1859-08-25 The Courant

THE COURANT, A Southern Literary Journal. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ HOWARD H. CALDWELL, EDITOR.] "Sic vos non vobis." [WM. W. WALKER, JR., & CO., PROPREITORS. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ VOLUME I. COLUMBIA, S. C., THURSDAY, AUGUST 25, 1859. NUMBER 17 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ From the Dublin University Magazine. EVENTIDE. ----- Hespere, qui cœlo lucet jucundior ignis? ----- Who loves not eventide-- When great Hyperion, his long journey o'er, Treads down the ocean wide, Pours rich libations on the cloudy floor From that gold chalice of Olympian wine Which long ago he lent to Herakles divine?

A murmurous even-song Sings the brown throstle ere he seeks his nest; A carol loud and long Utters the merry merle; the stainèd west O'ervaults bright seas which, ere the world grow dim, Bring to the listening shore a mighty vesper hymn.

Kneels down the weary child-- Weary of wild sport in the summer air-- Its red lips, undefiled, Lisp forth the sweet and simple words of prayer: Happy the dreams which hover o'er the rest Of those young lambs who lie on Jesus' loving breast.

Then comes the mystic night, Whose brow sublime is dinted by no scars-- Whose coronal of might Is th' everlasting splendour of the stars: Their royal march may no cessation know, But ever in silent joy their glories come and go. M. C. ------------------------------------------ THE ISRAELITE'S DAUGHTER. ----- There is a sweet, lonely spot about three miles distant from the village of --------, to which I often strolled in the cool of the evening; and not unfrequently in the early morning of a spring day have I sought the place to inhale the fresh air, fragrant with the breath of the beautiful flowers, which gushed up amid the luxuriant green, and which I often crushed with my feet as I walked along; yet this I did not intentionally, for I hold it a sin to mar nature even in a lowly flower. The violets, as I have turned and beheld them bruised and broken, seemed to chide me and caused a pang at my heart. "The violet sure is the sweetest flower!"--it was ever a favourite with me, and I know not that I should have felt so pained at the destruction of any other flower. I loved it because it was the flower of my childhood. All my most pleasant associations were blended with it. It was the first flower of the spring in my native land. I used to wander through teh fields in the bright May morning to hunt for it and along the margin of the brooks where it grew with a bounding and happy heart. Sometiems I could find none, and then the sweet joyousness of my young hope fled and left me disappointed and sad, but pardon me, courteous reader, for thus forgetting, or rather remembering myself in the past; I shall, necessarily draw largely on your kindness if you read the following passages in my life. Near the spot of which I was speaking flows the Jocassee river; its eternal music, mournful and deep, soothes the ear as it dashes over the rocks; farther down the river and at the point from which it is here visible, it glides gently and gives out its silver current to the eye so calm and pure that one can hardly believe that its chrystal waves have been agitated before they were pushing angrily, and hurried onward by some unseen power.-- The river makes a sudden bend on your left where the dense and tangled forest hides it from sight. This haunt of mine had other attractions beside the view of the Jocassee and its wild music and the lowly flowers which nature gave forth; its trees were dear to one who has a natural love for every green leaf. Yes! there had grown up in my heart a secret affection for them, secret, because I could not impart to another the feelings they excited in me, and others could not understand me were I to attempt to explain how I drew instruction and was taught gratitude from them. I think it is Bulwer who says, that we have thoughts and feelings which we never can reveal in this world, and that our mind is a sealed book which none can read. He spoke truly, if I may judge others by myself. About twenty feet from the river's bank a fine old oak spread its venerable shade.-- It was the only object within view which bore the impress of great age. Around its huge trunk a grape vine had wound itself, and seemed to ask protection from the giant tree. It had reached one of the lower limbs and clung fondly around it. Its ample leaves afforded a striking contrast to the bright small leaves of the oak. Moss of a silver gray hue hung gracefully from the branches and added to the beauty of the rich, deep green foliage. How often have I reclined upon the grass under its shade watching the sunlight quivering on its leaves of changeful beauty, and every now and then catching a glimpse of the fleecy clouds as they travelled through the heavens. There stood a group of young catalpas which bloom in the bright summer time, in some climates, but here, in the spring, their clustering blossoms may surely be classed with poetic flowers--how fair and delicate they seem! One solitary magnolia grew near these native trees; it stood alone, tall straight and majestic, courting the purest and brightest rays of the sun; its leaves of emerald and amethyst hues, waving gently in the breeze, beggar description. Those who know the magnolia need not be told of its look when the golden sun is showering down his glory upon it; and to those who know it not, I shall despair of giving any just idea of its surpassing beauty. On the right was a grove of pines and although under-brush was not suffered to grow, yet their own decayed leaves strewed the ground, and thus formed a pale orange carpet, which was, in the distance, softened by the mellow light which fell upon it. Here and there might be seen a green spot, where the tender grass had made an effort to approach the light, and had shaken the withered leaves from its young life. I was about to visit Europe, and on the evening previous to my leaving for the city whence I was to embark, I went to take a farewell look of my favourite retreat.-- The air was unusually bland, the sky cloudless and bright, the leaves of the trees were scarcely seen to move, and the whole scene presented a beautiful picture of nature at rest; but it suited not my present mood, and I felt half vexed with myself and all things around me. This is too tame--too calm for my spirit just now, thought I, and turning into the grove, wandered along the bank till I came to the rapids; there watching the river as it broke over the rocks, dashing its white foam, I found that which I sought--tranquillity of mind. During my travels, which occupied five years, I had an opportunity of seeing much of the finest scenery in the old world; and, as I had ever a greater love for the sublime in nature than in art, I noted with infinitely more care the glory and splendour with which God has adorned that portion of our earth, than the lofty palaces and temples which man had erected, for although the latter were magnificent beyond description, there was nothing in their grandeur to be compared to the eternal mountains! Often, O! how often, during my absence, would I call to mind my own land, and frequently in the sweet memories that would arise, came the green spot I so loved, flitting in shadowy beauty before my eyes. My heart yearned again for its sweet quiet, and its mournful music, and its lessons of wisdom. I met no friend whom I loved as I did the young companion of my boyhood, and I turned away sick at heart from the hollow professions of the many. Never had I known but one faithful friend on earth, and he, long since, had become a tenant of the silent tomb. I have no words to speak his worth, and there was a time when I dared not encounter the grief of soul, the agony so terrible that I felt at my unspeakable loss; but that time is past and I now almost reflect upon myself, for the desolation of heart which I experienced. He was so young to die! only sixteen summers had passed over his head! he was wise, and learned, and good, pure and noble in thought and deed, with a spirit so gentle that it seemed borrowed from heaven, and was indeed a meet offering to God. I have long ceased to mourn his early death. To me death is now stripped of all its terrors, and I feel that the sorrowing and bereaved must hail it as an angel of mercy. And now that I had returned weary of the world, of which I had seen too much, I said in my heart "all is vanity." It was not till several days after my return, that I could persuade myself to visit my old retreat.-- "A change had come over the spirit of my dream."-- Since last I saw it, I had frequented the gayest courts in Europe--beheld pomp and splendour, to which I was before a stranger--had seen the palaces of kings and the hovels of the poor--read in the proud, haughty hearts of the former, selfishness and vanity, and in the latter misery and want, and turning my eye homeward to young America, felt a thrill of unspeakable joy at the contrast. Here, I reflected, in our father-land, in this ancient world, right and liberty are trampled in the dust. The titled lord often looks down upon intellect, if it be the tenant of an untitled man, and thinks to use it for his own aggrandisement; he binds mind, or strives to do so; if he cannot wield the mighty power, he crushes it. In the cities what squalid wretchedness, what slavery of the mind and body exists! homeless age, decrepit, wanders in the streets, or finds a gloomy shelter beneath some tattered awning, cold and comfortless.-- Aye, 'tis a bitter truth that thousands of poor wretches may be found in Paris, in London, and some other cities of Europe, who have not a shed to cover them from the inclemencies of the weather, and little or no means of subsistence. I was sturck also with their immense prisons, crowded with criminals, into whose dark dungeons the blessed light of heaven cannot penetrate; their existence dragged out in chains and fetters, their hoary age and desolate youth huddled together in one great mass. Then turning to our own America, I felt our superiority--our helpless protected and sheltered, age respected, the lowly and industrious poor made happy and comfortable, our institutions for the punishment of crime wise and merciful, and calculated to lead to ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

