..... Lines, suggested by the Remarks of Mr. Perdicaris. 159 Sonnets. I. To Liberty. II. Men of '76.. Stanzas... .463 .472 Lines... .261 Lines on Leaving the City in Summer. .454 Song. Air-"The Moonlight March". ..509 Likes and Unlikes.... .461 -.514 T. 96 96 M. ..104 Mutiny My Child!—My Daughter N. The Chain... 25 The Bride .104 To Memory of my Mother. By John C. McCabe....223 True Love... Madrigal-The Wreath May... Marys. By Mrs. Harrison Smith Modern Lion..... 234 To a Watch. By J. Carroll Brent.... .473 The Bible .511 To Isadora... To F To a Sea Gull. By H. Thompson. ..180 224 241 .253 .301 367 .369 1834. ..467 504 523 539 .578 Navarino. In Four Parts. Part I. By Miss Draper. 239 To a Humming Bird.. ..608 I dwell on her example with pleasure, as furnishing an honorable contrast to the unfeeling eagerness, with which parents too often now-a-days By the Author of Letters from the South, Dutchman's thrust their children, and children their aged parents, upon the bounty of the public. The world is not improv Fireside, &c. As I go on, a thousand recollections are awakened in my mind; link after link discloses itself in the long chain of memory, and were I not apprehensive of tiring my readers, I could dwell on these times with a prolixity only gratifying to myself. But the present has its claims as well as the past, and I must consign them to that oblivion which swallows up so large a portion of mankind and their doings. Not a hundred miles from a certain "Great Com-ed in this respect, whatever may be the case in others. mercial Emporium," on the right bank of the Hudson, there lies a little village, dozing beneath a hill which not only shelters it from the east winds, but from the prying eyes of travellers, who fortunately for the repose of the villagers, used to pass by along the high road, unconscious of its existence. The only communion between it, and the great world, was through a market boat, which plied once a week, to and again, from the village to New York, bearing to market the surplus products of the country people, and sometimes a thrifty old market woman, who accompanied her butter, eggs and chickens, and who whiled away the tedium of a long passage by plying her knitting needle, sleeping and waking. The houses were arranged close along the margin of the river, whose waves as they broke on the sand beach in the silence of the night, gave a soothing melody dis-I Posing to repose or contemplation. Immediately in front, the river expanded into a wide and noble bay, animated at all times by vessels passing up and down, and bordered on the opposite shore by a range of lofty hills, en'tivated to the summits, and showing distinctly the divisions and the various hues of the fields, which lay on its sides basking in the morning sun. It is now upwards of thirty years, since I left this quiet resting place, to seek my fortune, after the manner of the heroes of our fairy legends. In that time I have seen the world, and the little ants that crawl upon it, in various scenes and aspects; I have looked at, rather than mingled in its busy hubbub, and if the old saying is true, have seen more of the game than the players themselves. One thing, however, puzzles me. cannot for the life of me, tell whether I am wiser than I was thirty years ago. Whether I am better, is a matter of still greater perplexity. After chasing shadows the better part of my life, I all at once recalled to mind the realities of my carly home. I felt myself in the situation so beautifully described by a poet, who though rudely jostled aside by a swarm of vapid intruders, is to my mind worth all the school of Byron, Moore and Scott, put together. "And as a hare when hounds and horn pursue, I never knew so quiet a village, nor one where the old homely simplicity of our golden age existed in more primitive purity some thirty years ago, when I lived there in luxurious idleness, indulging in long visions of the future, not one of which has been realized, and the wise ones of the village prophesied that I would never No sooner had my memory fastened on this bone, than come to any good in this world. Just about midway it straightway began to practice its accustomed decepof the only street of the village, was a fine spring, tions, for it is not alone anticipation that exaggerates. where the water spouted from beneath a rock, at the Memory is as great a deceiver as Hope, and objects foot of the hill, in a stream as thick as my arm, and which appear in the mists of the past, are just as much here it was, that in accordance with the habits of pa-inflated with airy nothings, as they are in those of the triarchal ages, the villagers were wont to come together future. In one word, I resolved to imitate the hare, with their empty pails, and stand and talk till they and make the best of my way to the spot, whence the ran over. Here came the lads and lasses, the old pa-hounds and horn of worldly temptations unkennelled triarchs who with pipes in their mouths, discussed the me, some thirty years ago. weather, the news, or the backslidings, and here it was that poor Eilee, the dumb, blind son of an indigent widow, came feeling his way with a stick, followed at times by some little outlaws, who though he could not | see them, had vicious, cunning expedients to annoy the poor fellow. His mother, as I said before, was a widow and very poor; but she was prudent as well as indus-on either side the river, seemed running backwards at trious, and with an honest spirit of independence, rejected all offers of placing the boy on the parish. By her own exertions, aided by those of Ellee, who though his perceptions were blunted by the absence of two of his faculties, could make himself useful in various ways, she managed to keep him clean and tidy, without asking I embarked in a steam boat. A steam boat! Such a monster was not dreamed of, when I left them, by the sober villagers, who were content to wait the capricious tyranny of winds and tides, in their passages to and from the Emporium. We went up the river like magic; the sail boats were left far in the rear; the landscape the rate of twenty miles an hour; and the blessed sun himself was hardly able to keep up with us, as we champed our way, leaving a wake behind far as the eye could see, and causing a series of angry billows that broke in white foam on the distant shores. In less time than it used to take the old market boat to VOL. III.