THIS TO THEE, LUCY.

It is no wonder then that Harry Harson, when he stood in the presence of one in heart so akin to himself, paused and gazed upon him with a softened eye.

'Holmes, Dick Holmes,' said he, after a moment, 'are you at leisure?'

The old lawyer started, looked wistfully up, contracting his dim eyes so as to distinguish the features of the person who addressed him, and then doubling down the leaf of the book which he had been reading, rose and advanced hesitatingly until he recognized him.

'Ah Harson!' said he, extending his hand quietly; 'honest old Harry, as we used to call you,' continued he, smiling; 'I'm glad to see you. Few save those who come on business cross my threshold; soyouare the more welcome. Sit down.'

He pushed a chair toward him, and drawing another close to it, took a seat, and looked earnestly in his face. 'Time doesn't tell on you, Harry; nor on me,much,' said he, looking at his attenuated fingers; 'still itdoestell. My flesh is not so firm and hard as it used to be; and I'm getting thinner. I've thought for some months past of relaxing a little, and of stealing off for a day to the country, and of rambling in its woods and fields, and breathing its pure air. It would quite build me up; perhaps you'll go with me?'

'That I will, with all my heart,' said Harson; 'thatI will; and right glad am I to hear you say so; for it's enough to break down a frame of iron to spend hour after hour in this stagnant room, poring over these musty books.'

Holmes looked about the room, and at his volumes, and then said, in a somewhat deprecating tone:

'I've been very happy here. It does not seem gloomy to me; at least notverygloomy. But come; I'll walk out with you now. It does me good sometimes to see what is going on out of doors; if I can only find a person I care for, to keep me company.'

He half rose as he spoke; but Harson placed his hand on his arm, and motioned to him to keep his seat.

'You made a mistake this time,' said he, in a good-natured tone, and beginning to fumble in his pockets; 'business brought me here to-day; business, and a desire to follow the suggestions of a clearer head than mine.'

As he spoke, he drew from his pocket the package of letters, and placed it before the lawyer.

Before you examine these, I must tell you what they are about. Perhaps you won't believe me, but these letters will confirm every word I say. You must hear my story, read them, and then tell me frankly and fairly what to do; not only as a lawyer, but as a friend. I shall need your advice as both.

'You shall have it,' said Holmes; 'go on.'

The tale which Harson told was sufficient to arouse every feeling of indignation in the lawyer. As Harson went on, Holmes became excited, until, unable to control himself, he rose from his chair and paced the room, with every honest and upright feeling in arms. He forgot every thing but the deep wrongs which were recited. Debility and age were trampled under foot; and his voice, clear and loud, rang through the room, scorching in its denunciation of the wrongdoer, and bitter in its threats of retribution. Then it was that the spirit showed its mastery over the clay, and spurning the feeble form which clogged it, shone forth, strong in its own might, a glorious type of the lofty source from which it sprang. But suddenly he sat down; and passing his hand across his face, said in a feeble tone: 'I am easily excited now-a-days, but I will command myself. Go on; I will not interrupt you again.'

As he spoke he placed his arms on the table, and leaned his head upon them; and this position he maintained without asking a question or making a comment, until Harson had finished speaking; and when he looked up, his face had assumed its usual quiet expression.

'Do these letters prove what you say, beyond a doubt?' he asked.

'I think so.'

'And why do you suppose them to be written by Rust? The name, you say, is different.'

'I had it from a person who would swear to it. By the way,' added he, suddenly, 'I have just received a letter from Rust. I'll compare the writing with those; that will prove it.'

He took the letter from his pocket, and placed it beside the others; and his countenance fell. They were as unlike as possible.

Holmes shook his head. 'You may have hit upon the wrong man, or you may have been purposely put on a false scent. There certainly is no resemblance between these,' said he, carefully comparing the two; 'not even in the general character of the hand.'

Harson could not but admit the fact. It was too evident.

'Look over the whole bundle,' said he. 'There are at least twenty of them. If this is a disguised hand, it is possible that he may have betrayed himself in some of the others.'