220 THE COURANT; A SOUTHERN LITERARY JOURNAL. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ repentance and reform. Yes, I felt our superiority, and turned with disgust from kingly splendour and starving misery. But pardon this digression. I had just returned, as I told you, I felt a restless desire to visit my retreat, but still had not the courage to do so--the recollections, the sight of it would awaken, were of a painful character. I was seated in my library one morning, vainly endeavouring to read the magazine, which I had almost unconsciously taken up, (it was Blackwood's.)-- At length I threw down the book and hurried out to breathe the fresh air. It was unusually cold. I took my way to my favourite spot; the path which led to it from the open road was now overgrown with wild plants and shrubs, among which the sea myrtle lifted its head, silvered over with white blossoms which the wind was scattered abroad. I could scarcely make my way along the path, so choked was it with the wild luxuriance; this, however, was at length accomplished. The place looked desolate! the pine grove was covered with a thick mass of under-brush. All things seemed changed. The very trees had lost their beauty to my eye, and the oak, my old favourite oak, stood a leafless trunk! The grape vine was still there, but no leaves were upon it, the few which strewed the ground were withered or dead; the vine had mounted to the very top of the tree, and so coiled itself around it, that the thought crossed me that it had been the cause of the decay and death of my oak. I was touched to the heart, and felt my affections revive with all their former warmth. My early friend, of whom I have spoken, had carved his name upon the trunk; it was still a dear memorial of him, but it could not long remain! a cold shiver stole over me at the thought, but I shook it off, and leaning against the tree, I took a more leisurely survey of surrounding objects. While I was musing on the past, and reflecting how unkindly time, with its blighting touch, had converted my little paradise into a waste, the dash of the water suddenly broke upon my ear, and it was no longer the sweet music to which I had listened in past days, but its voice was discordant, and vexed, rather than soothed me. I thought there was blended with the gush of the water, the rapid tread of horses. This idea had scarcely glanced across my mind, when there rushed through the thicket, on my right, a horse upon which was mounted a lady; her strength seemed nearly exhausted, and I think she would have fallen, had I not instantly seized the bridle of the affrighted animal and assisted her to dismount. She trembled like an aspen leaf, and her face was as pale and colourless as a statutue. I led the horse to the nearest tree, and securing him by the bridle as well as I was able, returned to her; but what was my terror when I beheld her lying like a lifeless corpse upon the ground. I raised her in my arms, hurried to the river's bank and laved her temples in the briny tide, and, as I gazed upon her face, I thought I had never seen more perfect features--the forehead of uncommon height, had a sweet dream-like beauty which I cannot describe, but which riveted my gaze, for it resembled in form the fair brow of the friend whom I had lost. I watched the face with intense anxiety; the eye appeared closed in death and a fearful dread came over me. At length there was a slight movement of the lips, the colour returned to them and the whole face awakened to fresh life and beauty. She thanked me, and the tones of her voice were the sweetest I had ever heard. I looked at her as one entranced. I almost ceased to breathe, lest I should lose one word. She seemed embarrassed by my manner, and recollecting myself, I replied to her expressions of gratitude. I now look back upon those moments, with a melancholy kind of pleasure, and sometimes almost wish it were a dream--but no! I would not forego the heaven of joy, to which that brief scene gave birth! The subsequent events of the following three months I need not relate.--They were made up of hopes and fears. Suffice it to say, I sought the love of the fair Esther, and in return, she gave me the true affections of as pure and innocent a heart as ever beat.-- Fool that I was to look for happiness unmixed with the bitter dregs of life! There was too much of heaven in my dream of bliss, and I saw not the dark gulf of misery into which I was plunging. Since I had first seen Esther, I felt that life was worth possessing. My whole nature seemed changed for the better; all the selfishness which I had in common with most men, fled before the influence of that bright and pure being who was the life and light and joy of my soul. Sometimes a strange foreboding of misery would cross my mind, but I heeded it not. I can give you but a faint idea of Esther, There was a beauty in her dark lustrous eye which no words can describe. It was indeed the door to the temple of light --the mind. Her cheek was fairer than an angel's dream, and about the small lips there sometimes played a smile as she spoke, that one could hardly decide which created the deepest homage--the smile or the words, soft and low and touching, which descended like flakes of feathered snow melting ere they fell. O! none who ever heard that voice once, could forget its tone of exquisite music. But O, her face ! Beyond

"The elements of beauty there was writ.-- A something, that the wounded roe would trust For shelter, from its hunters. Her closed lips Were delicate, as the tinted pencilling Of veins upon a flower, and on her cheek-- The timid blood had faintly melted thro' Like something, that was half afraid of light."

