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with the breathings of old Ocean's bosom; to listen to the music which bore cadence to the many joys of my youthful hours. I cannot live long so far from sea.' We shall have no war, dear Sir - none. The spirit of the age is opposed to deeds of brawl and battle.' So that our correspondent is safe from carnage, whereat our readers will greatly rejoice. We had one friend nearly lost in a naval engagement, 'whereby he received a cannon-ball in his chest, which utterly destroyed a couple of dozens of very good shirts;' an escape almost as miraculous as that of Sir Roger DE COVERLEY, who tells us that on one occasion he should ‘inevitably have fallen in battle, had he not prudently left the field the night before the action. Our hand is outstretched to our friend, however, with thanks for the bint in regard to the sail-boat excursion. There he touches us ; for, as he must often have seen from our pages, we greatly affect the landward reaches of the mighty element on which his youth was cradled. . READER, did you ever see a man, the tide of life and health running free the while in his veins, take a leap into the abyss of death? It is an awful spectacle - yet we have seen it (for the first and only time) within the last hour. From the same gloomy halls where but a few months since we bade farewell to one condemned to die, we have just seen led forth another of the Law's wretched victims; seen him walk with a firm step to the scaffold, where he took his last stand.' How many straining eyes, how many trembling lips, how many pallid faces, attested the horror of the unhappy man's situation ! "God help him! God help him!' was all that we could utter. Like the victim in the Italian tale, who every morning found one less window in the slowly enclosing prison which was finally to crush him to death, he had arrived at the inevi. table hour' which could lead but to the grave.' Few words were said; when a white effigy hung suddenly before the shuddering spectators, heralded by nothing save a strain upon the rope, and a sound like th-u-gg! from the recoil of its oscillating burthen. From this moment we are opposed to hanging. It is a relic of barbarism, and ought to be abo. lished. The author of Eothen tells us of an exhibition of gibbetting which he be held in his travels in a heathen land; and it is only a short remove from the inhuman custom of hang. ing. He saw the remains of three or four poor fellows who had been impaled upon high poles, and so propped up by the transverse spokes beneath them, that their skeletons, clothed with some white wax-like remains of flesh, still sat up lolling in the sunshine, and listlessly staring without eyes. But, reader, hanging is next to gibbeiting; and either is utterly obnoxious to humanity. If blood must atone for blood, let the homicide . perish by the sword,' the axe, or the deadly discharge of musketry. Let him not be suspended like a dog, to struggle in long death-agonies between heaven and earth. 'It is too horrible — let us not think of it! An esteemed friend, who has just returned from a year's residence in England, informs us that it is a very barbarous country. “Would you believe it,' he asked us, with emotions that he knew would be appreciated, 'would you believe it, that in enlightened England, a country of which we have heard so much and know so little, they have no oysters, worthy the name? – pone in which the strong taste of copper is not a relief to the other palatial sensations which they awaken; no clams; no buckwheat cakes; no green-corn; no canvass-back ducks; no pea-nuts, (and of course no legitimate drama ;) no tomatos, no water-melons, por hickory or butter-nuts — no Fourth-of-July!' Possibly it was from a prejudice awakened by these sad deficiencies, that our friend was led to regard the state of society there with no favorable eye. The wide and general contrast exhibited in the condition of the rich and titled, and the poor and ignobly-born;' the truckling, the humiliating subserviency to rank and station; the hopeless mediocrity of condition which cannot be overcome by the middle classes or lower orders,' struggle as they may; these things painfully impressed him at every turn, and in every part of the kingdom. Our friend is no longer surprised, he tells us, to find the tradesman, the mechanic, the artizan, who could not, with the freedom which becomes A MAN, lift his head above an assigned level in his own country, appreciating here that equality which Talent and Industry and Taste can command at the hands of the highest in our land. · ... THE poor ye have with you always,' said the REDEEMER, when on earth; and it is grateful to
