an ancient and sage-like man; his brow was not smooth, neither was his eye at rest. It seemed that he was familiar to me, though I could not remember where I had seen him before. He looked intently upon me, and said, Mortal, I am as thy shadow. I have been near thee from thy birth, I shall be nearer through life, and I shall not quit thee till death. Death only can divide us; but thou wilt endeavor to fly from me, and wilt sometimes think, that thou hast escaped. Yet I am not thy enemy, though I have little that thou wilt love. Thou art bound to a country where I cannot go; hut thou wilt be better received there, for what thou wilt learn of me in the journey. If, for a season, thou avoid me, thou wilt find nothing, that will not so remind thee of me, that thou wilt, though disappointed, again return to me, as thy companion through life. I was soon attracted to a being of a far more enticing aspect. He was flushed with youth and crowned with a chaplet of flowers. Fol- low me, said he, radiant with smiles. I am Pleasure, and I know him from whom thou wouldest escape. He is Care, but he cannot breathe where every odor is a perfume, and every sound is music. For a while I followed Pleasure; but the society soon became so tasteless, that I felt that I could prefer even that of Care. Disappointed and sorrowful, yet with a mind attuned to the softest emotions, I approached a damsel who was sitting by a fountain, pleased with the reflection of her own beauty, even while her tears were fall- ing into the stream. Maiden, said I, with our oriental abruptness, Why dost thou weep, and what is thy name? I weep, replied she, in a voice broken and murmuring like that of the fountain, because I am the most happy while I weep; and my name is Love. I will fol- low thee, said I, through every path; and should the thorns lacerate my feet, I will not leave thee, with whom it is better to weep than to smile with Pleasure; and in following thee I may the farther remove from Care. Alas! said Love, thou little knowest. Listen! for though I am not wise, I am at least sincere. I have learned from my

63 A VISION. WHEN I was a wanderer, I was once in Surat, where I made the ac- quaintance of a Brahmin, so liberal, that he had much converse with me, though, according to his creed, I was of an impure caste, and it was in Brabminical strictness, a pollution for him to permit me to ap- proach within ninety-six feet. He was a director in the Banyan hospi- tal, where sick and wounded animals are attended to with as much kindness as is sometimes thrown away in more enlightened countries, upon ungrateful men. Young man, said the Hindoo philosopher, for such he was, what motive has led you, at these years, so far from your home, and what compensation do you expect for such a sacrifice of the affections ? I have hut one motive, said I, that is, curiosity; which, if strict- ly analyzed, may be found composed of a desire to escape from scenes where I had ceased to be happy, and to find, in distant lands, a substi- tute for happiness, in change of scene and emotions of novelty. It is a vain pursuit, said the Brahmin, and, continued he, I have been better instructed in a vision. I saw, said he, in a dream, an ancient and sage-like man; his brow was not smooth, neither was his eye at rest. It seemed that he was familiar to me, though I could not remember where I had seen him before. He looked intently upon me, and said, Mortal, I am as thy shadow. I have been near thee from thy birth, I shall be nearer through life, and I shall not quit thee till death. Death only can divide us; but thou wilt endeavor to fly from me, and wilt sometimes think, that thou hast escaped. Yet I am not thy enemy, though I have little that thou wilt love. Thou art bound to a country where I cannot go; hut thou wilt be better received there, for what thou wilt learn of me in the journey. If, for a season, thou avoid me, thou wilt find nothing, that will not so remind thee of me, that thou wilt, though disappointed, again return to me, as thy companion through life. I was soon attracted to a being of a far more enticing aspect. He was flushed with youth and crowned with a chaplet of flowers. Fol- low me, said he, radiant with smiles. I am Pleasure, and I know him from whom thou wouldest escape. He is Care, but he cannot breathe where every odor is a perfume, and every sound is music. For a while I followed Pleasure; but the society soon became so tasteless, that I felt that I could prefer even that of Care. Disappointed and sorrowful, yet with a mind attuned to the softest emotions, I approached a damsel who was sitting by a fountain, pleased with the reflection of her own beauty, even while her tears were fall- ing into the stream. Maiden, said I, with our oriental abruptness, Why dost thou weep, and what is thy name? I weep, replied she, in a voice broken and murmuring like that of the fountain, because I am the most happy while I weep; and my name is Love. I will fol- low thee, said I, through every path; and should the thorns lacerate my feet, I will not leave thee, with whom it is better to weep than to smile with Pleasure; and in following thee I may the farther remove from Care. Alas! said Love, thou little knowest. Listen! for though I am not wise, I am at least sincere. I have learned from my 64 The Night Season. uncles, Wisdom and Experience, that neither Love nor Pleasure, can escape the pursuit of Care. I can only promise, that in my society you will the less regard him. Here the Brahmin addressed me, saying, Stranger, return, there- fore, to thy country, follow the footsteps of Love; for the affections confer more happiness than the intellect. Happiness is uot the off. spring of Knowledge; but to be good is to be happy. W. THE NIGHT SEASON. Juvat, 0 juvat ire per ignes ~Ethereos, lustrare alti vaga lumina culi. YE glorious stars; ye brightly shining words, Writ by Gods finger on creations walls, How beautiful and pure ye beam above! Ye bear no fearful message ;. ye are not Fraught with the sorrow of earths shrinking crowd, But, radiant messengers of heavenly love, Send light and joy to the benighted mind. Men need no~ sage interpretersto tell The mystery of your sense; ye speak a tongue Familiar to the soul ;known unto all, Yet written not in mens records of lore. Who looketh on your soft and trembling ray, Who watcheth oer your never.ceasing path, Readeth therein the mighty power of God Who sealeth thus the scroll of skies with stars, And prints his love in never-failing light. Refulgent orbs! are ye the spirit-isles, The heavenly homes of souls unchained from earth.? Yours the pure mansions girt with glory round, Unmade with hands, eternal in the heavens? It may be so. Ye only shine when man, Poor, clay-clad man, rests from his busy care; And when the toil of selfishness and sin Faints for a season and seeks rest by night, Ye mourn oer earth, outpouring dewy tears. Shine on! bright beacons of the upper deep; Send your mild radiance to our wearied souls, And light us onward, oer lifes troubled waves, To the calm islands of eternal rest.. *IAN

64 The Night Season. uncles, Wisdom and Experience, that neither Love nor Pleasure, can escape the pursuit of Care. I can only promise, that in my society you will the less regard him. Here the Brahmin addressed me, saying, Stranger, return, there- fore, to thy country, follow the footsteps of Love; for the affections confer more happiness than the intellect. Happiness is uot the off. spring of Knowledge; but to be good is to be happy. W. THE NIGHT SEASON. Juvat, 0 juvat ire per ignes ~Ethereos, lustrare alti vaga lumina culi. YE glorious stars; ye brightly shining words, Writ by Gods finger on creations walls, How beautiful and pure ye beam above! Ye bear no fearful message ;. ye are not Fraught with the sorrow of earths shrinking crowd, But, radiant messengers of heavenly love, Send light and joy to the benighted mind. Men need no~ sage interpretersto tell The mystery of your sense; ye speak a tongue Familiar to the soul ;known unto all, Yet written not in mens records of lore. Who looketh on your soft and trembling ray, Who watcheth oer your never.ceasing path, Readeth therein the mighty power of God Who sealeth thus the scroll of skies with stars, And prints his love in never-failing light. Refulgent orbs! are ye the spirit-isles, The heavenly homes of souls unchained from earth.? Yours the pure mansions girt with glory round, Unmade with hands, eternal in the heavens? It may be so. Ye only shine when man, Poor, clay-clad man, rests from his busy care; And when the toil of selfishness and sin Faints for a season and seeks rest by night, Ye mourn oer earth, outpouring dewy tears. Shine on! bright beacons of the upper deep; Send your mild radiance to our wearied souls, And light us onward, oer lifes troubled waves, To the calm islands of eternal rest.. *IAN MONTHLY RECORD. JULY, 1 832. POLITICS AND STATISTICS. UNITED STATES. CONGRESS. The Pension Bill, which passed both Houses ofCongress, and has now become a law, enacts That each of the surviving officers, non-commissioned officers, mu- sicians, soldiers and Indian spies, who served in the Continental Line, or State Troops, Volunteers or Militia, at one or more terms, a period of two years, during the war of the revolution and who are not entitled to any benefit under the act for the relief of certain surviving officers and soldiers of the revolution, passed the 15th day of May, 1828, be authorized to receive, out of any money in the Treasury not other- wise appropriated, the amount of his full pay in the said line, according to his rank, but not exceeding in any case the pay of a captain, such pay to com- mence from the 4th day of March, 1831, and continue during his natural life; and that any such officer, non- commissioned officer, musician or pri- vate, who served a term or terms in the whole, less than the above period, but not less than six months, shallbeau- thorized to receive in the same manner an amount bearing such proportion to the annuity granted to the same rank for the service of two years, as his term of service did to the term aforesaid; to commence from date. rhe act also pro- vides that the officers, non-commission- ed officers, mariners, or marines, who served for a like term in the naval ser- vice during the revolutionary war, shall be entitled to the benefits of the act, in the same manner as is provided for the officers and soldiers of the army of the revolution. The .ipportionment Bill, having passed the House of Representatives7 was amended in the Senate, apportion- ing the representatives among the sev VOL. Iii. 9. eral states agreeably to the principlst proposed by Mr. Webster, [see N. E. Mag. for April, p. 339] and returned t& the House. The bill was then referred to a committee, of which Mr. Polk was chairman, who made a long and elabo- rate report against the new bill, and recommending a non-concurrence with the Senate. Mr. E. Everett, from the minority of the committee, made a counter-report, sustaining the principle of the new bill. After a brief debate, the House voted to adhere to the origi- nal bill, and returned the new one to the Senate, non-concurred. The Sen- ate subsequently receded from their amendi~nent, and passed the original bill, by which the representation for the next ten years is thus apportioned Maine, - - New-Hampshire, Massachusetts~ - Ithode-Island, - Connecticut, - Vermont, - - ~New-York, - New-Jersey, - ~~Pennsylvania, - Delaware; - - Maryland, - - Virginia, - - North-Carolina, - South-Carolina,. - Georgia, - - Kentucky, - - Tennessee, - - Ohio, - - - Jndtsna, - - Missouri, - Illinois, - - Louisiana, - - Missouri, - - Alkbama, - - - - - - -8 5 12 0 6 5 40 6 28 - - - - -1 8 - - - - - 21 13 9 9 13 13 19 7 2 - - - - -2 3 - - - - -2 5 240 Patents. A bill has been discussed in the Senate, providing for the appoint- ment of a Recorder of the Patent Office, and prescribing the manner in which patents shall be issued. Mr. Forsyth moved to strike out. the whole