The lawyer went over the letters, one by one, carefully comparing them; but still the character was the same. All of them were in the free, flowing style of a good penman; while the letter whichHarson had produced was written in a bold, but stiff and ungraceful hand.

'Where did you get this?' said Holmes, pointing to the one which Harson had received from Kornicker.

'It was brought to me by a clerk of his this morning.'

'Then you know him?' said Holmes.

'I never saw him in my life.'

'Have you ever had any business with him through others?'

Harson shook his head. 'Never.'

'How do you know that the person who brought this letter was from Rust?' inquired he.

'The letter proposes an interview. If it isn't from him, the cheat would be found out when I go.'

'How long have you been ferreting out this matter?'

'Several weeks.'

'Have you worked in secret, or openly?' inquired Holmes.

'I kept the matter as quiet as I could,' replied Harson, 'because I didn't want him to get wind of it, and place obstacles in my way; for I supposed that he was the man; but still, I was obliged to employ several persons, of whom I know little.'

'Then this Rustisthe man, you may rely on it,' said Holmes, in a positive manner. 'He has discovered that you are busy, and is startled at it. Depend on it, this wish to see you has something to do with your present movements.'

'I thought so too,' said Harson, 'and shall go there this morning.'

'I'll go too,' said Holmes; 'and the sooner we start the better.'

'Thank you, thank you,' said Harson, stretching out his hand; 'the very thing I wanted.'

The old lawyer said no more; but after fumbling about his room for his hat and great-coat, and having succeeded, without any great difficulty, in putting on the last, (for he had no idea how shrunken and attenuated he was, and it was large enough for a man of double his size,) and supported by Harry's steady arm, they set out.

'Stop a minute,' said Harson; 'we've shut Spite in. There'll be the deuce to pay if we leavehim. Come, pup.' He opened the door; and Spite having leisurely obeyed his call, they resumed their walk.

Whenlike the ripples of some troubled lake,Each year shall hasten to its lingering end,That chord in Memory's sweet-toned harp awake,Which thrills responsive to the name of Friend!And oh! whate'er shall be thy future lot,In sunshine or in shade, forget me not!Whether thou dwellest in the busy martCeaseless caressed by pride, and pomp and power,Or circlest the ambition of thy heartWithin the lowly cot and rustic bower,'The world forgetting, by the world forgot,'Still, still my prayer shall be, 'Forget me not!'

Whether thou dwellest in the busy martCeaseless caressed by pride, and pomp and power,Or circlest the ambition of thy heartWithin the lowly cot and rustic bower,'The world forgetting, by the world forgot,'Still, still my prayer shall be, 'Forget me not!'

Oh!who hath not, in melancholy mood,Musing at eve in some sequestered wood,Or where the torrent's foaming waters pour,Or ocean's billows murmur on the shore;Oh! who hath not in such a moment gazed,As heaven's bright hosts in cloudless glory blazed,And felt a sadness steal upon his heart,To think that he with this fair scene must part!That while those billows heave, those waters flow,Those garnished skies refulgent still shall glow,He, that once watched them, will have passed away,His name forgot, his ashes blent with clay;Unlike those glittering orbs, those quenchless fires,Ordained to roll till Time itself expires.

Itwas a nice remark of the distinguished French General Moreau during his residence in this country, that the next thing in the world to a shock of cavalry is the English word,What! There exists in it an irresistible abruptness, that frequently puts to flight at once the whole array of thoughts of the foreigner whose nerves are assailed by it. 'I can stand,' said he, 'any thing better than your word,What! It is impossible to reason against it; I seem to have nothing to do, when I hear it, but to submit!'

It certainly is one of those short words of power, one of those words of pistol-shot energy, that characterize our grand tongue and give it originality and force. It is a word to conjure with; and has many a time raised Truth out of the depths of the heart of the double-dealer: it is a word of defence—and not unfrequently has it overturned or repulsed in one utterance the half-formed scheme of some wheedling knave endeavoring to make a confederate, or nefariously to win the heart of a pretty girl. May you and I, dear Editor, never hear from lips we love, in the overwhelming accents of astonishment and of disappointed hope, the English word,What!