the heart of every well-wisher to his kind, that they are remembered and cared for by those whom Misfortune has left unscathed. Corporations,' it is oftentimes said, ' have no souls ;' but this can scarcely be asserted of our municipal corporation. We have just returned from a very delightful jaunt to RANDALL's Island, a spacious garden of beauty, situated in the East River, off the village of Harlem, upon which was laid in our presence the corner stone of the new Alms-House; a vast structure of stone, six hundred feet in length, the width and height in proportion. The day was one of the most delightful of the fresh-budding month of May. The air was redolent of the scent of countless apple and cherry trees, in full bloom; while the view from the central swell of the island was one of matchless beauty. Alderman MILLER, member of congress elect, in an address characterized alike by sound judgment, benevolence, and good taste, adverted to the favorable situation of the island for the purpose to which it had been devoted ; and it only required his hearers to look around them, upon the far-reaching landscape, embracing sparkling waters, verdant fields, and vernal woods, with the towers, domes and steeples of the city melting into the blue haze of the distance, without feeling that no encomium, however fervent, could exaggerate the natural advantages and beauties of the location. The edifices for the Farm School, a separate branch of the city charity, in progress of erection upon the same island, are fast verging to completion. The business of the day was concluded by a sumptuous dinner in a temporary edifice upon the ground; whereat were discussed divers excellent edibles and potables, in connexion with pleasant intellectual viands, which were equally well received;' after which a highly-gratified party, embracing the burgomasters and schepens of the city, and a few invited guests, returned to town at a seasonable hour, refreshed and strengthened for their daily toils, by the glimpses they had had, and the pure air they had breathed, of the fresh and blooming country. Some modern essayist, speaking of * Woman'as a loveable, marriageable entity, observes : 'What matter if she be young or not, so she be loveable? I won't say what matter if she be plain or not, for everybody knows that is no matter where love is, though it may have some business in determining the sentiment.' Any one, says an amusing writer of another description, can admire a handsome woman; but the true benefactor to the public, whose memory is to be cherished, and to celebrate whose praises the muses and the fine arts ought to strive with eager emulation, is the man who during a long life has always been deeply in love, but never with a lady whose aspect would not frighten a tolerably quiet horse. Mr. EDWARD Dechaux, artists’-colorman, at Number 306, Broadway, near the corner of Duane-street, has sent us his new and very handsome catalogue of ' Artist's Materials, Prints, etc.,' which we have examined with pleasure, not unmixed with wonder. We had no conception before of the almost countless variety of materials and instruments, from celebrated manufactories in England and on the Continent, which are employed by artists in this country. An ‘Artists' Emporium,' like that of Mr. Dechaux, is indeed a marvel. We observed, for example, twenty-six divisions of painters' and gilders' brushes, alone, of all sorts of • known hair,'each division including perhaps a dozen or more varieties of the species ; the various' pencils' are scarcely less numerous; and as for colors, 'prepared,' 'in powder,' or in drop,' for oil or water ; in 'tubes,' 'tin' or 'compressible,' flat or round; in'bladders' of all shapes and modes of expulsion ; in boxes,'cans,' • bottles,' or porcelain cups ;' why, verily their name is legion; including among them a 'mummybrown,' a color that can only be obtained from the powdered dust of Egyptian mummies. Then the canvasses, pallets, easels, varnishes, resting-sticks, lay-figures, crayons ; gums, pallet-cups, miniature cases, port-folios ; compasses, moddeling tools, daguerreotypeapparutus, camera-lucidas, ' and so forth ;' there is inextricable confusion in the very thought of half the varieties of them! One of the most pleasant features of Mr. DeChaux's establishment, however, is his rich and constantly-reinforced collection of the rarest engravings and lithographs ; 'studies' of the human figure, of marine views, land. scapes, and animals, by the most eminent artists in Europe ; with architectural models, views, sculptures, ornaments, furniture and armor of the Middle Ages, etc. Copious as is VOL. XXV.