MONTHLY RECORD. JULY, 1 832. POLITICS AND STATISTICS. UNITED STATES. CONGRESS. The Pension Bill, which passed both Houses ofCongress, and has now become a law, enacts That each of the surviving officers, non-commissioned officers, mu- sicians, soldiers and Indian spies, who served in the Continental Line, or State Troops, Volunteers or Militia, at one or more terms, a period of two years, during the war of the revolution and who are not entitled to any benefit under the act for the relief of certain surviving officers and soldiers of the revolution, passed the 15th day of May, 1828, be authorized to receive, out of any money in the Treasury not other- wise appropriated, the amount of his full pay in the said line, according to his rank, but not exceeding in any case the pay of a captain, such pay to com- mence from the 4th day of March, 1831, and continue during his natural life; and that any such officer, non- commissioned officer, musician or pri- vate, who served a term or terms in the whole, less than the above period, but not less than six months, shallbeau- thorized to receive in the same manner an amount bearing such proportion to the annuity granted to the same rank for the service of two years, as his term of service did to the term aforesaid; to commence from date. rhe act also pro- vides that the officers, non-commission- ed officers, mariners, or marines, who served for a like term in the naval ser- vice during the revolutionary war, shall be entitled to the benefits of the act, in the same manner as is provided for the officers and soldiers of the army of the revolution. The .ipportionment Bill, having passed the House of Representatives7 was amended in the Senate, apportion- ing the representatives among the sev VOL. Iii. 9. eral states agreeably to the principlst proposed by Mr. Webster, [see N. E. Mag. for April, p. 339] and returned t& the House. The bill was then referred to a committee, of which Mr. Polk was chairman, who made a long and elabo- rate report against the new bill, and recommending a non-concurrence with the Senate. Mr. E. Everett, from the minority of the committee, made a counter-report, sustaining the principle of the new bill. After a brief debate, the House voted to adhere to the origi- nal bill, and returned the new one to the Senate, non-concurred. The Sen- ate subsequently receded from their amendi~nent, and passed the original bill, by which the representation for the next ten years is thus apportioned Maine, - - New-Hampshire, Massachusetts~ - Ithode-Island, - Connecticut, - Vermont, - - ~New-York, - New-Jersey, - ~~Pennsylvania, - Delaware; - - Maryland, - - Virginia, - - North-Carolina, - South-Carolina,. - Georgia, - - Kentucky, - - Tennessee, - - Ohio, - - - Jndtsna, - - Missouri, - Illinois, - - Louisiana, - - Missouri, - - Alkbama, - - - - - - -8 5 12 0 6 5 40 6 28 - - - - -1 8 - - - - - 21 13 9 9 13 13 19 7 2 - - - - -2 3 - - - - -2 5 240 Patents. A bill has been discussed in the Senate, providing for the appoint- ment of a Recorder of the Patent Office, and prescribing the manner in which patents shall be issued. Mr. Forsyth moved to strike out. the whole Politics and ~S~tatistics. bill, after the enacting words, and to insert an authority to use a fac simile, and the employment of a private Secre- tary of the President, to be employed in its use. Mr. Poindexter moved to amend the amendment, by introducing the words for the time being, after the words Pre~sident of the United States, and by adding a provision that each President, at the end of his term of service, shall cause the fac simile to be destroyed. Mr. Forsyth accepted the amendment. The change of sys- tem was advocated by Mr. Clay, who said that by the present mode an un- reasonable amount of mechanical labor was imposed on the Chief Magistrate, interfering with duties of an intellec- tual character. He wished the friends of the administration to settle the mode among themselves, and pledged him- self on this question to support the ad- ministration with all possible zeal. Mr. Poindexter opposed the principle of substituting any other signature to transfers of the public domain, than that of the President himself. He pre- ferred the adoption of a fac simile. It was stated by Mr. King and Mr. For- syth, that there were near 10,000 pa- tents lying before the President, wait- ing for his signature, and 40,000 others were prepared. Mr. Ewing preferred the fac simile mode to the other. The amendment was opposed by Mr. Bibb, who stated that he never would author- ize a Chief Magistrate, on the pretence that he had not time to sign his name, to have a fac simile made of his own name. The amendment of Mr. For- syth was then agreed to, Yeas 21, Nays 20. The bill was then laid on the table and has not since been called up. United States Bank. A bill renew- in~r and modifying the charter of the Uiiited States Bank has passed the Senate, but has not yet received the definitive action of the House of Rep- resentatives. The Tariff The House of Repre- sentatives has been almost daily, for some weeks, engaged in discussing vari- ous projects for modifying the Tariff; but no bill has yet been brought to maturity. Steam-Boat Explosions. In the House of Representatives, May 18, Mr. Wick- life, from a select committee, to which the subject had been referred, made a report, accompanied by a bill to pro- vide for the better security of the lives of passengers on board of vessels pro- pelled in whole or in part by steam. The committee express in the com mencement of their report the opinion that Congress have no constitutional power to prescribe the mode or form of vessels, or the principles upon which they shall be propelled. They affirm that it is beyond the rightful legislation of the Government to interfere at all in directing the mode of construction of steam-boats or steam-engines. They limit the power of Congress to an in- spection and regulation of vessels and boilers, as a condition upon which a registry shall be made or license granted under the laws of the United States. The causes to which the explosions of steam-boilers has been referred by sci- entific and practical men, are stated by the Committee. The most obvious are faulty construction of boilers, defective materials, and age. These are control- able in some degree by legislation, and the Committee consider that the ap- pointment of officers at suitable points upon the navigable rivers, & c. of the United States, to inspect boats and boilers, and test the strength of the lat- ter by hydraulic pressure, will be suffi- cient to detect and remove all danger from these causes. This examination is to be made every three months. To enforce this suggestion, it is remarked that in the West, experience has proved that a steam-boat after six or seven years of navigation is unfit for use, and that. the original strength of its ma- chinery must, under the same circum- stances, diminish very much. Besides this, there does not, so far as the Com- mittee learn, exist, in any part of the United States, any system or practice by which the strength of steam-boilers is tested ; and generally, the first evi- dence of its defects is an explosion or collapse. To these causes of steam- boat accidents, the Committee add sev- eral others, for which they offer no pre- ventive measures, some of them being beyond their powers,belonging to the municipal control of the states, and others being beyond any control except that of care and science. These are principally, carelessness or want of skill in engineers; an undue pressure of steam beyond the capacity of the boiler, although sound in its construction and perfect in material; and lastly, a defi- ciency in the supply of water, producing an overheated steam, and increasing the heat of the flues, tha consequence of which is that when water in increas- ed quantity is thrown in by the supply purflp, a quantity of steam is produced, which occasions disastrous explosions. The Committee repeat the complaint so frequently made against steamboats, 66 Politics and Statistics. that when they are stopped at landing places, on their way, the engineer often neglects to ungear his wheels, and keep the engine in motion, trusting to the safety valve and the strength of the boiler. Thus it is that explosions fre- quently take place while the boat is stationary, or immediately after getting under way. To guard against such ac- cidents, it is proposed to impose a heavy penalty upon the master and engineer who neglect, when the boat is station- ary, to ungear the wheels, and work off the steam. In connexion with rthis subject, the committee have inquired into other causes of danger by steam-hoats, among which aredanger by fire, and by con- tact in the night when coining in oppo- site directions. As precautions against the first terrible calamity, it is recom- mended that every hoat should be com- pelled to keep itself provided with a sufficient number of boats and yawls, according to its tonnage, for the escape of the passengers, and a suitable fire engine and hose, as part of the furni- ture. To prevent the other danger, that of contact in the night, the report suggests that a light should be suspend- ad in the ows of every boat, at least three feet above deck, and that on the Western waters, the descending boat should be compelled to let off her steam and float with the current, whenever two boats come within a half mile of each other. The Committee state as the result of their investigations into the number and extent of steam-boat disas- ters, that there have been fifty-two ex- plosions in the United States, by which two hundred and fifty-six persons have been killed, and one hundred and four wounded. Tue Public Lands. In a former num- ber of the Magazine we presented a sketch of Mr. Clays Report on the Pub- lic Lands. The following is a similar abstract of a Report made to the House of Representatives on the same subject, by Mr. Wickliffe,taking a somewhat different view of it This report expresses a decided oppo- sition to the views of the Secretary of the Treasury, upon the subject of dis- posing of the public lands in the seve- ral states in which they respectively are situated, and of a division of the pro- ceeds of the sale thereof among the several states. The public lands are regarded, in the report, as one of the sources of public revenue, and the proceeds arising from the sales thereof are argued to be as much the public revenue as the pro- ceeds of the custom-house. The power of Congress is said to be the same over both, and the one can be as well divided out among the states, for state purposes, as the other. The power so to divide either is denied by the report. The report preceeds upon the pre- sumption, that the law of Congress, and the changes of the system by which the United States have acquired and dis- posed of the public lands, are under- stood by the community. The commit- tee has, therefore, refrained from going much into detail on these points. There is, however, attached to this report, some tabular statements, which will be of great utility to those who are in pur- suit of accurate and detailed informa- tion as to the costs and expenditures on account of the public lands, the quan- tity sold and unsold in each state and territory, and (what has not before been published) a statement of the amount abated or relinquished by the United States of the purchase money of the public lands, (sold under the credit sys- tem.) by the operation of the Relief Laws of 1t121,2,3, & c. and 1830; by which statement it appears, that the whole number of acres relinquished was 4,602,573 11-100; the purchase money due on the same being stated to have been $14,983,631 10. The report assumes it to be the duty of Congress to reduce the revenue of the Government to the reasonable demands of the public service, after the payment of the National debt. This reduction, it is earnestly recommended, should be made at the present session of Congress. The committee declare themselves to be opposed to the abstraction of the pro- ceeds of the sale of the public lands from the revenue of the Government, but urge that the price of the public lands should be reduced for the twofold pur- pose, first, of reducing the amount of revenue derived from the sales thereof, and, secondly, with the view of placing it more immediately within the power of every man, however poor, to acquire a home for his family. The report adverts to the effects upon the Western states of annually with- drawing so much money from the West as the price of these lands amounts to, and expending it in other portions under the presentsystem. miti~gated, as it has often been, by the justice and liberality of the National Legislature; and depeecates the state of things Which it declares to be inevitable, should the funds arising from the sales of the public lands be divided in any 67 68 Politics and Statistics. form, and in any ratio, among the sev- eral states for state purposes. The Report recommends that Con- gress should retain the unrestricted control of the public domain, and that the national legislation over the same should be guarded by a policy which shall regard it rather as a mean to build up flourishing communities, than as a profitable source of revenue to the General Government, or of wealth to the individual states. POLITICAL cONvENTIONS. The Young Mens .TVationai Republican Convention, pursuant to notice, assem- bled in the city of Washington, on the first Monday in May. It wks composed of about three hundred delegates, from the states of Maine, New-Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode-Island, Connecticut, New-York, New-Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, South-Carolinia, Ohio, Ken- tucky, Louisiana, and from the District of Columbia. It was organized by the choice of WILLIAM C. JOHNSON of Mary- land, President; WILLIAM Lusn of New- York, CHARLES J. FAULKNER of Vir- ginia, WILLIAM P. FESSENDEN of Maine, and GEORGE W. BURNETT of Ohio, Vice-Presidents; GEORGE P. MOLLESON of New-Jersey, and J. R. ANGELL of Rhode-Island, Secretaries. The Conven- tion held its sittings daily through the week. Resolutions were unanimously passed, approving the nomination of HENRY CLAY, and Jon~ SERGEANT, as candidates for President and Vice-Presi- dent; and another, approving the wisdom and firmness of the Senate of the United States in rejecting the nomi- nation of Martin Van Buren as minister to Great-Britain. Mr. Clay, having re- ceived an invitation to visit the Conven- tion, and it having been announced that he was in the ante-room, a com- mittee introduced him to the presiding officer, who thus addressed him Sir: As the organ, and in the name of the National Republican Young Men in this convention assembled, I welcome your presence on this interesting occa- sion, and tender to you, in their behalf, the respects, the gratitude, and the ad- miration of those that surround you. Your private worth and public services have placed you before themthe object of their patriotic labors and hopes. Aboutto close the duties that brought us together, we could not, as a body, separate, without this offering of our feelings and sentiments to the man whose name and principles are aSsocia- ted with the liberty and glory of our be- loved country With such a name, and such princi- ples, we go forth united and active in a great causeand feel assured that, in an appeal to the Young Men of America, the CONSTITUTION and HENRY CLAY will be triumphant. To which Mr. Clay responded as fol- lows: Mr. President and Gentleneen of the Convention: In conformity with your resolution, communicated through a Committee of your body, I have the honor of present- ing myself before you; and I avail my- self of the occasion to express the deep and grateful sense which I entertain for the distinguished proofs which you have on this, and other days of your session, given to me of your esteem and confi- dence. Should I be called by the peo- ple of the United States to the adminis- tration of their Executive Government, it shall be my earnest endeavor to fulfil their expectations; to maintain, with firmness and dignity, their interests and honor abroad; to eradicate every abuse and corruption at home; and to uphold, with vigor, and equality, and jllstice, the supremacy of the Constitution and the Laws. Our greatest interest, in this world, is our liberty. Derived from our ances- tors, by whose valor and blood it was established, it depends upon the vigi- lance, virtue, and intelligence, of the present generation, whether it shall be preserved and transmitted to posterity, as tile most precious of all earthly pos- sessions. Next to that, in importance, is our Union, indissolubly connected with it, also derived from the fathers of our country. But what we want is a practical, efficient, and powerful Union; one that shall impartially enforce the laws towards all; whether individuals or communities, who are justly subject to their authority: a Union which, if it shall ever be deemed necessary to chide one member of the Confederacy, for rash and intemperate expressions, threat- ening its disturbance, will snatch violat- ed laws and treaties from beneath the feet of another member, and deliver the Free Citizens of the United States from unjust and ignominious imprisonment. Gentlemen, it belongs to you, and the young men of your age, to decide whether these great blessings of Liberty and Union shall be defended and pre- served. The responsibility which at- taches to you is immense. It is not our own country alone that will be affected by the result of the great experiment of self-government which will be shortly committed exclusively to your hands. The eyes of all civilized nations are in- Politics and Statistics. 69 tensely gazing upon is; and it may be truly asserted that the fate of Liberty, throughout the world, mainly depends upon the maintenance ofAmerican Lib- erty. May you, gentlemen, be deeply penetrated with the magnitude of the sacred trust confided to you. May you transfuse into the bosoms of your con- temporaries the enthusiasm which burns in your own; and may the career, on which you are all just entering, be long, and happy, and illustrious On Saturday morning the Convention adjourned: Agreeably to previous ar- rangement, at half past nine oclock, the members, preceded by their officers, marched in procession to a steam-boat, on which they embarked, and proceeded down the Potomac, to the shores of the place where lie deposited the relics of the great patriot and warrior of our country. On landing at Mount Vernon, the procession resumed tbe order in which it embarked, and moved, uncov- ered,in solemn silence, to the sacred depository of the Remains of the illus- trious Washington. Mr. Flag, of South- Carolina, then read to his associates the last admonitory counsels of the Father of his Country. Baltimore Convention. On the 21st of May, a convention of delegates from all the states, composed of the friends of the administration, assembled at Balti- more, for the purpose of nominating a candidate for the Vice-Presidency, to be placed on the ticket with General Jack- son for President: Of this body Gen. ROBERT LucAs of Ohio, was chosen President; Peter V. DANIEL of Virginia, 1st Vice-President; JAMES FENNER of Rhode-Island, 2d Vice-President; JOHN M. BARELEY of Pennsylvania, 3d Vice- President; A. S. CLAYTON of Georgia, 4th Vice-President; JOHN A. Dix of New-York, STACY G. POTTS of New- Jersey, ROBEaT J. WARD of Kentucky, Secretaries. After debate, it was voted that each state be entitled, in the nomi- nation to be made of a Candidate for the Vice-Presidency, to a number of votes equal to the number to which they will be entitled in the Electoral Colleges, under the new apportionment, in voting for President and Vice-President; and that two thirds of the whole number of the votes in the Convention shall be necessary to constitute a choice. It was also voted that the candidate for the Vice-Presidency shall be designated by the ballot or ballots ofthe person or per- sons selected for this purpose, by the respective delegations without nomina- tion in Conventionand that if a choice is not had upon the first balloting, the respective delegations shall retire and prepare for a second ballotting, and con- tinue this mode of voting, until a selec- tion is made. The Convention then proceeded to ballot for a candidate for the Vice-Presi- dency, which being concluded, it ap- peared that MARTIN -VAN BUREN had received the following votes: From Connecticut 8 votes; illinois 2; Ohio 21; Tennessee 15; North-Carolina 9; Georgia ii; Louisania 5; Pennsylvania 30; Maryland 7; New-Jersey 8; Mis- sissippi 4; Rhode-Island 7; Maine 10; Massachusetts 14; Delaware 3; New- Hampshire 7; New-York 42; Vermont 7; Alabama 1being in all 208. That RICHARD M. JOHNSON had received the following votes: From Illinois 2 votes; Indiana 9; Kentucky 15being in all 26 votes. That PHILIP P. BARBOUR had received the following votes: From North-Carolina 6 votes; Virginia 23; Maryland 3; South-Carolina 11, and Alabama 6 votesbeing in the whole 49 votes. MARTIN VAN BUREN, hav- ing received a majority of more than two-thirds of all the votes given, was declared to be selected as the candidate nominated by the Convention for the Vice-Presidency. Subsequently, the delegations from Virginia, Kentucky, and Indiana, de- clared their concurrence in the vote of the majority. A committee, consisting of one from each state was appointed to draft an address to the people of the United States. Mr. Archer of Vir- ginia, chairman of this committee, after- wards reported that the committee, hav- ing interchanged opinions on the sub- ject, submitted to them, and agreeing fully in the principles and sentiments which they believe ought to be embodied in an address of this description, if such an address were to be made, neverthe- less deem it advisable, under existing circumstances, to recommend the adop tion of the following resolution: Resolved, That it be recommended to the several delegations in this Conven- tion, in place of a general address from this body to the people of the United States, to make such explanations by address, report, or otherwise, to their respective constituents, of the objects, proceedings and result of the meeting, as they may deem expedient. Which report and resolution were read and adopted unanimously. A gen- eral corresponding committee for each state was appointed. Votes of thanks to the President, Vice-Presidents, and Secretaries, were passed. A resolution that the Convention should visit the Politics and Statistics. venerable Charles Carroll, was adopted; and another, thanking the Clergy for their attendance ; after which the Con- vention adjourned, sine die. NEW-HAMPSHIRE. The Legislature of this state met at Concord on the first Wednesday in June. The Senate chose Benning M. Bean, President; Charles G. Atherton, Clerk; and John Whipple, Assistant Clerk. In the House of Representatives, Frank- lin Pierce was elected Speaker, having 205 votes of 208. James Clark was chosen Clerk, and Horace Chase, As- sistant Clerk. The whole number of votes legally returned for Governor was 39 233~ of which Governor Dinsmoor had 24,167, and was re-elected. Ichabod Bartlett had 14,920, and there were 146 scattered on the day of the general election, (so called.) It is understood the usual military parade and election sermon were dispensed with. On Thurs- day, the Governor communicated, by Message, a partial exposition of the af- fairs of the State. The Message states that it will be necessary, under existing laws, for the Legislature again to as- semble in the autumn, to determine the choice of Electors of President and Vice President of the United Sfates. It was therefore suggested that the session might have a speedy termination. MASSACHUSETTS. ANNIvERsATuEs. The last week in the month of May, is the season appro- priated for the anniversary meetings of numerous Religious and Benevolent So- cieties in the city of Boston. The fol- lowing notices of the celebrations of some of the most prominent of these in- stitutions, are epitomized from their se- veral reports, or from extended accounts in the newspapers of the week. Massachusetts Bible Society. The twenty-third annual meeting was held on Monday, May 28th, at which the usual business was transacted and the Reports made. The Officers chosen were Rev. JOHN PIERcE, D. D. Presi- dent; Rev. HENRY WARE, D. D. Vice President; Rev. FRANCIs PAREHAN, Corresponding Secretary; Rev. WILL- IAM JENKs, D. D. Recording Secre- tary ; Messrs. JOHN TAPPAN, Treasurer; HENRY EDWARDS, Assistant Treas- urer; EDWARD TIJcKERMAN, Auditor. Trustees. Rev. Abiel Holmes, Chas. Lowell, William Jenks, John Codman, Daniel Sharp, James D. Knowles, N. L. Frothingham, F. W. P. Greenwood; Messrs. Joseph May, Heman Lincoln, $amuel Hubbard, N. P. Russell, Jona than Phillips, Samuel May, Edward Tuckerman, John Fenno, Win. Worth- ington, Pliny Cutler. Sabbath School Union. A proposal to dissolve the Massachusetts Sabbath School Union, was submitted to a Con- vention of Delegates from Baptist and Congregational Churches, assembled for the purpose in the Park-street Vestry, when the dissolution was unanimously agreed on. The details of the settle- ment respecting the joint property were committed to the Board of both denomi- nations, as it existed before the dissolu- tion. The Congregational Life-mem- bers and Delegates of the Union met in the Park-street Vestry on Wednesday, for the purpose of forming a new State Society. A Constitution was adopted, and the following officers chosen: Pre- sident, William Reed, Marblehead. Vice Presidents, Rev. Warren Pay, Charles- town, Rev. Alvan Hyde, Lee, Lewis Strong, Northampton. Secretary, Geo. E. Head, Boston. Treasurer, Charles Scudder, Boston. Alanagers, Reverend Samuel Green, Charles Stoddard, John Gulliver, Rev. Rufus Anderson, Julius A. Palmer, Boston; W. B. Bannister, Brookfield, Rev. Sylvester Holmes, N. Bedford, Reverend Gardiner B. Perry, Bradford, Rev. Milton Badger, Ando- ver; Samuel H. Archer, Salem; Rev. John Maltby, Sutton; Rev. Nehemiah Adams, Cambridge. American Unitarian Association. The Seventh Anniversary of this Associa- tion took place on the evening of Tues- day, the 29th. After the acceptance of the Treasurers Report, the following gentlemen were elected officers for the ensuing year Rev. Dr. Bancroft, President; Messrs. Joseph Story, Massachusetts; Joseph Lyman, do. ; Charles H. Atherton, New-Hampshire; Stephen Longfellow, Maine; William Cranch, District of Columbia; Samuel S. Wilde, Massa- chusetts; Samuel Hoar, do.; William Sullivan, do.; Henry Wheaton, New- York; James Taylor, Pennsylvania; Martin L. Hurlbut, do.; IJenry Payson, Maryland; Rev. Timothy Flint, Ohio, Vice-Presidents; Rev. James Walker, Samuel Barrett, Ezra S. Gannett, Di- rectors; Rev. Henry Ware, Jun., For- eign Secretary; Rev. Alexander Young, Domestic Secretary ; Henry Rice, Treasurer. The Association adjourned at seven oclock to the Federal-street Church. the Executive Committees Annual Re- ports were read by Rev. Mr. Young, the Domestic Secretary, and by Rev. Mr. Politics and Statistics. 71 Barrett, for Professor Ware, Jr. the Foreign Secretary. The Reports, which were both of them able and highly in- teresting papers, communicated much information in regard to the spread of Unitarian Christianity during the past year, and its prospects for the futnre, both in this country and abroad. After the reading of the Reports the meeting was briefly addressed by Rev. Dr. Ban- croft, the President, Rev. Messrs. Bige- low, Lothrop, Sewall, and Judge Story. At five oclock on Thursday evening a meeting of the Association for business, was held in the Berry-street Vestry. After a full discussion of the expedien- cy of adopting measures for the appoint- ment of a General Agent, they voted to proceed immediately to the choice, and on counting the votes, Rev. Ezra S. Gannett was found to be unanimously elected. The Sunday School Society held its public annual meeting in the Federal- Street Church. An interesting Report was read by Dr. Flagg, in which the condition and prospects of the Sunday schools connected with Unitarian par- ishes, both in the city and out of it, were represented as being highly en- couraging to the friends of these insti- tutions. After the reading of the Re- port the meeting was addressed by Messrs. William Sullivan of Boston, Solomon Lincoln of Hiagham, S. C. Phillips of Salem, Rev. C. Brooks of Hingham, Rev. S. J. May of Brooklyn, Conn. Rev. F. A. Farly of Providence, R. I. Rev. A. B. Muzzey of Framing- ham, and Rev. E. T. Taylor of Boston. The Convention of Congregational Ministers met according to long estab- lished usage, at 5 oclock in the after- noon of Wednesday. Mr. Wisner was re-elected Scribe, and Mr. Young chos- en Treasurer in place of Mr. Frothing- ham, who had resigned. The usual busi- ness of the Convention was transacted with harmony. Prof. Stuart of An- dover was chosen second preacher for the next year, and the Convention ad- journed to the next morning. On Thursday, after attending to the cus- tomary business, the members proceed- ed at 11 oclock to the Brattle-street church, where a sermon was preached by Mr. Jenks of Boston. After the ser- mon a collection was taken, amounting to $96 25. A large number of the Convention dined together at the Ex- change Coffee-House, where a dinner had been provided by the liberality of gentlemen of this city. The Prison Discipline Society met at the Park-street Meeting-house. In the absence of the President, Samuel T. Armstrong, the chair was taken by John Tappan, one of the Vice-Presidents. The Treasurers Report was read and accepted. The receipts of the Society for the year were $2915 53; expendi- tures, $3035; balance due the treasurer, $119 47. Louis Dwight, Secretary of the Society, read parts from the annual report, which, on motion of Alexander H. Everett, seconded by the Rev. John Pierpont, was accepted and ordered to be published under the direction of the Secretary. The Massachusetts Society for the Sup- pression of Intemperance held its twen- tieth anniversary in St. Pauls church. The Hon. William Sullivan delivered an address on the origin and evils of in- temperance. A public meeting of the Society was held on Thursday evening, at the Masonic Temple, when Mr. Hil- dreth, agent of the Society, read a Re- port, and remarks were made by Dr. John C. Warren, President, Hon. Jona- than Phillips, Rev. Prof. Paifrey, John Tappan, Esq. Rev. John Pierpont, Dr. Shattuck, Rev. E. S. Gannett ,H. Gray, Esq. Dr. Walter Channing, S. Fair- banks, Esq. and others. The .11/merican Temperance Society held its meeting in the Park-street Church, Hon. Samuel Hubbard, one of the Vice- Presidents, in the Chair. Extracts from the annual report were read by the Rev. Dr. Edwards, Secretary of the Society. The last report of the society was stere- otyped; 10,000 copies have been print- ed, and most of them distributed. They have been sent to all parts of the United States; to the British North-American Colonies; to England, Scotland, Ire- land, France, Switzerland, Germany, Sweden; to Eastern and Southern Asia, to the Sandwich Islands, & c. & c. In London it has been reprinted entire. Three state societies have been formed during the year; and state societies now exist in all the states of the Union, except Alabama, Louisiana, and Mis- souri. The whole number of societies in this country is supposed to be at least 4,000, and the number of members not less than 500,000. There are as many as 100,000 members of societies in Great-Britain and heland. The prin- cipal object of the report was, to show the enormous wickedness of th~ traffic in ardent spirit, and the duty of Chris- tians and Christian churches in regard to it. The Rev. Dr. Hewit appeared as the Foreign Secretary, for the United States, of the British and Foreign Tem- perance Society. His object was to show the expediency and duty of send- Politics and Statistics. ing out from this country some well- qualified person, to England, to act as agent of the British and Foreign Tem- perance Society, in establishing Tem- perance Societies in all the capitals of Europe. Bunker Hilt Monument qssociation. At a meeting of tile Bunker Hill Mon- ument Association) held at Faneuil Hall on the morning of the 18th of June, Dr. Abner Phelps took the Chair, as President, and the Association pro- ceeded to the choice of a Secretary pro tem. N. P. Russell, Esq. was chosen. Messrs. William Sullivan, Joseph Cool- idge, Alexander H. Everett, Pliny Cut- ler, and David Kimball were chosen a committee to collect, sort and count the votes for the officers of the society. for the ensuing year. The committee reported that the whole number of votes was 455, and that the following gentle- men having more than 400 votes each, were elected to the respective offices: William Prescott, President; John C. Warren, William Sullivan, Vice-Presi- dents; Edward G. Prescott, Secretary; Nathaniel P. Russell, Treasurer. Di- rectors. Nathan Appleton, Samuel T. Armstrong, Ebenezer Breed, Josiah Bradlee, John B. Brown, Thomas B. Curtis, Henry A. S. Dearborn, David Devens, Edward Everett, John Fores- ter, James K. Frothingham, Thomas J. Goodwin, Nathan Hale, Nathaniel Hammond, John Harris ,Abbott Law- rence, Samuel Lawrence, Francis J. Oliver, Francis Peabody, Thomas H. Perkins, Stephen C. Phillips, Leverett Saltonstall, Robert G. Shaw, John Skinner, Win. W. Stone, Israel Thorn- dike, Joseph Tilden, Nathan Tufts, Charles Wells, John D. Williams. Manufactures in Mid esex. At a meeting of Farmers, Manufacturers, and Mechanics, held at Concord, on the 13th of June, sundry resolutions were adopted, remonstrating against a relin- quishment of the protective system. In the preamble to these resolutions it is stated that, in the county of Middle- sex, the cotton manufacture employs $3,129,000 capital, vested in real estate, and machinery; consumes 6,913,880 pounds of cotton; produces annually 20,378,849 yards cloth; employs 3896 hands; pays in wages $731,751. In the same county the woollen manufac- ture employs $394,999 capital, vested in real estate and machinery; consumes 899,000 pounds wool; produces annual- ly 849,300 yards woollen cloth, flannels and carpeting, employs 653 hands; and pays in wages $152,041. The manufac- tures of leather, boots, shoes, hats) pa- per, glass, sheet lead, lead pipe, iron, starch, gunpowder, soap, candles, drugs, oil vitriol, and other acids, barilla and other chemicals, used in the county by bleachers, dyers, calico-printers, soap- boilers, and other artizans, are more ex- tex~ive than in any other section of our country of equal extent, employing in the aggregate $1,050,255 capital, vested in real estate, machinery, tools, & c. and producing manufactured articles of the annual value of $3,565,613.* Census of Lowell. A census of this place was taken on the first of June by order of the town, which exhibited the following result White Males under 10 years of age, from 10to20 - - 20to30 30to40 - 40to50 50to60 - over 60 - - - - 703 - 563 - 1996 - 720 - 206 - 62 - 27 4279 - - 771 - - 1465 - - 2713 - - 638 - - 238 - - 83 - - 52 5955 Total, - - 10,234 - - S - - 3 - - 3 - - 1 Total, - - 12 - - 1 - - 1 - - 3 - - 3 Total, - - 8 It will be seen by this enumeration that the whole population on the first of June was 10,254; of which 5955 are fe- males. By the enumeration in January 1828, there were 3532; of which 2190 were females. By the census of June 12, 1830, there were 6477; of which 4085 were females. It will be seen that the in- crease from January, 1828, to June, 1830, * Since the resolutions referred to were pub- lished, a gentleman concerned in the manufac- tories at Lowell, has informed the editors that the statement here gtven falls far below the truth, and has given the following as a corrected statement. The whole capital invested is $6,250,000 giving employment to nearly 4000 hands, who receive wages to the amount of $750,000, and make 22,000,000 yards of cloth, using 7,000,000 pounds of cotton annually. It is probable that an accurate statement of the condition of other branches of manufacture would also be found greatly to exceed the amount stated in the pre- amble mentioned a ye. White Females under 10 years, from 10 to 20 20 to 30 30to40 40 to 50 50 to 60 over 60 - Colored Males from 10 to 20 - 20to30 - 30to40 40to50 - Colored Females under 10 - from 10 to 20 20 to 30 30to40 Politics and Statistics. being one year and five months, was 2945; and from June, 1830 to June, 1832, 3777. The proportion of females is not so great as by the former census. RHODE-ISLAND. CITY OF PROVIDENCE. The organi- zation of the City Government of Prov- idence took place at the Court House on the second Monday of June. The oaths of office were administered to the Mayor and Aldermen by the President of the Toww.Council, and by the Mayor to the members of the Common Council. Richard M. Field, late Town Clerk, was unanimously chosen City Clerk. The Mayor delivered, his In- augural Address in tile presence of a large audience. He spoke of the newly adopted form, as one not tending to impair the rights of the people, and stated the object in obtaining the Char- ter to have been, not to obtain more power, but to administer the power already possessed with more prudence, economy, and energy. A. great part of the Address consisted of an appropriate and lucid exposition of the powers and duties of the n w officers. After the Address, the yor and Aldermen retired to the Senate Chamber, and the Common Council was organized by the appointment of Mr. George Baker, President, and Mr. Thomas B. Fenner, Clerk. CONNECTICUT. THE SCHOOL FUND. The following facts are taken from the report of the Commissioner of the School Fund, made to the legislature, at its late session, as abridged in the Hartford Review. The whole Capital, as ascertained on the 1st of April, 1831, consisted of the following itelns: 1. Bonds, Contracts and Mortga ges, $1,493,716 49 9. Bank Stnck, - - 99,950 00 3. Cultivated Lands and Build- ings, 196,595 90 4. Wild Lands, - - - 164,144 60 5. Stock and Farming Utensils, 1,390 00 6. Cash on hand of principal, - 17,930 95 Amount of Capital, - - - $1,902,957 87 The subjoined table shews the num- ber of children in the state, between four and sixteen years of age, as enu- merated in August, 1831, and the amount of dividends made in the year ending March 31st, 1832. tjhildren. Dividends. Hartford County, - - 14,467 13,090 30 New-Haven - - 11,919 10,797 10 New-London - - 19,999 11,006 30 Fairfield - - 13,308 11,977 90 Windham - - 8,007 7,906 30 Litchdeld - - 19,939 11,015 10 Middlesex - - 7,999 6,569 10 Tolland - - 5,697 5,064 30 85,095 76,585 50 VOL. ill. 10 By the following table, showing the number of children between four and sixteen years of age, returned from the years 1820 to 1831, both inclusive, it would appear, that the number of per- sons in this state, between the above ages has decreased since 1824, and that it increased during the past year but five. Whether such is actually the fact, we are unable to say. No. of Children returned in 1890 was 84 179 1891 85,017 1899 84,945 1893 84 930 1824 85 198 1895 85,167 3896 85 163 1897 85,147 1898 84 899 1899 85006 1830 85 090 1831 85,095 PENNSYLVANIA. Tiec Legislature of this state recently adopted the following Resolutionsthe House of Representatives, unanimous- ly; the Senate 20 to 12. Resolved, ~.c. That we view with the most serious apprehension any attempt to lessen the restrictions upon the mm- portation of any articles of foreign manufacture, or production, which may compete with articles of similar growth, production, or manufactures of the United States.. That a reduction of duties upon arti- cles, the like of which are neither man- ufactured or produced in the United States, or which does not materially affect the industry of tile country, would meet the approbation of our con- stituents. That the People of Pennsylvania never can consent to an abandonment of the Protective System. That if a reduction of the revenue becomes necessary, we should prefer a prohibition of the introduction of arti- cles of foreign fabric and production, the like of which we are successfully manufacturing and ~sroducing, to any reduction upon protected articles which we can produce and manufacture as cheaply and as good amongst ourselves. That we view the American System, as a whole, which requires the united and concentrated operation of its friends against all attempts to attack it in de- tail, and that no steps should be taken to preserve one portion of it at the ex- pense of another. That the confidence of one interest in the aid and fellowship of another, is the true shield of safety of the friends of the protected industry, and that such confidence should be cultivated and re- lied on throughout the union. 73 74 Politics and ~S~tatistics. That connected as the prosperity of agriculture and manufactures are with the successful financial operations and sound currency of the country, we view the speedy re-chartering of the Bank of the United States as of vital importance to the public welfare. That the Governor be requested to transmit these resolutions to our repre- sentatives in Congress, to be laid before their respective bodies. OHIO. CINcINNATI COLLEGE. The Trustees of Cincinnati College have published an Address to the people of Ohio, from which we collect the following facts and statements The institution, known as the Cin- cinnati College, began, as a common school, organized on the Lancasterian plan, in connexion with a grammar school, in the year 1814, under the name of the Cincinnati Lancaster Semina- ry. In 1819, it was incorporated as a college, under its present title, with the understanding, that the preparatory schools were still to be kept up. The endowment of the College, existed in a subscription, liberal, indeed, when it is considered that it emanated from the enterprise of a few citizens of the city. But auspicious as this subscription was to the future prospects of the establish- ment, the sanguine hopes which were at first cherished by it were destroyed by the adverse circumstances which soon after pervaded Cincinnati and the west generally. Sufficient, however, was secured to finish the building, and, with subsequent rents, to pay all claims against the corporation. College classes were organized, with several professors, and the institution, under a variety of aspects, continued to exist until the year 1827, when, from the want of pecuniary means, all opera- tions were discontinued; the prepara- tory schools, which had also been sus- tained, ceased at the same time; and the edifice itself, or as much of it as was practicable, was rented out. The re- ceipts have not been regular, and by no means sufficient to keep the building in repair. Dilapidations, always great in proportion to the non-occupation of so large a house, have taken place; and this pile, founded under flattering aus- pices, presents now a spectacle in strong contrast with the other public buildings of the city. It is thought practicable by the Board of Trustees, in addition to what schools are to be carried on in the College, to create certain professorships or lecture- ships, on such different branches of science as may be found compatible with their means, with public taste, and the public wishes. It is designed to make most of these lectures accessible to the great mass of population, and so to arrange them, as to render them val- uable for the practical purposes of every class of society. The hope is cherished, that the Mechanics Institute, the Lyce- um, and the public library may be in- duced to connect their exertions with the college. It is felt to be bad policy, in such a society as ours, to divide and ramify public institutions, having the same great object in view. To produce proper effect, exertion ought to be con- centrated. The foundations of good libraries are already laid in the institu- tions before mentioned. When brought together, they will even now do credit to the city. The liberality of an indi- vidual has placed that valuable institu- tion, the Mechanics Institute, in pos- session of an excellent philosophical apparatus; public attention is awake, and much may be expected from public and private liberality, to associations in a united attitude, which might be look- ed for in vain when in a state of sepa- ration. From an estimate furnished, it is thought that about three thousand dol- lars will cover the requisite repairs, in- cluding such an alteration of the front, as will render it ornamental to the city. This amount it is believed can be raised without difficulty, if the benefits likely to flow from its application be properly appreciated. Individuals stand ready and pledged, to enter on the important duties of instruction; some, where ex- pense and trouble are involved, with no expectation of compensation but from their own exertions; others, looking to the good they may do, as a sufficient reward for the services they may render. With these prospects and facilities of creating one great Institution, in which shall centre the different Literary and Scientific Associations of Cincinnati, the Trustees cannot think it possible that such an edifice as the College will be longer suffered to attract attention by its unseemly aspect. With sanguine hopes of success, the Board now appeal to their fellow citizens, and ask them for such contributions as their several means may justify, and as the importance of the object merits. Education. There is a very interest- ing and valuable institution for the edu- cation of school teachers at Marietta, Ohio, which was established about two years since, and is capable of being ren Politics and Statistics. 75 dered of eminent benefit to the whole western country. Its origin was hum- ble, and it has risen to its present char- acter and importance, in consequence of the extreme want of capable teachers in that part of the country. It compre- hends a department of manual labor, which enables those young men who are disposed, to defray almost the whole expense of their education by the avails of their labor in the field; and which has enabled many to pass through the course by this means alone. Apparatus in four scientific branches have been obtained for $500, and the building is large and fine, on high ground, with piazzas towards the Ohio and Muskin- gum rivers. Able instructers of both sexes are engaged in the different branches. The pupils board in respect- able families. Females obtain their ed- ucation there, for school-teachers, for about 25 dollars a year; and there is abundant need of good schools of both sexes in all the Western states. iLLINOIS. INDIAN WAa. The frontiers of this state have been for some time in a fer- ment on account of the hostilities of the Indians. The first accounts of the progress and extent of these hostilities proves to be greatly exaggerated. There have been several murders, and almost daily intelligence of massacres on the defenceless inhabitants of the frontiers. A Missouri paper says The war is conducted by the savage enemy with all the cruelties and barbar- ities that have ever marked their con- flicts. Murder of the old ud the young, of the defenceless infant and unoffending woman, burning and devas- tation mark their course. Even de- struction does not satisfy their rage. Manglings of the dead bodies, and the most atrocious and disgusting indigni- ties follow the work of death. Fifteen persons, men, women, and children, were surprised and murdered at a set- tlement on Indian Creek (a tributary of Fox river) on the 20th ult. Two young women were suffered to live, but were carried off to Indian captivity. A small party of seven or eight men, led by Mr. St. Vram, the agent for the Sacs and Foxes, in endeavoring to make their way to the Head Quarters of the army, were suddenly attacked by a much superior number of Indians. Two of the party were killed. Mr. St. Vram when last seen by those who es- caped was fleeing, pursued by ten or twelve Indians; his fate is not yet known. His escape was barely possi- ble, and it is feared that he fell, another victim to the unsparing rage of the enemy. Reports have reached the sta- tion of the army, that several murders had been committed on citizens of Ver- million County on the Wabash. To a requisition for men, that district an- swered, that its inhabitants were re- quired at home to defend their property and friends. The latest accounts state that the Il- linois Militia, under the command of Gen. Whiteside, have disbanded and returned to their homes, their term of service having expired. About three hundred volunteered to remain in the fortifications at the Ottawa until the new levies should arrive. The number of the drafts made by the Governor, was about three thousand. General Atkin- son with the United States troops, was still in camp at Dixons or Ogees Ferry, on Rock river. Orders were received by the proper officers at this place to furnish transportation for the companies ordered from Cantonment Leavenworth. A steam-boat will be immediately despatched for that post, and the commanding General expects to be joined by this additional regular force, by the 16th instant. One hun- dred men have also been ordered from Fort Winnebago. In addition to this force, General Atkinson has called upon the Sioux and Menominees for one thousand war- riors. These tribes, immediately on the breaking out of the war, pressed their services on the whites, but were repulsed. They are burning to revenge their wrongs, real or supposed, on the hostile Indians, and would, probably, by their experience, habits, and endu- rance, be more efficient, opposed to their red brethren, than double their number of whites. Although their aid has been once declined, their animosity is strong enough to induce them to take part in the war, now that they are solicited. Apprehensions have been entertained that the tribes of the Winnebagoes and Pottawatomees had joined themselves with the Sacs and Foxes, the open and avowed enemy. But this is said to be erroneous. There is no doubt but that some of the young men of each of these tribes have taken part with the enemy, but the chiefs and principal part of the warriors remain neutral. 76 LITERARY NOTICES. Swallow Barn; or a Sojourn in the Old Dominion. It is reported, we know not on what authority, that this work is to be at- tributed to the author of the best polit- ical satire of our times, viz. The Breeches. The Breeches were not half so much worn as they deserved to be; but all who saw them pronounced their maker an artist of rare talent. The book before us will not diminish his reputation. Swallow Barn has no plot or story whatever. The author tells us, in his introductory remarks, that he did not intend to make one. He had great dif- ficulty, he says, to prevent himself from writing a novel. We wish he had made a novel of it. It was his intention to pass a few weeks in the Old Dominion, in order to portray the impressions which the scenery nnd people made upon him, in detached pictures, without connexion. We must not condemn a book because it is not an Iliad, or a Fielding or Waverly novelit is unjust to expect an author to perform more than he avowedly undertakes. Swal- low Barn is entitled to th praise of being all that it professes to be. Still,we know not what to call it. It is not a poem, though rich in the material of poetry; it is not a lean record of first impressions ; it is not a book of travels and adventures; it is not -a novel. It belongs to a nondescript genus, and may be classed with some parts of the Sketch Book, of which it is a manifest imitation. If we may hazard a conjec- ture, at variance with the opinions of the newspaper critics, we will say, that we think it was intended for a satire, a gentle satire on the pride, aristocratic feeling, and ignorance of a certain class, rather numerous in the south. The author seems to hint at this in his pre- face. The ordinary actions of men, he says, in their household inter- course have not usually a humorous or comic character. Again, the under- currents of country life are -grotesque, peculiar and amusing. He says that he is confident that no one will say that his pictures are false or exaggerated. If this he true, and his book is a fair de- scription of general society, alas for the freeholders of the Old Dominion! Mark Littleton, the ostensible author of Swallow j3a~n, is a resident of New- York. He complies with the invitation of a Virginian cousin, Ned Hazard by name, to pass a few weeks at Swallow Barn, his ancestral mansion. He fInds Mr. Hazard desperately in love with Miss Bel Tracy. Said Hazard brays and gambols like an ass, a very sorry ass, through the work, as all men in love do, especially those who are igno- rant of every useful way of passing the time. The progress of the courtship is the bond, and a slight one it is, that holds the chapters of the book together. The rest of the materials are, with the exception of t o or three episodes, de- scriptions of the manners and scenery of Virginia. The farther we read, the more strongly are we convinced that the author in. tended to show up the Virginians. His principal characters are humorously conceited, pompous, ignorant and dog- matic. He has succeeded admirably in showing them in a ridiculous light. Take for example the following dia- logue between a landlord and his guest. Some thirty or forty persons were collected at the Landing. The porch of the shabby little hostelry was filled by a crowd of rough looking mustics, who were laughing boisterously, drink- ing, and making ribald jokes. A violin and fife were heard, from within the building, to a quick ~neasure, wbich was accompanied with the heavy tramp of feet from a party of dan- e is. A group of negroes, on ide of the house, were enjoying themselves in the same way, shuffling through the odd contortions of a jig, with two sticks lying crosswise upon the ground, over which they danced, alternately slapping their thighs and throwing up their el- bows to the time of the music, and making strange grimaces. A few tall, swaggering figures, tricked out in yellow lmnting~sliirts trimmed with green fringe, and their hats, some white and some black, garnished with a band of red cloth and ragged plunies of the same color, that seemed to have been faded by fre- quent rains, stood about in little knots, where they talked loudly and swore hard oaths. A- mongst these were mingled a motley collection of lank and sallow watermen, boys, negroes and females bedizened in all the wonders of country millinery. At the fences and about the trees, in the vicinity of the house, was to be seen the counterpart of these groups, in the various assemblage of horses of every color, shape and degree, stamping, neighing and sleeping uiitil their services should be required by their maudlin masters. 0cc. sionally, dur- ing our stay, some of these nags were brought forward for a race, which was conducted with increased uproar and tumult. * * * * * ip had recognized some familiar features amongst the country volunteers, and had al-- ready found out the drummer, who had hung his ma- ial instrument around his shoulders and the delighted boy was beating away at it with all his might. Carey had collected about him a set of his old cronies, to whom he was delivering a kind of solemn har n~ue, of which we -could only observe the energy of his gesti- culations. The ferry-boat lay attached to the

