As shrieketh the young mother,
Torn from her child!
Dippeth the gallant ship
Low in the wave;
Riseth unharmed again,
Proudly and brave;

Flingeth the hissing spray
Off from the prow,
Straining the martingale
Under the bow;
Rushing along her course
Like to the steed

Urged by its rider,

And proud of its speed:

Yet doth the freshened gale,
Following fast,

Strain at the bellied sail,
And utter its moaning wail,
Bending the mast.

"Cold doth the sky look,
And colder the sun,
Glad is the helmsman now,
His watch is near done;
Slipping his icy feet,
He graspeth the wheel;
Numb though his hands are,
His grasp is like steel.
'West no'west b' no'th' and
'A-quarter the wind,'

And a wake like the maelstrom
Is foaming behind.

Slowly the starboard watch
Come from below,

Warned by the larboard watch
'A rough night in tow.'
The spray on the deck now
Falleth like hail,

And the coats of the sailors
Have frozen to mail!"

We have often thought that one of the best aids that could be adopted in furtherance of the cause of temperance would be an authentic exposure, by persons well acquainted with the modus operandi of the various ways in which pure liquors are adulterated, through the cupidity and evil practices of those who deal in "potent poisons."

"Yes, Sir-at the price I paid for 'em. You must know, Sir, that I hadn't been long in business when I discovered that gentlemen know very little about wine; but that if they didn't find some fault or other they would appear to know much less-always excepting the young students from Cambridge, Sir-and they are excellent judges. (He was talking to a man who had been one.)

"Well, Sir, with respect to my dinner-wines, I was always tolerably safe; gentlemen seldom find fault at dinner; so whether it might happen to be Madeira, or pale sherry, or brown, or-"

"Why, just now you told me you had but two sorts of wine in your cellar !"

Very true, Sir-port and sherry. But this was my plan, Sir: If any one ordered Madeira: From one bottle of sherry take two glasses of wine, which replace by two glasses of brandy, and add thereto a slight squeeze of lemon; and this I found to give general satisfaction-especially to the young gentlemen from Cambridge, Sir. But, upon the word of an honest man, I could scarcely get a living profit by my Madeira, Sir, for I always used the best brandy I had!

"As to the pale and brown sherry, Sir, a couple of glasses of nice pure water, in place of the same quantity of wine, made what I used to call my Delicate Pale;' and for my Old Brown Sherry,' a little burnt sugar was the very thing. It looked very much like sherry that had been twice to the East Indies, Sir;' and to my customers who were very particular about their wines, I used to serve it as such!"

"But, landlord, wasn't such a proceeding of a character rather-"

"Ah! I see what you would say, Sir. No; I knew it to be a wholesome wine at bottom, Sir. But my port was the wine that gave me the most trouble. Gentlemen seldom agree about port, Sir. One gentleman would say:

"Landlord, I don't like this wine: it is too heavy.'

"Is it, Sir? said I; 'I think I can find you a lighter.' Out went a glass of wine, and in goes a glass of water. Well, Sir,' I'd 'how do you approve of that wine, Sir?'

666

say,

At Cambridge, in England, a landlord, in a moment of convivial conversation with some of his guests, who had made him "merry" by inviting him to drink with them, to some considerable ex- Why-um-no-I can't saycess, of his own wines, thus "lets the cat out of the "I understand you, Sir; you like an older wine bag.' The dialogue is particularly rich and "tell--a softer wine, Sir? I think I can please you.' (Pump again, Sir.) Now, Sir,' says I, wiping the "You can't deny it, landlord; your wines of all decanter with a napkin, and holding it triumphantly kinds were detestable-port, Madeira, claret, Cham-up to the light, 'try this, Sir, if you please.' pagne-" "That's the very wine; bring another bottle of the same!'

ing:"

"There now, Sir! hold up a bit! To prove how much a gentleman may be mistaken, I assure you, as an honest man, that I never had but two sorts of wine in any cellar in the world."

"Only two kinds! What were they?" "That's all-two kinds-port and sherry." "How can you have the brass to say that, landlord? You know I have myself tried your claret, your-"

"Yes, Sir-that's it-my claret! One is obliged, of course, to give gentlemen every thing they ask for, Sir. Gentlemen who pay their money, Sir, have a right to be served with whatever they please to order, Sir. I'll tell you how it was, Sir. I never would have any wines in my house, Sir, but port and sherry, because I knew them to be wholesome wines, Sir; and this I will say, Sir-my port and sherry were the-very-best-I could procure in all England-"

How-the best?"