One morning when I called on Esther, I found her alone and in tears. I had never seen her weep before, and it almost unmanned me. She tried to hide them, but in vain, and when asked their cause, she wept more bitterly. "Does it please you to give me pain," said I, and at these words she looked up in my face with such a radiant smile, that I thought her beauty too angelic. "Pleasure in paining you," she cried, and forgetting her usual reserve, continued, "O Horace, how you think so! I would not pain thee for all the world contains. You shall know the cause of my sorrow, and you will pity and forgive me." "There is nothing to forgive," I answered, and imprinting a kiss upon her fair brow, I entreated her to explain herself. A deep blush suffused her cheek, and burying her face in her hands, she sobbed convulsively. To me this agony of suspense was terrible. An open letter lay on the table beside her; I saw it was blotted with her tears. "That letter," said I. "Read it, read it," was her reply. I did so--it was from her father, and I was the subject of it. Near the close it said: "I am sorry to thwart your wishes, my own and only child. It grieves me to the heart to wound your gentle spirit. I hope your affections are not given, past recal, to this christian; and yet, from what your mother has written me, I fear that it is so. O my child, let me warn you not to bow my aged head in sorrow to the grave. My child! dear to my soul!-only surrviving of all the loved ones--will you, can you disobey me? I cannot, will not consent to your union with this enemy of our race. Never, no never! Farewell, my child! take my blessing. 'Tis yours if you will banish this strange love from your heart --and you will, surely you will--but if you do not, I will not live to see you wedded to one of that cruel race. Do you know, my Esther, how they scoff at us? How they would crush us if they might? But you cannot know, else you would never have listened to this christian, who may indeed be an honourable man, as I hear he is. But he is a christian, and that is enough! The wrongs we have sustained, the bitter railing, the daring invective, the dark suspicions, all rush into my heart; and although I owe it to heaven to forgive them, I owe it to myself never to forget. What! shall my only child wed one who holds in abhorrence our race ! The thought is terrible! I tell you, Esther, I will not consent. I am fixed and determined, and nothing can move me." My feelings can better be imagined than described. I was paralyzed--I could not breathe. I walked the room, unconscious even of the presence of Esther. Darkness--thick darkness was around me. I had never dreamed that my fond hopes were to be blighted. I had lived the past month without thought, as it were--a strange intoxicating delusion had held my senses--a sweet, wild, delicious vision from which I now awakened to misery too intense to be borne. I had often heard Esther speak of her nation, and never shall I forget the time when she told me, in the sweet sincerity of her heart, that she was a Jewess, and bade me go and forget her. My mind had not been narrowed by the prejudice so illiberal, which condemns en masse that ancient nation. The fact that Esther was a Jewess, was, to my mind, no barrier against her becoming my bride. I was alone in the world. I had neither parents nor family to consult. But had it been otherwise, they could not have prevented me, how strong soever their objections, from marrying the idol of my affections, and should I suffer those who were denominated my friends to controul my freedom?

"Should I ask the brave soldier who knelt by my side In the cause of mankind, if our creeds did agree? Should I give up the friend I had valued and tried, If he knelt not before the same altar with me? From the heretic girl of my soul should I fly To seek somewhere else a more orthodox kiss? No! perish the hearts and the laws that would try Faith, valour or love, by a standard like this!"

I knew Esther's love for her father was deep and pure, and I could have no hope that she would disobey him-- nay, how could I dare to wish her to do so. I was not so selfish as to desire her to make a sacrifice of her happiness to mine--for I knew her disposition so well that I felt sure she could not be happy in pursuing a course opposed to her father's express commands. There was but one path for rue, consistent with honour and my unselfish love; at least I thought so for the moment,-- but I had not resolution to take that path. An idea crossed my mind; it was unworthy, but I was desperate. Esther's father had been wealthy,--he had given his security, for a large amount; the friend for whom he had done this died suddenly, and nearly his whole fortune was thus swept away. So nice of honour was the old gentleman, that when his creditors met to compromise with him, he replied in the language of a just, yet proud man, ''thank you, but if God spares my life, I will pay all--aye, to the uttermost farthing." And for this he had now separated himself from his family. These facts I learned casually, and in possession of all this knowledge of the character of Esther's father, I cringed to the base world's thought, and plunged the red hot iron into my soul! "My dear Esther," said I seating myself beside her, "I have a large inheritance. Your father has lost all-- he shall share half my fortune, and with you the other half will be enough, and more than sufficient for me." Never did I behold so great a change as my words produced upon her. She became collected in an instant. She rose from her seat with dignity, a mournful fixed expression was in her eye, which riveted itself upon my face, as if almost doubting whether she had heard aright--and for once in my life I quailed and trembled before a woman's gaze. I felt humbled, but remained silent, not daring to raise my eyes, to encounter again that searching look. She spoke, and the tone of her voice were deep and touching as the plaint of a wounded dove. "Think you thus to buy the consent of my father? Think you him so sordid? You would insult my noble, generous father by offering gold in exchange for his child! I thought my affections were given to an angel of light--may God forgive me for my error. O I have loved,--yes, I confess it, but mark, I love no longer. I will tear your image from my heart--tho' the poor heart bleed at every vein!" I had thrown myself at her feet, while she was yet speaking, but she heeded not the action; she was gone, and if I was miserable before, what was my agony now? I have no words to express my sufferings; they were too terrible to recall. O memory! why cannot I escape thee! I hurried from the house, resolved to write, and at least obtain her forgiveness. I did write, but my letter was returned unopened. I wrote again in the phrenzy of despair--but my second met a similar fate. Several days passed away--I was almost driven to dis------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE COURANT; A SOUTHERN LIBRARY JOURNAL. 221 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ traction, scarcely knowing what I did. I leaped upon my horse and took the road to the house--I entered the avenue. The air was cold and chilly, and as it swept through the heavy oaks with a wild dirge-like music, it seemed to my excited imagination to portend some heavier grief, though Heaven knows mine was weighty enough already! As I neared the house, I was struck with its gloomy appearance. The shutters of the upper story were all closed but one, which was only partly open, as if to admit a few rays. I dismounted; a servant took my horse;--from him I learned that Esther was ill,--that her life was in danger! That her father had been sent for, and was hourly expected. "I must see her mother," I cried. "O she will not refuse me a moment's interview." "Go," said I, "to your mistress; tell her one asks admittance, who would die to save her child." In a few moments he returned and conducted me into the very room, where, a week before, I had seen Esther; there stood the table upon which had laid the letter from her father. The whole scene passed, in all its painful reality, before me; again I heard that voice which had condemned my baseness;--but was I never to be forgiven? Could a being so gentle, suffer her anger, against me, to continue forever? I rejected the idea, and hope for a moment gleamed across the darkness and desolation of my heart. Her mother entered. I approached her; she gave me her hand with her wonted kindness. I held it for a moment, and my tears fell upon it. She seemed moved by my manner, and bade me to be seated; yet her voice trembled, and I saw she was agitated. "I know not," she observed, "that I do right in permitting this interview, yet I could not refuse you." I thanked her for such unmerited goodness, and told her that the object of my visit was to obtain forgiveness of her daughter,--that I was miserable without it,--that till within a few moments I was not aware of her illness,--that I was almost driven to despair by the intelligence. "Was there no hope? Could she not be saved? Her life was precious, though I was never to behold her again. I felt that the world would not be utterly dark while the sweet light of her eye beamed upon it--that with her forgiveness I could be content,-- that without it I should drag on a miserable existence till the grave kindly closed upon me." She interrupted me, assuring me "that she could not think I had offended,--that the letters were returned by her own direction, but with the knowledge of her daughter." At these words I was overjoyed; she does not then hate me, my heart whispered,--she did not acquaint her mother with my ungenerous proposal,--I shall live to obtain her forgiveness. These thoughts somewhat composed me. Noble being! I wonder not at her anger. I could not have loved her as I did then had she acted otherwise. "She is now sleeping," continued the lady. "There is hope of her recovering; this is the fourth day of her illness; till within the last few hours she was insensible to all objects; now reason has returned, and she is calm and tranquil, and I trust out of danger; but I must hasten to her." "You will," said I, "intercede for me? Tell her I would die to save her--that her forgiveness is all I ask --that on my bended knees I pray for it." When I returned to my home I endeavoured to occupy myself with my books, but I soon found that I could not endure to look upon familiar objects, and rushing out of the house, I sought my retreat. I stood upon the spot where I first beheld Esther. Since that moment I had lived an age of bliss and misery. The shades of evening were over me, and I made a faint effort to shake off my gloom. I looked around. The earth was wrapped in night's dark mantle. The beautiful stars were thick in the heavens, and lifting my eyes, I felt a momentary relief. A cry from the ominous bird of night was borne on the breeze, and caused a cold shivering of my limbs. I left the place, and entered the road. I hurried onward, unheeding whither I went. I had wandered far before I was aware of the direction I had taken. The house of my Esther was again before me. Lights were visible, and forms were seen rapidly passing to and fro. I watched with intense interest. I was uncloaked, and the cold air chilled my limbs--but still I watched--nor left the spot at which I at first halted, till the dawn of day. I then slowly retraced my steps. That night, the spirit of my pure and beautiful one ascended to the God who gave it. Thus perished all my earthly hopes of happiness.-- 'Tis needless to harrow up your feelings by relating what I afterwards endured. Suffice it to say, that time and religion have softened my sorrow, and that enduring love, which can never die, teaches me to look forward to an union with Esther in Heaven. ------------------------------------------ Reported Expressly for the Courant. REPORT AND RESOLUTIONS. Concerning a change in the present Fence-laws of South Carolina, adopted and passed at a recent meeting o fthe Turkey Buzzards.