76 LITERARY NOTICES. Swallow Barn; or a Sojourn in the Old Dominion. It is reported, we know not on what authority, that this work is to be at- tributed to the author of the best polit- ical satire of our times, viz. The Breeches. The Breeches were not half so much worn as they deserved to be; but all who saw them pronounced their maker an artist of rare talent. The book before us will not diminish his reputation. Swallow Barn has no plot or story whatever. The author tells us, in his introductory remarks, that he did not intend to make one. He had great dif- ficulty, he says, to prevent himself from writing a novel. We wish he had made a novel of it. It was his intention to pass a few weeks in the Old Dominion, in order to portray the impressions which the scenery nnd people made upon him, in detached pictures, without connexion. We must not condemn a book because it is not an Iliad, or a Fielding or Waverly novelit is unjust to expect an author to perform more than he avowedly undertakes. Swal- low Barn is entitled to th praise of being all that it professes to be. Still,we know not what to call it. It is not a poem, though rich in the material of poetry; it is not a lean record of first impressions ; it is not a book of travels and adventures; it is not -a novel. It belongs to a nondescript genus, and may be classed with some parts of the Sketch Book, of which it is a manifest imitation. If we may hazard a conjec- ture, at variance with the opinions of the newspaper critics, we will say, that we think it was intended for a satire, a gentle satire on the pride, aristocratic feeling, and ignorance of a certain class, rather numerous in the south. The author seems to hint at this in his pre- face. The ordinary actions of men, he says, in their household inter- course have not usually a humorous or comic character. Again, the under- currents of country life are -grotesque, peculiar and amusing. He says that he is confident that no one will say that his pictures are false or exaggerated. If this he true, and his book is a fair de- scription of general society, alas for the freeholders of the Old Dominion! Mark Littleton, the ostensible author of Swallow j3a~n, is a resident of New- York. He complies with the invitation of a Virginian cousin, Ned Hazard by name, to pass a few weeks at Swallow Barn, his ancestral mansion. He fInds Mr. Hazard desperately in love with Miss Bel Tracy. Said Hazard brays and gambols like an ass, a very sorry ass, through the work, as all men in love do, especially those who are igno- rant of every useful way of passing the time. The progress of the courtship is the bond, and a slight one it is, that holds the chapters of the book together. The rest of the materials are, with the exception of t o or three episodes, de- scriptions of the manners and scenery of Virginia. The farther we read, the more strongly are we convinced that the author in. tended to show up the Virginians. His principal characters are humorously conceited, pompous, ignorant and dog- matic. He has succeeded admirably in showing them in a ridiculous light. Take for example the following dia- logue between a landlord and his guest. Some thirty or forty persons were collected at the Landing. The porch of the shabby little hostelry was filled by a crowd of rough looking mustics, who were laughing boisterously, drink- ing, and making ribald jokes. A violin and fife were heard, from within the building, to a quick ~neasure, wbich was accompanied with the heavy tramp of feet from a party of dan- e is. A group of negroes, on ide of the house, were enjoying themselves in the same way, shuffling through the odd contortions of a jig, with two sticks lying crosswise upon the ground, over which they danced, alternately slapping their thighs and throwing up their el- bows to the time of the music, and making strange grimaces. A few tall, swaggering figures, tricked out in yellow lmnting~sliirts trimmed with green fringe, and their hats, some white and some black, garnished with a band of red cloth and ragged plunies of the same color, that seemed to have been faded by fre- quent rains, stood about in little knots, where they talked loudly and swore hard oaths. A- mongst these were mingled a motley collection of lank and sallow watermen, boys, negroes and females bedizened in all the wonders of country millinery. At the fences and about the trees, in the vicinity of the house, was to be seen the counterpart of these groups, in the various assemblage of horses of every color, shape and degree, stamping, neighing and sleeping uiitil their services should be required by their maudlin masters. 0cc. sionally, dur- ing our stay, some of these nags were brought forward for a race, which was conducted with increased uproar and tumult. * * * * * ip had recognized some familiar features amongst the country volunteers, and had al-- ready found out the drummer, who had hung his ma- ial instrument around his shoulders and the delighted boy was beating away at it with all his might. Carey had collected about him a set of his old cronies, to whom he was delivering a kind of solemn har n~ue, of which we -could only observe the energy of his gesti- culations. The ferry-boat lay attached to the wharf, asid on the stern benches were seated three or four graver looking men in coarse at- tire, who were deeply discussing questions that occasionally brought them into a high tone of voice, and, now and then, into a burst of loud laughter. Ned had led me up to this group, and, in the careless indolence of the moment, we had thrown ourselves out at full length across the seats; Ned, with his legs dangling across ehe gunwale, with Wilful lying close by, and reposing his head upon his lap. The principal personage in this collection was Sandy Walker, a long, sun-burnt water- man, who was the proprietor of the hotel, and evidently a man of mark among his associates. One of the others was a greasy gentleman in a blue coat, out at elbows, with a nose lustrous with living fire. These two were the principal speakers, and they were debating an intricate point of constitutional law, with more vehe- nience than perspicuity. Allen h, an appeal was made to Ned,by Sandy., who was infinitely the most authoritative in his manner of the whole group. Cant Congress, said Sandy, suppo~ing they were in pass a law to that effect, come and take a road of theirn any where they have a mind to, through any mans land? I put it to Mr. Ned Hazard. Not by the Constitution, said the gentle- man in the greasy coat, with marked emphasis. Well, said Ned, well hear you, San- dy. Sandy rose up, and lifting his hand above his hssad, as he began, I say it stands to eaton It stands to no such thing ! rejoined the other, interrupting him if its against the Constitution ,which I say it is undoubtedly~ to come and take a mans land without saying, by your leave; if I may be allowed the expres- sion, Mr. Ned hazard, its running against a snag. Silence, says Ned, Mr. Walker has the plank; we can only hear one at a time Why, sir, continued Sandy, argumenta- tively, and looking steadfastly at his opponent, with one eye closed, and, at the same time, bringing his right hand into the palm of his left; they can just cut off a corner, if they want it, or go through the middle, leaving one half here, and tother there and make you feuce it clean through into the bargain; or, added Sandy, giving snore breadth to his doctrine, go through your house, sir. Devil a house have I, Sandy ! said the other. Or your barn, sir. Nor barn nother. Sweeping your bed right from under you, if Congress says so. Aint there the canal to go across the Allegheny mountain? What does Congress care about your state rights, so as they have got the money ? Canals, I grant you, said l]is antagonist; but theres a difference between land and water, evidently posed by Sandys dogmatic manner, as well as somewlsat awed by the rela- tion of. landlord, in which Sandy stood, and whom, therefore, he would not rashly contra- dict. But, said he, in a more softened tone, and with an affected spice of courtesy in his accost, Mr. Walker, Id be glad to know if we couldnt nullify. Nullify! exclaimed Sandy, nullify what ? said he, with particular emphasis on the last words. Do you know what old Hickory said down there in the Creek nation, in the war, wisen the Indians pretended they were going to have a ball play ? No. If you dont ~o and wash all tlsat there paint finns your faces, Ill give you the shock- 77 ingest ball play you ever had in all y ur lives. You dontttell me so ! exclaimed the red- nosed gentleman with animation, and bursting. out into a tremendous laugh. Didnt he say so, Ned Hazard? I beg yoar pardon, Mr. Ned Hazard! ejaculated Sandy and turning to Ned. I think I haveheard so, said Ned, though I dont believe he used that exact expression. It was something like it, said Sandy: well, thats the sort of nullification youd get. Things are getting worse and worse, re- plied the other. I can see how its going. Here, the first thing General Jackson did when became in he wanted to have the President elected for six years; and, by and by, they will want him for ten! and now they want to cut up our orchards and meadows, whether or no; thats just the way Bonaparte went on. Whats the use of states if they are all to he cut up with canals and rail-roads and tariffs? No, no, gen- tiemen! you may depend, Old Virginnys not going to let Congress carry on in her day ! How can they help it? asked Sandy. We havnt feat and bled, rejoined the other, taking out of his pocket a large piece of tobacco, and cutting off a quid, as he spoke in a somewhat subduedtone, we havntfsut and bled for our liberties to have our posterity and their land circumcised after this rate, to suit the figaries of Congress. So let them try it when they will Mr. Ned Hazard, what do you call state rights ? demanded Sandy. Its a sort of a law, said the other speaker, taking the answer to himself, against cotton and wool. Thats a fact, cried Sandy, and, in may tisinking, its a very foolish sort of a business. Theres where you and me differs, re- sponded the other. Well, said Ned, its a troublesome ques- tion. Sup se we wait until we hear wisat Old Virginia says about it herself? And as for us Sandy, it is getting late, and we must go. These words concluded the colloquy. The author of Swallow Barn is the best of imitators. After reading the Breeches we could almost have sworn that Dean Swift had come to life again. If we had not been assured of the con- trary, we should have set down the work before us to the credit of Mr. Irving. There is the same quiet humor, the same good-natured satire, the same smooth, and solnetimes quaint language, and the same evidence of extensive reading and general observa- tion, which characterize the Sketch Book, Bracebnidge Hall, and the Tales of a Traveler. We cannot say that our author quite equals his model; no imi- tator ever does; but he approaches hint very nearly. We now feel as well ac- quainted with Virginia as any of Mr. Irvings readers can be with the shores of the North river. The style of Swallow Barn is easy, and, bating a few Americanisms, cor- rect. If his characters be not interest- in,,, the fault is their own, not the au- thors. He has made them amusing, but all his skill cannot make us love or hate such insipid people. lie seems to have a particular tact iu discovering Literary Notices. Literary Notices. the minute particles which distinguish ordinary characters from each other. In the second volume we did not need to he told to whom any speech be- longed; it spoke for itself. His de- scriptions are singularly minute. While we read, we fancy ourselves listening to the dogs around the gum, into which they have compelled the oppos- sum to climb, and to the notes of (black) uncle Careys banjo. Of inven- tion, Swallow Barn displays little, of connection none. The whole interest of the work consists in its novel subject and its humorously beautiful style. Of course, these remarks do not apply to the episodes. The talent of the author has created a pleasure, which a view of the persons and scenes he describes would never have given. We should like to see Swallow Barn, and perhaps to pass a week there, but no more. In short, with all his ability, all his information, all his command of lan- guage, (and in these particulars he is surpassed by no American writer) his book will be thought by many to be rather dull. He seems to be conscious of this, for he acknowledees it in the preface. It is not altogether his fault. Setting aside the demerit of imitation, his materials are badly chosen. It is impossible to make much of them. If life in Virginia be what he describes, we would not settle in the Old Domin.~ ion for the best estate it contains. The gentlemen of Swallow Barn are the most ordinary, trifling, useless genera- tionthe world ever saw. To be sure, they are kind, hospitable, liberal, and honorable, but how are their lives passed? If this work be what it pre- tends, a Virginian of condition has no use for his time but to pay and receive visits, to attend courts, and to watch the multiplication of his horses and negroes. These may be very proper employments, and may conduce to the prosperity of the state, but deliver us from such a life. We would as lief be transformed into a fixture on one of their farms. Frank Meriwether seems to have been intended to represent the landed propri- etors of Virginia. He is a magistrate, is rich, keeps the best company in the state, and his opinions are received as oracles by all the little luminaries who revolve within the sphere of his orbit. Take the following remarks for a speci- men of his intelligence. After all, said he, as if he had been talking to me before, although these were the first words lie utteredthen m~ kirib a parenthesis, so as to qualify what lie was going to say I dont deny that the steamboat is destined to produce valuable resultsbut after all, I much question (and here he bit his upper lip, and paused an instant)if we are not better without it. I de- clare, I think it strikes deeper at the supremacy of the states than most persons are willing to allow. This annihilation of space, sir, is not to be desired. Our protection against the evils of conselidation consists in the very obstacles to our intercourse. Splatterthwaite Dubbs of Din- widdie(or some such name,Frank is fa- inous for quoting the opinions of his contempo- raries. This Splatterthwaite, I take it, was some old college chum that had got into the legislature, and I dare say made pungent speeches,) Dubbs of Dinwiddie made a good remarkThat the home material of Virginia was never so good as when her roads were at their worst. And so Frank went on with quite a harangue, to which none of the company replied one word, for fear we might get into a dispute. Every body seems to understand the advantage of silence when Meriwether is in- clined to he expatiatory. Ned Hazard, Harvey Riggs, Philpot Wart and old Mr. Tracy are the other prominent, or, perhaps, we should say the distinguished, male characters of Swallow Barn. They are all good- natured, worthy persons. Philpot Wart is passably intelligent and well inform- ed. But they do nothing. No incident, of more importance than the concoction of a mint julep, occurs in the whole course of their lives, save those which are common to all mankind, viz, birth, marriage and death. They visit each other, eat, drink and are merry, and that is all. They have some excellent qualities, but no occasion calls them forth. They are very estimable, amia- ble, good-for-nothing people, who might have gone quietly down to their graves, and no one, save their own relations, would have been the worse or the better for the event, or have known that they ever existed but for his pen. The negroes of Swallow Barn are its only working bees. Such lives as the whites lead, may be very satisfactory to them- selves, but they are very insipid to the observer. The whole book is a picture of the stillest of still life. With ten times the talent of any but one or two of our best writers, our author has pro. duced a work that we fear may cause some yawning,but wilibe readwe have no doubt that it will livesuch authors do not appear every day. It contains many irresistibly ludicrous chapters. Yet we must consider it, as a whole, but the promise of better things. We think of this gentleman, as we have before thought of some others, that it is pity that one who can do so well, has not done better. We hope he will soon write again on a better topic, and that he will forbear imitation, and rely on his own bright genius. Mike Brown is an episode, and a very good story, though it reminds us 73 rather strongly of The Devil and Tom Walker. Woodcraft, Abe The Negro Mother, The Goblin Swamp, and the whole story of the lawsuit respecting the Applepye Boundary, may be men- tioned as among the best parts of the work. Though we cannot speak of Swallow Barn in the superlative, we may say here, that there is scarcely any thing in the literary way, that we deem th~ author incompetent to achieve. We shall henceforth take some pains to procure any book he may publish. It is one merit of Swallow Barn, that almost any part is proper for quotation. We quote the following as a not unfa- vorable specimen of the authors style and manner. Next to these is a boy,a shrewd, mischiev- ous imp, that curvets about the house, a char- tered libertine. He is a little wiry fellow near thirteen, that is known altogether by the nick- name of Rip, and has a scapegrace counte- nance, fill of freckles and deviltry the eyes are somewhat greenish, and the mouth opens alarmingly wide upon a tumultuous array of discolored teeth. His whole air is that of an untrimmed colt, torn down and disorderly; and I most usually find him with the bosom of his shirt bagged out, so as to form a great pocket, where he carries apples or green walnuts, and sometimes pebbles, with which he is famous for pelting the fowls. I must digress, to say a word about Rips head-gear. He wears a nondescript skull-cap, which, I conjecture from some equivocal signs, had once been a fur hat, but which must have taken a degree in fifty other callings; for I see it daily employed in the most foreign services. Sometimes it is a drinking vessel, and then Rip pinches it up like a cocked hat; sometimes it is devoted to push-pin, and then it is cuffed cruelly on both sides; and sometimes it is turned into a basket, to carry eggs from the hen-musts. It finds hard service at hat-ball, where, like a plas- tic statesman, it is popular for its pliability. It is tossed in the air on all occasions of rejoicing; and now and then serves for a gauntletand is flung with energy upon the ground, on the eve of a battle; and it is kicked occasionally through the school-yard, after the fashion of a bladder. It wears a singular exterior, having a row of holes cut below the crown, or rather the apex, (for it is pyramidal in shape,) to make it cool, as Rip explains it, in hot weather. The only rest that it enjoys through the day, as far as I have been able to perceive, is during school hours, and then it is thrust between a desk and a bulk-head, three inches apart, where it gener- ally envelopes in its folds a handful of hickory- nuts or marbles. This covering falls down for it has no lininglike an extinguisher over Rips head, which is uncommonly small and round, and garnished with a tangled mop of hair. To prevent the frequent recurrence of this accident, Rip has pursed it up with a hat- band of twine. To concludewe think the motto of Swallow Barn admirably adapted. Read it, believe it; and you will not be disappointed in what comes after. Le Vozci. And, for to pass the time, this book shall be pleasant to read in. But for to give faith and believe that all is tine that is contained therein ye be at your own liberty. 79 The History and Geography of the Mississippi Valley. To which is appended a Condensed Physical Geography of the Atlan- tic United States, and the Whole American Continent. Second Edition. By Tissiothy Flint. The accomplished and elegant writer of this work may lay claim to a rank similar to that of Colonel Boone in be- ing the first to penetrate the recesses of the western wilds. Other writers, in- deed, travelers, geographers and histo- rians, have given us occasional sketches of those remote regions, whereof by parcels we had something heard, but nought distinctively. But till the ap- pearance ofMr.Flints Ten Years Resi- dence, no adequate impression of the majestic scenery of the west had been conveyed by the pen of any writer. The bold, original and striking descrip tions with which that work abounds; the vivid glow of poetical coloring which the eloquence and feeling of the writer threw over every object of his notice, raised him at once to a rank with our very first writers. in the Geography and History of the Mississippi Valley, the eloquence and imagination in the former work are sobered down to a stand- ard befitting a volume of statistical de- tail, yet much of the freshness of de- scription remains. The present edition has been much improved, and may fair- ly be pronounced the best Geography of America in existence. On the Western states it is full and accurate; on the Atlan- tic states it contains all that is necessary to be known; and on the other portions of the American continent it has a con- densed summary of all recent informa- tion. We cannot refrain from quoting one or two of the authors forcible and vivid sketches of western scenery, which he has executed with the imagination and skill of a true poet. Below the mouth of Ohio, in the season of mnundatmosi, to an observing spectator a very striking spectacle is presented. The river, as will elsewhere be observed, sweeps along in curves, or sections of circles, of an extent from six to twelve miles, measured from point to point. The sheet of water, that is visible be- tween the forests on either side, is, as we have remarked, not far from the medial width of a mile. On a calm spring morning, and un- der a bright sun, this sheet of water, to an eye that takes in its gentle descending de- clivity, shines, like a mass of burnished sil- ver. Its edges are distinctly marked by a magnificent outline of cotton-wood trees, gen- erally of great size, and at this hole of the year, of the brightest verdure. On the convex, or bar side of the bend, there is generally a vig- orous growth of willows, or young cotton wood trees of such astonishing regularity of appear- ance, that it always seems to the onpractised spectator, a work of art. The water stands among these trees from ten to fifteen feet in height. Those brilliant birds, the black and red bird of this country, seem to delight to flit Literary iNotices.

