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You smile in the dark, I know!
feel, though you see not, the red.
"It was being so long alone—-
Uncared for, and unknown,
That supped the springs of life!
Ton have given a world of love:
Is not our God above'
Ho will not summon me now.
"The summer is coming fast;
I can scent the rich perfume Of the lilac by the door,
And the delicate apple-bloom. Where shall our year be spent?
I long for the hills of Spain— Wo will go to Rome, for Lent,
Then back to our home again.
"O, what is this sudden pang? Is it growing darker, Will? Heavily goes iny heart,—
It is almost standing still 1 Raise mo—I cannot breathe— Pray for me, love," she said. "Father, into T/iy hands!"
And my young wife was dead.
—Once a Week.
THE UNFINISHED POEM. Take it, reader—idly passing
This, like hundred other lines; Take it, critic, great at classing
Subtle genius' well-known sign. But, O reader! bo thoa dumb; Critic, let no keen wit come; For the hand that wrote or blurred Will not write another word, And trfe soul you scorn or prize Now than angels is more wise.
Take it, heart of man or woman,
This unfinished, broken strain,
Whether it be poor and common,
Or the noblest work of brain;
Wholly sacred: even as lingers
Final word, or light glance cast, Or last clusp of life-warm fingers
That wo knew not was the last; Wholly gacrcd—as we lay, The day after funeral day, Their dear relics, great or small, Who need nothing, yet have all— All the best of us, that lies 111 I with them in Paradise;
All our highest aspirations,
Our most silent resignations,
Yet which jealously we keep
In our mute soul's deepest deep.
So of this imperfect song
Let no echoes here prolong;
For the singer's voice is known
In the heaven of heavens alone.
—All the Year Round.
THE RIVER PATH.
BY JOHN O. WHITTIER.
[The following new and beautiful poem, from our ever-welcome contributor, will be recognized by those who have ever been near his cottage, as a Picture of a Sunset on the Banks of the Merrimac.]—Ed. Independent.
No bird-song floated down the hill,
But on the river's furthest side
A tender glow, exceeding fair,
With us the damp, the chill, the gloom:
And stilled our beating hearts to hear
Sudden our pathway turned from night;
"So," prayed we, " when our feet draw ne«r The river, dark with mortal fear,
And the night comcth chill with dew,
"Thet've gone to meet me." Well, we must
Each other on the road, so I have lost
This dear old garden! I nm glad to be
I see I cannot drive these thonghts away,
But now I feel less vexed by the delay.
This charming, tranquil scene has soothing
The rich perfume of many a fragrant flower,
It must have been a dream. I thought I lay
I shout; the bugle sounds, our scanty force
And, glancing back, I see each trooper's brow
ranks we dash With speed unchecked; pistols and carbines
And keen-edged sabres, bright no longer, wave,
Though wo are few, the rebels take to flight,
At dealing death among the craven rout;
0 God! great God! through flesh and bone it
shears, I reel, I drop, and all is dark as night.
Is my brain fevered still? Mcthinks the scene
Not gorgeous, as their Eastern compeers are,
1 still am gazing, when a joyful cry
"Flora! Dear Flora!" breathlessly I call; "My love! my life!"—Ah! she is in my arms
My arm, I mean, but this repays for nil. —Rational Magazine. Asok.
WHERE THE GREENWOODS GROW. On, let me roam where the greenwoods grow, Where the primrose springs and the blue-bells
blow, Where the shades of eve through the forest
And the pearly dews on the flow'rcts sleep.
Oh, let me roam where the greenwood grows,
While the stars come forth as the sunshine goei,
For n joy npsprings in every flower.
To cheer the gloom of the gloaming hoar.
And for lonely ones, at the close of day,
A joy is lienrd in the dulcet lay
Of the wild-birds' song, so soft and low,
In the shaded dells where the greenwoods grow.
No. 851.—22 September, 1860.