the catalogue before us, however, it embraces, we are informed, ' but a small portion of the extensive collection always on hand.' Mr. Dechaux resides mainly in Europe, that he may be enabled to furnish at once to his establishment all that is new and beautiful which may appear in the capitals of Italy, France, and England; and to this fact may be attributed the perfection and popularity of his · Artists' Emporium,' which, as a mere matter of curiosity, is richly worth visiting. We had the pleasure the other evening to hear the ensuing lines sung with great feeling and expression by a charming young lady, who accompanied herself upon the piano-forte with simplicity and good taste. When she had finished, the water stood in our eyes;' whereat a friend somewhat marvelled, remarking that it was odd we should take it so much to heart,' for the song was as old as the hills. We had never heard it before, however; and the touching pathos of the air, which is in excellent keeping with the words, made an evident impression upon one or two other persons present, who seemed as much “ behind the age' as ourselves. In the hope that there are many more such among our readers, we annex the lines without farther comment :
*Oh! the early time of Love! when my fancy used to rove
0! the manly time of Love! Though the face for which I strove
But Age comes creeping near, with his forehead bleak and sere,
A WESTERN correspondent, 'Captain L-' (have we his real name ?) writes us as follows: 'In the tenth chapter of Joshua, at the twelfth and thirteenth verses, you will find it thus written : ‘Then spake Joshua unto the Lord in the day when the LORD delivered up the Amorites before the children of ISRAEL; and he said in the sight of ISRAEL, • Sun, stand thou still upon Gibeon; and thou Moon, in the valley of Ajalon. And the sun stood still, and the moon stayed, until the people had avenged themselves upon their enemies. Is not this written in the Book of Jasher ? So the sun stood still in the midst of heaven, and hasted not to go down about a whole day. You will also find the Wars of Jehovah and The Enunciations, mentioned by Moses, in the twenty-first chapter of Numbers, at the fourteenth, fifteenth, and twenty-seventh to thirtieth verses : 'Wherefore it is said in the Book of the Wars of the Lord, “What he did in the Red Sea, and in the brooks of Arnon ; and at the stream of the brooks that goeth down to the dwelling of Ar, and lieth upon the border of Moab. Wherefore they that speak in proverbs, say, 'Come into Heslbon, let the city of Sihon be built and prepared : for there is a fire gone out of Heshbon, a flame from the city of Sihon : it hath consumed Ar of Moab, and the lords of the high places of Amon. Woe to thee, Moab ! thou art undone, O people of Chemosh: he hath given his sons that escaped, and his own daughters into captivity unto Sihon, King of the Amorites.' Now, Mr. Editor, have you any curiosity concerning these
hitherto missing Books of Scripture? If you have, or think your readers would have, it is my belief that they can be obtained for you. A friend of mine, travelling in Switzerland, encountered copies of them in the hands of a monk, fortified by indubitable marks of authenticity. On his return from Rome, he will again meet the monk at Berne; and he will be permitted to copy the precious parchment mss., which are written in Latin, to bring back to the New World. Would you like to receive them? To which query, devoutly genuflecting, we answer, with thumb on facial handle, and dubious gyrating palm extended wide, 'Oh! certing, Capting!! MESSRS. REDDING AND COMPANY, Boston, have published ' A Fragment on the Irish Roman Catholic Church,' the last (and unfinished) production of the late Sydney Smith. It is unquestionably authentic; for no one ever could write like · Peter PLYMLEY.' Its object was to create a better feeling, on the part of the English church, in favor of the rights of Irish Catholics to their own forms of worship, and to advocate some national liberality toward the Catholic clergy. Of the actual condition of things in this regard, in Ireland, Mr. Smith thus speaks: The revenue of the Irish Roman Catholic Church is made up of half-pence, potatoes, rags, bones, and fragments of old clothes, and thuse Irish old clothes. They worship often in hovels, or in the open air, from the want of any place of worship. Their religion is the religion of three-fourths of the population ! Not far off, in a well-windowed and well-roofed house, is a well-paid Protestant clergyman, preaching to stools and hassocks, and crying in the wilderness; near him the clerk, near him the sexton, near him the sexton's wife, furious against the errors of Popery. Now, though I have the sincerest admiration of the Protestant faith, I have no admiration of Protestant hassocks on which there are no knees, nor of seats on which there is no superincumbent Protestant pressure, nor of whole acres of tenantless Protestant pews, in which no human being of the five thousand sects of Christians is ever seen. I have no passion for sacred emptiness, or pious vacuity.' The writer depicts with a 'free pencil the necessities of the clergy, and the extortions to which, in order to live, they must resort : “ The first thing done when there is a question of marrying a couple is, to make a bargain about the marriage money. The wary minister watches the palpitations, puts on a shilling for every sigh, and a sixpence on every tear, and maddens the impetuosity of the young lovers up to a pound sterling. The priest makes as hard a bargain as he can, and the bed the poor peasants are to lie upon is sold to make their concubinage lawful. But the most painful scenes take place at extreme unction, a ceremony to which the common people in Ireland attach the utmost importance. “Pay me beforehand ; this is not enough ; I insist upon more; I know you can afford it; I insist upon a larger see!' - and all this before the dying man, who feels he has not an hour to live ! and believes that salvation depends upon the timely application of the sacred grease.' 'I want to see jolly Roman Catholic priests secure of their income, without any motive for sedition or turbulence. A buggy, a house, some fields near it, a decent income paid quarterly; in the long run these are the cures of sedition and disaffection; men don't quit the common business of life, and join bitter political parties, unless they have something justly lo complain of. I want to see Patricks at the loom ; cotton and silk factories springing up in the bogs; Ireland a rich, happy, quiet country; scribbling, carding, cleaning, and making calico, as if mankind had only a few days more allotted to them for making clothes, and were ever after to remain stark naked.' In the course of some affectionate advice to O'Connell, we find these characteristic senten. ces : 'What trash to be bawling in the streets about the Green Isle, the Isle of the Ocean! the bold anthem of Erin go bragh! A far better anthem would be, Erin go bread and cheese! Erin go cabins that will keep out the rain! Erin go pantaloons without holes in them! What folly to be making eternal declamations about governing yourselves! If laws are good and well administered, is it worth while to rush into war and rebellion, in order that no better laws may be made in another place ?' . . It was often told us, when we were in our 'reens, that when we had arrived at such an age — twenty-five or thirty, if we remember rightly, was the assignable limit – our years would seem very
much shorter than they had previously appeared. But as yet, it is not so. Whether it is because we are continually ante-dating time in our labors, (having finished with June, professionally, for example, before our readers enter upon that lovely month,) or because we make it a point to secure all the sunshine we can, as it falls upon our path, we know not; but this we know, that Time has not as yet begun to 'gallop' with us ; his paces are as even as in our youth and earliest manhood :
LAMENT who will in fruitless tears
But let them hasten by.'