rather strongly of The Devil and Tom Walker. Woodcraft, Abe The Negro Mother, The Goblin Swamp, and the whole story of the lawsuit respecting the Applepye Boundary, may be men- tioned as among the best parts of the work. Though we cannot speak of Swallow Barn in the superlative, we may say here, that there is scarcely any thing in the literary way, that we deem th~ author incompetent to achieve. We shall henceforth take some pains to procure any book he may publish. It is one merit of Swallow Barn, that almost any part is proper for quotation. We quote the following as a not unfa- vorable specimen of the authors style and manner. Next to these is a boy,a shrewd, mischiev- ous imp, that curvets about the house, a char- tered libertine. He is a little wiry fellow near thirteen, that is known altogether by the nick- name of Rip, and has a scapegrace counte- nance, fill of freckles and deviltry the eyes are somewhat greenish, and the mouth opens alarmingly wide upon a tumultuous array of discolored teeth. His whole air is that of an untrimmed colt, torn down and disorderly; and I most usually find him with the bosom of his shirt bagged out, so as to form a great pocket, where he carries apples or green walnuts, and sometimes pebbles, with which he is famous for pelting the fowls. I must digress, to say a word about Rips head-gear. He wears a nondescript skull-cap, which, I conjecture from some equivocal signs, had once been a fur hat, but which must have taken a degree in fifty other callings; for I see it daily employed in the most foreign services. Sometimes it is a drinking vessel, and then Rip pinches it up like a cocked hat; sometimes it is devoted to push-pin, and then it is cuffed cruelly on both sides; and sometimes it is turned into a basket, to carry eggs from the hen-musts. It finds hard service at hat-ball, where, like a plas- tic statesman, it is popular for its pliability. It is tossed in the air on all occasions of rejoicing; and now and then serves for a gauntletand is flung with energy upon the ground, on the eve of a battle; and it is kicked occasionally through the school-yard, after the fashion of a bladder. It wears a singular exterior, having a row of holes cut below the crown, or rather the apex, (for it is pyramidal in shape,) to make it cool, as Rip explains it, in hot weather. The only rest that it enjoys through the day, as far as I have been able to perceive, is during school hours, and then it is thrust between a desk and a bulk-head, three inches apart, where it gener- ally envelopes in its folds a handful of hickory- nuts or marbles. This covering falls down for it has no lininglike an extinguisher over Rips head, which is uncommonly small and round, and garnished with a tangled mop of hair. To prevent the frequent recurrence of this accident, Rip has pursed it up with a hat- band of twine. To concludewe think the motto of Swallow Barn admirably adapted. Read it, believe it; and you will not be disappointed in what comes after. Le Vozci. And, for to pass the time, this book shall be pleasant to read in. But for to give faith and believe that all is tine that is contained therein ye be at your own liberty. 79 The History and Geography of the Mississippi Valley. To which is appended a Condensed Physical Geography of the Atlan- tic United States, and the Whole American Continent. Second Edition. By Tissiothy Flint. The accomplished and elegant writer of this work may lay claim to a rank similar to that of Colonel Boone in be- ing the first to penetrate the recesses of the western wilds. Other writers, in- deed, travelers, geographers and histo- rians, have given us occasional sketches of those remote regions, whereof by parcels we had something heard, but nought distinctively. But till the ap- pearance ofMr.Flints Ten Years Resi- dence, no adequate impression of the majestic scenery of the west had been conveyed by the pen of any writer. The bold, original and striking descrip tions with which that work abounds; the vivid glow of poetical coloring which the eloquence and feeling of the writer threw over every object of his notice, raised him at once to a rank with our very first writers. in the Geography and History of the Mississippi Valley, the eloquence and imagination in the former work are sobered down to a stand- ard befitting a volume of statistical de- tail, yet much of the freshness of de- scription remains. The present edition has been much improved, and may fair- ly be pronounced the best Geography of America in existence. On the Western states it is full and accurate; on the Atlan- tic states it contains all that is necessary to be known; and on the other portions of the American continent it has a con- densed summary of all recent informa- tion. We cannot refrain from quoting one or two of the authors forcible and vivid sketches of western scenery, which he has executed with the imagination and skill of a true poet. Below the mouth of Ohio, in the season of mnundatmosi, to an observing spectator a very striking spectacle is presented. The river, as will elsewhere be observed, sweeps along in curves, or sections of circles, of an extent from six to twelve miles, measured from point to point. The sheet of water, that is visible be- tween the forests on either side, is, as we have remarked, not far from the medial width of a mile. On a calm spring morning, and un- der a bright sun, this sheet of water, to an eye that takes in its gentle descending de- clivity, shines, like a mass of burnished sil- ver. Its edges are distinctly marked by a magnificent outline of cotton-wood trees, gen- erally of great size, and at this hole of the year, of the brightest verdure. On the convex, or bar side of the bend, there is generally a vig- orous growth of willows, or young cotton wood trees of such astonishing regularity of appear- ance, that it always seems to the onpractised spectator, a work of art. The water stands among these trees from ten to fifteen feet in height. Those brilliant birds, the black and red bird of this country, seem to delight to flit Literary iNotices. Litera~y Notices. among these young groves, that are inundated to half their height. Nature is carrying on her most vigorous efforts of vegetation below. If there. be wind or storm, the descending flat and keet boats immediately make for these groves, and plunge fearlessly, with all the headway the.y can command, among the trees. Should tbey be of half the size of the human body, struck fifteen feet from the ground, they readi- lx bend before even a frail boat. You de- ecend the whole distanceofa thousand miles to New-Orleans, landing at night in fifteen feet water among the trees; but, probably, in no in- atance, within twenty miles of the real shore, which is a bluff. The whole spectacle is that of a vast and magnificent forest, emerging from a lake, with its waters, indeed, in a thousand places, in descending motion. The experienced savage, or solita voyager, paddles bis canoe through the deep forests, from one bluff to the other. He finds bayous, by which one river communicates with the other. He moves, per- haps, along the Mississippi forest into the mouth of White river. He ascends that river a few suites, and by the Grand Cut-off moves down the forest into the Arkansas. From that river he finds many bayous, which coinusunicate readily with Washita and Red river; and from that river, by some one of its hundred bayous, he finds his way into the Atchafalaya and the Teche; and by that stream to the Gulf of Mexi- to, reachin,, it inure than twenty leagues west of the Mississippi. At that time, this is a river from thirty to an hundred yards wide, all over- shadowed with forests, except an interior strip of little more than a mile in width, where the eye reposes on the open expanse of waters, vis- ible between the trees. * * * * * * None, but one who has seen, can imagine the interest, excited in a district of country, per- haps, fifty miles in extent, by the awaited ap- proach of the time for a camp meeting; and none, but one who has seen, can imagine how profoundly the preac rs have understood what produces effect, and how well they have prac- tised upon it. Suppose the scene to be where the most extensive excitements and the most frequent camp meetings have been, during the two past years, in one of the beautiful and fer- tile valleys among the mountains of Tennessee. The notice has been circulated two or three months. On the appointed day, coaches, chais- es, wagons, carts, people on horseback, and multitudes traveling from a distance on foot, wagons with provisions, mattresses, tents, and arrangements for the stay of a sveek, are seen hurrying from every point towards the central spot. It is in the midst of a grove of those beau- tiful and lofty trees, natural to the valleys of Ten- nessee, in its deepest verfistre, and beside a spring branch, for the requisite supply of water. The ambitious and wealthy are there, because in this region opinion is all-powerful; and they cc there, either to extend their influence, or, that their absence may not be noted, to diinin- ish it. Aspirants for office are there, to elec- tioneer, and gain popularity. Vast numbers are there from simple curiosity, and merely to enjoy a spectacle. The young and the beauti- ful are there, with mixed motives, which it were best not severely to scrutinize. Children are there, their young eyes glistening with the intense interest of eager curiosity. The middle- aged fathers and mothers of families are there, with the sober views of people, whose plans in life are fixed, and waiting calmly to hear. Men and wonien of hoary hairs are there, with such thoughts, it may be hoped, as their years invite. Such is the congregation, consisting of thou- sands. A host of preachers of different denominations are there, some in the earnest vigor and aspiriiig desires of youth, waiting an opportunity for dis. play; others, who have proclaimed the gospel, as pit ims of the cross, from the remotest north of our vast country to the shores of the Mexi- can gulf, auft ready to utter the words, the feel- ings and the experience, which they have treas- ured up in a travelling ministry of fifty years, and whose accents, trembling with age, still more impressively than their words, announce, that they will soon travel, and preach no more on the earth, are there. Such are the preachers. The line of tents is pitched; and the religious city grows up in a few hours under the trees be- side the stream. Lamps are hung in lines among the branches; and the effect of their glare upon the surrounding forest is as of magic. The scenery of the most brilliant theatre in the world is a painting only for children, compared with it. Meantime the mu itudes, with the highest excit ent of social feeling added to the general enthusiasm of expectation, pass from tent to tent, and interchange apostolic greetimigs and embraces, and talk of the coming solemnities. Their coffee and tea are prepared, and their slipper is finished. By this time the asoon, (for they take thought, to appoint the meeting at the proper time of the the moon,) be- gins to show its disk above the dark summits of the mountains ; and a few stars are seen glim- mering through the intervals of the branches. The whole constitutes a temple worthy of the grandeur of a God. An old man, in a dress of the quaintest simplicity, ascends a platform, wipes the dust from his spectacles, and in a voice of suppressed emotion, gives out a hym of which the whole assembled multitude can recite the words, and an air, in which every voice can join. We should deem poorly of the heart, that would not thrill as the song is heard, like the sound of many waters, echoing among the hills and mountains. Such are the scenes, the associations, and such the influence of exter at things upon a nature so fearfully and wonderfully constituted as ours, that Ii tie effort is necessary on such a theme as reli- gion, ur,,ed at such place, under such circum- stances, to fill the heart and the eyes. The hoary orator talks of God, of eternity, a judge- ment to come, and all that is impressive be- yond. He speaks of his experience, his toils and his travels, his persecutions and welcomes, and how many he has seen in hope, in peace and triuniph, gathered to their fathers; and when he speaks of the short space that remains to him, his only regret is, that he can no more proclaim, in the silence of death, the mercies of his crucified Redeemer. There is no need of the studied trick of ora- tory, to produce in such a place the deepest movements of the heart. No wonder, as the speaker pauses to dash the gathering moisture from his own eye, that his audience are dissolv- ed in tears, or uttering the exclamations of pen- itence. Nor is it cause for admiration, that ma- ny, who poised themselves on an estimation of higher intellect, aisfi a nobler insensibility, than the crowd, catch the infectious feeling, and be- come women and children in their turn; and though they came to mock, remain to ay. The Soul of Man. A Sermon, preached at the Tabernacle Church, Salem, Mass. April 25, 1S32 By Leonard Withing- ton, Pastor of the First Chutch in Newbury. This discourse was delivered a few months since, at the Salem Tabernacle Church, and has been published at their request. The text is from Genesis ii. 7. lInd man became a tinner soul.~ The reverend author has approached his sub- 8Q

Litera~y Notices. among these young groves, that are inundated to half their height. Nature is carrying on her most vigorous efforts of vegetation below. If there. be wind or storm, the descending flat and keet boats immediately make for these groves, and plunge fearlessly, with all the headway the.y can command, among the trees. Should tbey be of half the size of the human body, struck fifteen feet from the ground, they readi- lx bend before even a frail boat. You de- ecend the whole distanceofa thousand miles to New-Orleans, landing at night in fifteen feet water among the trees; but, probably, in no in- atance, within twenty miles of the real shore, which is a bluff. The whole spectacle is that of a vast and magnificent forest, emerging from a lake, with its waters, indeed, in a thousand places, in descending motion. The experienced savage, or solita voyager, paddles bis canoe through the deep forests, from one bluff to the other. He finds bayous, by which one river communicates with the other. He moves, per- haps, along the Mississippi forest into the mouth of White river. He ascends that river a few suites, and by the Grand Cut-off moves down the forest into the Arkansas. From that river he finds many bayous, which coinusunicate readily with Washita and Red river; and from that river, by some one of its hundred bayous, he finds his way into the Atchafalaya and the Teche; and by that stream to the Gulf of Mexi- to, reachin,, it inure than twenty leagues west of the Mississippi. At that time, this is a river from thirty to an hundred yards wide, all over- shadowed with forests, except an interior strip of little more than a mile in width, where the eye reposes on the open expanse of waters, vis- ible between the trees. * * * * * * None, but one who has seen, can imagine the interest, excited in a district of country, per- haps, fifty miles in extent, by the awaited ap- proach of the time for a camp meeting; and none, but one who has seen, can imagine how profoundly the preac rs have understood what produces effect, and how well they have prac- tised upon it. Suppose the scene to be where the most extensive excitements and the most frequent camp meetings have been, during the two past years, in one of the beautiful and fer- tile valleys among the mountains of Tennessee. The notice has been circulated two or three months. On the appointed day, coaches, chais- es, wagons, carts, people on horseback, and multitudes traveling from a distance on foot, wagons with provisions, mattresses, tents, and arrangements for the stay of a sveek, are seen hurrying from every point towards the central spot. It is in the midst of a grove of those beau- tiful and lofty trees, natural to the valleys of Ten- nessee, in its deepest verfistre, and beside a spring branch, for the requisite supply of water. The ambitious and wealthy are there, because in this region opinion is all-powerful; and they cc there, either to extend their influence, or, that their absence may not be noted, to diinin- ish it. Aspirants for office are there, to elec- tioneer, and gain popularity. Vast numbers are there from simple curiosity, and merely to enjoy a spectacle. The young and the beauti- ful are there, with mixed motives, which it were best not severely to scrutinize. Children are there, their young eyes glistening with the intense interest of eager curiosity. The middle- aged fathers and mothers of families are there, with the sober views of people, whose plans in life are fixed, and waiting calmly to hear. Men and wonien of hoary hairs are there, with such thoughts, it may be hoped, as their years invite. Such is the congregation, consisting of thou- sands. A host of preachers of different denominations are there, some in the earnest vigor and aspiriiig desires of youth, waiting an opportunity for dis. play; others, who have proclaimed the gospel, as pit ims of the cross, from the remotest north of our vast country to the shores of the Mexi- can gulf, auft ready to utter the words, the feel- ings and the experience, which they have treas- ured up in a travelling ministry of fifty years, and whose accents, trembling with age, still more impressively than their words, announce, that they will soon travel, and preach no more on the earth, are there. Such are the preachers. The line of tents is pitched; and the religious city grows up in a few hours under the trees be- side the stream. Lamps are hung in lines among the branches; and the effect of their glare upon the surrounding forest is as of magic. The scenery of the most brilliant theatre in the world is a painting only for children, compared with it. Meantime the mu itudes, with the highest excit ent of social feeling added to the general enthusiasm of expectation, pass from tent to tent, and interchange apostolic greetimigs and embraces, and talk of the coming solemnities. Their coffee and tea are prepared, and their slipper is finished. By this time the asoon, (for they take thought, to appoint the meeting at the proper time of the the moon,) be- gins to show its disk above the dark summits of the mountains ; and a few stars are seen glim- mering through the intervals of the branches. The whole constitutes a temple worthy of the grandeur of a God. An old man, in a dress of the quaintest simplicity, ascends a platform, wipes the dust from his spectacles, and in a voice of suppressed emotion, gives out a hym of which the whole assembled multitude can recite the words, and an air, in which every voice can join. We should deem poorly of the heart, that would not thrill as the song is heard, like the sound of many waters, echoing among the hills and mountains. Such are the scenes, the associations, and such the influence of exter at things upon a nature so fearfully and wonderfully constituted as ours, that Ii tie effort is necessary on such a theme as reli- gion, ur,,ed at such place, under such circum- stances, to fill the heart and the eyes. The hoary orator talks of God, of eternity, a judge- ment to come, and all that is impressive be- yond. He speaks of his experience, his toils and his travels, his persecutions and welcomes, and how many he has seen in hope, in peace and triuniph, gathered to their fathers; and when he speaks of the short space that remains to him, his only regret is, that he can no more proclaim, in the silence of death, the mercies of his crucified Redeemer. There is no need of the studied trick of ora- tory, to produce in such a place the deepest movements of the heart. No wonder, as the speaker pauses to dash the gathering moisture from his own eye, that his audience are dissolv- ed in tears, or uttering the exclamations of pen- itence. Nor is it cause for admiration, that ma- ny, who poised themselves on an estimation of higher intellect, aisfi a nobler insensibility, than the crowd, catch the infectious feeling, and be- come women and children in their turn; and though they came to mock, remain to ay. The Soul of Man. A Sermon, preached at the Tabernacle Church, Salem, Mass. April 25, 1S32 By Leonard Withing- ton, Pastor of the First Chutch in Newbury. This discourse was delivered a few months since, at the Salem Tabernacle Church, and has been published at their request. The text is from Genesis ii. 7. lInd man became a tinner soul.~ The reverend author has approached his sub- 8Q Literary Notices. ject with a manifestly deep sense both of its intricacy and its importance; but he has not, for that reason, any the less deliberately or laboriously entered into the examination. He thinks it not only a legitimate subject of philosophical as well as religious inquiry, but not alto- gether an unpromising, and far less a forbidden one. The soul, he says, is commonly regarded as something very hard to be understood. What is the soul? was a question once put to Man- vaux. 1 know nothing of it, he an- swered, but it is spiritual and immor- tal . Well, said his friend, let us ask Fontenelle, and he will tell us what it is. No cried Marivaux, ask any body but Fontenelle, for he has too much good sense to know any more about it than we do. Still, mysterious be- ings as we are, he supposes this subject to be just as much an object of success- ful investigation, as any thing else. We observe its operations, and we observe its effects, and the more attention a man chooses to give to any of these things, the farther and better he may compre- hend them all. This is especially true of mental philosophyor, indeed, spir- itual philosophy, as Mr. Withington would, perhaps, say; inasmuch as it is one of the advantages to a knowledge of our souls, that we always have them in possession; they are always, if I may so speak, near us. Every man has one soul, which he may make the subject of self-examination. The traveler is o- bli ged to cross seas and explore deserts be ore he can measure the pyramids or see the waters of the Nile. The astron- omer must prepare his glasses, and lift his telescope to the stars, before he can catch the objects of his science. Even the most familiar operations of the ma- terial world are objects external to us. We must look abroad to see them; and. there are mysteries in the most common process which no man can explain. But the mind is within usit is ourselves; and we are conscious of all its efforts and movements; and we have only to register in a faithful recollection what we have thought and felt, and our knowledge is complete, as far as human science can go. He then goes on to describe what the soul is not, and what it is. The follow- ing passage, in this connection, may be taken as a specimen of the writers style both of argument and composition. Matter must he moved as matter, and the soul must be omoved as a soul. If you wish to elevate a rock you apply a lever, but if you wish to move a soul, you apply a motive. If you wish to have a ship removed from the stocks, you knock away the blocks , and if you VOL. Ill. ii wish to have a miimd moove to any object, you take away prejudices and objections. Itis true, the mind is sometimes destroyed, as to its men- tal operations, by physical causes, as in cases of sickness, insanity, drunkenness, or a blow. But this is destroying action, rather than mov- ing the mind. The mind itself yields, in its healthful operations, to no powers but such as originate in mind. Even in cases of mel- ancholy and insanity, it is curious to see how the impulse originating in the nerves or the brain, moust assume a moral aspect before it can act on the mind. The causes in such case re physical, but they are always transform- ed into intellectual images by the mind, and in this way they obtain their tyrannic power. Insanity is transformed sensation; sensation transformed into delusory motives. Thus, a painful pressure on the brain, leads a mad- man to think that pain to be caused by a dungeon; by a chain; by a treason, and by an approaching trial. Now if you could strip the pang of all its moral appendages, i. e. take away all the moral, and leave the physical alone, he would not suffer half so much. There is a dou- ble pro ess here; the pain first causes the mental amplification of intellectual images, and these reflects hack and increase the pain. So a melan- choly mind always finds a whole host of suf- ficient causes. It is a kingdom admitting no laws but its own. It deals with error and with truth; with guilt and obedience; with hap- piness and misery; with conscience and with God. We can promise those who like the blending of metaphysics with morals a very rational treat in the perusal of this valuable discourse. The metaphysics are close enough for a doctor of the middle ages, but as clear as a clear head could make it, while the moral follows after like a shadow. A curious fact is furnished in one of the notes. Several old people have told me of a moan (in the county of Essex,) very intemperate, who, about thirty years of age, made a resolution that he would not drink a drop of spirit for forty years; he kept it, and the very hour the forty years were out, he returned to his cups, and died a drunkard. I have no doubt of the fact. But what an instance, to show that the will is mistress of her own election, & c. The Aihambra. By the Author of the Sketch Book. Two volumes of the Chronicles of Grenada, including sketches of Moor and Spaniard, might be supposed to have exhausted the authors materials, or observation. In some degree it has; and there are parts of the present work below the standard of Irving; though there are many excellent works that may well rank beneath that high grade. The Albambra, then, has not the fresh- ness and polish of the Sketch Book, nor the humor of the Dutch Herodotus. We are aware, that this has been called, in the London Literary Ga- zette, the best of Irvings works; but we have several to forget, before we can so believe. One of the longest and best of the

Literary Notices. ject with a manifestly deep sense both of its intricacy and its importance; but he has not, for that reason, any the less deliberately or laboriously entered into the examination. He thinks it not only a legitimate subject of philosophical as well as religious inquiry, but not alto- gether an unpromising, and far less a forbidden one. The soul, he says, is commonly regarded as something very hard to be understood. What is the soul? was a question once put to Man- vaux. 1 know nothing of it, he an- swered, but it is spiritual and immor- tal . Well, said his friend, let us ask Fontenelle, and he will tell us what it is. No cried Marivaux, ask any body but Fontenelle, for he has too much good sense to know any more about it than we do. Still, mysterious be- ings as we are, he supposes this subject to be just as much an object of success- ful investigation, as any thing else. We observe its operations, and we observe its effects, and the more attention a man chooses to give to any of these things, the farther and better he may compre- hend them all. This is especially true of mental philosophyor, indeed, spir- itual philosophy, as Mr. Withington would, perhaps, say; inasmuch as it is one of the advantages to a knowledge of our souls, that we always have them in possession; they are always, if I may so speak, near us. Every man has one soul, which he may make the subject of self-examination. The traveler is o- bli ged to cross seas and explore deserts be ore he can measure the pyramids or see the waters of the Nile. The astron- omer must prepare his glasses, and lift his telescope to the stars, before he can catch the objects of his science. Even the most familiar operations of the ma- terial world are objects external to us. We must look abroad to see them; and. there are mysteries in the most common process which no man can explain. But the mind is within usit is ourselves; and we are conscious of all its efforts and movements; and we have only to register in a faithful recollection what we have thought and felt, and our knowledge is complete, as far as human science can go. He then goes on to describe what the soul is not, and what it is. The follow- ing passage, in this connection, may be taken as a specimen of the writers style both of argument and composition. Matter must he moved as matter, and the soul must be omoved as a soul. If you wish to elevate a rock you apply a lever, but if you wish to move a soul, you apply a motive. If you wish to have a ship removed from the stocks, you knock away the blocks , and if you VOL. Ill. ii wish to have a miimd moove to any object, you take away prejudices and objections. Itis true, the mind is sometimes destroyed, as to its men- tal operations, by physical causes, as in cases of sickness, insanity, drunkenness, or a blow. But this is destroying action, rather than mov- ing the mind. The mind itself yields, in its healthful operations, to no powers but such as originate in mind. Even in cases of mel- ancholy and insanity, it is curious to see how the impulse originating in the nerves or the brain, moust assume a moral aspect before it can act on the mind. The causes in such case re physical, but they are always transform- ed into intellectual images by the mind, and in this way they obtain their tyrannic power. Insanity is transformed sensation; sensation transformed into delusory motives. Thus, a painful pressure on the brain, leads a mad- man to think that pain to be caused by a dungeon; by a chain; by a treason, and by an approaching trial. Now if you could strip the pang of all its moral appendages, i. e. take away all the moral, and leave the physical alone, he would not suffer half so much. There is a dou- ble pro ess here; the pain first causes the mental amplification of intellectual images, and these reflects hack and increase the pain. So a melan- choly mind always finds a whole host of suf- ficient causes. It is a kingdom admitting no laws but its own. It deals with error and with truth; with guilt and obedience; with hap- piness and misery; with conscience and with God. We can promise those who like the blending of metaphysics with morals a very rational treat in the perusal of this valuable discourse. The metaphysics are close enough for a doctor of the middle ages, but as clear as a clear head could make it, while the moral follows after like a shadow. A curious fact is furnished in one of the notes. Several old people have told me of a moan (in the county of Essex,) very intemperate, who, about thirty years of age, made a resolution that he would not drink a drop of spirit for forty years; he kept it, and the very hour the forty years were out, he returned to his cups, and died a drunkard. I have no doubt of the fact. But what an instance, to show that the will is mistress of her own election, & c. The Aihambra. By the Author of the Sketch Book. Two volumes of the Chronicles of Grenada, including sketches of Moor and Spaniard, might be supposed to have exhausted the authors materials, or observation. In some degree it has; and there are parts of the present work below the standard of Irving; though there are many excellent works that may well rank beneath that high grade. The Albambra, then, has not the fresh- ness and polish of the Sketch Book, nor the humor of the Dutch Herodotus. We are aware, that this has been called, in the London Literary Ga- zette, the best of Irvings works; but we have several to forget, before we can so believe. One of the longest and best of the Literary Notices. tales is that of Prince Ahmed al Ka- mel, or the Pilgrim of Love, which af- fords the author an opportunity of dis- playing his best powerthat is, a quiet, collateral satire and humor, that is not necessarily a part of the tale, but for which the tale seems, in part, to be a vehicle; so that it is hard to say which one was made for the other. Prince Ahmed, it was predicted by the astrolo- gers, who spoke upon safe grounds, without asking the stars, was threaten- ed with much danger from love, and his father shut him up in a tower, with the sage Bonabbon, from whom he could learn as little as from Cato the Censor. The sage,to renderthe imprisonmentless tedious to the Prince, instructed him in the language of birds, but found, too late, that the birds conversed upon little but the fatal and interdicted subjects. Every thing, in fact, conspired to re- mind the Prince of it, and to urge him to increase his knowledge of the myste- ry. Every thing to the captive breath- ed of love. Methought the billows spoke and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced The name. The nightingale and the dove were, however, the chief instructers of the Prince; and the dove brought him a letter from a Princess, similarly impris- oned, for her tendency to similar ab- struse studies. He escaped from his prison, and under the guidance of an owl, began his travels to discover the Princess. A parrot became the emis- sary to the lady; and by the advice of his companions with a little aid from magic, Prince Ahmed accomplished the liberation of the Princess, and pass- ed, according to the established form, a happy life. Some of the colloquies with the owl are very comic. This wise bird became prime minister, and the parrot, master of ceremonies. It is needless to say, writes the author, that never was a realm inure sagely administered, or a court conducted with more exact punctilios. The Faith of the Pilgrims; a Ser- mon, delivered at Plymouth, on the Twenty- Second of December, 1831. By John Cod- man, D. D. After a brief sketch of the circum- stances under which the Forefathers of New-England commenced their pilgrim- age which has resulted in the erection of a new empire in the world, Dr. Cod- man institutes a comparison between those pilgrim fathers and the ancestors of the Jewish nation, and traces out affecting and wonderful resemblances. We were somewhat surprised, that a man of his religious opinions, should have given utterance to sentiments like the following. The frankness and can- dor of the writer is certainly to be com- mended; and we apprehend that few sectarian preachers of the present day, would be independent enough to tell so much truth, unasked for. The con- trast presented in the extract is striking. In these days of refinement,when there is more luxury and extravagance on that very soil, which was at the time of the landing of our fath- ers a dreary wilderness, and the abode of savage man, than existed in the long settled country of their nativity at tbe time of their embarkation, it iodifficult to conceive of the sacrifices,which they must have made, and the hardships, which they must have endured, in leaving their homes and firesides, and in effecting a settlement in a sav- age wilderness. We are accustomed, in these times, to speak of the sacrifices, made by the missionaries of the cross, and of the trials to which they are exposed, in leaving their native country to preach the gospel in foreign lands. But what are they, when compared with the sacrifices and hardships endured by our pilgrim fathers! The servant of the cross, bound to distant India, is as intimately acquainted with Calcutta, Bombay, and Ceylon, as if he had himself been a resident in those pagan cities, and the little missionary band, who have re- cently left our shores for the islands of the Pa- cific, are already familiar with the natural his- tory of the places of their intended residence, the former and the present improved character of the inhabitants,the present state and pros- pects of the mission, and even with the names, if ot with the persons of the individuals, who are expecting to greet their arrival on those dis- tant shores. Not so, with our pilgrim fathers; they knew little or nothing of the place where they intended to settle. They had no knowl- edge of the manners, customs, and language of the savage tribes, that inhabited the country where they expected to reside. All that they knew, and all that they cared to know, was, that it was far away from ecelesh stical domina- tion,that there was no hierarchy, to control their faith and mode of worshipno star cham- ber to test their conformity with fire and faggot, no royal prerogative of lordship over the con- science. Of almost every thing else, respecting the state and condition of the new world, they were ignorant. Considered as part of an exclusively religious celebration, the sermon is ex- ceedingly well adapted to the occasion. Its tone is catholic and liberal. A Discourse, delivered before the Massachusetts society for the Suppression of Intemperance, May 23, 1832. By William Sullivan. The occasion and the object of this publication we need not take the trou- ble to explain, it being already, we pre- sume, in extensive and useful circula- tion. The author has treated his sub- ject,common-place and almost offen- sive as it is,in such a manner as to make it really entertaining as well as instructive. Waiving statistics and mi