The word at the head of my Essay, and which by the way I mean to make the subject of it, is another of these short English words of great strength and pith. This carries however no disfavour with it; no discourtesy; nor does it raise up one association that is otherwise than bland and attractive to the mind: and yet how forcible is it, alike in sound and in effect! Let us listen to it——Punch!——To the ear of my Imagination it is altogether irresistible! How impossible to parry it! what a possession it takes of the faculties, and how entirely it seems to get the betterof one! Then how intrinsically, how essentially English it is in all the strength and vigour of the tongue!—Punch!Turn the word into the French, and behold how pitiable is the effect—ponche!

Now it is a curious fact in the Natural History of Liquids, that a similar and not less remarkable result occurs in the noble beverage which this short word is intended to designate! Try over the whole continent of Europe and wheresoever else the English language is not the vernacular, try I say to getPunch, and it invariably comes outponcheor something still more despicable! I have essayed it repeatedly and have always found the result the same; and yet I am neither a young, nor an inexperienced, nor, if you will allow me the word, aninextensivetraveller!

On the other hand, the moment you recross the channel and 'set foot upon the sacred soil of Britain,' or come home quietly to our own unassuming United States and lay your hand upon the right ingredients, out of the sound of any foreign language, the mixture succeeds as a matter of course, and at once becomes virtually and essentially,Punch—Punchproper;Punchitself; in short, PUNCH!

'Tout Éloge d'un grand hommeEst renfermé dans son nom!'

The native merits and distinctive propriety of the word being thus established; before I enter into any consideration of the drink itself, I cannot refrain from chiming in with the general feeling of the day on this side of the Atlantic so far as to observe, how incontestably this proves the mutual interest and common origin of 'the two great nations;' and should the dark day ever arrive, when letters shall be obliterated; printing forgotten; and language lost; it is still consolatory to reflect, that a mutual and inborn affinity between the two last representatives of 'theMotherandDaughter' might be satisfactorily shown and most agreeably demonstrated by means oftwo lemons;four tumblers of Croton or filtered spring water;one of double refined loaf sugar well cracked;and one of old Rum!

Gentle Reader! hast thou carefully dwelt over this list of ingredients? Are earth, air, fire, and water, more dissimilar in their elementary properties than are Lemon, Sugar, Water, and Rum? and has it ever before occurred to thee, to what supernal brightness of original and fortuitous Genius thou must have been indebted for this astonishing combination? Art thou alive to the grandeur of the original conception? Alas! the name of the architect of the Temple of Ephesus might as well at this epoch be sought for as that of the author of this stupendous compound, but the irrefragable word which is universally attempted to be attached to it indicates beyond the shadow of a doubt the land that claims the honour of his birth!

I am writing to thee from the attic of the house in which I have my abode.——Canst thou tell me the name of the first artificer who planned the building of a second story? who first contemplated or imaginedSTAIRS? or changed the tent and the cabin into thefabrick of diversified flights? The scheme of this was taken from the invention of the Beaver——But where throughout the animal creation was the instinctive indicator to the man who first conceived the thought ofPunch?

Newtonby the fall of an apple is said to have determined the Theory of Gravitation: how vast and limitless in its application has been the discovery! Yet is the whole but the elucidation of one principle or element of knowledge——while four different and antagonistic elements associate and are made to combine homogeneously in the glorious beverage ofPunch!

Davy, in his wonderful invention of the Safety Lamp, went with it completed in his hand from the laboratory to the mine, and found his reasoning true! Throughout the terraqueous globe his achievement is cited as the conquest of abstract Science over Physics. But vain is all abstract reasoning here; all distant experiment; all knowledge of the gases; all study of the powers of repulsion;—here four palpable and repulsive reasons are placed in presence of the chemist and philosopher, and the irresistible argument of all is—Punch.

