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ease) fails them altogether. It is as ab- must be learnt, the rest is a mere consesurd to tell a man with an untaught voice quence. to read a sermon, or speak a speech impres- We shall be delighted if the measure sively, as it would be to tell one who had adopted by the Bishop of Rochester should never touched a pencil to copy the “Trans- find imitators, and if it should arouse the figuration ;” neither possess the means of public to a deeper interest in one of the reproducing that which is within them or most useful and now most neglected branches which they see. But “elocution” will not of education. do; it is the guidance of the voice that|
THE ADOPTED BIRDS.
little orphans. But no! In a very few minutes BY REV. JOHN TODD, D.D.
they both returned, each bringing a worm, with
which they began to feed them! They had “SWITCH, switch,” went the scythes, as the adopted them, and from that hour they took men, early in the morning, were mowing the tall care of them and raised them. grass. Round the field they went, not minding Does God take care of birds? Yes. And he the grasshoppers that leaped in terror, or the has promised to take care of his people and their meadow-mice that scampered in the thickest little orphan children, as birds take care of their grass. By and by the owner of the field came to them, when one of the men pointed to a little young.-S. S. Times. stick which he had stuck in the ground, and said with a laugh,“We cut all before us." “No harm, I hope."
M. DE LAMARTINE had been reported dead, "Nothing of consequence. But see!”. and addresses the following bitter letter to the
The gentleman went to the stick, and there editor of the Constitutionnel :found a poor meadow-lark, with her head cut off “It is of little matter to the world whether I by the scythe! She was on her nest keeping live or whether I die, but it is of great conseher little young birds warm, and thus the scythe quence to my creditors. I live only for them. took her life. Faithful mother!
I request you, therefore, to assure everybody The gentleman took up the nest, containing that I am tolerably well, and always enjoy good four very small featherless birds. What to do health, notwithstanding the assertion of the chief with them he knew not. So he carried them editor of the Presse, who tells me that I have home, and on his way recollected that near his lived too long. I am of his opinion, but that is house was a faithful old robin, which had made not the question. These are things
which are her nest in the cherry tree, and also that she had said sometimes to oneself, but which well-bred just begun to set.
men, as Voltaire says, avoid saying to one's On reaching the tree, there the robin was, to face through politeness in a democracy however be sure, and he well knew that she must have little puerile or honorable. That is the reason her own way. So he watched her. In a few why I protest, and even dead shall protest, hours she flew off to get her food. The moment against my death, Life is a duty of honor for she was out of sight,
the gentleman climbed up me; it is á resolution on my part. and took out the four little blue robin eggs and
“I have undertaken, and I am pursuing for put the four little larks in their place. Again others more than for myself, a great operation, he took his place to watch. In a short time Mrs. Robin came flying back to depart honorably from this amiable life; it is
very dear, very long, and very painful, in order to her nest. She went straight to it, and was the complete edition of my works, in forty voljust going to hop into it, when she looked in.
umes, published by subscription. The success She raised her wings and stood in utter amaze of this undertaking is the security and the bread ment. A few moments ago she had left eggs of those to whom my property might not be and now they were birds ! She stood and sufficient. Persons who might be tempted to looked, turning her head one way and then the subscribe on the faith of my longevity will say other, and seeming to scan them very closely: to themselves, on reading that i have caused After her amazement had gone past she flew off, uneasiness to my friends, Let us not subscribe ; and in a few moments came back with the male let us not follow the impulse of our generous robin. Then they both poised themselves, one hearts, for the author will not have time to comon each side of the nest, and looked in, most plete his work; he is, it is said, going to die. earnestly, with raised wings. Sure enough, it What use is there to subscribe for a dead or for was even so! They were birds, and not eggs !
a dying man?' You perceive that my good Then they began to chatter, as if talking the health is a pledge. Take care of it for me.? matter over, and explaining the state of things. How they looked and peered in, and talked ! M. de Lamartine is renewing Sir Walter After a while they flew off in great haste. The Scott's self-sacrifice, but the novelist did not gentleman feared it was now all over with the talk quite so much.
THE NORTH AND THE SOUTH.
THE FRENCH PRINCES.
BY AN AMERICAN DEMOCRAT.
WE'RE disposed to make a row, readers the last poem of our late special contrib
As it seems to me, just now, utor, Mrs. Elizabeth Barrett Browning, written About the Count de Paris and his brother, Dake shortly before her death. It came to us by the
de Chart-res; recent English steamer, inclosed in a note from
But I cannot understand her husband, who is now in London superin
Their importance in the land, tending the issue of a new and complete edition As they're neither prestidigitators, heroes, saints, of her poetical works. It will be seen that her
nor martyrs. last word in literature is a tender memorial of
So far as fighting goes,
I certainly suppose
That though they're brave and cool enough we “Now give us lands where the olives grow,"
still could do without them, Cried the North to the South,
And that Yankee boys as well “Where the sun with a golden mouth can blow Can stand up to shot and shell, Blue bubbles of grapes down a vineyard-row!” So why, pray let me ask, make such a mighty Cried the North to the South.
fuss about them? “Now give us men from the sunless plain,"
III. Cried the South to the North, “By need of work in the snow and the rain
They are two young men, you see, Made strong and brave by familiar pain!”