"But one can't please every body the same way, Sir. Some gentlemen would complain of my port as being poor-without body.' In went one glass of brandy. If that didn't answer, Ah, gentlemen,' said I, I know what will please you; you like a fuller-bodied, rougher wine!' Out went two glasses of wine, and in went two or three glasses of brandy. This used to be a very favorite wine-especially with the young gentlemen from Cambridge, Sir!" "And your claret?"

'My good wholesome port again, Sir. Three wine out, three waters in, one pinch of tartaric acid, two ditto orris-powder. For a full claret a little brandy; for a light claret more water!"

"But how did you contrive about Burgundy?" "That was my claret, Sir, with from three to six drops of burgamot, according as gentlemen liked a full flavor or a delicate flavor."

"How do you mean 'of course,' landlord?"

"That of course I made myself."

room, a gentleman entered with a friend, and with great difficulty moved down one of the thickly'Oh, Sir," said he, with an innocent and wag-packed aisles between the seats. He had come gish look, "surely every inn-keeper makes his own from a late dinner at his hotel, and although not inChampagne else what can become of all the goose-toxicated he had the "reminiscence" of a bottle of berries ?" wine in his head, and a faint reflection of it in his face.

How many who "tarry long at the wine," and who "drink mixed wines," awaking after an evening's debauch, with aching heads and disordered stomachs, are the foolish victims of just such unscrupulous poisoners as this plain-spoken English Boniface!

Seeing an aged man, with white hair and tottering steps, assisted upon the platform, and to a seat beside Mr. Webster, he addressed a young gentleman, who was sitting by the side of two very lovely young ladies, with,

"Can you tell me, Sir, who that venerable old man is, who has just taken his seat by the side of Mr. Webster?"

The person addressed looked at his interlocutor for a second or so, and then made reply: That, Sir, is General Washington!"

WE remember reading, when a boy, an account of a rather ignorant leader of a choir in a New England meeting-house, who, when the minister gave out the psalm by "interlining," as it is called-that is, separating the verses by two lines alternatelywent on singing after the psalm had been concluded, The questioner now returned the previous gaze the direction of the clergyman to desist, and when of the wag with interest; while the young ladies the direction was repeated, singing it over again, un-buried their faces in their handkerchiefs to smother til the affair became so ludicrous that the whole their laughter. congregation were compelled to join in the laugh which the blunder occasioned! Here is a fragment from an English journal, which is not unlike the circumstance to which we have alluded, with a regret that we can only allude to it:

"A constable, who had lately been inducted into office, was in attendance on the Court, and was ordered by the Judge to Call John Bell and Elizabeth Bell.'

"He immediately began at the top of his lungs : "John Bell and Elizabeth Bell-John Bell and Elizabeth Bell-JOHN BELL AND ELIZABETH BELL!'

"One at a time,' said the Judge.

"Thank you, Sir," said the aggrieved questioner, "for your very gentlemanly courtesy. You may perhaps want some information from me at some time or other."

"No, Sir," answered the wag, without moving a muscle, "I guess not, Sir-I guess not!"

That was the "unkindest cut of all!”

THE subjoined laughable instance of the ludicrous perfection of "Irish Flattery" has been for many years preserved in our "Drawer," and we are sure the reader will consider it worthy of a transfer to another one more public:

"Not very long ago, I had occasion to undergo

"One at a time—one at a time—ONE AT A TIME!' the tonsorial operation in Ireland. I was ushered shouted the constable.

into a handsome apartment, furnished with mirrors "Now you have done it!' exclaimed the Judge, of all dimensions. A fine muscular man, whose out of all patience. crop of hair and whiskers bore evidence of excellent culture, presented me with a chair. I sat down, and he had scarcely drawn his comb through my somewhat wiry wig, ere he began to remark, in a fine rich brogue, on the quality of my hair:

"Now you've done it-now you've done it-Now YOU'VE DONE IT!' yelled the constable.

"There was no standing this. The court, bar, and by-standers broke out into a hearty laugh, to the perfect surprise and dismay of the astonished constable."