At a recent and largely attended mass-meeting of turkey-buzzards, held on the branches of a dead pinetree in an old field, the Special Committee of Investigation into the probable effects of the proposed Change in the Fence-laws of the State of South Carolina upon the natural and inalienable Rights of the worshipful Guild of Turkey-Buzzards, presented the following report and resolutions, which were at once adopted and passed by acclamation and with an energetic flapping of wings: "Birds of the Worshipful Guild of Turkey Buzzards: The Committee, detailed for the purpose of enquiring into a proposed alteration of laws concerning fencing in the State of South Carolina, and its effects upon the rights of our body, beg leave to report, that they have investigated the subject with the utmost care, and that they are unanimous in the conclusions at which they have arrived. Your Committee would regard it as a work of supererogation to assert the rights of our body to the remains of animals, that have come to a natural death, were it not that certain persons have occasionally presumed to question our just prerogative. Yet, even man--jealous as he is of his rights--has, with few exceptions, admitted the justice of our claim and, in some cases, (all honour to his wisdom,) even rendered an attack on our persons a penal offence. Nevertheless, your Committee are aware that it would be superfluous to instruct you in reference to this natural and inalienable right. Basing their investigation upon an unalterable conviction of the justice of the right thus claimed and set forth, your Committee have investigated the propriety of the change in the fence-laws, which has been advocated by adventerous and presumptuous human beings, who have had the unprecedented audacity to ignore every prior claim of our ancient Guild. Your Committee having duly and with sober judgment carried out their enquiries, have ascertained the annual mortality among cattle, under the existing laws, to be truly enormous, and especially so during the winter season, at the very time, therefore, when the demands and requirements of our systems oblige us to supply ourselves with an increased quantity of nourishment. Actuated by feelings of delicacy for the cravings of your individual appetites, which be keenly felt during the grass months, your Committee forbear to present to your view the tantalizing array of figures, which their enquiries and calculated estimates have induced them to consider as a very close approximation to the truth. Your Committee have farther ascertained any modification of the present laws, which would annul those clauses enforcing the use of fences, necessarily to result in a reduction of that portion of the stock or cattle, inavailable to man, as well as in such uniform better treatment of stock or cattle as to allow few of them to meet with a natural death, whether it be produced by disease or starvatoin; for your Committee holds the latter to be the uniform and natural cause of death with all kinds of stock and cattle during the winter months. As a necessary deduction from these conclusions, your Committee are forced to express it as their full conviction, that the proposed alteration of the laws, instead of ameliorating our position, would be highly injurious to our comfort and prosperity. Indeed your Committee is at present unprepared to form any definite estimate of the actual amount of injury that might ensue, but they are induced to believe it no exaggeration to assert that in all probability the proposed change may affect our very existence. Your Committee, therefore, beg leave to offer the following preamble and resolutions for the consideration of the Worshipful Guild of Turkey-Buzzards at present in general conclave assembled; that Whereas, It has come to the knowledge of the Worshipful Guild of Turkey-Buzzards that certain bold and pretentious human beings have conspired for the purpose of furthering certain amendments of the existing fencelaws of the State of South Carolina, without even consulting the pleasure, comfort, convenience or well-being of our body, and Whereas, We consider this innovation as highly injurious to our comfort and inimical to our interests, Resolved, That we regard the present laws as most wisely instituted for our protection, as most efficiently adapted to our continued welfare, and as eminently satisfactory to our wishes and inclinations, Resolved, That our indignation is justly aroused by the presumptuous assurance of any person or persons, who have already, or may hereafter, endeavour to limit the circles of our independent activity, or to withdraw from our use that nourishment, which an earlier and wiser legislation has enabled us to count upon as among our chief and most certain resources. Resolved, That we utterly repudiate the justice of their pretended claim to the right of taking any action of the kind, and Resolved, That we respectfully solicit the aid and assistance of the press of the State of South Carolina in disseminating our views by publishing an account of the proceedings of this our meeting, for the purpose of reporting which alone, we have been induced to admit into our presence one of those humble, wingless, walking beings, called men." ------------------------------------------ TURKISH GRAVE-YARD.--The Turkish tombstone, if it mark the grave of a man, is surmounted by a turban, and the diversity of forms shows the different generations that have passed away. These round-headed turbaned stones, have very much the appearance of dwarfish imps, and one almost expects a pair of goggleeyes to be peering from beneath the well-executed folds of white or gray stone. Those erected for women are decorated with wreaths or bunches of flowers. Both kinds have inscriptions, and are often coloured and highly gilded. Sometimes they are of a bright azure blue, richly decorated with gilt, and extremely beautiful.