Very much like you or me, Cried the South to the North.
In the eye of God, no better and no worse, (I
beg their pardon!) And
like us, descended are II.
From the ancient primal pair “Give lucider hills and intenser seas," Who followed agriculture in the ancient primal Said the North to the South,
garden. “Since ever by symbols and bright degrees Art, childlike, climbs to the dear Lord's knees,"
IV. Said the North to the South.
They are sensible and sound, “Give strenuous souls for belief and prayer," So they took the Union ground, Said the South to the North,
Like every decent foreigner by Cotton unaffected; “ That stand in the dark on the lowest stair,
And that boys of sense and pride
Would certainly be vastly more than could have
been expected. III. “ Yet oh, for the skies that are softer and higher !"
But the big-wigs 'tother side Sighed the North to the South, “ -For the flowers that blaze, and the trees that and nod and wink and hint that some signifi
Keep their two eyes open wide, aspire,
cance is hidden, And the insects made of a song or a fire !”
In the fact that Royalty
Likes a military spree; "And oh, for a seer, to discern the same!”
And it puzzles them as once the Boston mummy Sighed' the South to the North,
puzzled Gliddon. “-For a poet's tongue of baptismal flame, To call the tree and the flower by its name !"
VI. Sighed the South to the North.
“ The ORLEANS House," say they,
“ Hopes to rise again, one day, IV.
And wants the friendship of the States, to make its The North sent therefore a man of men
future palmy" As a grace to the South,
So the big-wigs make a fuss, And thus to Rome, came Andersen;
While the truth is simply thus : “-Alas, but must you take him again ?" That these young men are clever and will orna. Said the South to the North.
ment our Army. Written at the end of May, 1861.
No. 915.-14 December, 1861.
1. Alexis de Tocqueville,
Quarterly Review, 2. The Doctor's Family. Part 2, .
Blackwood's Magazine, 3. Mr. Edw. Atkinson on Cheap Cotton,
Spectator, 4. Massachusetts Day of Thanksgiving,
Governor Andrew, 5. Prof. Hart on Mistakes of Educated Men, N. Y. Evening Post, 6. Viscount Monck-Governor of Canada, Saturday Review, 7. French Princes and French Intrigues in America, London Review,
PAGE. 483 501 518 520 522 523 526
POETRY.-The Watchers, 482. The Countersign, 482. King Cotton Bound, 500. Infallibility in Error, 500. King Cotton's Remonstrance, 521. The Soldier's Mother, 525. The Knitting of the Socks, 525. Deus Eversor! 528. Bayard Taylor in Memory of Col. Baker, 528. Knitting Socks for our Boys, 528.
SHORT ARTICLES.-Adulteration of Tea, 499. Electric Light, 499. Private Diary of Duke of Buckingham, 499. Substitute for Leather, 517. God Save John Bull, 517. Visiting Cards with a view of your house, 521. Advice from a Gambling-Table, 521. The Minnow Trap, 527. History of Hail Columbia, 527.
NEW BOOKS. For Better, For Worse. Boston: T. O. H. P. Burnham.
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BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.
“ Too late!” the stern, sad voice replied, “ Too late!” its mournful echo sighed,
In low lament the answer died. BESIDE a stricken field I stood;
A rustling as of wings in flight, On the torn turf, on grass and wood
An upward gleam of lessening white,
So passed the vision, sound and sight.
Rung down the listening sky to tell
Of holy help, a sweet voice fell. Two angels, each with drooping head
“Still hope and trust," it sang; the rod And folded wings and noiseless tread,
Must fall, tho wine-press must be trod, Watched by that valley of the dead.
But all is possible with God!”
BY FRANK G. WILLIAMS,
Of Company G, Stuart's Engineer Regiment. “How long!”-I knew the voice of Peace “Is there no respite ?-no release ?
ALAS! the weary hours pass slow, When shall the hopeless quarrel cease ?
The night is very dark and still,
And in the marshes far below, “O Lord, how long !-One human soul I hear the bearded whip-poor-will; Is more than any parchment scroll
I scarce can see a yard ahead, Or any flag the winds unroll.
My ears are strained to catch each sound
I hear the leaves about me shed, “What price was Ellsworth's, young and brave?
And the springs bubbling through the ground How weigh the gift that Lyon gave ? Or count the cost of Winthrop's grave ? Along the beaten path I pace,
Where white rags mark my sentry's track; “O brother ! if thine eye can see,
In formless shrubs I seem to trace Tell how and when the end shall be,
The foeman's form, with bending back; What hope remains for thee or me?"
I think I see him crouching low
I stop and list-I stoop and peer, Then Freedom sternly said: “I shun
Until the neighboring hillocks grow No strife nor pang beneath the sun
To groups of soldiers far and near. When human rights are staked and won. “I knelt with Ziska's hunted flock,
With ready piece I wait and watch,
Until my eyes familiar grown, I watched in Toussaint's cell of rock,
Detect each harmless earthern notch, I walked with Sidney to the block.