Literary Notices. tales is that of Prince Ahmed al Ka- mel, or the Pilgrim of Love, which af- fords the author an opportunity of dis- playing his best powerthat is, a quiet, collateral satire and humor, that is not necessarily a part of the tale, but for which the tale seems, in part, to be a vehicle; so that it is hard to say which one was made for the other. Prince Ahmed, it was predicted by the astrolo- gers, who spoke upon safe grounds, without asking the stars, was threaten- ed with much danger from love, and his father shut him up in a tower, with the sage Bonabbon, from whom he could learn as little as from Cato the Censor. The sage,to renderthe imprisonmentless tedious to the Prince, instructed him in the language of birds, but found, too late, that the birds conversed upon little but the fatal and interdicted subjects. Every thing, in fact, conspired to re- mind the Prince of it, and to urge him to increase his knowledge of the myste- ry. Every thing to the captive breath- ed of love. Methought the billows spoke and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced The name. The nightingale and the dove were, however, the chief instructers of the Prince; and the dove brought him a letter from a Princess, similarly impris- oned, for her tendency to similar ab- struse studies. He escaped from his prison, and under the guidance of an owl, began his travels to discover the Princess. A parrot became the emis- sary to the lady; and by the advice of his companions with a little aid from magic, Prince Ahmed accomplished the liberation of the Princess, and pass- ed, according to the established form, a happy life. Some of the colloquies with the owl are very comic. This wise bird became prime minister, and the parrot, master of ceremonies. It is needless to say, writes the author, that never was a realm inure sagely administered, or a court conducted with more exact punctilios. The Faith of the Pilgrims; a Ser- mon, delivered at Plymouth, on the Twenty- Second of December, 1831. By John Cod- man, D. D. After a brief sketch of the circum- stances under which the Forefathers of New-England commenced their pilgrim- age which has resulted in the erection of a new empire in the world, Dr. Cod- man institutes a comparison between those pilgrim fathers and the ancestors of the Jewish nation, and traces out affecting and wonderful resemblances. We were somewhat surprised, that a man of his religious opinions, should have given utterance to sentiments like the following. The frankness and can- dor of the writer is certainly to be com- mended; and we apprehend that few sectarian preachers of the present day, would be independent enough to tell so much truth, unasked for. The con- trast presented in the extract is striking. In these days of refinement,when there is more luxury and extravagance on that very soil, which was at the time of the landing of our fath- ers a dreary wilderness, and the abode of savage man, than existed in the long settled country of their nativity at tbe time of their embarkation, it iodifficult to conceive of the sacrifices,which they must have made, and the hardships, which they must have endured, in leaving their homes and firesides, and in effecting a settlement in a sav- age wilderness. We are accustomed, in these times, to speak of the sacrifices, made by the missionaries of the cross, and of the trials to which they are exposed, in leaving their native country to preach the gospel in foreign lands. But what are they, when compared with the sacrifices and hardships endured by our pilgrim fathers! The servant of the cross, bound to distant India, is as intimately acquainted with Calcutta, Bombay, and Ceylon, as if he had himself been a resident in those pagan cities, and the little missionary band, who have re- cently left our shores for the islands of the Pa- cific, are already familiar with the natural his- tory of the places of their intended residence, the former and the present improved character of the inhabitants,the present state and pros- pects of the mission, and even with the names, if ot with the persons of the individuals, who are expecting to greet their arrival on those dis- tant shores. Not so, with our pilgrim fathers; they knew little or nothing of the place where they intended to settle. They had no knowl- edge of the manners, customs, and language of the savage tribes, that inhabited the country where they expected to reside. All that they knew, and all that they cared to know, was, that it was far away from ecelesh stical domina- tion,that there was no hierarchy, to control their faith and mode of worshipno star cham- ber to test their conformity with fire and faggot, no royal prerogative of lordship over the con- science. Of almost every thing else, respecting the state and condition of the new world, they were ignorant. Considered as part of an exclusively religious celebration, the sermon is ex- ceedingly well adapted to the occasion. Its tone is catholic and liberal. A Discourse, delivered before the Massachusetts society for the Suppression of Intemperance, May 23, 1832. By William Sullivan. The occasion and the object of this publication we need not take the trou- ble to explain, it being already, we pre- sume, in extensive and useful circula- tion. The author has treated his sub- ject,common-place and almost offen- sive as it is,in such a manner as to make it really entertaining as well as instructive. Waiving statistics and mi

Literary Notices. tales is that of Prince Ahmed al Ka- mel, or the Pilgrim of Love, which af- fords the author an opportunity of dis- playing his best powerthat is, a quiet, collateral satire and humor, that is not necessarily a part of the tale, but for which the tale seems, in part, to be a vehicle; so that it is hard to say which one was made for the other. Prince Ahmed, it was predicted by the astrolo- gers, who spoke upon safe grounds, without asking the stars, was threaten- ed with much danger from love, and his father shut him up in a tower, with the sage Bonabbon, from whom he could learn as little as from Cato the Censor. The sage,to renderthe imprisonmentless tedious to the Prince, instructed him in the language of birds, but found, too late, that the birds conversed upon little but the fatal and interdicted subjects. Every thing, in fact, conspired to re- mind the Prince of it, and to urge him to increase his knowledge of the myste- ry. Every thing to the captive breath- ed of love. Methought the billows spoke and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced The name. The nightingale and the dove were, however, the chief instructers of the Prince; and the dove brought him a letter from a Princess, similarly impris- oned, for her tendency to similar ab- struse studies. He escaped from his prison, and under the guidance of an owl, began his travels to discover the Princess. A parrot became the emis- sary to the lady; and by the advice of his companions with a little aid from magic, Prince Ahmed accomplished the liberation of the Princess, and pass- ed, according to the established form, a happy life. Some of the colloquies with the owl are very comic. This wise bird became prime minister, and the parrot, master of ceremonies. It is needless to say, writes the author, that never was a realm inure sagely administered, or a court conducted with more exact punctilios. The Faith of the Pilgrims; a Ser- mon, delivered at Plymouth, on the Twenty- Second of December, 1831. By John Cod- man, D. D. After a brief sketch of the circum- stances under which the Forefathers of New-England commenced their pilgrim- age which has resulted in the erection of a new empire in the world, Dr. Cod- man institutes a comparison between those pilgrim fathers and the ancestors of the Jewish nation, and traces out affecting and wonderful resemblances. We were somewhat surprised, that a man of his religious opinions, should have given utterance to sentiments like the following. The frankness and can- dor of the writer is certainly to be com- mended; and we apprehend that few sectarian preachers of the present day, would be independent enough to tell so much truth, unasked for. The con- trast presented in the extract is striking. In these days of refinement,when there is more luxury and extravagance on that very soil, which was at the time of the landing of our fath- ers a dreary wilderness, and the abode of savage man, than existed in the long settled country of their nativity at tbe time of their embarkation, it iodifficult to conceive of the sacrifices,which they must have made, and the hardships, which they must have endured, in leaving their homes and firesides, and in effecting a settlement in a sav- age wilderness. We are accustomed, in these times, to speak of the sacrifices, made by the missionaries of the cross, and of the trials to which they are exposed, in leaving their native country to preach the gospel in foreign lands. But what are they, when compared with the sacrifices and hardships endured by our pilgrim fathers! The servant of the cross, bound to distant India, is as intimately acquainted with Calcutta, Bombay, and Ceylon, as if he had himself been a resident in those pagan cities, and the little missionary band, who have re- cently left our shores for the islands of the Pa- cific, are already familiar with the natural his- tory of the places of their intended residence, the former and the present improved character of the inhabitants,the present state and pros- pects of the mission, and even with the names, if ot with the persons of the individuals, who are expecting to greet their arrival on those dis- tant shores. Not so, with our pilgrim fathers; they knew little or nothing of the place where they intended to settle. They had no knowl- edge of the manners, customs, and language of the savage tribes, that inhabited the country where they expected to reside. All that they knew, and all that they cared to know, was, that it was far away from ecelesh stical domina- tion,that there was no hierarchy, to control their faith and mode of worshipno star cham- ber to test their conformity with fire and faggot, no royal prerogative of lordship over the con- science. Of almost every thing else, respecting the state and condition of the new world, they were ignorant. Considered as part of an exclusively religious celebration, the sermon is ex- ceedingly well adapted to the occasion. Its tone is catholic and liberal. A Discourse, delivered before the Massachusetts society for the Suppression of Intemperance, May 23, 1832. By William Sullivan. The occasion and the object of this publication we need not take the trou- ble to explain, it being already, we pre- sume, in extensive and useful circula- tion. The author has treated his sub- ject,common-place and almost offen- sive as it is,in such a manner as to make it really entertaining as well as instructive. Waiving statistics and mi flute descriptions, in a great measure, he has looked into history and philos- ophy, and brought them hoth to hear, equally and effectively, in unison with the decision of common sense, which every mans own experience will con- firm. As introductory to his address, Mr. Sullivan has given a few facts and dates, connected with the origin and progress of the society he was address- ing, from which we learn that it origin- ated in 1805; that the Rev. Dr. Wor- cester, of Salem, wets the earliest mover, with a view to social measures of reform but what mind first conceived of the abolition of intemperance, cannot now be known. Mr. Sullivan says In Dec. 1813, a circularletter was issued, which is signed Samuel Dexter, and which contains onclusive internal evidence, that it came from the gifted mind of this eminent citizen. At the next anniversary meeting an address was deliv- ered by the reverend Dr. Kirkland, late presi- dent of Harvard University. The first officers of this society were chosen in 1813, and were as follows: The Hon. Samuel Dexter, Presi- dent; Gen. John Brooks, Dr. John Warren lion. Benjamin Pickman, Jr. Vice Presidents; Rev. Abiel Abbott, Corresponding Secretary; Rev. Joshua Huntin on, Recording Secretary; Samuel H. Walley, Esq. Treasurer; Rev. John T. Kirkland, Rev. John Lathrop, Rev. Samuel Worcester, Hon. Nathan Dane, Hon. Timothy Bigelow, 11ev. John Pierce, Richard Sullivan, Esq. Jeremiah Evarts, Esq. Counsellors. Notwithstanding the eminent names which appear in these earliest efforts, and the faithful labors bestowed, the plan received little en- couragernent. It was held, by many sensible men, to be visionary. The use of ardent spir- its was then so common ; ithad been so long approved ; it was so interwoven with the cus- toms of social life, that it was honestly believ- ed to be irremediable by individual exertions, systematic combinations, or penal laws. Yet the original founders persevered ; many of thorn lived to rejoice in their labors; to behold radical changes in private opinion; the establishment of numerous societies ; and to die in the be- lief, that the day would come, in which the use of ardent spirits, as driak, would be entirely abolished. This effort at reform may be likened to the enterprize of our pilgrim fathers. The question which these adventurers must have put to themselves, and must have answered affirma- tively, wasCan the natives of the forest, who hold by a right transmitted throu~h a~es, be in- duced to retire, the wilderness be annihilated the beams of the sun admitted, and the earth adapted to civilization? So the reformers of in- temperance roust have asked, and must have answered, the questions: Can we as~ail and subdue a practice pervading all classes, to which no reproach is attached, and which is connected with manly and generous virtues? Can we pour in upon the benighted and deluded world, the - beams of truth, emanating from Hun, who founded the law of self-respect, and self-inter- est? They answered as the pilgrims answered This can be done; and, with the blessings of the ALMIGHTY, it shall be dsue. Already, these laborers have advanced so far, and so many isave joirred in the enterprize, that the border of this dark wilderness is cleared, and is widening and penet.ratin~ and. the 83 echoes of tise axe resound In the forest, which is next to fall and disappear. There are several very forcible pas- sages in the address, which we would extract, hut that, as above hinted, it is presumed, that the pamphlet is in the. hands of the greater portion of the New-England population. Some of the writers arguments in reference to the trade in ardent spirits, will not be ad- mitted, at present, as legitimate; and many, no doubt, will reproach him as a meddler with other mens affairs. In the extract which follows, the Legisla- ture will find an ample apology for the caution it has observed, in reference to propositions, which, however well-in- tended, would, if adopted, have excit- ed an evil, worse than that for which it is so desirable to provide a remedy. Legislative and executive authority re some- times reproached among us, for the facilities which they afford for the sale of ardent spirits. It is not to be supposed that the moral condi- tion of society depends on statute laws. Suds laws provide remedies for private wrongs, for the regulation of public rights and duties, and for the punishment of misdemeanors, and great crimes. They do not reach practices, which are right, according to the existing state of pub- lic sentiment. As all legislative bodies and all executive of- ficers, who depend on popular elections, legis- late, and act pursuant to their perception of the public will; if we would have legislation con- sistent with tile calls of humanity, and have ex- ecutive discretion applied to reform, it roust first be established, that the public voice de- mands such legislation and reform. In every nation, where no military subjection is estab- lished, as good laws, and as good rules are found, as the majority desire, or, certainly, as good as that majority are suited to have. In the case before us, the labors of reformers are not ad- dressed only to those who make laws and those who grant licenses to sell spirits, but to all rea- sonable beings throughout the community. When these, or a powerful majority of them, feel, that it is dis aceful to license the sale, or permit the sale of ardent spirits, the laws will become, just what the majority would have them to be; and executive officers will know, that such laws must be enforced, or that their powers will soon corare to an end. The day is, probably, not very distant, when our laws will prohibit, under eriffici ut penalties, the sale of an article, which is admitted try all who pretend to know right from wrong, to be not only unne- cessary, but the principal cause of disqualifica- tion to perform any civic or social duty; and the promotive cause of nearly all the crimes which disgrace the age. Unless we entirely misunderstand the history of mankind, the de- sign of rerans creation, and his power over himself to promote his own welfare, the use of ardent spirits will, eventusally, be abolished, and society will fence out its presence with as much zeal and sincerity, as though it were a fa- tal and unsparing pestilence. Ladies Family Library. By Mrs. Child. Vol. t. The publishers propose to continue this work to several volumes. In the present volume are biographies of Mad- Literary Notices.

flute descriptions, in a great measure, he has looked into history and philos- ophy, and brought them hoth to hear, equally and effectively, in unison with the decision of common sense, which every mans own experience will con- firm. As introductory to his address, Mr. Sullivan has given a few facts and dates, connected with the origin and progress of the society he was address- ing, from which we learn that it origin- ated in 1805; that the Rev. Dr. Wor- cester, of Salem, wets the earliest mover, with a view to social measures of reform but what mind first conceived of the abolition of intemperance, cannot now be known. Mr. Sullivan says In Dec. 1813, a circularletter was issued, which is signed Samuel Dexter, and which contains onclusive internal evidence, that it came from the gifted mind of this eminent citizen. At the next anniversary meeting an address was deliv- ered by the reverend Dr. Kirkland, late presi- dent of Harvard University. The first officers of this society were chosen in 1813, and were as follows: The Hon. Samuel Dexter, Presi- dent; Gen. John Brooks, Dr. John Warren lion. Benjamin Pickman, Jr. Vice Presidents; Rev. Abiel Abbott, Corresponding Secretary; Rev. Joshua Huntin on, Recording Secretary; Samuel H. Walley, Esq. Treasurer; Rev. John T. Kirkland, Rev. John Lathrop, Rev. Samuel Worcester, Hon. Nathan Dane, Hon. Timothy Bigelow, 11ev. John Pierce, Richard Sullivan, Esq. Jeremiah Evarts, Esq. Counsellors. Notwithstanding the eminent names which appear in these earliest efforts, and the faithful labors bestowed, the plan received little en- couragernent. It was held, by many sensible men, to be visionary. The use of ardent spir- its was then so common ; ithad been so long approved ; it was so interwoven with the cus- toms of social life, that it was honestly believ- ed to be irremediable by individual exertions, systematic combinations, or penal laws. Yet the original founders persevered ; many of thorn lived to rejoice in their labors; to behold radical changes in private opinion; the establishment of numerous societies ; and to die in the be- lief, that the day would come, in which the use of ardent spirits, as driak, would be entirely abolished. This effort at reform may be likened to the enterprize of our pilgrim fathers. The question which these adventurers must have put to themselves, and must have answered affirma- tively, wasCan the natives of the forest, who hold by a right transmitted throu~h a~es, be in- duced to retire, the wilderness be annihilated the beams of the sun admitted, and the earth adapted to civilization? So the reformers of in- temperance roust have asked, and must have answered, the questions: Can we as~ail and subdue a practice pervading all classes, to which no reproach is attached, and which is connected with manly and generous virtues? Can we pour in upon the benighted and deluded world, the - beams of truth, emanating from Hun, who founded the law of self-respect, and self-inter- est? They answered as the pilgrims answered This can be done; and, with the blessings of the ALMIGHTY, it shall be dsue. Already, these laborers have advanced so far, and so many isave joirred in the enterprize, that the border of this dark wilderness is cleared, and is widening and penet.ratin~ and. the 83 echoes of tise axe resound In the forest, which is next to fall and disappear. There are several very forcible pas- sages in the address, which we would extract, hut that, as above hinted, it is presumed, that the pamphlet is in the. hands of the greater portion of the New-England population. Some of the writers arguments in reference to the trade in ardent spirits, will not be ad- mitted, at present, as legitimate; and many, no doubt, will reproach him as a meddler with other mens affairs. In the extract which follows, the Legisla- ture will find an ample apology for the caution it has observed, in reference to propositions, which, however well-in- tended, would, if adopted, have excit- ed an evil, worse than that for which it is so desirable to provide a remedy. Legislative and executive authority re some- times reproached among us, for the facilities which they afford for the sale of ardent spirits. It is not to be supposed that the moral condi- tion of society depends on statute laws. Suds laws provide remedies for private wrongs, for the regulation of public rights and duties, and for the punishment of misdemeanors, and great crimes. They do not reach practices, which are right, according to the existing state of pub- lic sentiment. As all legislative bodies and all executive of- ficers, who depend on popular elections, legis- late, and act pursuant to their perception of the public will; if we would have legislation con- sistent with tile calls of humanity, and have ex- ecutive discretion applied to reform, it roust first be established, that the public voice de- mands such legislation and reform. In every nation, where no military subjection is estab- lished, as good laws, and as good rules are found, as the majority desire, or, certainly, as good as that majority are suited to have. In the case before us, the labors of reformers are not ad- dressed only to those who make laws and those who grant licenses to sell spirits, but to all rea- sonable beings throughout the community. When these, or a powerful majority of them, feel, that it is dis aceful to license the sale, or permit the sale of ardent spirits, the laws will become, just what the majority would have them to be; and executive officers will know, that such laws must be enforced, or that their powers will soon corare to an end. The day is, probably, not very distant, when our laws will prohibit, under eriffici ut penalties, the sale of an article, which is admitted try all who pretend to know right from wrong, to be not only unne- cessary, but the principal cause of disqualifica- tion to perform any civic or social duty; and the promotive cause of nearly all the crimes which disgrace the age. Unless we entirely misunderstand the history of mankind, the de- sign of rerans creation, and his power over himself to promote his own welfare, the use of ardent spirits will, eventusally, be abolished, and society will fence out its presence with as much zeal and sincerity, as though it were a fa- tal and unsparing pestilence. Ladies Family Library. By Mrs. Child. Vol. t. The publishers propose to continue this work to several volumes. In the present volume are biographies of Mad- Literary Notices. 84 ame de Stael, and Madame Roland, the two most extraordinary women of their time. The materials for a life of the former are not very full, and they were much scattered in various works; Mad- ame Roland, however, left a most mi- nute and interesting account of herself. The Ladies Family Library forms a neat and instructive volume. Correspondence between the First Church and the Tabernacle Church in Salem. In which the Duties of Churches are discuss- ed, and the Rights of Conscience vindicated. This is a pamphlet of nearly two hun- dred pages, mostly occupied with con- troversial-religious tuatter, upon the merits of which we shall not here un- dertake to decide. The occasion of it was the application of a lady who had left one of these Churches, for admit- tance to the other. The views of the former, in relation to the propriety of granting the request, are given succinct- ly in a Report appended, among other documents, to the Correspondence. Most of the pamphlet is understood, we believe, to be from the pen of the Junior Pastor of the First Church. Biography of Stephen Girard. By Stephen Simpson. The subject of this biography has been long known to the public as a most opulent banker. Something, also, of his peculiarities of temper, or, as his biographer would call them, of genius, were known; but Mr. Simpson has sup- plied much more. his means for gain- ing information were great, and his facts are probably indisputable. But up- on these facts he builds a strange theo- ry, namely, that Girard was, during his whole life, incited by the high ambi- tion of posthumous fame; or, in other words, that while he lived, he was sor- did, avaricious and unfeeling, that his benevolence and philanthropy might be the more apparent to posterity. The book contains so many traits of Girard, that it will be acceptable to all who de- light in strange and anomalous charac- ters. A correspondent has furnished some notice of it in another part of the Magazine. Commentaries on the Law of Bail- ments. By J. Story, LL. D. t532. This work will be welcomed by the legal profession, in this country cer- tainly, and, we doubt riot, in England also, with even more than the deference, which is usually paid to the productions of its distinguished author. It is a work much needed, both theoretically and practically, for the man of business, for the lawyer, and, of course, for the student. No principles are of more common ap- plication than those relating to the Law of Bailments. Judge Story makes that term equivalent to a delivery of a thing in trust for some special obje t or pur- pose, and upon a contract, express or implied, to conform to the object or pur- pose of the trust. This definition in- cludes Deposites, Mandates, (bailments without fee,) Loans for use, Pawns, and Hiringsthe latter department alone comprising four sub-divisions. Under one of them is discussed the law of the right and responsibility OfWAEEHOTJSE- MEN, of WnAaFscccEas, of FACTORS and BAILIFFs. Separate treatises are also appropriated to Po sT-MAsTERs, INN- KEEPERS, COMMON-CARRIERS, and CAR- RIER5 of PASSENGE as. It must be obvi- ous to any man, who trades or travels, in any line of business, or in any sec- tion of the country, that principles re- lating to these subjects cannot but be continually coming up for his own de- cision. The saving of time, trouble, vexation, delay and expense, which might be effected by a tolerable familiar- ity with them, on the part of every citi- zen, is really beyond calculation. In regard to the profession, whose substantive business it is to be familiar with these matters, they need not be re- minded of tie deficiencies heretofore existing in this branch of the law. Blackstone devotes less than two pages to the whole subject of Bailments. Sir William Joness Essay is indeed a mas- ter-piece of elegant and learned disser- tation. But that, like Blackstones more linilted treatise, is by no means without inaccuracies and deficiences, so far as it purports to go. Nor does it go far enough. The most valuable part of the Law of Bailments has been, not formed indeed, but precisely ascertained, thor- oughly established, and minutely illus- tinted, since the publication of the Essay. The illustrations which Judge Story has all along borrowed from the Civil and Continental Law of Europe, are also an addition of great value and great interest. The extraordinary res- earch devoted to this volume is really a matter of admiration; the labor must have been prodigious. The style is characteristically luminous, elegant and exact. It is the materiel of a practical man~ in the manner of an accomplished scholar. Literary Notices.