"I AM going to write a work 'On Popular Igno-dhis.' rance," said a young physician to Dr. - the other day.

"I am glad to hear it," said the sarcastic Doctor -; "for I know no one more competent to the task!"

There are two modern instances of keen "cutsand-thrusts" which rise to our mind at this time and in this connection, which we will jot down "for future reference."

"How do you do to-day?" asked an eminent American artist, now deceased, of a friend who was not remarkable for being any thing besides a goodnatured, but sometimes very tiresome bore:

"As I conceived that there was something equivocal about the remark, I held my peace. But my gentleman had now commenced operations in good earnest; and, judging by sundry contortions of my features that the twitchings of his comb and scissors were not over-agreeable, he was in duty bound to enlist my attention to something else.

666

Did you iver study phrinology, Sur?' "No.'

666

'Well, then, it's yersilf dhat ought, for you've a beautiful hid, intirely. Troth, Sur, I never saw such a hid in me life. Whew! Why, here are all dhe organs as large as life, Sur. Benevolence, combativeness, veneration, conscientiousness, locality, individuality, time, secretiveness, and cau

"Well, not exactly right. I slept very indifferently last night; bad dreams, and all that. Besides, I've got a 'cold id by head.' In fact, I'm not my-tion, all of them of a thundering size; and marvelself to-day, at all."

"Well," replied the artist, "you've no reason to complain of that; for whoever else you may be, you are a gainer by the change!"

The second is on this wise:

When the late lamented Daniel Webster made his last address before the New York Historical Society, the great saloon at Niblo's was crowded to very repletion. In this crowded state of the

ousness, self-esteem, philo-progenitiveness, and destructiveness well diviloped. Docthur Spurzhum would have given a thousand pounds to see such a hid. All the divilopments are grand, Sur.'

"I could not help laughing at this enthusiastic sally. If all the developments are so prodigious,' I remarked, you must allow that the bad propensities are as prominent as the good ones.'

"Och! by no manner of manes, Sur. Sure you

"Oh, oh! so as you could not qualify yourself for full professional practice, you have taken to one of the minor branches. You are aware that the Col-ernor Kent, of Maine, our former Consul at Rio lege of Surgeons sprung from the College of Barbers ?'

not, may depend that on Saturday they will dine on | hair, was seated upon the floor; while in front of a lawyer's letter !”

the fire, and occupying the only stool in the hovel, sat the lord of the soil,' shivering under the malign influence of the tertian ague.

OLD Edie Ochiltree, the "Gaberlunzie man" in the "Antiquary," was not a more independent philosopher than his American counterpart, who held the following colloquy with a rich stock-oper-banity.

ator:

"Just you take notice that God has given me a soul and a body, as good for all the purposes of thinking, drinking, eating, and taking my pleasure, as he has you. It's a free country, too, and we are on an equality. You and I have the same common master-are equally free-live equally easy-are both traveling to the same place, and both have to die and be buried in the end."

"Good morning, my friend,' said one of the visitors, who is celebrated for his politeness and ur

"Then you'd suppose a lie. You can't hunt 'cepting you got something to hunt at, kin ye?' "No; that's a very clear case. I thought, however, that so near the river there would be plenty "You pretend, then, that there is no difference of deer. Still, if it is not a good hunting-ground, it between us?"

is a good place for raising cattle.'

"It is, is it? S'posin' the cattle gets into the swamp, and the river rises onto 'em, and the 'tarnal fools don't get out o' the way, but get drowndedhow you gwine to raise 'em then, eh?'

"That is certainly very bad; but there is one comfort left to you. If you have not the richest soil, nor the best hunting-ground, nor the greenest pasturage, you have what is better than all-you have health.'

"Not in the least, as to essentials. You swagger and drink wine in company of your own choosing; I drink a simple beer, which I like better than wine, in company which I like better than your company. You make a thousand dollars a day, perhaps-I make a quarter of a dollar, maybe. If you are contented, so am I. We're equally happy at night. You dress in new clothes-I am just as happy in old ones, and am not afraid to use them. If I have less property than you, I have less to care about. "I have, eh? Do you see them yaller-comIf fewer friends, I have less friendship to lose; and plected critters in the corner there? Them's got if I don't make as great a figure in the world, I make "health," ain't they? The old 'oman there, she's as great a shadow on the pavement. I am as great got it, ain't she? And look at me, with this cussed as you. Besides, my word for it, I have fewer en-ager shakin' my bones into a jelly. You call that emies-meet with fewer losses-carry as light a "health," do ye? heart, and sing as merry a song as the best of you." "But, then, is the contempt of the world no-swer me this question, and I won't ask you another thing?"