1. Alexis de Tocqueville, ..... Fraser's Magazine, 707
2. Memoirs of Bishop Hurd, .... Examiner, 711
3. Moral Conquests—Napoleon HI., . . . Saturday Review, 714
4. Works of Roger Bacon, .... Examiner, 716
5. Under Chloroform, Cornhill Magazine, 720
6. Curiosities of Natural History, . . . Examiner, 724
7. Great Deserts of North America, . . . Spectator, 726
8. An Old Man's Memories, .... National Magazine, 731
9. Hill's Travels in Peru and Mexico, . . . Examiner, 738
10. The Celestial Railroad, ..... Nathaniel Hawthorne, 740
11. Politics as a Profession—Governor Banks, . N. Y. Evening Post, 748
12. The Dust in a Sunbeam, .... Once a Week, 750
13. The Mausoleum Marbles, Chambers's Journal, 754
14. Turkish Shops and Shopkeepers, . . . All the Year Hound, 759
15. Panama Hats London Illustrated News, 766
Poetry.—Ode to Garibaldi, 706. The Country Church, 706. Shakspeare's Women, 768. The Golden Year, 768.
Short Articles.—Bumptious and Gumption, 719. England at the close of the American War, 723. Dinner Etiquette, 723. Napoleon I. on the Divinity of Christ, 725. Etymologies, 730, 737, 739, 753, 758. Neapolitan Courage, 730. Mr. Bronte, 747. Miss Warner, 747. Holding up the Hand, 749. Spiriting Away, 753. Mottoes of Regiments, 758. The Dry Rot in Men, 758. High Life below Stairs, 765. The Fruit of the Forbidden Tree Poisonous, 765. J. G. Lockhart on Dr. Maginn, 767.
The Wild Sports Of India: with Remarks on tho Breeding and Hearing of Horses, and the formation of Light and Irregular Cavalry, By Captain Henry Shakespeare, Commandant Nagporo Irregular Force. Ticknor and Fields, Boston.
tt'in; Eioiith Commandhsnt. By Cuarlcs Reade. Ticknor and Fields, Boston.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY
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For Six Dollars a year, in advance, remitted directly to the PuWishfrs, the Lmso Age Till be punctually forWVded free of postage.
Complete set* of the First Scries, in thirty-Fix volumes, and of the Second .-: n, •. in twenty volume*, handsomely bound, packed la neat boxes, and delivered in all the principal cltiea, free of expense of freight, are for salt ftt two dollars a volume. »
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ODE TO GARIBALDI. .
Whence comes that mighty sound, Awakening underground The buried victims of oppression's rod; And rising to the sky. Swells in rich harmony With the bright elioir that fronts the throne of
Till heaven gives back to eartli again, la fuller tones, the animating strain'
Louder and louder still, From valley and from hill, Rings the glad shout, delighting nature's ear; I for long, with bitter smart,
Tlie mother's tender heart Had bled with anguish for her children dear, Who, crushed and helpless in their living tomb, Struggle for second birth within her laboring womb.
Again, and still again,
O'er the exulting main,
From tyranny's dark cells,
The sacred anthem swells, To that wild summons making glad reply— "We come, the sous of Freedom come to save, To bind the tyrant, and let loose the slave 1"
Upon his throne a thing,
Misnamed by men a King,
While round about him stood.
Disguised in stole and hood,
But when sweet Freedom's song
Burst on the godless throng, Their fiendish joy was turned to coward hate;
And like untempered clay,
Crumbled in swift decay
Now swiftly o'er the sea
The sons of liberty— A chosen band on Heaven's own errand sent—
Steer for that lovely strand
That girds tho fettered land, In their great cause and leader confident; For Garibaldi led them to the fight. The generous champion of the people's right.
As when the morning light
Scares tho foul things of night Back to their native homes and kindred gloom;
So from the patriot's eye
The tyrant's minions fly,
O Freedom's truest son!
Shall bless thy gallant name,
And glory in thy fame,
More glorious than kings and emperors know. Thy noble deeds shall time and change defy, When thrones and crowns in dark oblivion lie! —National Magazine,
THE COUNTRY CHURCH.
Is blossoming in the sky,
Hath not so deep a dye;
The young leaves on the elder rods
The cock, the farmyard sultan,
Transparent crimson all his crest,
lied brazen plumes upon his breast.
A sabbath stillness fills the air:
The very larks aloft,
Are singing hushed and soft;
Patient and blind, with Samson strength,
In all this English land,
The rainbow glass hns gone to dust,
The dial's lightning-rent,
Is crazed and tempest-bent;
A curious latticing of shade
Under tlic windows falls
Wavering on mouldy walls.
The sunshine on the battered tombs
Sitting along the aisles;
Tho vicar for a moment stops—
Tho thrushes in tho laurels
With snatches of their carols;
On Sundays, how brave faces crowd
As the old bell tolls in!