84 ame de Stael, and Madame Roland, the two most extraordinary women of their time. The materials for a life of the former are not very full, and they were much scattered in various works; Mad- ame Roland, however, left a most mi- nute and interesting account of herself. The Ladies Family Library forms a neat and instructive volume. Correspondence between the First Church and the Tabernacle Church in Salem. In which the Duties of Churches are discuss- ed, and the Rights of Conscience vindicated. This is a pamphlet of nearly two hun- dred pages, mostly occupied with con- troversial-religious tuatter, upon the merits of which we shall not here un- dertake to decide. The occasion of it was the application of a lady who had left one of these Churches, for admit- tance to the other. The views of the former, in relation to the propriety of granting the request, are given succinct- ly in a Report appended, among other documents, to the Correspondence. Most of the pamphlet is understood, we believe, to be from the pen of the Junior Pastor of the First Church. Biography of Stephen Girard. By Stephen Simpson. The subject of this biography has been long known to the public as a most opulent banker. Something, also, of his peculiarities of temper, or, as his biographer would call them, of genius, were known; but Mr. Simpson has sup- plied much more. his means for gain- ing information were great, and his facts are probably indisputable. But up- on these facts he builds a strange theo- ry, namely, that Girard was, during his whole life, incited by the high ambi- tion of posthumous fame; or, in other words, that while he lived, he was sor- did, avaricious and unfeeling, that his benevolence and philanthropy might be the more apparent to posterity. The book contains so many traits of Girard, that it will be acceptable to all who de- light in strange and anomalous charac- ters. A correspondent has furnished some notice of it in another part of the Magazine. Commentaries on the Law of Bail- ments. By J. Story, LL. D. t532. This work will be welcomed by the legal profession, in this country cer- tainly, and, we doubt riot, in England also, with even more than the deference, which is usually paid to the productions of its distinguished author. It is a work much needed, both theoretically and practically, for the man of business, for the lawyer, and, of course, for the student. No principles are of more common ap- plication than those relating to the Law of Bailments. Judge Story makes that term equivalent to a delivery of a thing in trust for some special obje t or pur- pose, and upon a contract, express or implied, to conform to the object or pur- pose of the trust. This definition in- cludes Deposites, Mandates, (bailments without fee,) Loans for use, Pawns, and Hiringsthe latter department alone comprising four sub-divisions. Under one of them is discussed the law of the right and responsibility OfWAEEHOTJSE- MEN, of WnAaFscccEas, of FACTORS and BAILIFFs. Separate treatises are also appropriated to Po sT-MAsTERs, INN- KEEPERS, COMMON-CARRIERS, and CAR- RIER5 of PASSENGE as. It must be obvi- ous to any man, who trades or travels, in any line of business, or in any sec- tion of the country, that principles re- lating to these subjects cannot but be continually coming up for his own de- cision. The saving of time, trouble, vexation, delay and expense, which might be effected by a tolerable familiar- ity with them, on the part of every citi- zen, is really beyond calculation. In regard to the profession, whose substantive business it is to be familiar with these matters, they need not be re- minded of tie deficiencies heretofore existing in this branch of the law. Blackstone devotes less than two pages to the whole subject of Bailments. Sir William Joness Essay is indeed a mas- ter-piece of elegant and learned disser- tation. But that, like Blackstones more linilted treatise, is by no means without inaccuracies and deficiences, so far as it purports to go. Nor does it go far enough. The most valuable part of the Law of Bailments has been, not formed indeed, but precisely ascertained, thor- oughly established, and minutely illus- tinted, since the publication of the Essay. The illustrations which Judge Story has all along borrowed from the Civil and Continental Law of Europe, are also an addition of great value and great interest. The extraordinary res- earch devoted to this volume is really a matter of admiration; the labor must have been prodigious. The style is characteristically luminous, elegant and exact. It is the materiel of a practical man~ in the manner of an accomplished scholar. Literary Notices.

84 ame de Stael, and Madame Roland, the two most extraordinary women of their time. The materials for a life of the former are not very full, and they were much scattered in various works; Mad- ame Roland, however, left a most mi- nute and interesting account of herself. The Ladies Family Library forms a neat and instructive volume. Correspondence between the First Church and the Tabernacle Church in Salem. In which the Duties of Churches are discuss- ed, and the Rights of Conscience vindicated. This is a pamphlet of nearly two hun- dred pages, mostly occupied with con- troversial-religious tuatter, upon the merits of which we shall not here un- dertake to decide. The occasion of it was the application of a lady who had left one of these Churches, for admit- tance to the other. The views of the former, in relation to the propriety of granting the request, are given succinct- ly in a Report appended, among other documents, to the Correspondence. Most of the pamphlet is understood, we believe, to be from the pen of the Junior Pastor of the First Church. Biography of Stephen Girard. By Stephen Simpson. The subject of this biography has been long known to the public as a most opulent banker. Something, also, of his peculiarities of temper, or, as his biographer would call them, of genius, were known; but Mr. Simpson has sup- plied much more. his means for gain- ing information were great, and his facts are probably indisputable. But up- on these facts he builds a strange theo- ry, namely, that Girard was, during his whole life, incited by the high ambi- tion of posthumous fame; or, in other words, that while he lived, he was sor- did, avaricious and unfeeling, that his benevolence and philanthropy might be the more apparent to posterity. The book contains so many traits of Girard, that it will be acceptable to all who de- light in strange and anomalous charac- ters. A correspondent has furnished some notice of it in another part of the Magazine. Commentaries on the Law of Bail- ments. By J. Story, LL. D. t532. This work will be welcomed by the legal profession, in this country cer- tainly, and, we doubt riot, in England also, with even more than the deference, which is usually paid to the productions of its distinguished author. It is a work much needed, both theoretically and practically, for the man of business, for the lawyer, and, of course, for the student. No principles are of more common ap- plication than those relating to the Law of Bailments. Judge Story makes that term equivalent to a delivery of a thing in trust for some special obje t or pur- pose, and upon a contract, express or implied, to conform to the object or pur- pose of the trust. This definition in- cludes Deposites, Mandates, (bailments without fee,) Loans for use, Pawns, and Hiringsthe latter department alone comprising four sub-divisions. Under one of them is discussed the law of the right and responsibility OfWAEEHOTJSE- MEN, of WnAaFscccEas, of FACTORS and BAILIFFs. Separate treatises are also appropriated to Po sT-MAsTERs, INN- KEEPERS, COMMON-CARRIERS, and CAR- RIER5 of PASSENGE as. It must be obvi- ous to any man, who trades or travels, in any line of business, or in any sec- tion of the country, that principles re- lating to these subjects cannot but be continually coming up for his own de- cision. The saving of time, trouble, vexation, delay and expense, which might be effected by a tolerable familiar- ity with them, on the part of every citi- zen, is really beyond calculation. In regard to the profession, whose substantive business it is to be familiar with these matters, they need not be re- minded of tie deficiencies heretofore existing in this branch of the law. Blackstone devotes less than two pages to the whole subject of Bailments. Sir William Joness Essay is indeed a mas- ter-piece of elegant and learned disser- tation. But that, like Blackstones more linilted treatise, is by no means without inaccuracies and deficiences, so far as it purports to go. Nor does it go far enough. The most valuable part of the Law of Bailments has been, not formed indeed, but precisely ascertained, thor- oughly established, and minutely illus- tinted, since the publication of the Essay. The illustrations which Judge Story has all along borrowed from the Civil and Continental Law of Europe, are also an addition of great value and great interest. The extraordinary res- earch devoted to this volume is really a matter of admiration; the labor must have been prodigious. The style is characteristically luminous, elegant and exact. It is the materiel of a practical man~ in the manner of an accomplished scholar. Literary Notices.

84 ame de Stael, and Madame Roland, the two most extraordinary women of their time. The materials for a life of the former are not very full, and they were much scattered in various works; Mad- ame Roland, however, left a most mi- nute and interesting account of herself. The Ladies Family Library forms a neat and instructive volume. Correspondence between the First Church and the Tabernacle Church in Salem. In which the Duties of Churches are discuss- ed, and the Rights of Conscience vindicated. This is a pamphlet of nearly two hun- dred pages, mostly occupied with con- troversial-religious tuatter, upon the merits of which we shall not here un- dertake to decide. The occasion of it was the application of a lady who had left one of these Churches, for admit- tance to the other. The views of the former, in relation to the propriety of granting the request, are given succinct- ly in a Report appended, among other documents, to the Correspondence. Most of the pamphlet is understood, we believe, to be from the pen of the Junior Pastor of the First Church. Biography of Stephen Girard. By Stephen Simpson. The subject of this biography has been long known to the public as a most opulent banker. Something, also, of his peculiarities of temper, or, as his biographer would call them, of genius, were known; but Mr. Simpson has sup- plied much more. his means for gain- ing information were great, and his facts are probably indisputable. But up- on these facts he builds a strange theo- ry, namely, that Girard was, during his whole life, incited by the high ambi- tion of posthumous fame; or, in other words, that while he lived, he was sor- did, avaricious and unfeeling, that his benevolence and philanthropy might be the more apparent to posterity. The book contains so many traits of Girard, that it will be acceptable to all who de- light in strange and anomalous charac- ters. A correspondent has furnished some notice of it in another part of the Magazine. Commentaries on the Law of Bail- ments. By J. Story, LL. D. t532. This work will be welcomed by the legal profession, in this country cer- tainly, and, we doubt riot, in England also, with even more than the deference, which is usually paid to the productions of its distinguished author. It is a work much needed, both theoretically and practically, for the man of business, for the lawyer, and, of course, for the student. No principles are of more common ap- plication than those relating to the Law of Bailments. Judge Story makes that term equivalent to a delivery of a thing in trust for some special obje t or pur- pose, and upon a contract, express or implied, to conform to the object or pur- pose of the trust. This definition in- cludes Deposites, Mandates, (bailments without fee,) Loans for use, Pawns, and Hiringsthe latter department alone comprising four sub-divisions. Under one of them is discussed the law of the right and responsibility OfWAEEHOTJSE- MEN, of WnAaFscccEas, of FACTORS and BAILIFFs. Separate treatises are also appropriated to Po sT-MAsTERs, INN- KEEPERS, COMMON-CARRIERS, and CAR- RIER5 of PASSENGE as. It must be obvi- ous to any man, who trades or travels, in any line of business, or in any sec- tion of the country, that principles re- lating to these subjects cannot but be continually coming up for his own de- cision. The saving of time, trouble, vexation, delay and expense, which might be effected by a tolerable familiar- ity with them, on the part of every citi- zen, is really beyond calculation. In regard to the profession, whose substantive business it is to be familiar with these matters, they need not be re- minded of tie deficiencies heretofore existing in this branch of the law. Blackstone devotes less than two pages to the whole subject of Bailments. Sir William Joness Essay is indeed a mas- ter-piece of elegant and learned disser- tation. But that, like Blackstones more linilted treatise, is by no means without inaccuracies and deficiences, so far as it purports to go. Nor does it go far enough. The most valuable part of the Law of Bailments has been, not formed indeed, but precisely ascertained, thor- oughly established, and minutely illus- tinted, since the publication of the Essay. The illustrations which Judge Story has all along borrowed from the Civil and Continental Law of Europe, are also an addition of great value and great interest. The extraordinary res- earch devoted to this volume is really a matter of admiration; the labor must have been prodigious. The style is characteristically luminous, elegant and exact. It is the materiel of a practical man~ in the manner of an accomplished scholar. Literary Notices. DEATHS, AND OBITUARY NOTICES OF PERSONS LATELY DECEASED. In Lincoln, the Hon. SAMUEL HOAR, aged . This excellent man lived to a great and good purpose, and set a worthy example in public and private,in faithfalness, industry, temper- ance, and the virtues which adorn the social circle and the ordinary walks of life. The sphere in which he moved, by the allotment of Divine Providence, was not indeed so enlarged and conspicuous as that of many others but for real worth of character and usefulness in society, he was excelled by few; and he justly merited the high respect and atitude of his fellow citizens. Through protracted and ac- tive life, and in various offices, he sustained a character uniform, dignified and religious. The natural powers of his mind were strong and vigorous above mediocrity, and were cultivated by mental exertion and a wise improvement of the advantages within his reach. He was a thinking and reasoaia~, man, but not loquacious nor ambitious. He was a warm and zealous patriot,was engaged as an officer in the fight at Concord, on the memorable 19th of April, 1775, and afterwards in the Continental army; and from that time, till advanced age, he was employed in public business. At some periods, his political opinions, as to men and measures, differed from those of some of his copatriots and other distinguished characters; but no one call- ed in question the uprightness of his intentions, nor his love of country and liberty with or- der. For a long series of years he represented his native town in the General Court, and for a number was a member of the Senate. As a magistrate of the county he long held a com- mission, and held the sword of justice not in vain. In the relation of citizen, husband, pa- rent, and neighbor, he won the affection, re- spect, and honor of all connected with him, and was acknowledged a great support and blessing to the town and the church. Having early professed the Christian religion and perse- vered in its practice, he enjoyed its consola- tions in his last painful disorder. Being satis~ fled with life, sub missive to the will of God, and sustained by the hope of the gospel, he quietly fell asleep. lii Boston, BICHARO DERBY, Esq. formerly a Captain in the United States Navy, aged 97. Capt. Derby was a native of Salem, and for many years a most active ship-master, alike distinguished for his enterprize and humanity. About the year 1793 or 1794, the French Con- sul went to Salem, with the principal French gentlemen in Boston, and presented him the colors of the French Republic, for his humanity in taking a large a number of Frenchmen, o were left by the English in a state of starvation and transporting them where they would be re- lieved. When the Essex Frigate was built by the Salem merchants for the government, Capt. Derby, at their recommendation, was aupointed to the command, but not arriving in season, he was appointed to the command of another ship. He served several years as a Captain in the Navy, and if he had not resigned, would have been for many years past the senior officer in the Navy. But being engaged successfully in commerce, he did not think it proper, whilst pursuing his mercantile operations, to hold his commission, and resigned. Having sustained a reverse of fortune, he was appointed by Pres- ident Adams, Navy Agent at Pensacolafrom this office he was removed by President Jack- son, and about a year since was appointed to the command of the Revenue Cutter. In Boston, June 19, Mr. ROBERT H. HOWARO1 aged 21. He was drowned with eight other gentlemen of the city, by the upsetting of a boat in the harbor. The memory of the virtues is a precious in- heritance to the living ;and when such are taken from us by a striking dispensation of Providence, and under circumstances peculiarly distressing and painful the remembrance of what they were, and a faithful delineation of their character, is not only necessary but useful as a source of consolation to the mourner, as an example to the living, and as an act of justice to those whose departure we are called upon so feelingly and truly to lament. Of this number is ROBERT H. HowARn. He was just entering upon the active business and duties of life, engaging with earnestness in the benevolent enterprises of the day, and was soon to have bound himself by a still dearer tie to society, when the silver cord was loosed and his usefulness terminated, by the calamity of the past week, and brought to an early, we had almost said, a premature death. Young How- ard was educated at our public schools, and such was his diligence, application, and talents, that on leaving the High School he was as con- spicuous for his attainments, as he was respect- ed and beloved for his amiable deportment, his benevolence of feeling, and the purity of his moral character. His classmates will long remember him as a member of the Scholars Club, and the interest which he at all times manifested in the welfare of each and all of their number. For a young man, his umind was uncommonly mature. His thoughts on most subjects were accurate, and well defined; and there was a propriety and modesty in the ex- pression which he gave to them that won the regard even of those who were personally strangers to him. In more than one particular he was a model for the young. At the early age, we think, of seventeen, he became a teach- er in the Sunday School of the Society where he worshipped; and those who were associated with him in this labor, will long delight to dwell upon the interest which he manifested in this important subject, the striking punctuality and consistency with which he always met his little class to the last Sunday which he spent on earth,and the intelligence, engagedness, and love which he brought to the performance of this interesting duty. He cherished habitually serious impressions for himself, and endeavored to impart them to those entrusted to his care. By precept, however, as well as by example, it was his constant aim to associate all that was pleasant, and cheerful, and truly happy,with the subject of Religion ; and no precepts or living example could be more persuasive than lila, to accompliels this desirable end. There was another trait in the character of young Howard which we must not omit to notice. This trait was the earnest desire he constantly exhibited to develop in equal proportions all the faculties of his nature and the result of it was, a beau- tiful propriety in the discharge of all his duties, relative, social, political and religious. Young as he was, he had already won no small space in the cousfidence of the community. Active in the associations to which he belonged, he was called, at times, to act in an official manner in plans of benevolence and usefulness. But his deportment was so unassuming, his discharge of duty so faithful and acceptable, and his nuan- ners so kind and conciliating, that the en-