"Look here, my friend,' said the lawyer, 'an

one. If you can't get any thing to grow here, and nothing to hunt, if all your cattle drown, and your family are all the while sick, why in the name of common sense do you not up sticks and off? Why do you stay here?'

"Oh, 'cause the light-wood knots are so 'mazin' handy!'.

"The envy of the world is as bad as its contempt, and worse too, I think. You have the one, and I suppose I have a share of the other. We are matched there too. And besides, the world deals in this matter equally unjustly with us both. You and I live by our wits instead of living by our industry; and the only difference between us, in this particular, that is worth mentioning, is, that it costs society more to maintain you than it does me. I am content with a little; you want a great deal, and are not a bit happier when you get it. Neither of us raise grain or potatoes, or weave cloth, or manu-handy,' and where he would shiver the whole day facture any thing useful. We therefore add nothing to the common stock-we are only consumers; and if the world judged with strict impartiality, I think I should be pronounced the cleverest fellow of the two !"

"Now that is what I call a man of the vegetable species. I can't tell whether a vegetable thinks or not; but if it does, I have no doubt that that man's idea of heaven was, that it consisted of a large pine barren, where the light-wood knots were ''mazin'

with fever-and-ague over a large fire of the aforesaid light-wood knots.

"The storm was raging without; the rain descended in torrents; the red lightning darted its forked tongue through the darkness. And here, within, in unbroken silence, and almost motionless, sat the woman and her children, as cold and inanimate as the stone itself."

(This "human vegetable," it should be premised, is all this while playing an endless monotonous tune on an old dirty violin.)

"Why don't you stop that tiresome fiddle? Why don't you stop the leaks in your house?'

"You wouldn't have me go out in the rain to do

THAT rare Daguerreotypist of Humanity, the late lamented "Georgia Lawyer," has drawn a picture of a "Vegetable Man," which is a perfect picture in its kind. Two friends and brother lawyers of the writer are traveling across the wide sandy region that forms the northern boundary of the Altamaha, when they are overtaken by a storm. They are in a sad plight, and almost in despair, when all at once a clumsy, ill-shapen log hut, with gaping in-it, would ye?' was the reply, accompanied by the terstices, beckons them to its welcome shelter : "A fire of pine, or 'light-wood,' as it is called, blazed in the clay chimney. In one corner of the fire-place were huddled a baker's dozen of 'yellowcomplected' children. A tall, gaunt female, with long uncombed tresses, or bunches of coarse red

fiddle.

"No; but why don't you stop them when it don't rain?'

"Oh, they don't leak then! what's the use?'" This is a specimen of what in Yankee-land would be termed a very "shiftless fellow!"

Illustrations of Genius, by HENRY GILES. (Pub-| His hearers will easily recognize some of their old

lished by Ticknor and Fields.) The author of this volume has acquired a brilliant celebrity as a popular lecturer on subjects connected with literature and art. Few public speakers exert a more potent influence on an intellectual audience. Nor is his attractive power confined to scholars or highly cultivated circles. The mixed assemblies of a country lyceum listen with charmed attention to discourses from his lips, that would delight the most fastidious hearers in the halls of a university. This universal admiration may be ascribed in part to the kindling earnestness of his manner--his deep, electric tones of passion-the melancholy but impressive music of his cadences-the sudden bursts of inspiration with which he thrills the hearts of his audience, in the midst of an almost colloquial narrative, or a didactic critical discussion. But these causes do not fully explain the secret of his spiritual magnetism. It must be traced to a deeper source than any rhetorical expression. No mere declaimer, however forcible or adroit, could command the respect and sympathy which wait upon his words, whenever he speaks in public. Mr. Giles, then, possesses the uncommon gift of combining ideas, that are just above the common grasp, with those that are familiar and on a level with the average power of comprehension. He never soars so high as to be lost in the clouds, nor dives so deep as to touch a muddy bottom. His suggestions always have the air of novelty, and are in fact so far original, that they are not copied from others, but emanate from his own mind. They often act as a pleasing surprise, even on persons addicted to reflection, and seldom fail to bring a swarm of delightful associations in their train. Instinct with thought, they excite thought in the hearer. Fully charged with feeling, they communicate the contagious glow to the whole audience.