And turn guerillas into stone : “ The moor of Marston felt my tread,
And then amid the lonely gloom, Through Jersey snows the mareh I led,
Beneath the tall old chestnut trees, My voice Magenta's charges sped.
My silent marches I resume,
And think of other times than these. “But now, through weary day and night, I watch a vague and aimless fight
“Halt! Who goes there?” my challenge cry, For leave to strike one blow aright.
It rings along the watchful line;
“Relief?” I hear a voico reply« On either side my foe they own :
Advance, and give the countersign;"
With arms aport I charge my mate,
Then onward pass, and all is well. To speed thy coming through my aid ? But in the tent that night, awake, “Why watch to see who win or fall ?
I ask, if in the fray I fall, I shake the dust against them all;
Can I the mystic answer make I leave them to their senseless brawl."
When the angelic sentries call?
And pray that Heaven may so ordain, "Nay,” Peace implored : " yet longer wait; Whero'er I go, what fate be mine, The doom is near, the stake is great;
Whether in pleasure or in pain, God knoweth if it be too late.
I still may have the Countersign.
-Philad. Press. "Still wait and watch; the way prepare Where I with folded wings of prayer
* White rags are frequently scattered along the May follow, weaponless and bare.”
sentinel's post, of a dark night, to mark his beat.
From The Quarterly Review. and men of letters, to record the most interMemoir, Letters, and Remains of Alexis de esting and definite portions of what has fallen
Tocqueville, Translated from the French by from them in the social interchange of the Translator of Napoleon's Correspond thoughts and feelings. In this there has ence with King Joseph. London. 1861.
been no breach of confidence, for the diaIn the winter of 1858–9, there were re- logues have in most cases been submitted to siding in one salubrious spot on the shores the criticisms and corrections of the interof the Mediterranean, three remarkable locutors, who have gladly availed themselves representatives of the intelligence of the of an occasion through which they might ofgreat nations of Europe. There was Lord fer to the world, in a form of autobiography, Brougham, the chief citizen and host of the the frank vindication of past events, and an pleasant town of Cannes, and the two vis- open expression, otherwise denied to them, itors seeking for renewed health under that of present opinions. Such a facility of comgenial sky were Baron de Bunsen and munication is no doubt peculiar to a nation Alexis de Tocqueville. Of these, our coun- which loves, and knows how to talk, and Mr. tryman alone retains his vitality of thought Senior might wait long before an English and action in a wonderful old age. Ere minister, even in obscurity or disgrace, many months had gone by, the abundant would thus reveal himself to his best-trusted heart and unsatiated spirit of the German companion; but the documents themselves scholar and diplomatist whom he knew so are none the less valuable, and when varied, well, and, amid many differences, so justly as are the conversations before us, with much esteemed, had ceased to beat and to aspire. wisdom and pleasantry on social and historiA few weeks of struggle and of suffering cal topics, they afford an illustration of char. were sufficient to exhaust what yet remained acter hardly equalled in importance by the of the physical energies of the French phi- most familiar correspondence. The translosopher and statesman, who, of all his nota-lation itself, at once faithful and free, is the ble contemporaries, perhaps best deserves last act of a long friendship, and betokens a the interest and admiration of Englishmen. true womanly insight into the spirit of the It is to this aspect of the character of M. de writer, which no mere scholarship could supTocqueville that we would mainly direct the ply, but which this book especially demands, attention of our readers, deriving from the for it is the story not of a Life, but of a work of M. de Beaumont and other accessi- Mind. ble materials whatever may seem conducive There is, indeed, an entire disproportion to this object.
between the circumstances of this existence A word as to M. de Beaumont's original and the void occasioned by its loss. Of genwork : it consists of a short memoir, of three tle but not illustrious birth, of independent fragments of travels, of two chapters of the but moderate means, a traveller in countries unfinished second volume of the “Ancien already well known, the author of one comRégime et la Révolution,” and of selected pleted work and one other commenced, an letters. To these the translator has added interesting but not effective speaker during Mr. John Mills' accurate version of a remark- some years of indefinite parliamentary oppoable article in the London and Westminster sition to a government which he generally Review on “ France before the Revolution," approved, and a minister for some months which may be regarded as the foundation of of a Republic that he neither assisted nor dethe later edifice---many letters and parts of sired to establish, M. de Tocqueville passes letters omitted by M. de Beaumont, either away in the meridian of life, and the event as uninteresting to French readers in their is regarded not only as a national disaster, references to English politics or as touching but as a calamity to the dearest interests of too immediately on the present condition of mankind. His name is held up to reverence affairs in France-and several reports of con- and his character to admiration, not only by versations between M. de Tocqueville and the friends whom his personal fascination Mr. Senior. It is now no secret that the ex- and delightful qualities had won and retained, Master in Chancery has taken advantage of or by the small band of comrades who had the many opportunities he has had of inti- shared his doctrines and his fortunes, but by mate acquaintance with French statesmen statesmen, whose principles he had con