These are hints for reflection to thee, Gentle Reader, in the quiet and solitary concocting and brewing of thy Pitcher, during the two hours that thou shalt diligently pour it from one glass receptacle into the other. When all is finished, and thy star hath proved benignant to thee; and thy beverage shall have become like the harmony that steals away thy heart; gushing from four musical instruments where the sound of neither predominates;—then drink to the memory of the great original Genius who planned and inspired thy joy; and forget not to favour, with a passing thought, the verdant Spirit who would gladly be Thy Companion; and who here subscribes himself, Thy Friend,

John Waters.

Thefragrant odor of the perfumed flower,The plaint of one who doth his pain confess;The farewell whispered in the shadowy hour,The thrilling sound of love's impassioned kiss:The seven-hued scarf that o'er yon field the cloudA trophy leaves to the triumphant sun;A trancing strain, now lost, now faintly heard,The twilight hum that tells the day is done:The accent of some voice remembered well,The glorious ray that crowns the western sea;The secret wish that maiden may not tell,The first sweet dream of sleeping infancy:A far, faint choral chant; the wakening sighThe Memnon gave to morning's glance of flame;All that thought hath of beauty, melody,Less sweet is, O! my Lyre! than her sweet name!

Thefragrant odor of the perfumed flower,The plaint of one who doth his pain confess;The farewell whispered in the shadowy hour,The thrilling sound of love's impassioned kiss:

The seven-hued scarf that o'er yon field the cloudA trophy leaves to the triumphant sun;A trancing strain, now lost, now faintly heard,The twilight hum that tells the day is done:

The accent of some voice remembered well,The glorious ray that crowns the western sea;The secret wish that maiden may not tell,The first sweet dream of sleeping infancy:

A far, faint choral chant; the wakening sighThe Memnon gave to morning's glance of flame;All that thought hath of beauty, melody,Less sweet is, O! my Lyre! than her sweet name!

M. E. H.

Itis related that there once resided in Bagdad a very wealthy man named Abul Cassim, who was celebrated for his avarice and parsimony. So strong was his ruling passion that he could not even be prevailed upon to throw away his old shoes, but whenever it became urgently necessary, he would have them stitched at a cobbler's stall, and continue to wear them for four or five years. So finally, they became so heavy and large that it was proverbial in that city to say that a thing was 'as clumsy as Abul Cassim's shoes.'

Now one day as this man was walking in the bazaars of Bagdad, a friend of his, a broker, informed him that a merchant from Aleppo was just arrived, bringing some bottles for sale. 'Come,' added he, 'I will get them for you at a low price, and after keeping them a month or so, you can sell them again for three times as much as you gave, and so make a handsome profit.' The matter was soon arranged between them; Abul Cassim bought the bottles for sixty dinars, and after employing several porters to carry them to his house, he passed on. He had also another friend, a public crier, whom he likewise happened to meet, and who told him that a merchant from the town of Yezd had some rose-water for sale. 'Come,' said he, 'I will get it for you now at a low rate, and dispose of it for you some other time for double the amount' So Abul Cassim was prevailed upon to buy the rose-water also, and on reaching home he filled the bottles with the water, and placed them on a shelf in one of his apartments.

The day following, Abul Cassim went to a bath, and while undressing himself, one of his friends going out saw his old shoes, and jokingly said: 'Oh! Cassim, do let me change your shoes, for these have become very clumsy.' Abul Cassim only replied, 'Inshallah! ifGodwishes;' and continuing to undress himself, went into the bath. Just then theCadi, or judge of the city, came to the bath, and undressed himself near to Abul Cassim. Some time afterward Abul Cassim came out of the inner room of the bath, and when he had dressed himself, looked for his shoes, which not finding, but seeing a new pair in their place, he thought his friend had made the change that he desired; so putting them on, he returned to his house.