Rich crimson brown their skin— Pulling their forelocks down, they go, What time the organ 'gins to blow. -Chambers'* Journal. • W. T.
Life in this sublunary world derives its chief value from its use alone; and contemplated in this aspect of tho great English moralist, there are few men in any country whose career was more precious, and whose existence was more valuable, in a public sense, than that of Alexis de Tocquevillc, j who expired on the 16th of April last, at Hycres, on the shores of tho Mediterranean, in the fifty-fourth year of his age. He had; been for a considerable while suffering from the progress of an insidious disease, but it was only within the last five or six months that hia friends unwillingly and mournfully' renounced all hope of his ultimate recovery.
M. de Tocqueville was the son of the Baron de Tocqueville, a member of the Council' General of the Oise, and President of the Agricultural Society of Compiegne. His father, a man of literary tastes, had distinguished himself as a statistician, economist, and administrator during the Empire and the Restoration, and had published at Compiegne more than one work connected with the moral ] and social economy of the Department of the Oisc, in which he resided. In the earlier days of the Empire, amidst the triumphs of Marcngo and the coronation of Milan, young Alexis was born, and ere he could lisp the words Papa or AJaman, the battle of Austerlitz was gained, and the Austrians and Russians pursued, fcpec dans les reins, by the victorious French. For a period of full seven years the astonishing military successes of the Emperor of the French continued, and when young de Tocquevillc had reached the age of reason, though the military prospects of his country were not so bright as in 1805 (the year of his birth), yet, still his country showed a bold front against coalesced Europe. In those days every young man in Franco was a soldier. No sooner did the boy of seven or eight escape from the hands of his Ixmne, than he was clad in the uniform of some military school or college, and drilled and disciplined as though tho main, tho only business of life were to fight battles and maintain sieges. Seven or eight years of this Lard and merciless system had, witli all its compensations of glory, somewhat dissatisfied France; and when the Russian campaign was fairly entered on in 1812, fathers of families became more and more desponding, and less hopeful of the result. France had then to maintain an aggressive war not only in Russia and Germany, but in Spain and Portugal, at a season, too, when the national instincts of all these hostile nations seemed roused to frenzy against the aggressor. The evil days at length came, in 1814 and: 1815,
when the tide of invasion was to be turned back on France herself— when she was to find picquets of Cossacks encamped in the Champs Elysees and strange uniforms glittering in the streets of Paris.
Alexis do Tocqueville was old enough to remember these events, which produced a deep impression on his young mind. His fii-st serious studies were made under the -;ovcrnment of Louis XVIII., a restored king, himself a man of letters and a philosopher, and a liberal also, in a certain sense. A member of a family who had served the Bourbons, the father of young De Tocqueville witnessed the extinction of the Empire without any very poignant regrets. Like all intelligent and moderate men in France, the Baron de Tocqueville had seen the resources and wealth of France wasted in a fruitless attempt at universal dominion, and he was rejoiced to find that, at length, there was the hope of his countrymen enjoying a moderate and well-balanced representative government. With the return of peace, liberal and serious studies were resumed by the youth of France. Classical, historical, and economical prelections resumed their place in the general system of a liberal education, and were conjointly cultivated with tho exact sciences, the objects of <i too exclusive devotion during the time of the first Napoleon. Under this better and more civil system, Alexis cle Tocqueville was brought up. He was instructed in the literature of Greece and Rome, as well as in that of England; and history and political economy occupied a large share of his attention. In almost all the eighty-six departments of Franco there are a number of places connected with the magistracy which enjoy a high consideration. In the ancient monarchy of France, as well as under the restored Bourbons, the magistrature served to temper the severity of absolute power, and by its calmness and dignity formed a species of bulwark between the crown and the people. The names of L'Hospital, of Mold, of Harlay, of D'Agucssau, of Seguicr, and Malesherbcs (from whom, on the mother's side, Dc Tocqueville descended) are associated with this order, and linked with memories most honorable to France. Tho family of Dc Tocqneville had, in past times, illustrated the gown, and under these circumstances it was not astonishing that the father of Alexis de Tocqueville should educate him for the law. lie received all tho varied instruction which could be supplied by the best professors, and was admitted a member of the French bar in 1825. In the following year of 1826 he was named Juge (TInstruction at Versailles. The functions of the Juge dInstruct ion in France relate principally to crimes and punishments, to the col