THE SULTAN GOING TO THE MOSQUE. The Sultan was in the habit of worshipping at a mosque near his palace. Having been informed that on a certain Friday he would go by water to the mosque of St. Sophia, which is three or four miles from his residence, Captain L-------- invited us on board his ship, which occupied a fine position for observing the display. As the Sultan left his palace, guns were fired simultaneously from a battery adjoining and a Turkish frigate near by, which latter was decorated with the flags of various nations, among them that of our own country. Our frigate was at a considerable distance from the palace, so that we had ample time to watch the gilded, fairy-like barges as they approached us on their way. There were five or six of them, each having twenty-four oarsmen, dressed alike in white shirts of silk and crape and red fezes. The Sultan was alone in a white, and highly gilded barge, differing from the others only in having a canopy of velvet and gold. As they came near, Captain L-------- saluted with a tremendous crash, and as the Sultan passed along, the firing continued from French and other frigates, all highly decorated with banners.-- Loud guns from the Porte were also fired to announce his departure from the palace, and, altogether, it was a gay, exciting, and hearty display of homage and adulation. It was a novel and odd way, though, to us Puritans, of going to church in the midst of the smoke and roar of cannon. ------------------------------------------ A volume of Poems, dedicated by permission to the Poet Laureate, is about to be published by a contributor to Chambers' Edinburgh Journal, named Ellis, a stonemason by trade. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

222 THE COURANT; A SOUTHERN LITERARY JOURNAL. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ VARIATIONS OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. ----- BY JOHN S. HITTELL. ----- AMERICANISMS. Transient is often used by Americans in such phrases as "transient persons," meaning sojourners, travellers; "transient boarders," meaning boarders staying at a house for a few days only; "transient vessels," meaning vessels stopping in a port without being engaged in its regular trade. This use of transient is an Americanism, not adopted as yet in England; but it is good and will find favour in time. Transpire, in the sense of "happen," or "be done," is condemned by English authorities. It is frequently used in the United States. Venison, in the United States, means deer meat; in England it is applied also to the meat of hare and game birds. In California, where the meat of the antelope and elk is abundant in the market, venison means only deer meat, though, in accordance with English usage, it might undoubtedly be applied to the meat of all wild animals of the deer kind. Waggon, or wagon, according to the usual American spelling, is often used as a verb in the United States, in such phrases as: "The goods were wagoned across the mountains." Wharves is the American, as wharfs in the English plural for wharf. Will for frequently used improperly in the United States for "shall" in the first person of the future tense, indicative mood. Americans, when they wish to express an expectation or intention, say, "I will do it," "I'll do it." The English, "I shall do it," "We shall do it;" but if he wishes to promise or to express a strong determination, or a threat, he says "I will," "we will," &c. The American misuse of "will" is of Irish origin. A Frenchman who fell into the Thames made a curious and ludicrous mis-application of "shall" and "will;" he cried out, "I will be drowned; nobody shall help me." Brightland wrote:

"In the first person, simply, shall foretells; In will a threat, or else a promise dwells; Shall in the second and the third does threat; Will simply then foretels the future feat."

To Wilt is in common use in the United States, to signify to begin to wither. The word is provincial in England. Woods is the common American name for what the English term "a wood." Advocate, Notice and Progress, used as verbs, were once considered as Americanisms, but have been adopted by the custom of England. Clearing is a tract of land in a wooded district, from which the timber has been cut away, and the word usually implies that the land has been prepared for cultivation. To Girdle, to cut a ring several inches wide through the bark round the trunk of a tree, two or three feet from the ground, so that the tree will die. Sometimes the chip pierces through the sap wood as well as the bark. A Deadening is a tract of timbered land, on which the trees have been killed. The word is ordinarly applied only to places where trees have been killed by girdling, or fire, so as to prepare the land for cultivation. Gubernatorial is said to be an Americanism. Executive, as a noun, in such phrases as "The Executive," meaning an executive officer, has had its origin credited by British critics to American usage. Lengthy is said to be of American coninage, but it now passes current in Britain. "In this connexion" has been put down by English critics as American in its origin and character; they say it would be more proper to write, "In connexion with the subject,"," or something of the kind.--Alta Californian. ------------------------------------------ Many people like newspapers, but few preserve them; yet the most interesting reading imaginable is a file of old newspapers. It brings up the very age, with all its bustle and every-day affairs, and marks its genius and its spirit more than the most laboure description of the historian. Who can take up a paper half a century back, without the thought that almost every name there printed is now cut upon a tombstone at the head of an epitaph? ------------------------------------------ USE OF KNOWLEDGE.--Some men think that the gratification of curiosity is the end of knowledge; some the love of fame; some the pleasure of dispute; some the necessity of supporting themselves by their knowledge; but the real use of all knowledge is this, that we should dedicate that reason which was given us by God to the use and advantage of man.--Lord Bacon ------------------------------------------ For the Courant. MUSINGS. ----- BY WM. M. MARTIN. ----- Bright are the scenes Which surround us on earth, Full of pleasure and mirth, But sorrow must come To the happiest home, And smiles which are bright Must be dark with Death's night.

Life is not all, For there cometh a time When a sweet golden chime Will tell it in heaven, That resting is given To the troubled breast, The home of unrest.