When the Cadi came out of the bath, and had put on his clothes, he asked for his shoes, but lo! they could nowhere be found; and seeing, close by, the old ones of Abul Cassim, he naturally concluded this latter person had purloined his. So the Cadi was greatly enraged; and ordering Abul Cassim to be brought before him, he accused him of stealing shoes out of baths, imprisoned him two or three days, and fined him.

Abul Cassim on his release said to himself: 'These shoes have dishonored me, and I have been severely punished for their sake;' so with revengeful feelings he threw them into the Tigris. Two days afterward some fishermen, on drawing their seines out of that river, found a pair of old shoes in them, which they immediately recognized as those of Abul Cassim. One of them remarked that perhaps he had fallen into the river; and taking the shoes in his hand, carried them to Abul Cassim's house, and finding its door closed, he threw them in at a window which was open. Unfortunately the shoes fell on the shelf where the bottles of rose-water were ranged, so that it was thrown down, the bottles broken, and all the rose-water was lost.

When Cassim returned to his house, he opened the door and beheld the loss he had sustained. He tore his hair and beard with grief, wept aloud, and charged the shoes with being his ruin. To be free from farther misfortune on their part, 'I will bury them,' said he, 'in a corner of my house, and then all will end.' So the same night he arose and commenced digging a hole in a corner of his dwelling; but his neighbors hearing the noise, thought he was undermining their house; and rising in affright, they complained to the governor of the city, who sent and apprehended Cassim, and threw him in prison, from which he was released only on the payment of a fine.

After this Cassim returned to his house, overwhelmed with grief, and taking his old shoes, he threw them into the sluice of a neighboring caravansary. In the course of a few days, the sluice being stopped, it overran its banks, and workmen having been called to clean it out, lo! Cassim's shoes were found to be the cause of the inconvenience. So the governor again threw him in prison, and fined him to a large amount.

Abul Cassim, now perfectly in despair, took his old shoes, and after washing them clean, laid them on the terrace of his house, with the intention, after they were well dried, to burn them, and so put an end to all shame and misfortune on their account. But it happened that while the shoes were drying, a neighbor's dog passing over the terrace saw them, and mistaking them for dried meat, took one in his mouth, sprang from one terrace to the other, and in doing so let it fall. The neighbor's wife wasenciente, and as she happened to be sitting at the foot of the wall, the shoe fell upon her, and in her alarm she was prematurely brought to bed. Her husband, in great anger, complained to the governor, and Abul Cassim was once more thrown into prison and made to pay a fine.

Abul Cassim now tore his hair and beard with grief, and accusing the shoes of being the cause of all his misfortunes, he took them in his hand, and going before the Cadi of Bagdad, related to him all that had befallen him. 'I beg you,' added he, 'to receive my declaration, and I hope all these Mussulmans will bear witness that I now break off all farther relation between me and these shoes, and have no longer any thing to do with them. I ask also a certificate showing that I am free from them, and they free from me; so that ifhenceforth there are any punishments or fines to be incurred, questions to be asked or answers to be given, that they may take them all upon themselves.

The Cadi, much amused with what he heard, gave the desired certificate, and added a present to Abul Cassim. Behold in this tale to what misfortunes the avaricious subject themselves!

Brightstranger from the South! who with the coolLight airs of Summer visitest the sweetSoft twilight that o'erspreads the shaded pool,And the young river-flowers that faint with heat:Welcome art thou to the cold North again,With thy dark glossy hood, and emerald wings;And pleasant be thy way along the glen,Where the brown wood-thrush in the thicket sings,Or where to prostrate trees the nodding wild flower clings.

Thy silver beak, which late from Southern flowersSippedGod'sgood bounty, here, where green leaves meetAnd shed their coolness through the long sweet hoursOf the bright noontide, shalt find blooms as sweet;The juicy clover in the meadow-grassShall give thee honey from its crimson cells,And thou shalt take, where curling eddies pass,Thy supper in the dewy mountain-bells,When the meek evening-wind amid the forest swells.