-1 get under weigh, I was landed, on a new wharf, at the and Ellee who had in boyhood tasted her bounty, now home of my youthful fancy, and remembering that I│repaid her by his duteous affection. The extreme of had been two days and a night in going the same dis-poverty is not incompatible with cleanliness, and whentance, the last time I achieved that feat, I could not help mentally exclaiming, "Certainly the world has improved prodigiously in the last thirty years!" This was a mortifying conclusion to an elderly gentleman like myself, who could not in conscience flatter himself with having kept pace with the world. Advancing from the place of landing, which was a long point jutting out into the river, a quarter of a mile distant from the heart of the village, I was struck with the change which I witnessed in passing along. The faces I saw were all strangers; the houses seemed to have grown downwards like a cow's tail; though they looked much more gay than in old times, when people neither painted their houses or faces. I wondered what had become of my old friends Brom Van Houten, Johnny Van Tassel and Jacobus See; I looked around expecting to be greeted by my special associate the shaggy Rover, who used to accompany me in my rambles, and who, I will say, was an honest, well beseeming quadruped; but he came not to meet me, and not a single dog wagged his tail as I passed along. As a last resource, I cast my eye towards Tren emet's Point, a projection about half a mile down the river, where I remembered to have seen, just before I lost sight of my native village, old Petrus Storm sitting with his fishing pole, as was his custom, studying patience and perseverance. But alas! Petrus was not there, and a sense of loneliness, of utter desolation came over me. I was alone in the home of my boyhood. Not even a dog knew me. I was worse off than Ulysses. ever I see beggary and dirt combined, I feel sure that the object is worthless. The home of Ellee's mother was tidy and neat. Ellee had learned to do many things, and the villagers employed him in preference to others, in various errands and occupations, adding to the ordinary remuneration, a trifle in charity. The devotion of Ellee to his mother, was such as might cause the cheek of many children not like him, bereft of sight and speech, to redden with shame, were it not true that those who are insensible to filial piety, are incapable of the feeling of compunction for the neglect of that most sacred duty. The first night I spent in the village I could not sleep. Accustomed for years to the fretful racket of a great commercial city, which is never quiet by day or by night, the death-like silence, the dread repose which reigned all around me, conjured up in my mind associations with death and oblivion. It seemed the silence of the grave. I lay and listened for some whisper of life, and the sound of my own breathing startled me. A mouse was rustling about somewhere in the wall, and the awful silence of all the world besides, caused the sounds to assume the semblance of some one attempting to open the window. I rose, opened it myself and looked out on a scene so wondrous quiet, yet so lovely, that I forgot the sense of loneliness in communing with the beauties of the earth and the heavens. A delicious, soul-subduing melancholy, associated, yea, mingled with a consciousness that I was standing in the presence of the great Creator of all these wonders, Advancing onwards, with melancholy hesitation, at stole over my mind, and that night I received an imlength I recognized an old acquaintance in the person pression of the divinity, such as all I had ever read or of Ellee, the blind and dumb boy, now grown prema-heard had failed to create. The bay lay stretched out turely old as I thought, for I forgot what an age had before me, as bright and still as the surface of a mirror, passed away since last I saw him. Hearing my foot-insomuch that the very moonbeams slept on it without steps he stopt, and leaning on his stick looked towards me, as intently as if he had been able to see the blessed light of the sun. This was one of Ellee's foibles, and I remembered how the boys used to laugh at him when the market boat was expected from New York, and he would, after looking intently that way, give it as his decided opinion, it was certainly her, though the poor lad could not tell a hawk from a handsaw. trembling; a number of vessels with their white sails all standing, lay becalmed on the expanse of waters; beyond, the opposite shore looked like the shadow of a world; and above, the blue heavens, the twinkling stars, and the full orbed moon, led irresistibly to the contemplation of a world to come. The rays of a morning sun in the month of June, tipt the hills of the western shore with golden lustre, before 1 became conscious that the night was past and the day come. Between sunrise and breakfast I seated myself on the piazza of our old family residence, which fronts the spring, that bubbles forth at about ten yards distance, to see if I could detect any of my old acquaintance, coming for water to boil the kettle. Presently there approached a couple of women, each with a pail in her hand, and both, to say the truth, more than commonly ugly. In conformity with the good, sociable custom of the country, I bade them good morning, which they returned, and looking at me, began to whisper to each other while their pails were filling. "It must be himI'm sure I am right, Rachel Foster," at length said one My heart warmed towards poor Ellee, who seemed to be the only remaining remnant of past times. Besides this, my aged mother-Heaven rest her soul!was always kind to him; I too had done him many good offices, and this constitutes a tie of fellowship which is never broken. Ellee stood gazing with his white sightless eyes, and seemed to recognize me, as it were instinctively, for an old friend. "Ellee," said I at last. He started, gazed still more intensely, and I could see the stick tremble in his hand, as he muttered certain unintelligible sounds. I approached nearer, and said, "Ellee, my boy, how do you do?" This time he recollected the voice of his old friend, and thirty years had not effaced the impression of gratitude. He drop-of them in rather a raised tone. "Rachel Foster! heaped his stick, came towards me with outstretched hand, and though he could not utter a word, I understood him, for the tears rolled from his sightless eyes adown his wrinkled cheeks. He conducted me to his mother, who was now past all employment but that of knitting, vens, is it possible!" said I, mentally-“Such a fright!” Now, Rachel Foster was my earliest love, and when I parted with her, was as pretty a girl as ever inspired the first warm wishes of youth. Now, grey hairsdeep wrinkles-stooping shoulders-sunken eyes-flat |