Were it not thus, Then the rash fearless hand, Not waiting command, Would throw back the boon Of Living, too soon, And wearied with strife And toil, give up life. ------------------------------------------ EXPERIENCE.--There is a pretty German story of a blind man, who, even under a misfortune, was happy-- happy in a wife he passionately loved; her voice was sweet and low, and he gave her credit for that beauty which (had he been a painter) was the object of his idolatry. A physician came, and, curing the disease, restored the husband to sight, which he chiefly valued as it would enable him to gaze on the lovely features of his wife. He looks, and sees a face hideous in ugliness! He is restored to sight, but his happiness is over. Is not this our histry? Our cruel physician is Experience. ------------------------------------------ Dr. Johnson says somewhere in the Idler: To write news in its perfection requires such a combination of qualities, that a man completely fitted for the task is not always to be found. In Sir Henry Wotton's jocular definition, "An ambassador is said to be a man of virtue sent to lie abroad for the advantage of his country; a news-writer is a man without virtue, who lies at home for his own profit." To these compositions is required neither genius nor knowledge, neither industry nor sprightliness; but contempt of shame, and indifference to truth are absolutely necessary. ------------------------------------------ LIVE WHILE YOU LIVE.--Thousands of men breathe, move, and live, pass off the stage of life, and are heard of no more. Why? They do not partake of good in the world, and none were blessed by them: none could point to them as the means of their redemption; not a line they wrote, not a word they spake, could be recalled; and so they perished; their light went out in darkness, and they were not remembered more than insects of yesterday. Will you thus live and die, O man immortal? Live for something. Do good, and leave behind you a monument of virtue.--Chalmers. ------------------------------------------ LIFE'S THREE MOST THRILLING KISSES.--Herr Hacklander, the Stuttgard author, says life has three kisses that are crises:--"The first is that which the mother presses on the new-born infant's head; the second that which the newly-wedded bride bestows on your lips; the third that with which love or friendship closes your eyes, when your career on earth is ended." ------------------------------------------ CHOICE OF WORDS.--When you doubt between two words, choose the plainest, the commonest, the most idiomatic. Eschew the fine words as you would rouge; love simple ones as you would native roses on your cheeks. Act as you might be disposed to do on your estate; employ such words as have the largest families, keeping clear of foundlings and of those of which nobody can tell whence they come. ------------------------------------------ ENERGY.--The longer I live, the more certain I am that the great difference between men is energy--invincible determination--an honest purpose once fixed, and then death or victory. This quality will do anything that can be done in the world; and no talents, no circumstances, no opportunity will make one man without it.--Belmont. ------------------------------------------ THE SLEEP OF YOUTH.--Oh! let youth cherish the happiest of earthly boons while yet it is at its command; for there cometh the day to all, when "neither the voice of the lute nor the birds" shall bring back the sweet slumbers that fell on their young eyes, as unbidden as the dews.--Bulwer Lytton. ------------------------------------------ Mr. J. S. Redfield, of this city, is about to publish, from advance-sheets, a new series of "Friends in Council." ------------------------------------------ A MUSICAL AND CRITICAL CAT.--Mademoiselle Dupuy, of the French opera, whose playing upon the harp was the wonder of Paris, was convinced that she owed her artistic excellence to her favorite cat. As soon as she sat down to practice upon the harp, her cat assumed an attitude of intense attention. At any passage of peculiar beauty puss went into an ecstasy; and so well measured was this sensibility, according to the excellence of the playing, and the pathos of the composition, the Mdlle. Dupuy was able to judge of the music by the manifested emotions of her cat. She believed puss an exact prophet, foretelling precisely how music would affect an audience. She was grateful accordingly to her friend, to whom she thought she owed mainly her artistic success. In her last illness, at the approach of death, Mdlle. Dupuy sent for the notary to make her will. She had accumulated a fortune, and the first item of her will, gave her town house and her country house to her cat. To this she added an annuity, sufficient for the support of the four-legged mewsician durings its life. And to make sure that this, her last will and testament, should be fulfilled, she gave several legacies to friends, on the express condition that they should see to the fulfillment of her wishes. It was also a condition that they should take turns, during each week, in going to see and keep company with the orphan cat. The relatives of Mdlle. Dupuy disputed the will, and a lawsuit was the consequenee. But the cat gained the cause, and lived out her days with genteel alternation between her elegant town house and the tasteful country house. [Merry's Museum. ------------------------------------------ AN AMERICAN NEWSPAPER IN HAVANA.--The Mobile Register says, we have received the prospectus of the Cuban Messenger, a weekly journal, to be published in the City of Havana, in the English language, and to be "devoted to Local, American and European News, commercial and shipping interests, and general intelligence." Its terms are $5 for one year, $3 for six months, and $2 for three months. We have the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with one of the proprietors of this enterprise, Col. J. W. Bryant, late of East Florida. He has been for many years an eminent lawyer of that region. His reputation as a gentleman of decided ability and of great energy, affords an excellent assurance of the success of the undertaking with which he is connected. An American newspaper in Cuba will be an interesting and attractive feature in the public journalism of the day, and the publication of the Cuban Messenger at so important a commercial point as Havana, and with which Mobile is in close proximity and intimate commercial intercourse, will commend it to the patronage of our citizens. The first number of the new paper will be issued in October next. ------------------------------------------ The English Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge has just published a large and very handsome edition of the Septuagint version of the Holy Scriptures, under the following title: "Vetus Testamentum Græce juxta LXX. interpretes. Recensionem Grabianam ad fidem Codicis Alexandrini aliorumque denuo recognovit, Græca secundum ordinem textus Hebræi reformavit, libros apocryphos a canonicis segregavit Fridericus Field, A.A.M., Coll,. SS. Trin. Cantab., olim Socius." This edition is printed in the beautiful Greek type of the University of Oxford, and has prefixed to it a useful prolegomena in Latin by the learned editor. ------------------------------------------ "ONCE A WEEK."--This is the quaint title of the new hebdomadal--the successor of Household Words-- issued in London by the well-known publishers, Bradbury & Evans, and of which four numbers have been received in this country. One of the chief attractions in it is "The Good Fight," the new serial story by Charles Reade, illustrated in grotesque style. Among the contributors we find Tennyson, Tom Taylor, Shirley Brooks, Sala, etc. The numbers are freely illustrated by Leech, Tenniel, Millais, H. K. Browne, and other celebrated artists.