Waters shall catch thine image; thy green wingsFanning with music the sweet forest airs,Shall bear thee where the reddening wood-rose springsAmid the moss and sunshine. Thou shalt fareUpon the glossy seeds when they are ripeOn their long stems, beside the streamlet's bed,And on thy scarlet jacket thou shalt wipeThy shining bill when thou hast freely fedUpon the river-plum and mountain-cherry red.

Welcome thou art unto my lattice; hereIn safety thou may'st smooth thy velvet hood,And sip the summer-sweets without a fear,With the sweet winds thy gentle sisterhood.Ay! thou art welcome; nor would I in vainTake lesson from thine own meek history;But when the hazy summer comes againTo these wide woods, may'st thou no stranger beAmong those friends which are my best society.

Utica, August, 1843.

The Politicians, a Comedy: in Five Acts. ByCornelius Mathews. pp. 118. New-York: Printed for the Author.Poems on Man, in his various Aspects under the American Republic.ByCornelius Mathews. In one volume, pp. 112. New-York: Printed for the Author, and for sale atWiley and Putnam'sand other metropolitan Book-stores.The Career of Puffer Hopkins.Published in the 'serial form,' from the office of the 'Brother Jonathan.'

The Politicians, a Comedy: in Five Acts. ByCornelius Mathews. pp. 118. New-York: Printed for the Author.

Poems on Man, in his various Aspects under the American Republic.ByCornelius Mathews. In one volume, pp. 112. New-York: Printed for the Author, and for sale atWiley and Putnam'sand other metropolitan Book-stores.

The Career of Puffer Hopkins.Published in the 'serial form,' from the office of the 'Brother Jonathan.'

In a notice some four years since in these pages of the 'Motley Book'[B]by the author of the above-named productions, we expressed our conviction, and gave the grounds for our belief, that Mr.Mathewshad mistaken his vocation; that he exhibited a mind capacious enough of vague dreams and dim similitudes of humor, but that there was no naturalness in his descriptions, and no distinctness in his pictures; that his observation of men and things was cursory and superficial, and that his style was of such a character that the reader was often led to doubt whether he always affixed any very precise idea to the language which he employed. We excepted from these remarks, we remember, a serious sketch or two of the writer, 'The Potters'-Field,' and 'The Unburied Bones,' as evincing a degree of spirit and pathos, which justified us in counselling him, if he must needs write, to confine his literary efforts to that species of composition. Since the period to which we have referred, Mr.Mathewshas continued to write and print, with great industry and perseverance, what he must have considered works of humor and satire; but we are sorry to be compelled to add, without exhibiting the slightest improvement. LikeMichael Cassio, Mr.Mathews, when he sits down to pen, ink, and paper, 'sees a mass of objects, but nothingdistinctly.' He has a large grasp of small things, without selection and without cohesion; his ideas, if they may becalledideas, are often diffuse, pointless, and apparently aimless; and it is impossible for any intelligent reader to resist the conclusion that his 'wit's diseased,' in one sense, at least. Let us take, as an illustration of the justice of our animadversions, the 'Comedy' whose title stands first at the head of this notice. From the strutting boldness of the language in the preface, the reader is led to conclude, evidently with the author, that an 'American dramatist' has at last arisen, who is to present the proof that 'America contains within itself material quite adequate for any class of literary productions;' that there is 'no lack of materials for comedy in our country and among ourselves;' and that here we have a dramatic attempt which is to furnish 'countenance to the Cause of true National Literature.' In consonance with Mr.Mathews'sown opinions of his 'Comedy,' is his modest request that nobody should 'interfere with his privileges as its author, or prevent him from deriving such emoluments from its representation as are equitably his due.' Probability ratherfavors the conclusion, we think, that no person ever did! The writer adds, also, that he 'would be greatly rejoiced' if the play should be 'the thing' to awaken the National Legislature to a 'realizing sense' of its duty in the matter of international copy-right! Such is the character of the introduction to the public of the 'Comedy' before us. Now for a taste of its quality.

