Obrázky stránek


Literary Review.
50, 97, 148, 197, 248, 300 The Poet to his Wife, by Isaac C. Pray.

Little Fairy, the, by Isaac C. Pray.
64 | True Honor, a tale, by H. F. Harrington.

Lost Diamond, the, by Caroline F. Orne.
81 The Faith of Woman, by H. W. Herbert.

Lady's Choice, the, by H. W. Herbert.
113 The Sailor, by Lydia H. Sigourney.

Lydia, by Rev. John Pierpont.
128 To the Widowed, by Ann S. Stephens.

Lines, by Charlotte Cushman.

145 | Theatricals.

49, 100, 150, 200, 250, 298
Lord of the Manor, by F. A. Durirage.

172 | The Play and the Afterpiece, by
Lines, by Park Benjamin.

Mrs. E. C. Embury.

Little Eddie, by Miss A. D. Woodbridge. 244 | To a Daisy.

The Sisters.


The Lake and the River, by Hannah F. Gould. 112
Mother and Daughter, by Mrs. E. C. Embury. 125 | The Three Caps, by John Neal.

Memattanon, an Indian Tale.

215 || The Divided rden, by Lydia H. Sigourney. 140
Marie, of France, by Lydia H. Sigourney.

295 The Freshet, a Sketch, by H. F. Harrington. 141
My Boyhood's Gift, by John Sherry.
ib To a Sister.

Temperance Societies, by Mrs. Hofland.

To a Friend, by Mrs. Frances S. Osgood.

“ Now Westlin Wins"-illustrated
53 | Time's Changes, by Isaac C. Pray.

New-Englanders, by John Neal.

77 | Triumph of Song, by Mrs. Frances S. Osgood. 208
Northington, a tale, by Caroline F. Orne. 266 To a Mountain Streamlet, by Robert Hamilton.

The Sea, by John Neal.

Origin of the Red Breast, by Jonas B. Phillips.

140 The Castle Hall-set to music.

245, 246, 247
Outlaw's End, the, by H. W. Herbert.
161 | Thoughts on an Infant's Burial.

Old Trinity, by Park Benjamin.


Progress-a thought
44 Vicissitudes, by Mrs. E. C. Embury.

Progress of a Soul, by Mary Anne Broune. 76 Visiting-Cards, by Ann S. Stephens.
Power of the Almighty, by Lydia H. Sigourney. 192 | Viaduct-illustrated.




[blocks in formation]
[graphic][merged small][ocr errors]

NEW-YORK, M A Y, 18 3 9.




SARATOGA LAKE. We present the readers of the Companion with a steel engraving, from the burin of Mr. A. Dick, of this city. It will be conceded, we think, that the work is worthy of the high reputation which Mr. Dick enjoys throughout the country.

Saratoga Lake is a beautiful sheet of water, about three miles from the celebrated Saratoga Springs, the most fashionable summer-resort in the country. The scenery is very beautiful in the vicinity of the lake, which is about eight miles long and two in width, and the locality is one anxiously sought by all those who admire rural scenes. The Hudson River, which receives the outlet waters of the lake, is about eight miles distant, and adds to the pleasure of the traveller by the charms of its own beautiful scenes and the contrast of its lovely waters, so often justly lauded and admired.

In the history of the country, also, this lake has become celebrated. It will be remembered as the place where General Burgoyne marshalled his forces at a very critical period in the war of the Revolution.

As I believed its changes and its doom
Were what I had not dreamed of till this night
Was on me without moon--so was I sure
I was new-called to struggle with its tide,
And felt a new reward was in the toil,
So it was had with knowledge of the end,
And a belief that centered in the goal
The spirit sprang for. I could now behold
Another freedom breaking from his heart,
And pointing Man to better promises
Than I had thought topped mountains, ere I saw,
As I do now, that mountains are below
The landscape yet to come, beyond the stars !
I heard another sound from flood and hill
And a tongue better-voiced broke from the clouds
And the quick wind. I listened to new praise
In all my ear companioned with. I saw
Another fellowship of Man with things
Of which he asked the mystery. I saw
The coming in the present-and I heard
Something that seemed like prophecy in sounds
Of questions and response. Yet 'twas to me
A picture that I feared to gaze upon-
Man, in his vast associations-Man
Linked with the shadowy future—and abroad
On this stretched ocean of futurity.

Original. SERENADE.

WAKE, lady, wake, for the moonbeams are glowing;

In light and in beauty o'er forest and hill; The fair Housatonic is noiselessly flowing,

Where o'er the green meadows the night-dews distil. The cool breath of evening shall murmur around thee,

And bear on its wings the sweet incense of flowers; Then shake off the fetters of sleep which have bound thee,

And breezes shall weft thee this offering of ours.


If the sunshine of hope no dark sorrow has shrouded,

Each note that thou hearest will tell thee of joy ; For the heart whose young life is still pure and unclouded,

Is a world of delight which no fears can destroy. But if thou lovest better the language of sadness

If sorrow has blighted the hopes that were dear, Still, in moments of grief, as in moments of gladness,

'Tis music has power both to soothe and to cheer.

To see him stationed at a God-like helm,
And breasting the great waters for a land
Where he should rise to stature of the men
That move in pinions, and with spirits poised
On loftier pens than o'er the earth unfold,
Moved my own spirit with a fearfulness
That was not sorrow-but to joy allied,
And eloquent with dignity whose home
Is with the crowned and kingly of the skies!
Old memories came back, as I beheld
Man in his new arrayment for the sphere
That he should tread in triumph. There came back
A vision of a majesty, nor time
Nor other vision from my stricken soul
Can take the impress. It was a new launch
Into another tide, of a great bark
Whose pennons kissed the clouds—and at whose prow
A world's waves leap in honor, as it strikes
Into the sea it thunders through in foam!