--Home Journal. ------------------------------------------ George W. Matsell, late chief of Police in New York, is about to publich a dictionary of the rogues' dialect, the words employed by thieves, burglars, stock-jobbers, and other depredators upon property. A large proportion of the words are from the Gipsy dialect, with a mixture of Hebrew and Sanscrit. So perfect is the rogues' language, that Mr. Matsell declares that two thieves of different countries, perpectly ignorant of each other's vernacular, are able to converse intelligibly by using this dialect alone. ------------------------------------------ Messrs. Hurst & Blackett, London, announce a new work, entitled "Almost a Heroine," by the author of "Charles Auchester." ------------------------------------------ Miss Mulock, authoress of "John Halifax," has another new book in the press, called "A Life for a Life." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE COURANT; A SOUTHERN LITERARY JOURNAL. 223 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Courant. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ COLUMBIA, S. C., THURSDAY, AUG. 25, 1859. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ THE COURANT. Subscriptions for the Courant will be received at the Bookstore of Mr. P. B. GLASS, in this City, where single copies can be obtained every week. The following gentlemen have been appointed Traveling Agents for the Courant: G. W. MEETZE, JAS. S. BALLEW, THOS. P. WALKER, W. THOS. WILKES. W. C. WINN. Mr. MEETZE will visit Lexington and Edgefield Districts, Mr. BALLEW, Laurens and Newberry, Mr. WILKES, Chester, Mr. WALKER, Richland, and Mr. WINN, Abbeville, and adjoining Districts--during the present month. We cordially recommend these gentlemen to the kind attentions and courtesies of our friends. WM. W. WALKER, JR., & CO. ------------------------------------------ "HARPER'S WEEKLY" AND "BALLOU'S PICTORIAL." Mr. GLASS, successor to R. L. BRYAN, lays upon our table "Harper's Weekly" and "Ballou's Pictorial" for the week ending August the 20th. They are, as ever, full to repletion with pictures and reading matter. To those wishing the three serial tales, by Dickens, Charles Reade and Curtis respectively, now publishing in "Harper's," Mr. GLASS can furnish back numbers. They are all finely and graphically illustrated. ------------------------------------------ REPORT OF THE TRIALS IN THE ECHO CASE. We are indebted to the courtesy of E. BELLINGER, Jr., Esq., for a copy of the above, reported by Mr. WOODRUFF, the Phonographist. The able manner in which the case was argued by Mr. BELLINGER and his colleagues is known to all; while the report of trials exciting such deep and wide-spread interest cannot but be of abiding value. It is from the press of our neighbour of the Carolinian, and its typographical execution reflects much credit upon that establishment. ------------------------------------------ REPORT AND RESOLUTIONS. We call the attention of our readers to the above-named humorous paper on another page of this week's Courant. It is from the same talented pen, to which we are indebted for the entertaining and erudite essay, intituled "Notes on the Morphology, etc., of Apple-Dumplings," that appeared in the first number of our journal. Let us have more frequent contributions from the accomplished author. Such work will agreeably relieve his heavier labours, and if he should have the inclination, he knows that his productions are alway welcome. ------------------------------------------ NEWBERRY COLLEGE. Through the kindness of the Rev. Mr. Hort we have received a catalogue for 1858-9 of this college. The curriculum of studies is fully up to a requisite standard, and offeres every advantage to the student for his intellectual advancement. Connected with the Literary department is one of Theology, and a preparatory one, also, for the benefit of those not sufficiently qualified to enter the collegiate classes. Under its able Presidency and Faculty, NEWBERRY COLLEGE is entitled to success. Though quite young, we believe it to be a growing institution. ------------------------------------------ MRS. LOUISE ELEMJAY. This lady has been stopping at "The United States' Hotel," in this city. We visited her some days since, and it affords us great pleasure to commend her the public of our State, as a highly gifted and interesting--we may add, especially so, being unfortunate and afflicted--lady. Such is her suffering condition that the power of locomotion is almost impossible with her, and we would therefore solicit a call from those who are disposed to make her acquaintance. She is a Southerner by birth and has produced several literary works of no ordinary merit--and is endorsed by Fits Green Halleck, Mrs. Sigourney, and others. She is the author of "Censoria Lictoria of Facts and Folks," "Rising Young men, and other tales," and "Letters and Miscellanies." We feel that no one will regret a visit to this estimable and accomplished lady, nor be disappointed with her books. We ask for her a cordial reception everywhere. ------------------------------------------ A REAL CURIOSITY.--The following was the oath taken by the judges of the Isle of Man while it was an independent sovereignty: "By this Book and the holy contents thereof, and by the wonderful works that God hath miraculously wrought in heaven above, and in the earth beneath, in six days and seven nights, I do swear that I will, without respect to favour or friendship, loss or gain, consanguinity or affinity, envy or malice, execute the laws of this Isle, justly between our Sovereign Lord, the King, and his subjects, within this Isle, and betwixt party and party, as indifferently as the herring's back-bone doth lie in the middle of the fish." ------------------------------------------ THE SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER, For August, is come. Its contents are: The "Oration, delivered before the Students of William and Mary College, July 4, 1859, by Hugh Blair Grigsby, Esq." It is clearly and forcibly written, and abounds with much salutary advice to the young. We commend it to our readers as well worthy of their attention and perusal--specially that portion referring to eloquence. "An Invocation" is a pleasing poetical address to the Spirit of Beauty. "Selections and Excerpts from the Lee Papers" are continued and merit the notice of the historical student. "A Twilight Reverie" we regard a gem--it is replete with all that constitutes poetry--we hope yet more from the author. "What will he do with it?" is a just and spirited review of the so-named last novel of Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton. While indicating the artistic defects and carelessness, of which the great novelist is here guilty, the critic lays before the reader the good points of the work, awarding the praise which it deserves. "Asleep" is a charming and delightful morceau of genuine poetry. "Greenway Court; or the Bloody Ground" is continued for seven chapters more, and is apparently a good tale. Of "Poesy; an Essay in Rhyme, etc., by John R. Thompson, Esq.," we have already spoken. The "Song" is melodious and suggestive. "Something about Sleep," by H. T. Tuckerman, is a clever and instructive article. The "Editor's Table," as usual presents an interesting and spicy melange. "Notices of New Works" open with a graceful and discriminating criticism of the Poet Laureate's last book, "Idylls of the King." Next comes one on M. About's Roman Question.