The first act opens with a dialogue between a political candidate and his 'chum' touching 'the use of a church-bell' to bring out the voters, who are to be wrought upon by an announcement of the fact that 'the steeple is in the hands of their party,' whose ticket is to be 'spread on the weather-cock.' After a discussion of various modes of catching voters, which we should be glad to have the readersee, but which we must 'respectfully decline' toquote, we come to the annexed characteristic specimen of our author's wit. Stand aside, reader; for the text says: 'EnterBotch:'

Botch.Have you heard this rumor, Sir?Gudgeon.What rumor, for Heaven's sake? They haven't bought up all the large flags in the ward?Botch.No, Sir.Gudgeon.Have they got in a new barrel of beer? or hired Blaster, the popular trumpeter? I spoke to him myself last night. They haven't engaged Murphy's two starved horses, that always operate so on the popular sympathies and bring up so many voters?Botch.None of these, Sir!Gudgeon.What then, Botch? Be quick—what then?Botch.Why, Sir, the Brisk party is going to use the belfry of the church to distribute tickets from, and they intend to employ the sexton to read prayers every morning of the election from the small window in the steeple.Gudgeon.This must be counteracted: it will have an overwhelming effect. We shall have the whole religious community moving against us in platoons, pew by pew!Botch.Something must be done, Sir; I see clearly something must be done. What shall it be, Sir?Gudgeon.Yes, something must be done.Botch.Certainly; something must be done.Gudgeon.What then, in the name of Heaven, shall it be? Couldn't we get Glib to climb the steeple above the window and deliver an harangue? It might do away with the evil influence of the proceedings below, and give us a tremendous ascendency at once.Botch.I doubt whether Mr. Glib would undertake it, even if he could snatch a notary's commission from the weathercock, as the chances of being made a martyr of by stoning would be considerable.

Botch.Have you heard this rumor, Sir?

Gudgeon.What rumor, for Heaven's sake? They haven't bought up all the large flags in the ward?

Botch.No, Sir.

Gudgeon.Have they got in a new barrel of beer? or hired Blaster, the popular trumpeter? I spoke to him myself last night. They haven't engaged Murphy's two starved horses, that always operate so on the popular sympathies and bring up so many voters?

Botch.None of these, Sir!

Gudgeon.What then, Botch? Be quick—what then?

Botch.Why, Sir, the Brisk party is going to use the belfry of the church to distribute tickets from, and they intend to employ the sexton to read prayers every morning of the election from the small window in the steeple.

Gudgeon.This must be counteracted: it will have an overwhelming effect. We shall have the whole religious community moving against us in platoons, pew by pew!

Botch.Something must be done, Sir; I see clearly something must be done. What shall it be, Sir?

Gudgeon.Yes, something must be done.

Botch.Certainly; something must be done.

Gudgeon.What then, in the name of Heaven, shall it be? Couldn't we get Glib to climb the steeple above the window and deliver an harangue? It might do away with the evil influence of the proceedings below, and give us a tremendous ascendency at once.

Botch.I doubt whether Mr. Glib would undertake it, even if he could snatch a notary's commission from the weathercock, as the chances of being made a martyr of by stoning would be considerable.

In the fourth scene there is a new effect given to stage song-singing, by a Mr.Blanding, one of the characters, which should neither be lost to dramatic writers, theatrical persons, nor to 'the world.' A fragment will suffice, we suspect:

Blanding.(From within.) Fol-la—my heart—andino—has gently—sa—felt—allegro—allegro—sweet Kate—piano—the sharp and sure revenge of fate—La-mi-fol-sa.Crumb.The fit is coming upon him.Blanding.Oh smile upon the gloomy waveThat bears me to a gloomier grave.That goes badly in andante—so-fa-me-fi-so.Blanding.And fly—too slow—and fly—allegro—allegro,And fly with me.Prestissimo.Crumb.(Breaking in.) Heigh-ho! how is this, Sir? Are you trying to set a runaway match to music?Blanding.I beg your pardon, Sir—but—Crumb.You may well do that, and the pardon of the whole city council, if you please. Meditating a rhymed elopement with Miss Brisk, daughter of John Brisk, candidate for alderman of the ward! Why this is an audacious breach of ordinance.