DEATHS, AND OBITUARY NOTICES OF PERSONS LATELY DECEASED. In Lincoln, the Hon. SAMUEL HOAR, aged . This excellent man lived to a great and good purpose, and set a worthy example in public and private,in faithfalness, industry, temper- ance, and the virtues which adorn the social circle and the ordinary walks of life. The sphere in which he moved, by the allotment of Divine Providence, was not indeed so enlarged and conspicuous as that of many others but for real worth of character and usefulness in society, he was excelled by few; and he justly merited the high respect and atitude of his fellow citizens. Through protracted and ac- tive life, and in various offices, he sustained a character uniform, dignified and religious. The natural powers of his mind were strong and vigorous above mediocrity, and were cultivated by mental exertion and a wise improvement of the advantages within his reach. He was a thinking and reasoaia~, man, but not loquacious nor ambitious. He was a warm and zealous patriot,was engaged as an officer in the fight at Concord, on the memorable 19th of April, 1775, and afterwards in the Continental army; and from that time, till advanced age, he was employed in public business. At some periods, his political opinions, as to men and measures, differed from those of some of his copatriots and other distinguished characters; but no one call- ed in question the uprightness of his intentions, nor his love of country and liberty with or- der. For a long series of years he represented his native town in the General Court, and for a number was a member of the Senate. As a magistrate of the county he long held a com- mission, and held the sword of justice not in vain. In the relation of citizen, husband, pa- rent, and neighbor, he won the affection, re- spect, and honor of all connected with him, and was acknowledged a great support and blessing to the town and the church. Having early professed the Christian religion and perse- vered in its practice, he enjoyed its consola- tions in his last painful disorder. Being satis~ fled with life, sub missive to the will of God, and sustained by the hope of the gospel, he quietly fell asleep. lii Boston, BICHARO DERBY, Esq. formerly a Captain in the United States Navy, aged 97. Capt. Derby was a native of Salem, and for many years a most active ship-master, alike distinguished for his enterprize and humanity. About the year 1793 or 1794, the French Con- sul went to Salem, with the principal French gentlemen in Boston, and presented him the colors of the French Republic, for his humanity in taking a large a number of Frenchmen, o were left by the English in a state of starvation and transporting them where they would be re- lieved. When the Essex Frigate was built by the Salem merchants for the government, Capt. Derby, at their recommendation, was aupointed to the command, but not arriving in season, he was appointed to the command of another ship. He served several years as a Captain in the Navy, and if he had not resigned, would have been for many years past the senior officer in the Navy. But being engaged successfully in commerce, he did not think it proper, whilst pursuing his mercantile operations, to hold his commission, and resigned. Having sustained a reverse of fortune, he was appointed by Pres- ident Adams, Navy Agent at Pensacolafrom this office he was removed by President Jack- son, and about a year since was appointed to the command of the Revenue Cutter. In Boston, June 19, Mr. ROBERT H. HOWARO1 aged 21. He was drowned with eight other gentlemen of the city, by the upsetting of a boat in the harbor. The memory of the virtues is a precious in- heritance to the living ;and when such are taken from us by a striking dispensation of Providence, and under circumstances peculiarly distressing and painful the remembrance of what they were, and a faithful delineation of their character, is not only necessary but useful as a source of consolation to the mourner, as an example to the living, and as an act of justice to those whose departure we are called upon so feelingly and truly to lament. Of this number is ROBERT H. HowARn. He was just entering upon the active business and duties of life, engaging with earnestness in the benevolent enterprises of the day, and was soon to have bound himself by a still dearer tie to society, when the silver cord was loosed and his usefulness terminated, by the calamity of the past week, and brought to an early, we had almost said, a premature death. Young How- ard was educated at our public schools, and such was his diligence, application, and talents, that on leaving the High School he was as con- spicuous for his attainments, as he was respect- ed and beloved for his amiable deportment, his benevolence of feeling, and the purity of his moral character. His classmates will long remember him as a member of the Scholars Club, and the interest which he at all times manifested in the welfare of each and all of their number. For a young man, his umind was uncommonly mature. His thoughts on most subjects were accurate, and well defined; and there was a propriety and modesty in the ex- pression which he gave to them that won the regard even of those who were personally strangers to him. In more than one particular he was a model for the young. At the early age, we think, of seventeen, he became a teach- er in the Sunday School of the Society where he worshipped; and those who were associated with him in this labor, will long delight to dwell upon the interest which he manifested in this important subject, the striking punctuality and consistency with which he always met his little class to the last Sunday which he spent on earth,and the intelligence, engagedness, and love which he brought to the performance of this interesting duty. He cherished habitually serious impressions for himself, and endeavored to impart them to those entrusted to his care. By precept, however, as well as by example, it was his constant aim to associate all that was pleasant, and cheerful, and truly happy,with the subject of Religion ; and no precepts or living example could be more persuasive than lila, to accompliels this desirable end. There was another trait in the character of young Howard which we must not omit to notice. This trait was the earnest desire he constantly exhibited to develop in equal proportions all the faculties of his nature and the result of it was, a beau- tiful propriety in the discharge of all his duties, relative, social, political and religious. Young as he was, he had already won no small space in the cousfidence of the community. Active in the associations to which he belonged, he was called, at times, to act in an official manner in plans of benevolence and usefulness. But his deportment was so unassuming, his discharge of duty so faithful and acceptable, and his nuan- ners so kind and conciliating, that the en- Obituary Noticcl. vious envlcd hhn not, the young and thought- less were disposed to imitate, and the old re- joiced in the promise which he gave of great future usefulness. In business, he displayed activity, intelligence and strict probity; and had intimated that at the propertimne he should make the necessary sacrifice in it to subserve the great cause of Temperance. The loss of such an indi- vidual must be deeply deplored, even by the com- munity at large. But at home where he w~ an only and beloved sonwhere he was the idol of affectionate sisters, and where he was gar- nered up in the heart of one still more dear, if possible,it would be a vain attempt to repress their unutterable anguish by any words of con- solation. They must find them in the rich le~acy he has left behind hun, insuch aninesti- mable and interesting character; in the hope that he has gone before to receive an eternal re- ward; and, above all, to seek for an unfailing support, where he himself would have brought them to seek it, in the hopes, promises, and re- wards of the Gospel. In Swanzey, Mr. SAMUEL HILLs, aged 75, a soldier of the revolution, and one of the few survivors of the ill-fated Canada campaign of 1775. He was taken prisoner on the retreat of the American army from Canada, in the spring of 1776, and suffered every thing that human nature could endure in the dungeons of Mon- treal. In October of that year, he was libera- ted on parole by the humane Sir Guy Carlton, then Governor of Canada, and sent to Crown Point in an armed shipfrom thence, being unable to walk, on account of long confinement and disease, he traversed the then wilderness of Vermont, s cr tehes-. The effect of these early sufferings in the sacred cause of freedom, he felt through life; but the only compensation he ever received from his country, was a few continental shillings. Ole was an intelligent, honest man, and his life was one of religion and virtue. In Warren, R. I. Nathaniel Phillips, Req. in the 76th year of his age. He was an officer in the Revolutionary army, and faithfully served his country during the whole course of that eventful struggle, which terminated so glorious- ly for the cause of liberty. He served in Sul- livans expedition on Rhode Island; and shared in all the sufferings that befel the American ar- my in their retreat through New-Jersey. At the organization of the Federal Government, Mr. Phillips was appointed by Gen. Washi,sg- ton, surveyor of the port of Warren; which office he continued to lmold until his death. He has, also, during the last thirty years, served as Secretary to the Warren Insurance Com- pany. He served an apprenticcshi.p to the printing business, in Boston, and subsequently was employed in the office of Isaiah Thomas, Esq. and in 1792, established in Warren, the Herald of the United States, the first paper printed in the county, and continued it for a number of years. In Fallsburg, N. V. GARRET VAN BENscue- TEN, aged 77. He took an active part in achiev- ing our independence; he was in several en- gagements, and was at the battle of Fort Mont- gomery; he was one of the few that stood by their cannon and continued to fire on time enemy until they came up to wrest a torch from the hand of Capt. Bruyn, whose invincible courage would not permit him to show the enemy his back on such occasions. Jn New-Vork, Mr. RoereT DUNN, 74. During the revolutionary ~var, Mr. Dunn was a rum- mandem of the express riders, and in this im- portant station was actively and efficiently en- gaged dsmriug the whole xvar, under the very eye of the Fattier of our Country, ~vhose confidence ho enjoyed, and by whom he was er,trusted with the most important secrets of tIme war. In Reading, Penn June 10, JosErH HEISTER, aged 81, greatly beloved by his family and friends, and generally esteemed by all who had the happiness of his acquaintance. He served 8 ihhfully and creditably as an officer in the war of independence. He was a member of the Convention which formed the Constitution of Pennsylvania; he sat for several years in the Scm Ic of Pennsylvania, and was many times elected to serve, and did for mnany sessions seeve in the House of Representatives of the United States. In 1820 he was elected Governor of Pennsylvania, and discharged the imuportant duties of that high station to public satisfac- tion and to the promotion of the public weal. lie declined a re-election, and from that period lived happily in the bosom of his family. At Mount Vernon, on the 14th of June, of a protracted pulmonary complaint, JsHN AUCUs- TIN WAsumNuvoN, in the 44th year of his age. This estimable gentleman was the eldest sur- viving child of Corbin W shin on, who was a nephew to General Washington, and a brother of the late venerated Judge Washing- ton. Mr. Corbin Washington died early in life, but his infant children found in the benev- olent Judge a umost anxious, indulgent, and ju- dicious parent, who, but a short time since be- queathed the famimily mansion (a place of so much interest) to the lamented subject of this notice, who has so speedily followed his uncle to the tomxmb. Mr. Washingtoml, fromam taste, de- voted himself to ajicultural pursuits, in which his habit of thinking and acting fitted him to be, as he was, emninenthy successful. His manners wers gentle and unassuming. No man everhad a kinder heart, and few men a more discrimi- nating or unerring jmmdgement; yet, so retiring was he that those alone could jmmsthy estimate the higher qualities of his smature who had the happiness of an intimate arminaintance with him. His life furnished an example of scrupu- lous discharge of every domestic and social duty. In Alexandria, Va. Hon CHARLEs C. JoHN- STON, one of the Representatives feoma Vir- ginia in the Congress of the Unitemi States. The circumstances of his deatim are reported thus: He had gone to Alexandria to visit a friend, on Smmnday, June 17; ice passed thce evening at his friends lcommse, and left it, in the midst of the storm then raging, to go to the wharf, with a view to take passage on board the umail-boat Sydney, which leaves Alexandria at about nine oclock, P. H. for the city of ~1T shin~ .on. He was attended by a servant, who left him when he had shown himoc within si hi of the wharf. This was the last seen or heard of him until his body xv~ s found on Mon- day afternoon. It is beyond a doubt that he walked into the ship, and struck his head in falling, or he would have saved himself, being an expert swimmamer. His remamus were car- ried to his lodgings on Tuesday mamorning, at- tended by a comucittee of the Corporation of Alexandria. This enelancholy occurremmce cast a gloomem over Congress. Its fatality, indepen- dently of the merits of the deceased, produced a deep sensation. By those who knew him, his death is doubly grieved, his chmaracter for talents and integrity being embellished by the most emcde~ ring personal qmcahitics. His funeral took place fromn the capitol on Tuesday after- noon, amcd was attended by all Congress, both 1le,mses havin5 adjourned as soon as his death was announced. At isis residence, Southc-Mommut, South-Carohi- isa, omc lice 1st of June, Ceo. THOMAS SUMTER, at a very advanced age. TIce fohhowing bin- 86 Obituary Notices. soon after, in the of Virginia. Early iarolina, anti settled nich at that time was hostility of the Indians. Ce then commenced his ulness; for we find that ~okee war, he accom- he Emperor, to Eng- and. ~~oner to s.enowee. Des Johones xvas afterwards sent to Charleston where he was examined and though his guilt was not positively proved, it was deemed expedient to send him to England. From Gen. Sumters letter to the State Rights Association in February last, we learn that he was in Charleston during the high excitement preceding the war of the Revolution, probably in 1774 and 1775, a time to which the letter re- verts with great satisfaction as the period when he enjoyed with the old Whig party of Cam- linaan interchange of the same sentiments which animate the Nullifiers of the present day. We next meet with the name of Sumter in the history of thfii state, in 1780. I-Ic had been previously a colonel of one of the continental regiments, and when in that year the British had overrun the state, he would not remain to submit, but retired with other determined pat- riots into North-Carolina. During his abscence his house was burned, and his family turned out of doors by the British. The little band of exiles in North-Carolina chose him their leader, and at their head he returned to face the victo- rious enemy. When this gallant incursion was made, the people of the slate had for the most part abandoned the idea of resistance and mil- itary operations had been suspended for nearly ~wo months. His followers were in a great measure unfurnished with food, clothing, and ammunition. Farming utensils were worked up by common blacksmiths to supply them with arms. Household pewter was melted into bul- lets; and they sometimes engaged with not three rounds to a man. With a volunteer force thus equipped, he commenced hostilities and broke the quiet of subjection into which Caro- lina seemed to be sinking. On the 12th July, 1780, he attacked a British detachment on the Catawba, supported by a considerable force of toriesand totally routed a A dispersed the whole force, killing Capt. hack, who commanded the British, and Cot. Ferguson who comm nded the Tories. Ani- mated by this success, the inhabitants flocked to his standard; and being reinforced to the number of 600 men, he made a spirited attack on the British post at Rocky Mount, but was repulsed. Marching immediately in quest of other detachments of the enemy, in eight days after, he attacked the post at Ilse Hanging Rock, where he annihilated the Prince of Waless Regiment, and pill to fli~ht a large body of Tories from North-Carolina. When Sum- ters men went into this battle, not one of them had more than ten bs,llets, and towards the close of the fight, the arms and ammunition of the fallen British and Tories were used by the Americans. While the American army, tinder the unfor- tunate Gates, were approachiin5 Camden, Col. Sumter was on the west bank of the Wateree, augmenting his forces and indulging the hope of intercepting the British on their way to Charles- ton, as their retreat or defeat was confidently expected. He here formed a plan for reducing a British redoubt at Wateree Ferry, and inter- cepting a Convoy on the road from Charleston to Camden, in both of which objects he fully succeededand the news of his success reached Gates, while that officer was retreating after his defeat. Hearing of the disaster at Camden, Sumter retreated with his prisoners and spoils up the Wateree, to Fishing Creek, where he wan overtaken by Tarleton on the 18th. The Americans had been four days without provis- ions or sleep, and their videttes being exhaust- ed, suffered them to be surprised ; the conse- quence was their total rout and dispersion. The loss which Sumter sustained was, how- ever, soon repaired, for in three days he rallied his troops, and was again at the head of a re- spectable force. At the head of his little band augmented from time to time by reinforcements - of volunteers, he kept the field unsupported; while, for three months, there was no regular or Continental army in the state. He shifted his position frequently in the vicinity of Broad, Enoree and Tyger Rivers, maintaining a con- tinual skirmishing with the enemy, beating up their quarters, cuttin5 off their supplies, and harassing them by incessant incursions anmi alarms. On the 12th of November he was attacked at Broad-river by a corps of British infantry and dragoons under Major Weyms. He utterly de- feated them and took their commander prisoner. On the 20th of November, he was attacked at Black Stocks, on Tiger River, by Tarleton, whons lie repulsed after a severe and obstinate ction. larleton claimed a victoryon which Coruwallis wrote to him I wish you joy of your success, bat wish it had asS esat yost so assech. The loss of the Americans was trifling compared to that of the British, but Gen. Sum- tsr received a wound in the shoulder, that for several months interrupted his gallant career. He was placed, we are told, in a raw bullocks hide, suspended between two horses, and thus carried by a guard of his nien to the mountains. A few days after, Coruwallis wrote to Tarleton, I shall be very glad to hear that Sumter is in condition to give you no farther trouble; he certainly has been ear greatest plague in this cs,ssstry. On the 13th of January, 1781, the old Congress adopted a resolution of thanks to General Sum- ter for his eminent services. After the battles fought by Gen. Greene, and the departure of Coruwallis for Virginia, Gen. Sumter, who had just recovered fl-sm his wound, collected another force, and early in February, 1781, crossed the Congaree and de- stroyed the magazines at Fort Granby. On the advance of Lord Rawdon from Camden, Simm- tsr retreatedand immediately menaced anoth- er British post. Two days after, Its defeated an escort of the enemy, and captured the wagons and stores which they were conveying from Charleston to Camden. tie next, with 250 horesmen, swam across the Santee, and ad- vanced on Fort Watson, but retreated on the approach of Lord Rawdon to its relief. On his return to Black river he was attacked by Major Fraser with a very h rge force. Fraser lost twenty men and retreated. having thus cheered the spirits of the peop1e of the centre of the state, he retired to the borders of North-Caro- lina. In Maceli, 1781, he raised three regiments of regulars. his previous etiterprises had all 87 Literary Intelligence. heen execnted by militia, lie subsequently took part in the military movements in the lower country, until the close of the war, and co-operating with Marion, struck many success- ful blows at the British, and was distinguished in the several actions which were fouglat be- tween Orangeburgh and Charleston, After the peace, Ceo. Sumter was a distin- guished member of the State Convention, in which he voted with those who opposed the adoption of the Federal Constitution, on the ground that the states were not sufficiently shielded by it against federal osurpation. lie was afterwards selected one of tlse five mem- bers fin that state in the House of Represent- atives of the first Congress, under the Consti- tution, and continued to represent South-Caro- lina in the national councils until 1808. He took an active part with the other members from this stale, in denouncing a petition for the abo- lition of slavery, which was presented frosts the Quakers of Pennsylvania. For many years, in retirement amid his neighbors, and i limited circumstanc his fine spirit unbrokc. age of nearly a hundre cheerfolness amid fire weeks before his death, dle with the activity e faculties of the mino well as those of the ho y. and ronmantic LITERARY INTELLIGENCE. REC -NTLv PUBLYSSIEn. By J. & . J. Harper, New-YorkThe Life of Wiclif, by Charles Webb Le Bas, M. A. Profes- ~or in the East-India College, Herts, and late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, 1 vol. Embellished with a portrait of Wiclif, being No. 1 of the Theological Library. By Carey & Lea, PhiladelphiaA Practical Treatise on Rail-roads, and Interior Communi- cation in general. Containing an account of the performances of the different Locomotive Engines at and subsequent to the Liverpool Contest; upwards of two hundred and sixty experiments; with tables of the comparative value of Canals and Rail-roads, and the power of the present Locomotive Engines. Illustrated by flumerous En~ravings, by Nicholas Wood, Colliery Viewer, Member of the Institution of Civil Engineers, & c. First American, from tlse second English editioms, with corrections, notes, and additions ;also, an Appendix, containing a detailed account of a number of Rail-roads in Europe, and in the United States.The Al- liambra, by the Author of the Sketch Book, 1 vol. 12mo.Swallow Barn, or a Sojourn in th Old Dominion, 2 vets. lOmo. IN P ESs. J. & J. Harper, NewYork, h ye in press The Consistency of the Whole Scheme of Rev- elation with itself, and with Htnnan Reason, by P. N. Shuttleworth, D. D. Warden of New Col- lege, Oxfordhistory of the Inquisition, by Joseph Blanco White, M. A. of the University of OxfordHistory of the Principal Councils, by J. H. Newman, M. A. Fellow of Oriel Col- lege, Oxford.The Lives of the Continental Reformers, No. 1.Life of Martin Luther, by Hugh James Rose, B. D. Christi, mm Advocate mu the University of CambridgeTIme Later Days of the Jewish Polity; with a copious Listroduc:- tion and Notes (chiefly derived from the Talmud- ists and Rabbinnical Writers.) With a view to illustrate the Language, the Manners, and general Histo of the New Testament, by Thomas Mitchell, Esq. A. M.History of the Church in Ireland, by C. R. Elriugton, D. D. Regina Professor of Divinity, in the University of DublinThe Divimme (Jrigin of the Clmristian Revelation demonstrated in an analytical In- quiry into the Evidence on which the Belief of Christianity as been established, by William Rowe Lyall, M. A. Archdeacon of Colchester. History of the Reformned Religion in France, by Edmvard Smedley, M. A. late Fellow of Sidney Sussex College, Camnbridge.Illustrations of Eastern Manners, Scriptural Phraseology, & c. by Samuel Lee, Regius Professor of Hebrew ims the University of CarubridgeHisto of Sects, by F. E. Thompson, M. ASketch of the His- tory of Liturgies: comprising a particular Ac- count of the Liturgy of the Church of England, tiny Henry Johmm Rose, Fellow of St. Johns Col- lege, CambridgeHistory of the Church in Scotland. By Michael Russell, LL. D. author of the Coummexion of Sacred and Profane HistoryThe Life of Grotius, by James Nich- ohs, F. S. A. ammthor of Arminianism and Cal- vinism compared. Lilly & Wait, Boston, have in press, Letters upon Natmmral Histo ,. Geology, Chemistry, the Application of Steam, and the more imsteresting Discoveries in the Arts. Ily Timothy Fhirmt. Designed for the use of the higher classes in Sclsools; 1 vol. Svo. By Carey & Lea, Philadelphia Heidenmaner or Pagan Camp, by the Author stf the $py 2 vol. l2mo.

Literary Intelligence. heen execnted by militia, lie subsequently took part in the military movements in the lower country, until the close of the war, and co-operating with Marion, struck many success- ful blows at the British, and was distinguished in the several actions which were fouglat be- tween Orangeburgh and Charleston, After the peace, Ceo. Sumter was a distin- guished member of the State Convention, in which he voted with those who opposed the adoption of the Federal Constitution, on the ground that the states were not sufficiently shielded by it against federal osurpation. lie was afterwards selected one of tlse five mem- bers fin that state in the House of Represent- atives of the first Congress, under the Consti- tution, and continued to represent South-Caro- lina in the national councils until 1808. He took an active part with the other members from this stale, in denouncing a petition for the abo- lition of slavery, which was presented frosts the Quakers of Pennsylvania. For many years, in retirement amid his neighbors, and i limited circumstanc his fine spirit unbrokc. age of nearly a hundre cheerfolness amid fire weeks before his death, dle with the activity e faculties of the mino well as those of the ho y. and ronmantic LITERARY INTELLIGENCE. REC -NTLv PUBLYSSIEn. By J. & . J. Harper, New-YorkThe Life of Wiclif, by Charles Webb Le Bas, M. A. Profes- ~or in the East-India College, Herts, and late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, 1 vol. Embellished with a portrait of Wiclif, being No. 1 of the Theological Library. By Carey & Lea, PhiladelphiaA Practical Treatise on Rail-roads, and Interior Communi- cation in general. Containing an account of the performances of the different Locomotive Engines at and subsequent to the Liverpool Contest; upwards of two hundred and sixty experiments; with tables of the comparative value of Canals and Rail-roads, and the power of the present Locomotive Engines. Illustrated by flumerous En~ravings, by Nicholas Wood, Colliery Viewer, Member of the Institution of Civil Engineers, & c. First American, from tlse second English editioms, with corrections, notes, and additions ;also, an Appendix, containing a detailed account of a number of Rail-roads in Europe, and in the United States.The Al- liambra, by the Author of the Sketch Book, 1 vol. 12mo.Swallow Barn, or a Sojourn in th Old Dominion, 2 vets. lOmo. IN P ESs. J. & J. Harper, NewYork, h ye in press The Consistency of the Whole Scheme of Rev- elation with itself, and with Htnnan Reason, by P. N. Shuttleworth, D. D. Warden of New Col- lege, Oxfordhistory of the Inquisition, by Joseph Blanco White, M. A. of the University of OxfordHistory of the Principal Councils, by J. H. Newman, M. A. Fellow of Oriel Col- lege, Oxford.The Lives of the Continental Reformers, No. 1.Life of Martin Luther, by Hugh James Rose, B. D. Christi, mm Advocate mu the University of CambridgeTIme Later Days of the Jewish Polity; with a copious Listroduc:- tion and Notes (chiefly derived from the Talmud- ists and Rabbinnical Writers.) With a view to illustrate the Language, the Manners, and general Histo of the New Testament, by Thomas Mitchell, Esq. A. M.History of the Church in Ireland, by C. R. Elriugton, D. D. Regina Professor of Divinity, in the University of DublinThe Divimme (Jrigin of the Clmristian Revelation demonstrated in an analytical In- quiry into the Evidence on which the Belief of Christianity as been established, by William Rowe Lyall, M. A. Archdeacon of Colchester. History of the Reformned Religion in France, by Edmvard Smedley, M. A. late Fellow of Sidney Sussex College, Camnbridge.Illustrations of Eastern Manners, Scriptural Phraseology, & c. by Samuel Lee, Regius Professor of Hebrew ims the University of CarubridgeHisto of Sects, by F. E. Thompson, M. ASketch of the His- tory of Liturgies: comprising a particular Ac- count of the Liturgy of the Church of England, tiny Henry Johmm Rose, Fellow of St. Johns Col- lege, CambridgeHistory of the Church in Scotland. By Michael Russell, LL. D. author of the Coummexion of Sacred and Profane HistoryThe Life of Grotius, by James Nich- ohs, F. S. A. ammthor of Arminianism and Cal- vinism compared. Lilly & Wait, Boston, have in press, Letters upon Natmmral Histo ,. Geology, Chemistry, the Application of Steam, and the more imsteresting Discoveries in the Arts. Ily Timothy Fhirmt. Designed for the use of the higher classes in Sclsools; 1 vol. Svo. By Carey & Lea, Philadelphia Heidenmaner or Pagan Camp, by the Author stf the $py 2 vol. l2mo. For Ii e IUowEmejo-oft Mlagorinc. j7rV. Z,eruir(~o/r

THE NEW-ENGLAND MAGAZINE. AUGUST, 1832. ORIGINAL PAPERS. LITERARY PORTRAITS. NO. IV. CHARLES SPRAGUE. A BANK seems to be one of the last places in the world in which we should look for a poet; and, yet in one of the busiest institutions of that sort in the city, one may be found, surrounded by bustling clerks, flanked by huge piles of paperamong the active the most active discounting and signing notes, writing letters, hurrying to and fro, talking to half a dozen men at a timeall the while displaying an ardor of interest, and apparently putting his whole soul into his work, as much as if his thoughts had never strayed an inch from his desk. His common talk is of interest, discount, per centage, creditsounds grating to the ears of the muses, and which awaken no familiar echoes upon Parnassus. His appearance is gentlemanly and prepossessing he has a bright eye and an animated and intellectual countenance; hut you might talk with him for a long time and not suspect that he was any thing more than an uncommonly intelligent and sensible man; until something having touched the inner chords of his spirit and awakened their slumbering music, he would delight you with some poetical fancy or eloquent expression of feeling, and with such a light- ing up of eye, lip and cheek, as would show you at once that he was a gifted one. After this, we need hardly say that we are speaking of CHARLES SPRAGUEa true poet, and a gentleman, every inch of hima man of the highest character in every relation of life, and whom we are truly proud to have for a fellow-citizen. Mr. Sprague is alone sufficient to prove the falsehood of that absurd opinion, so venerable for its age, and supported by hlockheads of all times with a constancy that shows that they understand their own interests at least, that the imagination is an infirmity, unfitting its pos- sessor from engaging in any of the practical concerns of life; and that a slight infusion of dullness is necessary to a good business man. A man of genius is supposed to be visionary, enthusiastic, unpractical stumbling about the world with his head in the cloudspaying his VOL. III. 12 90 Literary Portraits. bills without adding them up or stopping to see whether they are receipted or notignorant of the value of money, and imperatively requiring the aid of some plodding trustee to keep him solvent. Poets have, in an especial manner, been visited with the ridicule or the pity, as each mans disposition prompted him, of the solid part of the community. The common notion is, that a little madness is an essential ingredient in his composition ; he is thought to move in a strangely eccentric orbit; in his words, actions, and opinions, he is supposed to obey laws and impulses peculiar to himselg and to be exempted, by the indulgence of mankind, from the responsibility which belongs to all others. If we be not so hard upon poetry, as, like one of the Fathers, to call it the Devils wine, we believe it to be an intoxicating draught, which often does the devil good service, if it do not come from him. Our readers will recollect the consternation of Owen, in the opening scene of Rob Roy, on learning that the son of his patron was given to the unprofitable and dangerous trade of verse- making; and those, who have had much knowledge of the compting- house and the exchange, will. acknowledge that the picture is not a caricature. We have heard of The clerk, condemned his fathers soul to cross, Who penned a stanza when he should engross ; and even in these days, there is many a good business-man, who would hear that his son had discovered a taste for poetry with much the same feeling, as if he had heard that he was addicted to drinking. Great must have been the consternation of all these good people when Mr. Sprague blazed out, all of a sudden, as a poet. Every man, who owned a dollar in the bank in which he was employed, must have been in a cold sweat at the thought of the risk he had run in suffering any of his property to pass through the hands of a man of genius, who) lost in poetic visions, might not, with the eye of his body, see the difference between tens and hundreds. But we never heard that Mr. Sprague grew careless or inaccurate or inattentive to his employment after the sin of poetry was fairly laid to his door. We know, indeed, that he is at present in a much more lucrative and responsible situation than he was when we first heard of him; and he should esteem it a piece of uncommon good luck, that he, wearing the livery of the Muses, is able to get employment in any other service than theirs. Among the first productions by which Mr. Sprague made himself known beyond the city of his birth as a poet, are two prize prologues; one at the opening 9f the Park theatre in New-York, in 1S5~1, and the other for the Philadelphia theatre, in 1S~252. Compositions of this kind are not to be judged of by the same rules which we apply to poetry in general. There are a certain number of common-places which must be brought in; and, as they are commonly limited in length, there is very little room left for original conceptions or the development of striking thoughts; so that we may observe a strong family likeness between them, whatever difference there may be in the genius of their respective authors. They should be criticized relatively and not ab- solutely; and, applying this rule to Mr. Spragues prologues, we can safely say that they deserve a place by the side of those of Lord Byron and Dr. Johnson. They have all that seems desirable in such occa- sional productionsstrength and harmony in the versification, natural Literary Portraits. 91 succession in the thoughts, and a kind of declamatory vigor and flow of language which never degenerates into extravagance or bombast. Occasionally, too, there is a morsel of genuine poetry, as in these beautiful lines which are in the address at the opening of the Phila- delphia theatre Poor maniac Beauty brings her cypress wreath, Her smile a moon-beam oer a blasted heath; Round some cold grave she comes, sweet flowers to strew, And, lost to reason, still to love is true. The Ode, which obtained the prize offered by the manager of the Boston theatre for the best Ode or other poetical Address to be re- cited at the exhibition of a pageant in honor of Shakspeare, is a poem of higher pretensions and much higher merit. Here, he had ample sea-room, and could shape his course as he pleased. The greatness of Shakspeares mind, and the boundless variety of his characters,, fur- nished him with a most inspiring theme, while his invention was further aided by the flexibility of the lyric stanza and the license allowed to that kind of measure. rrhe result was a noble poem, des- tined to live long after the occasion that called it forth is forgotten, and of which it is no flattery to say, that it is worthy of its subject. This Ode has always been a great favorite with us; we regard it as that one of all his works which does the most honor to his genius mind, we sa,y his genius. We do not mean to say that it is the most finished of his productions, or that if they were all thrown into the fire, this is the first one we should take out; but it seems to us to abound most in that power of creating, which distinguishes the artist from the copier. It is crowded with fine images, rich expressions and epithets, which are in themselves poems. There is a thrilling rapidity in the flow of the thoughts; but nothing of turbulence or foam; every thing is as clear and transparent as the waters of an unruffled fountain. He has carried to its extreme the animation and variety of the lyric measure; but has always kept within the bounds prescribed by good taste and a correct ear. Its only defects are an occasional extrava- gance in his images, and a little too much gorgeousness and brilliancy in the expressions, for both of which a satisfactory defence might be offered, that the poem was written to be recited. As it is some time since it was written, we do not think our readers will object to seeing a few of the stanzas, which, in our opinion, have as much of the fire of true poetry as any thing which has been done on this side of the water. Madness, with his frightful scream, Vengeance, leaning on his lance, Avarice, with his blade and beam, Hatred, blasting with a glance, Remorse, that weeps, and Rage, that roars, And Jealousy, that dotes but dooms, and murders yet adores. Mirth, his face with sunbeams lit, Waking Laughters merry swell, Arm in arm with fresh-eyed Wit, That waves his tingling lash, while Folly shakes his bell. From the feudal tower pale Terror rushing, Where the prophet birds wail Dies along the dull gale, And the sleeping monarchs blood is gushing 92 Literary Portraits. Despair, that haunts the gurgling stream, Kissed by the virgin moons cold beam, Where some lost maid wild chaplets wreathes, And, swan-like, there her own dirge breathes, Then, broken-hearted, sinks to rest, Beneath the bubbling wave, that shrouds her maniac breast. Young Love, with eye of tender gloom, Now drooping oer the hallowed tomb, Where his plighted victims lie, Where they met, but met to die And now, when crimson buds are sleeping, Through the dewy arbor peeping, Where beautys child, the frowning world forgot, To youths devoted tale is listening, Rapture on her dark lash glistening, While fairies leave their cowslip cells and guard the happy spot. The most finished of Mr. Spragues productions, and that on which his fame will principally rest, is a poem on Curiosity, delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Cambridge. It is one of those rare works, in which the execution is equal to the conception; and the combination of genius, taste and judgement, displayed in it, will secure it a place in the literature of the language, long after many of the dazzling wonders, which, now and then, blaze upon us like a comet, have passed away and are forgotten. Its versification is, with a few exceptions, faultless, and yet free from the cloying monotony which is the easily besetting sin~~ of the heroic measure. The thou~hts are original and striking, but never extravagantthe subject is introduced and developed with great skill; and the style is so beauti- ful, that the Graces seem to have presided at the birth of each line. Its principal merit consists, however, in its unrivalled delineations of men and manners. It is a camera-obscura view of lifes motley stage a gallery of portraits, drawn from the life, with a pencil so firm, vigorous and easy, that they seem to breathe and stand out from the canvas. They remind us of one of those fine line engravings, which preserve not only the general expression, but give you the most minute characteristic ,every wrinkle in the face, and every thread in the gar- ments. They have the strength, fidelity and liveliness of Popes Moral Sketches, without any of his bitterness and asperity. Indeed, there is a geniality, a heartiness, a sympathy with humanity, a tenderness, a sensibility, running through the poem, which give it much of its fasci- nation. Though master of every weapon of satire, from the ponder- ous flail of Juvenal to the lithe rapier of Horace, he never inflicts a wound from the mere pleasure of wounding. If he has occasion to satirize vice in any of its forms, he does it with thorough good will. He gives no love-taps; he is quite in earnest even unto slaying ; but, in his rebuke of the vanities and follies of men, there is a good- natured smile struggling through his frown, showing his sympathy for the offender as well as his contempt of the offence. This poem is doubtless familiar to all our readers, and we need not make any extracts in confirmation of what we have said. How beautiful is his description of the child with the new-born desire after knowledge fluttering in his breast! How admirable his picture of the miser, who makes his folks eat beans, and who holds it heresy to thinkof the maiden reading a romance when honest folks are asleepof the traveler who Literary Portraits. 93 turns, half-unwilling, from his home, to roam in foreign lands! How exquisite, too, is the description of the wanderers funeral at sea! how full of the simplicity of true feelingwith what skill every circum- stance is selectedthe assembled crew, the setting sun, the unruffled sea! Cold, indeed, must be the heart of him who could read it with- out emotion, and no one could have written it who had not gone down to the depths of the human soul and gathered the treasures that lie buried there. But it is idle to speak of single paragraphs or detached portions; the poem should he read as a whole, for it is distinguished for its symmetry, its completeness, its oneness. It will hear perusing again and again, and each time some new beauty will be discovered. There are many single expressions which are full of the salt of wit and the flavor of originality; such as An incarnation of fat dividends. * * * * * * Where sin holds carnival and wit keeps lent. * * * * * * -With a quill so noisy and so vain, We almost hear the goose it clothed complain. * * * * * * Their be-all and their end-all here below, & c. The poem clos~s with a strain of lofty poetry and unaffected feeling; but we do not like exactly the way in which Mr. Sprague speaks of himself, To lifes coarse service sold, Where thought lies barren, and nought breeds bat gold. He knew, or ought to have known, that he had received in Natures good old College a diploma, that entitled him to hold up his head in the presence of any man that ever wore an academic laurel. Univer- sities neither boast nor claim a monopoly in genius or even in learning. Many a dunce wanders into learned bowers that has just sense enough never to come out of them again. Mr. Sprague should observe what one of the greatest of his brethren calls stern self-respect. His is the noblest of arts, and he is no unworthy professor. There is no higher, holier ground, than that upon which a Poet stands, whose heart is pure and whose thoughts fly heavenward. To the Ode delivered at the Centennial Celebration of the settle- ment of the city, we are not disposed to assign the same relative rank among his works as seems to have been given it by popular opinion. Not that it is not beautiful and every way worthy of the occasion; but there does not seem to be the stamp of individuality upon it. It is tasteful and scholar-like, rather than original or profound. He was en- compassed with peculiar difficulties. He was obliged to address a large and miscellaneous audience, which had already listened to a long oration ; and, however great the ability of the orator, there could not but be a slight feeling of fatigue at the close. He was forced to make a popular poemto have something in every paragraph which would tell. His subject, too, was prescribed for him, and, however interesting, it was not new. When we consider all these things, his success was very remarkable. Its proper criterion is the manner in which it was received by the audience, which was, as all will recollect, with the utmost enthusiasm. Its versification is easy, graceful, and various; every thing about it is remarkable for good taste; and a high 94 Literary Portraits. tone of moral and religious feeling runs through it, which elevates and warms. The best part of it is that in which he laments the fate of the Indians, and eulogizes (a little too extravagantly, we fear, for sober history) their character. It is highly poetical, and, though full of feelitig, is free from that mawkish sentimentality with which every thing about the poor red man is usually garnished. Mr. Sprague is the author of some lines on Art, written for a public festival of the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanic Association; also of an Address to a Cigar, and ofsome Lines to two Swallows, which flew into a church window during divine service. They are, all of them, perfect gemsgraceful and finished, and the first one, in par- ticular, is highly poetical. We regret that he has not written more compositions of this length and character, his success has been so com- plete in what he has done. Where shall we find any thing more beautiful than these lines from his little poem on the Swallows? Gay, guiltless pair, What seek ye from the fields of heaven? Ye have no need of prayer, Ye have no sins to be forgiven. Why perch ye here When mortals to their Maker bend? Can your pure spirits fear The God ye never could offend? Ye never knew The crimes for which we come to weep; Penance is not for you, Blest wanderers of the upper deep. The distinguishing characteristics of all Mr. Spragues poetry are correctness, good taste, purity of feeling, and great skill and precision in the use of language. He has formed himself upon the models of an earlier age, and has learned from them how to dress his thoughts in a becoming garb and the importance of a finished style, musical num- bers, simple and expressive language, and the propriety of saying nothing which has not a meaning to it; while, at the same time, he has the merits which distinguish the literature of the present ageits fresh- ness, its originality, its philosophic spirit, its more thorough analysis of human nature and its profounder knowledge of the human heart. There is a great manliness about his poetrya scorn of all affectation and trickery, a straight forward simplicity, which disdains wildness of thought or prettinesses of expression. There are none of those dark, elliptical passages, which so puzzle an honest mans brains to find out what the author is driving atno wandering out of his plain course to drag in a simile or an allusionno panting and straining after an ele- vation he was never meant to reach. There is a pleasant spirit of repose hovering over his poetrya mild and thoughtful beauty, like that of the hues of twilight. He knows his strength, and always suc- ceeds, because he attempts no more than he is sure he can accom- plish. In forming our estimate of his literary character, we should not for- get his prose writings. He is the author of a Fourth-of-July Oration, and of an Address delivered before the Massachusetts Society for the Suppression of Intemperance. To these we cannot give the same The Benjamin Franklin. 95 unqualified praise that we do to his poems. Though we cannot corn plain of the latter that they are too prosaic; we can of the former that they are too poetical. The style is rich, gorgeous and declam- atoryoften to a fault; but there is power and originality in the thoughts, and here and there a flue burst of eloquence. They are ad- mirably calculated to please a popular audience in the delivery, if they will not hear the test of a cold perusal in the closetand who is there that can accomplish both these objects? Our readers may, perhaps, think that an exhortation to write more comes in as naturally at the close of our notices of a poet, and is as much a matter of course, as is, in the beginning of the Arabian tales, Dinarzades saying to Scheherazade, My dear sister, if you are not tired, please to finish that charming story you began to tell us last night. Wellwe must plead guilty to the charge, and bear the laugh. We think that there is plenty of room in the worid for good poetry, and we know that Mr. Sprague would write none that did not deserve that epithet. He is a business man, and has a family to take care of; and we cannot expect him to give up his time to the composi- tion of such elaborate productions as Curiosity ; but lie certainly can spare us, now and then, a graceful and elegant trifle, writtenas we have done this imperfect criticismin the hours between the labors of the day and the repose of the night. If he is at any loss for a proper vehicle by which to communicate them to the public, he will re- ceive information by applying to the Editors of the New-England Magazine. THE BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. IT is no discredit to the memory of the philosopher of the lightning- rod, to bestow his name on a goodly Steam-Boat. Little did he think as much as he thought what mechanics could dothat, in little more than half a century from the time in which it took him some weeks to get to Philadelphia from Boston, his descendants might pass the whole distance except sixty miles, by steam, at the rate of eighteen miles an hour. Such a prediction at that time would have been wild, as such traveling could have seemed only like the flight of a bird. We may now sleep away the night in a good berth, wake to an early breakfast in New-York, and dine at Philadelphia; and so much are the travelers comforts attended to by those who transport him at this marvelous rate, that he is discharged at Chesnut-street wharfwell fed,so that, he cannot be seen, like the great printer, diligently eating one loaf while he holds under his arm another. The great economy of time in modern traveling allows us to be a little more sumptuous than our ancestors in the way of food. A steam-boat is a flying island, in which all the ope- rations of life, except ploughing, are carried on. The man has no im agination, no soul, who feels imprisoned in a steam-boat, only because he is confined by the rails. It is true that he cannot walk more than a quarter of a mile without turning; but he is changing his place on the surface of the earth with the speed of a comet. The trees are dancing in mazes before him, along the country, and apparently