[blocks in formation]




4 Too much of fame



a set of teeth, as even and white as if chiselled from THE DELUDE D.

mother of pearl.

“A grimacy for thy boasting, brother of mine," he said, in a banting tone. " See; Black-heart bears him

self firm and strong, while there lies thy boasted courser fairly worn to death. Beshrew me! but I think him bet

ter fitted for the battle-field than the road."
Had shed its radiance on thy peasant name;

Giving his own beast a triumphant pat on the neck, the
And, bought alone by gifts beyond all price-
The trusting heart's response, the paradise

youth dismounted, and throwing his bridle over a bough
Of home with all its loves-doth fate allow
The crown of glory unto woman's brow."-

of the chestnut, proceeded to his unhorsed companion.

But his jeering smile gave place to an expression of conIt was in the summer of fourteen hundred and twenty-cern, when he saw the look of distress with which Dunois nine, during the wars which the Duke of Bedford carried strove to assist his exhausted steed to regain his footing. into France, that a horseman, weary and travel-worn,

It was in vain that Dunois exerted himself to reaniemerged from a gap in the hills which walled in a luxu

mate the fallen courser; that he patted his reeking riant valley on the borders of Loraine. The stranger haunches and drew his hand caressingly, and with words could not have numbered more than twenty-four years, of encouragement, down his soiled and panting neck. and though his doublet of coarse fustian, fulling hose, The poor animal made one fierce struggle-rose on his and pointed shoes, linked to the knee by a chain of base shoulders and threw out his fore hoofs with a desperate metal, proclaimed him as little above the common pea

muscular effort-every sinew was stretched, and the big sants of the province, there was a graceful ease in his veins worked like knotted serpents over his ample chest. bearing, and a lofty expression in his clear blue eyes, that He fell

, and lay like a stricken warrior, panting in the belied the humble dress in which he journeyed. Other dust, his large, expressive eyes turned toward his master indications of rank were also discernible; for though a

with a look of almost human appeal. Gathering strength saddle-cloth of coarse, dun-colored frieze nearly envelloped for a fresh exertion, he raised his head like a wounded his horse, it could not conceal the firm and graceful pro-lion, again buried his delicate hoofs deep in the gravel, portions of the high-blooded animal, nor the haughty and made another mighty effort. It was in vain; the tread with which he spurned the turf lining his path || sinews, which laced his body like whipcords, relaxed, and while occasionally, as his motion disturbed the ample he fell slowly forward, the blood oczing from his distended saddle-cloth, a glimpse of golden fringe and rich crimson nostrils, and the flesh quivering on each slender limb, housings was betrayed.

like thick grass stirred by the wind-one throe, and the When the traveller reached the mouth of the gorge,

generous animal lay stark and dead on the highway. he looked back as if for some loitering companion; then,

The traveller looked on the body of his prostrate steed checking his horse under an old chestnut which grew a

for a moment, and then dashing his gloved hand over his little from the highway, he drew off his heavy buff gloves, eyes, turned sorrowfully away. and, doffing his cap, commenced fanning himself with “What! whining over a dead horse ?" exclaimed the the tuft of heron's plumes appended, while with his dis-first-mentioned traveller, laying his hand kindly on the engaged hand, which betrayed his gentle breeding by its other's shoulder, “fie, man; think him an Englishman, whiteness, as well as by the large diamond which burned and rejoice that the ravens will banquet so merrily." on one of the fingers, he carelessly ruffled up the heap of

“Nay, Charles, this is unkind. The poor beast was rich brown curls which fell in damp masses over his fore- my father's last gift; my mother loved him and—” head. Directly, he was joined by another wayfarer, Before the sentence could be finished, the two were habited like himself, and, apparently, but little his supe- joined by a third personage, who drew up under the

In the features of the two, might be detec- chestnut, but remained a little apart, as one who belonged ted that indescribable similitude which often characteri- to the same company, but could not claim equal companzes members, however distant, of the same family; yet, ionship with the others. His courtenance was bold and those of the latter, were chastened by a sedate and rosy, while there sat a twinkling expression in his quick thoughtful expression, that contrasted, perhaps, to his grey eyes, which bespoke him as one of those, who, by disadvantage, with the sparkling animation which was imitating the follies of others, contrive to turn them to the peculiar beauty of the other's. His eyes were black their own benefit. He was worse mounted, but more and lustrous, and his whole appearance was that of a gaily attired than those who preceded him. His doublet man who, young in years, had partaken largely of the and hose were of tarnished crimson velvet, slashed and vicissitudes of life. His horse, which fell little short of pointed with orange.

His shoes were

more decithe foremost in beauty or speed, had evidently been dedly pointed, like the inverted bill of a hawk, and injured; for hc halted painfully with one of his fore-feet, the high, square cap of crimson oloth, was banded and and just as he reached the chestnut, stumbled, and fell to fringed with silver lace; and on each of the four corners, the ground. The prostrate horseman disentangled him- | a small bell of similar metal, emitted a tinkling sound at self from his beast, and strove by every means in his each tread of his horse, proclaiming him as one of the power, to encourage the poor creature to arise, while the fools or jesters, who formed an appendage to most of the first comer sat enjoying his perplexity, with a good-na- noble families of France at that period. He looked tured smile just parting his healthy lips, and displaying warily at the two travellers a moment, then throwing off

rior in years.

« PředchozíPokračovat »