These qualities are certainly better adapted to give success to a popular speaker than to furnish materials for a volume. But Mr. Giles loses nothing by exchanging the lecture for the essay, and using a book, rather than the desk, as the vehicle for instruction. His fine critical skill gives a charm to his composition. As a critic, few writers in this country can sustain pretensions equal to his. His taste is appreciative, though not weakly tolerant. His positive nature leads him to search for beauty in the sphere of art, rather than to grope for the detection of faults. He has nothing mean, or malignant, or merciless, in his intellectual structure, rejoicing more in the contemplation of excellence than exulting in the discovery of æsthetic short-comings. Nor is his criticism ever cold and negative in its character. The examination of a favorite writer often entices him into fascinating episodes of his own. Many of the excursions in which he thus indulges are admirable specimens of a rich poetical diction-are filled with invigorating thoughts-abound with wise and benign counsels-and appeal to the noblest sentiments of the human heart.

In the present volume we have a number of essays on eminent authors, including Cervantes, Wordsworth, Burns, De Quincey, and Hawthorne, together with several papers on more general themes, but all of them marked by the richness of fancy, keeness of discrimination, strength and elevation of passion, and exuberance of expression, which are as natural to Mr. Giles as the air he breathes.

favorites, but will give them a no less cordial greeting on account of the new garb in which they make their appearance.

The Illustrated Natural History, by the Rev. J. G. WOOD (published by Harper and Brothers), presents the subject in a manner suited to interest and instruct the general mass of readers. It aims to combine accuracy of information and systematic arrangement with brevity and simplicity of treatment. The materials of the work are derived both from personal experience, from the most recent zoological writers, and from the private communications of well-informed travelers in almost every portion of the world. The descriptive portions in the various branches of natural history, are marked by vividness and simplicity. Numerous original anecdotes are introduced, illustrative of animal habits and peculiarities, in connection with scientific details, and a great variety of spirited engravings give a life-like aspect to the whole volume. It possesses equal interest for juvenile and for mature readers.

Literary Recreations and Miscellanies, by JOHN G. WHITTIER (published by Ticknor and Fields), is a collection of the author's prose productions, originally written for newspapers with which he has been connected. They well deserve preservation in a permanent form, and make a welcome addition to our stores of graceful and agreeable literature. The volume consists of miscellaneous essays, historical sketches, literary criticisms, and descriptive narratives, with an occasional paper" bearing directly or remotely upon questions which still divide popular feeling and opinion, the entire omission of which would have done injustice to the author's convictions, and been a poor compliment to the reader's liberality." Mr. Whittier's style is never cold, or languid, or commonplace. Inspired with genuine human sympathies, it brings the heart into a warm and kindly atmosphere, while his animated pictures of nature, his touches of quiet humor, and his frequent keenness of remark, create a perpetual interest for the intellect. Without encroaching on the province of poetry, Mr. Whittier's prose is such as none but a poet could write, abounding in felicitous combinations, and betraying a lively play of fancy, even amidst the most homely details. His views of life, as expressed in this volume, are elevated and generous. With an ardent faith in the capacities of man for good, he does not permit the presence of evil to dim his hopes, and quench his genial aspirations in cheerless misanthropy. Among the pieces now published, "My Summer with Dr. Singletary" is the longest, and perhaps the best adapted to become a general favorite. It gives the portraiture of a solitary old humorist in a country village, whose mind was teeming with past memories and present fancies, and from whose overflowing storehouse the author draws several chapters of delightful narrative and description. The traits of this fine specimen of one of "Nature's noblemen" may be recognized in many an original among the hills of New England.

Rudolph Garrigue has brought out a collection of German Poetry, translated into English verse by ALFRED BASKERVILLE, which claims the attention alike of the lovers of poetry and of German literature. It embraces specimens from a wide range of writers, arranged according to priority of birth, from the middle of the last century to the present time. In company with the veteran standards, whose chief productions have become familiar by frequent trans