The Benjamin Franklin. 95 unqualified praise that we do to his poems. Though we cannot corn plain of the latter that they are too prosaic; we can of the former that they are too poetical. The style is rich, gorgeous and declam- atoryoften to a fault; but there is power and originality in the thoughts, and here and there a flue burst of eloquence. They are ad- mirably calculated to please a popular audience in the delivery, if they will not hear the test of a cold perusal in the closetand who is there that can accomplish both these objects? Our readers may, perhaps, think that an exhortation to write more comes in as naturally at the close of our notices of a poet, and is as much a matter of course, as is, in the beginning of the Arabian tales, Dinarzades saying to Scheherazade, My dear sister, if you are not tired, please to finish that charming story you began to tell us last night. Wellwe must plead guilty to the charge, and bear the laugh. We think that there is plenty of room in the worid for good poetry, and we know that Mr. Sprague would write none that did not deserve that epithet. He is a business man, and has a family to take care of; and we cannot expect him to give up his time to the composi- tion of such elaborate productions as Curiosity ; but lie certainly can spare us, now and then, a graceful and elegant trifle, writtenas we have done this imperfect criticismin the hours between the labors of the day and the repose of the night. If he is at any loss for a proper vehicle by which to communicate them to the public, he will re- ceive information by applying to the Editors of the New-England Magazine. THE BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. IT is no discredit to the memory of the philosopher of the lightning- rod, to bestow his name on a goodly Steam-Boat. Little did he think as much as he thought what mechanics could dothat, in little more than half a century from the time in which it took him some weeks to get to Philadelphia from Boston, his descendants might pass the whole distance except sixty miles, by steam, at the rate of eighteen miles an hour. Such a prediction at that time would have been wild, as such traveling could have seemed only like the flight of a bird. We may now sleep away the night in a good berth, wake to an early breakfast in New-York, and dine at Philadelphia; and so much are the travelers comforts attended to by those who transport him at this marvelous rate, that he is discharged at Chesnut-street wharfwell fed,so that, he cannot be seen, like the great printer, diligently eating one loaf while he holds under his arm another. The great economy of time in modern traveling allows us to be a little more sumptuous than our ancestors in the way of food. A steam-boat is a flying island, in which all the ope- rations of life, except ploughing, are carried on. The man has no im agination, no soul, who feels imprisoned in a steam-boat, only because he is confined by the rails. It is true that he cannot walk more than a quarter of a mile without turning; but he is changing his place on the surface of the earth with the speed of a comet. The trees are dancing in mazes before him, along the country, and apparently 96 The Benjamin Franklin.. changing place, like the persons in a dance. If the boat is going in the direction of the wind, it may sometimes enjoy for hours the shadow of a passing cloud. I am not an old stager; but I have experience enough to advise my friends to secure a good berth as soon as they enter the boat. It is better to be at a distance from the machinery, both for quiet and safety. When a traveler has secured a good berth, nothing can hap- pen amiss. He is in a hotel, and may take his ease at his inn, without having his pockets rifled, or his temper moved. Having left Newport, he will be summoned, by the sound of a bell, to a supper such as Cleopatra never offered to Anthony. He looks down a long and pillared hall upon two lines of smiling faces, and his own hard features begin to soften. Your steam-boat is a great promoter of hun- ger; but then it carries supplies beyond the remotest possibility of famine. The Americans are economical of time, if not sparing of food. They will eat a huge supper in a brief time. In fifteen minutes after the summons to the feast, none are to be seen at table, but the few who came late, or whose teeth have suffered from long and hard ser- vice. In half an hour the table is cleared, and the seats removed: the hall stands a vacant monument of celerity in consuming the fruits of the earth. On deck, may be seen little groups discussing the con- stant and standing topic of all republicans, the merits of the President, and the person of his successor. Some few, of more poetic tempera- ment sit apart retired, watching in the wake of the ship the shower of sparks, that, after describing a long parabola in the air, fall as thickly as a shower of hail upon the waters. This is a beautiful sight; it is like innumerable legions of lightning~bugs, extinguishing forever their glittering wings upon the waters. Other passengers, in a vein of melancholy, lean over the bows, watching the curl of the waters projected for yards before the boat, from the resistance offered by the fluid to the huge mass that drives through it at the rate of a quarter of a mile in a minute. Others of the travelers are smoking a quiet if not a genteel cigar. But alas! sentiments and cigars have their ap- pointed termination. And mortal pleasure, what art thou? In truth, The torrents smoothness ere it dash below. Soon the most animated political discussions are hushed; Jackson is left to his laurels, and Clay to his spindles; tariff and free trade can no longer raise a voice in their own defence; the foam at the bows is un- heeded, and the falling flakes that illuminate the wake, fall without admirers; every one that was in motion assumes a state of rest; every one that was animated becomes grave, while the grave become solemn. Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer cloud ? Beauty grows pale and totters to a seat, while Audacity lays hand upon heart, with the meek expression of a lamb. The whole congre- gation becomes a picture of wretchedness; each one looks like a con- victed felon brought up to receive the last sentence of the law. Such is the mysterious operation of Point Judith, and of the chopping seas, that the voyager must pass over before he gains the shelter of the Long-Island shore. 97 THE NERVOUS MAN. MESSRS. EDITORS: The enclosed MSS. are the literary remains of an esteemed friend of mine, who a short time since kneaded himself to death for the Dyspepsia, agreeably to the prescriptions of Dr. Halsted. My friend made no pretensions to genius. He was a hard student, hot the world has been littlo wiser for it. His literary appetite, like his physical, exceeded his digestion. He always seemed to me, like a volume of miscellany, without an indexor racher like a dictionary, to he looked into on occasions, hot withont any connexion. The following sketches I have extracted from his Diary,a very wilderness of unintelligible chirography. I think there is some merit in them. There is, at least, originality. I. G. W. AT HOMEAN APRIL DAY. RAINrain !no, not precisely rain,but worse, infinitely worse~ an April day of mist and shadow,such as Ossians ghosts might revel in,mud and water below, cloud-rack and moisture above Faugh !Coleridge says that the mind gives nature its gloom and its beautyits light and sombre coloring. No such thing. Nature colors the mind. I feel at this moment her shadows closing around me. I am out of humor with her. It seems to me as if she has assumed her most dreary and uncomfortable aspect for my own espe- cial annoyance. I can have some patience with a thunder-storm. There is something of grandeur about it,the slow, uprolling clouds the lightning flashing out of their thick blackness, like the eye-glance of an angry spiritthe solemn roll of the far-off thunderor the simultaneous flash and uproar, as some hill-crag or tree-top trembles with its fiery chastisement. A sweeping Northeaster is a disagreeable visitant; but within doors you can easily reconcile yourself to it; and there 15 somewhat of amusement in the gusty clashing of the rain the flooding of the streetsthe swaying of the tree-topsthe rending of umbrellas, and the forlorn appearance of the cloak-wrapped pedes- trians. But a dull, heavy, clinging mista day of cloud and shadow, when Nature seems puzzled whether to rain or shine upon usis the peculiar season when the azure demons of my temperament hold high carnival. If I ever commit suicide, commend me to such a day. Is that my facehirsute, sallow, ghastly !peering out upon me, like ugliness personified, from that long, old-fashioned mirror ?I will have that perpetual memento mon turned to the v.a11. I dislike reflec- tions of any kind. I enter my solemn protest against looking-glasses in modern days, as Pliny and Seneca did of old. One of the Roman EmperorsDomitian, I believe,lined his galleries and walks with polished selenite, that he might see all that was going on around him. The man was a fool. For my own part, I could abide the daily risque of assassination, with far more composure, than the constant vision of my unlucky figure. In the latter case, I should imagine myself haunted by an ogre. I hate your professed Physiognomistthe man who reads at a glance the character of his neighbordecyphering with ease the mys- tic meaning of the human featuresthose hieroglyphics of the Al- mighty. I abhor the idea of a mans carrying his autobiography in his visagethe melancholy history of a love adventure in the droop of an eye-lid, or the prominence of a cheek-bone,or a tale of disappoint- ment in the wrinkles of his forehead. I condemn in toto the systems of Lavater, Gall, and Spurzheim. T is an unmanly method of com voL. ItT. 13

97 THE NERVOUS MAN. MESSRS. EDITORS: The enclosed MSS. are the literary remains of an esteemed friend of mine, who a short time since kneaded himself to death for the Dyspepsia, agreeably to the prescriptions of Dr. Halsted. My friend made no pretensions to genius. He was a hard student, hot the world has been littlo wiser for it. His literary appetite, like his physical, exceeded his digestion. He always seemed to me, like a volume of miscellany, without an indexor racher like a dictionary, to he looked into on occasions, hot withont any connexion. The following sketches I have extracted from his Diary,a very wilderness of unintelligible chirography. I think there is some merit in them. There is, at least, originality. I. G. W. AT HOMEAN APRIL DAY. RAINrain !no, not precisely rain,but worse, infinitely worse~ an April day of mist and shadow,such as Ossians ghosts might revel in,mud and water below, cloud-rack and moisture above Faugh !Coleridge says that the mind gives nature its gloom and its beautyits light and sombre coloring. No such thing. Nature colors the mind. I feel at this moment her shadows closing around me. I am out of humor with her. It seems to me as if she has assumed her most dreary and uncomfortable aspect for my own espe- cial annoyance. I can have some patience with a thunder-storm. There is something of grandeur about it,the slow, uprolling clouds the lightning flashing out of their thick blackness, like the eye-glance of an angry spiritthe solemn roll of the far-off thunderor the simultaneous flash and uproar, as some hill-crag or tree-top trembles with its fiery chastisement. A sweeping Northeaster is a disagreeable visitant; but within doors you can easily reconcile yourself to it; and there 15 somewhat of amusement in the gusty clashing of the rain the flooding of the streetsthe swaying of the tree-topsthe rending of umbrellas, and the forlorn appearance of the cloak-wrapped pedes- trians. But a dull, heavy, clinging mista day of cloud and shadow, when Nature seems puzzled whether to rain or shine upon usis the peculiar season when the azure demons of my temperament hold high carnival. If I ever commit suicide, commend me to such a day. Is that my facehirsute, sallow, ghastly !peering out upon me, like ugliness personified, from that long, old-fashioned mirror ?I will have that perpetual memento mon turned to the v.a11. I dislike reflec- tions of any kind. I enter my solemn protest against looking-glasses in modern days, as Pliny and Seneca did of old. One of the Roman EmperorsDomitian, I believe,lined his galleries and walks with polished selenite, that he might see all that was going on around him. The man was a fool. For my own part, I could abide the daily risque of assassination, with far more composure, than the constant vision of my unlucky figure. In the latter case, I should imagine myself haunted by an ogre. I hate your professed Physiognomistthe man who reads at a glance the character of his neighbordecyphering with ease the mys- tic meaning of the human featuresthose hieroglyphics of the Al- mighty. I abhor the idea of a mans carrying his autobiography in his visagethe melancholy history of a love adventure in the droop of an eye-lid, or the prominence of a cheek-bone,or a tale of disappoint- ment in the wrinkles of his forehead. I condemn in toto the systems of Lavater, Gall, and Spurzheim. T is an unmanly method of com voL. ItT. 13 93 The Nervovs Man. ing at ones private history. The beautiful and lordlythose who carry an eternal letter of recommendation in their countenances may, perhaps, demur to my opinions. Let them. Phrenology may have been a blessing to them; it has been the devil and all to me. As Balak said of old unto Balaam,so say I unto all, who, like myself have been martyrs to the sciences of bumps, organs, and facial anglesPhysiognomy and Phrenology Come, help me to curse them. Nay, smile not at my vehemence, fair reader; thou least of all canst appreciate my feelings. As thou bendest over my page, with thine eye shedding a finer light across it than ever brightened the illuminated scroll of a monkish legendwith thy dark tresses ever and anon lightly sweeping its margin, and half shadowing the delicate fingers which enclose itthe veriest mocker at humanity would bless thee, and the austere St. Francis, at the first glimpse of thee, would have forsaken his bride of snow. But I, marked and set apart from my fellows, the personification of ugliness, in whose countenance every modern Lavater discovers all that is vile and disagreeable and odious; shunned by the lovelier and gentler sex, and suspected and laughed at by my own ; in the name of all that is sensitive, why should I not murmur at the practice of an art which has undone me, at the illustration of a science which has shut the door of human sympathy upon me! Is it a light thing that I have suffered a daily martyrdom through life; that my very parents loved me not, although my young heart was bursting with love for them; that my brothers mocked me, and my sisters feared me; that, in my riper years, the one fair being to whom I poured out the riches of a hoarded affection, the whole of that love which had been turned back and repelled by all othersthat she, who did love me, who saw through its miserable veil of humanity, the warm and generous and lofty spirit within meeven she should have been torn from me by those who knew me not, save by that most unfortunate criterion of merit, my outward appearance? Is it nothing that I am now a lonely and disappointed man, stricken into the sere and yellow leag before my time, with the frost of misery if not of years predominating over the dark locks of my boy- hood? Is it nothing that I am now a solitary wanderer in the thorough- fare of being; my sympathies fettered down in my own bosom, my affections unshared, unreciprocated, and wandering like the winged messenger of the Patriarch of the deluge over the broad waste of an unsocial humanity; and, finding no rest, no place of refuge, no beau- tiful island in the eternal solitude, no green-branched forest looking above the desolation, where the weary wing may be folded, and the fainting heart have rest? Basta !I have been penning nonsense, sheer inexcusable non- sense; and yet, it has brought moisture to my eye, and a tremor to my heart. Ifaith! I should like to see a tear of mine. It is a long, a very long time since I saw one. lanhood in. its desolation has no tears. Woman-kind, says King James, the old Scotch pedant, especially bee able to shede teares at everie light occasion, when they willyea, although it were dissemblingly, like the crocodiles. And Reginald Scott affirmeth, there bee two kindes of teares in womans eie; one of true greefe, the other of deceipt. Well, it is a happy faculty, this tear-shedding, after all. It is womans last and most powerful appeal. The Nereous Alan 99 There are few hearts capable of resisting it. It excites pity, and pity, by gradations almost insensible, melts into love. I have often admired the truth of a remark in Godwins Cloudesly. Beauty in tears is the adversary which has thrown down its weapons, and no longer defies us. It is the weak and tender flower, illustrious in its lowliness, which asks for a friendly hand to raise its drooping head. Rain, raindrip, drip! fog wrapping the hills like a winding-sheet. And here am I, sitting by my dim and whitening coal-fire, a wretched misanthropea combination of the ferocity of Timon and the spleen of Rochefoucauld. Solitary, companionless Alone, alone! All, all alone No beautiful creature of smiles and gentle tones to cheer my failing spirits, and melt away the sternness f care with the warm kiss of her affection. But wherefore these murmurs? Matrimony, after all, is but a doubtful experiment. What saith my Lord Bacon? He that hath wife and children bath given hostages to fortune; for they are impedi~ ments to great enterprizes, either of virtue or mischief. Certainly the best works, and of greatest merit to the public, have proceeded from unmarried and childless men. And Count Swedenborg, for whom I have a great veneration, thinks that woman is to man like the lost rib to Adam, not essential to his happiness, but necessary to complete his fortune. In truth, I can readily conceive of a wor ~ situation than my own. I might have married,I shudder to think of it,a scold, a termagant, a Xantippe, (and now I remember she did have a won- derful faculty of sharpening her fine voice.) Our old law Latin most ungallantly confines the common scold, communis vizatix, to the femi- nine gender; and the Furies were all represented as females. For one, I value a fine and pleasant voice as the most perfect charm of wo sen. I would have it soft low and faintly musical, like the stray- ing of the south wind over harp-stringsan articulate breathing, mel- lowed and rich with the earnestness of soul, soothing and gentle as the whisper of an angel. The ancients represented Venus by the side of Mercury, to signify that the chief pleasures of matrimony were in con- versation. I have ever admired these lines of old Ausonius: Vane quid affectas faciem mihi pingere pictor? Si mihi similem pingere, pinge sonum. And it is thus I would have my lodge love delineated, not upon perishin, canvass, hut on the retina of the soul; The voiceless spirit of a lovely sound. But, the common scoldthe razor-like voice of petulance and anger, piercing through one like a Toledo scimetar, the curtain lecture, the domestic brawl, the harsh tones of taunting and menace, the saw-mill modulation of vulgarityHeaven defend me from them! With the honest weaver of Auchinloch, I hae muckle reason to be thankful that I am, as I am. Rubius Celer, indeed, commanded the fact to be engraven on his tomb-stone, that he had lived with his wife Caja Ennia forty-three years and eight months, without any do- mestic quarrel. But his is a solitary case. I am half inclined to believe that the immaculate Caja Ennia was dumW 100 The Nervous ]JIan. I know of nothing which has given me more consolation in my bachelorship, than the song of Vidal, in one of Scotts Romances: Womans faith, and womans trust Write the characters in dust, Print them on the running stream, Stamp them on the cold moon-beam, And each evanescent letter Shall be fairer, firmer, better, And more durable, I ween, Than the thing those letters mean. It is unquestionably a propensity of the human heart, to seek to depreciate that, which it has in vain sought after; and it may be owing to this, that I take such malicious satisfaction in contemplating the character of our mother Eve. She loved Adam awhile in Paradise, it is true; but the very first devil she saw, she changed her love. * * * * * POETRYREMINISCENCELORD ]3YRON. World! stop thy mouthI am resolved to rhyme ! So sung Peter Pindarbut so sing not I. Time has dealt hardly with my boyhoods muse. Poetry has been to me a beautiful delusion. It was something woven of my young fancies, and reality has de~ stroyed it. I can, indeed, make rhymes now, as mechanically as a mason piles one brick above another; but the glow of feeling, the hope, the ardor, the excitement have passed away forever. I have long thought, or rather the world hath made me think, that poetry is too trifling, too insignificant a pursuit for the matured intellect of sober manhood. I have half acquiesced in the opinion of Plato, who banished poets from his ideal republic. I could have assisted Gregory the Great in his celebrated Auto da fe of the old Latin authors. Adam Ferguson, in his Essays on Civil Society, argues conclusively, that man, in his savage and heathen state, is by nature a poet; and it was probably the kno~vledge of this fact, which induced the early Christians of Greece, according to Petrus Bellonius, a voracious Basil Hall of antiquity, to esteem it not lawful for a Christian to study poetry. I have been looking over a confused map of my old manuscripts like Ovids Chaos, A huge and undigested heap. Each particular scrap has something pleasant or mournful associated with its history. There is one written by a friend who has long since shuffled off his mortal coil. Poor fellow! the clods of the valley are sweet to him, for he was, in truth, one of those who rejoice exceedingly, and are glad when they can find the grave. I think I can see him now, pale, spiritually pale, with his large blue eyes, and his most melancholy smile. He died early; but I could not mourn for him, for his spirit longed for rest, as the servant earnestly desireth the shadow. To him might have been applied the mournful language of the son of Sirach : Oh Death, acceptable is thy sentence unto the needy, unto him whose strength faileth, who is vexed with all things, and to him ~vho despaireth, and hath lost all patience. The The Nervous Man. 101 following stanzas were written shortly after an afflicting bereavement. I regard them not for their intrinsic merit, but as