-- Lastly, a merited rebuke is administered to a certain Theodore Parker--the Boston non-creed preacher. ------------------------------------------ SOUTHERN POETS. The New York correspondent of the Charleston Mercury says: "Southern poets are coming out strong this year. Besides Mr. Hayne's new volume, announced by me some time ago, I hear that Howard H. Caldwell, Esq., and Prof. J. W. Davidson, of South Carolina, have books of poems ready for the press, and will give them to the world through the portals of a Boston house during the winter. The North will have to look to its laurels." In regard to this, we would observe, that, though meantime it is highly probable--indeed we have had previous hints of the fact--that Mr. DAVIDSON may make his book-debut, the coming winter, yet it is news to us, that our worthy editor-inchief contemplates the publication of another volume so soon. Mr. HAYNE and Mr. TIMROD, also, we are advised, are both to favour us with one at an early date. To these we look forward with the greatest expectation and pleasure. ------------------------------------------ MOORE'S SOUTHERN BOOK. We extract the following from "Wright's Hygienic Courier:" "We noticed more than once, the fact that Mr. M. V. Moore, of East Tennessee, was engaged upon the compilation of a large work to be called "The Poets and Poetry of the South." In the Columbia (S. C.) Courant of the 28th ult., we find the following paragraph: We are very sorry to hear that this long-looked-for volume ("Poets and Poetry of the South,") is in a condition of statu quo; that is to say, nothing is to be expected, as nothing is being done. Mr. Moore has got tired of his work, we suppose; but he ought to do the justice to those who have written articles for him, either to return all such articles, or else, give them to somebody who will publish them. "Jest so," as Mr. Joshua Butterby would say. We hope some enterprising gentleman will take the matter in hand and push the publication through. It would pay, provided the selections are well made, the biographies well written, and the work produced in elegant typographical style." And this from the "New York Correspondence of the Charleston Mercury:" "Talking of southern poets, what has become of the long ago forthcoming book about them--their genius, their personnel, their homes, &c.--which the reading world, both North and South, has so much longed to see? I understand that the projector of this valuable work (valuable, if properly carried out) has collected a vast quantity of materials, so that it cannot be from any dearth of matter that the publication has been delayed. No book upon American authors hitherto published has done any thing like justice to the poets of the South. In volumes professing to give specimens of our national poetry, the claims of southern songsters have been strangely, and I believe, wilfully overlooked, and it is high time that they should be vindicated in some full and distinct work. A word from you, as a watchful and jealous guardian and promoter of southern literature, may expedite the publication of this postponed book. The name of the compiler, which may be familiar to you, has escaped my recollection." We have naught more to do than reiterate what we have before said--that it is a source of deep regret to us, as well--for how could it be otherwise?--as to all Southern men, that the project now lies dormant, whilst nothing is doing, nothing is to be done. Since so many enquiries are made, will not Mr. MOORE afford the public some light upon the subject? ------------------------------------------ The library of Baron Humbolt, left as a legacy to his body servant, has been purchased for $4000 by Mr. Wright, the American envoy at Berlin. ------------------------------------------ ITERARY NOTICES. ----- ADDISON.--Edition of Little, Brown & Co.: Boston. Life and Writings of ADDISON.--Macaulay. ----- (CONCLUDED.) A more judicious and discriminating critic than Mr. Foster-- we mean Sir James Mackintosh--remarks that "it ought never to be forgotten, that the two most popular writers of the eighteenth century, ADDISON and ohnson, were such efficacious teachers of virtue, that their writings may be numbered among the causes which in an important degree, have contributed to preserve and to improve the morality of the British notion." His style is as pure as his thoughts. He will ever be regarded as one of the great improvers of our language. Whatever may be the faults which an over-rigid taste or a fastidious criticism may point out, certain it is that the style of the Spectator will always have its admirers as long as unpretending simplicity, graceful movement, modest ornament united with great perspicuity, shall be regarded attractive. The ornaments of his style are striking for their appropriateness. He never goes in search of them, and they seem to be the natural and spontaneous embellishments of the subject. There is nothing forced, nothing artificial. His taste was exquisite, and he knew well the difference between those meretricious ornaments which dazzle but to confuse, and those real embellishments which shed light and life upon every thing around them. He is occasionally faulty, but his faults are those of carelessness, and in general harmony with his character of ease and simplicity. The papers expressly devoted to literary criticism, are regarded by many as the least valuable of the series. This may be so, but if one will take as a specimen, his very elaborate criticism of Milton, we think he will conclude, that few of the many who have attempted to analyse the masterly production of this great poet, have succeeded so well. One thing is certain that he did more to arouse the public mind to a sense of the wonderful genius of Milton, and the extraordinary merits of "Paradise Lost," than all other persons put together. To our mind ADDISON appears no where in a more favourable light, than in this very criticism. What if there be beauties and defects unperceived by him? This he modestly suggests, but the general spirit is just and discriminating, and future critics, without making acknowledgment, have but too often echoed his opinions and suggestions. His critique commences at No. 267, and runs, though not consecutively, through 18 papers. No one, we think, can rise from a perusal of these papers with any other impression than, that our author possessed rare qualifications as a critic. His love of truth and justice, his correct and delicate taste, his intimate acquaintance with the ancient classics, his general literature, his knowledge of human nature--these qualified him pre-eminently for the task. These we conceive are the true elements of a critic; he had them all, with a facility of expression, a perception of the poweres of language, which are enjoyed by few. We have thus attemped to give some idea of the literary character of ADDISON. This notice, however, would be incomplete if we did not allude to some other matters, for they are of such a kind as to have a direct bearing upon him as an author. It was the fortune of our author to have been engaged in bitter controversy with contemporary candidates for fame; and to say nothing of the prominence which is given this fact in all the notices of him, a large space is allowed him in that curious and entertaining work. "D'Israeli's Quarrels of authors." His great quarrel was with Pope. No one can read of this without emotions of deepest sorrow and mortification. Possessed alike of a high and honourable ambition, allied by the ties of a virtuous friendship, and reciprocating acts of greatest favour and kindness, who does not regret that these peaceful relations were disturbed, and that future ages have to read the story of foul charges, dark plots, and revolting recriminations. This quarrel is as immortal as any thing in literary history. It is not our purpose to turn partisans, and justify the one by sacrificing the other. This has been done by Macaulay. Ours shall be the more pleasing task of attempting to find some excuse for both, and thus upholding the reputation of men who have alike shed lustre on the language of their country. Pope was constitutionally irritable. He had from nature a most fragile and attenuated body, and never knew what health was. These facts demonstrate that there was a physical necessity for certain effects, and furnish also abundant matter for sympathy. These considerations are overlooked, and certain men reason as if there were nothing in organization, and as if appetites, and passions and temperaments and the many agencies which diversify human character, are in every instance at the bidding of the subject. I know no literary man who is entitled to as much charity as Pope. He had many weaknesses, but that he was a common liar, the meanest of men as Macaulay represents him, is of all charges the most senseless and ridiculous. He did believe that ADDISON was jealous of his growing reputation; he did believe that he was concerned in the publication of the rival edition of Homer. Of the truth of the former we have no doubt, for this was one of the weaknesses of ADDISON. The latter is not true, although ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------