When we look upon many among our friends and correspondents who are declining into the vale of years, and although looking toward another and a better world, yet embracing with pleasure the enjoyments vouchsafed in this, we are reminded of an eloquent, wise and thoughtful author, himself an admirable illustration of his own remarks, who tells us that the age of a cultivated mind is often more complacent, and even more luxurious than the youth. It is the reward of the due use of the endowments bestowed by nature; while they who have in youth made no provision for age, are left like an unsheltered tree, stripped of its leaves and its branches, shaking and withering before the cold blasts of winter. Happy would it be for men, did they recollect that change they must; and that if they will be but sufficiently attentive to circumstances, they may also change for the better. The remarks in a recent subsection of 'Gossip' upon matter-of-fact people has reminded an obliging correspondent of a scene recorded by DICKENS, between Mrs. Bloss, who is about bringing an invalid lodger to Mrs. Tıbbs' boarding house, and that respectable landlady: * Dear me! poor man!' said the astonished Mrs. Bloss, drawing her chair nearer Mrs. Tıbbs; 'what is his complaint?' 'Why the fact is, replied Mrs. TIBBS, with a most communicative air," he has no stomach whatever.' • No what!' inquired Mrs: Bloss, with a look of indescribable alarm. “No stomach,' repeated Mrs. Tibbs, with a shake of the head. Lord bless us! what an extraordinary case!' gasped Mrs. Bloss, as if she understood the communication in its literal sense, and was astonished at a gentleman without a stomach finding it necessary to board any where. “When I say he has no stomach,' explained Mrs. Tibbs, “I mean that his digestion is so much impaired, and his interior so much deranged, that his stomach is not the least use to him ; in fact it is rather an inconvenience than otherwise.' Never heard such a case in my life! exclaimed Mrs. Bloss.' The boarder arrives, however; and when a mutton-chop, pickle, a twograin calomel pill, a pint bottle of stout, and other medicines, have been carried up to him, he becomes easier. We have a pleasant story, in this kind, of which more anon.' . SHAKSPEARE, 'by his friend,'Mr. HUDSON, has been still farther illustrated' in a lately published extract from the Great Expounder's lecture upon Hamlet and the Editor of the KNICKERBOCKER, to which we alluded in our last number. The passage is simply characteristic, and does not call for reply. This Magazine might find itself preoccupied, if it should enter into wordy warfare with every itinerant lecturer who should feel himself aggrieved at the unvarnished expression of its opinions. Our impressions of Mr. Hudson are confirmed by those who have heard and seen the most of him. A fine scholar and critic, well known in New-England, writes ns from Boston: You have given Mr. HUDSON a severe castigation, which I think he deserved. I saw a good deal of him when he was in Boston, and thought that he was very much over-estimated, and foolishly flattered. He is a man of some cleverness, but has not the stuff that heroes are made of. He reminds
of a bush laden with the fruits of larger trees, and decorated with flowers, which upon close inspection are seen to be tied on. The bush was thrifty, and if it had remained in the woods until its natural bearing-time, it might have produced good berries, of the largest size, and that plentifully.' ... We believe it was our old friend Fay, who once arose from his bed in the middle watches of a sultry summer's night, struck a light, and