Blanding.(From within.) Fol-la—my heart—andino—has gently—sa—felt—allegro—allegro—sweet Kate—piano—the sharp and sure revenge of fate—La-mi-fol-sa.

Crumb.The fit is coming upon him.

Blanding.Oh smile upon the gloomy waveThat bears me to a gloomier grave.

That goes badly in andante—so-fa-me-fi-so.

Blanding.And fly—too slow—and fly—allegro—allegro,And fly with me.Prestissimo.

Crumb.(Breaking in.) Heigh-ho! how is this, Sir? Are you trying to set a runaway match to music?

Blanding.I beg your pardon, Sir—but—

Crumb.You may well do that, and the pardon of the whole city council, if you please. Meditating a rhymed elopement with Miss Brisk, daughter of John Brisk, candidate for alderman of the ward! Why this is an audacious breach of ordinance.

Pass we now to the second act, wherein we find Mr. and Mrs.Gudgeonengaged in a remarkably humorous colloquy. He informs her that a committee has been appointed to 'have his own portrait of his individual self,Robert Gudgeon' taken; whereupon, among other things, Mrs.Gudgeonis led to remark, that now she has a presentiment that his election is safe. To which, 'thus thenGudgeon:'

Gudgeon.And so have I. Some great event is clearly at hand. We have had a meteor the other night that whizzed round the sky, like a large Catharine-wheel; then there has been aschool of sixty whale cast ashore off Barnegat; and the Rain-King, only last Week, caught a storm on a lightning-rod, and held it there two days, notwithstanding the entreaties of the neighboring county, that was suffering sorely under a drouth. What do these things mean? what do they refer to? The approach of the comet foretold in the Farmer's Almanac; or, it may be so, (for I recollect the birth of my father's five-legged calf, in Danbury, was brought on by an early sun-rise,) the election of Robert Gudgeon as alderman.

Is not the wit of this undeniable? Does it not 'fortify like a cordial?' Yet it is not more striking than the humor of many other portions of the 'Comedy;' not more so indeed than several passages in the third act, especially in the dialogue betweenCrowderand the committee-men, concerning the means by which the candidate is to recommend himself to his constituents, though it were to 'run asewerthrough his pocket (!) and drain it to the last cent.' The committee do not 'sit' in their room at a tavern without 'creature comforts.' Observe: the landlord is called:

Landlord.(From without.) Coming!Crowder.We want your bill. That will bring him up with it, short and quick.Landlord.(From without.) It's e'en a'most made out; only a few items to add.EnterLandlord.Crowder.Come, read it off, jolly Job Works, in a good clear half-price voice; by particulars, and it's cash on the nail. Begin!Landlord.That I likes; 'four sperm candle'; Nothing like the ready metal; 'Two quarts beer, with snuffers.'Crowder.Well, he has a fine throat of his own; it smacks of the spigot.Landlord.Room-hire, cigars, and two juleps, with benches.Crowder.Well.Landlord.A small pig with lemon.Crowder.A pig with lemon!Landlord.Two plates pickled beans, two rolls twisted bread, and beer extra.Crowder.Beans, bread, and beer!Landlord.Six lobster and two pound sage-cheese; likewise a splendid pork-pie made of chops.Crowder.A splendid pork-pie made of chops!Landlord.And a suet pudding.Crowder.Nothing else?Landlord.Nothing else.

Landlord.(From without.) Coming!

Crowder.We want your bill. That will bring him up with it, short and quick.

Landlord.(From without.) It's e'en a'most made out; only a few items to add.

EnterLandlord.

Crowder.Come, read it off, jolly Job Works, in a good clear half-price voice; by particulars, and it's cash on the nail. Begin!

Landlord.That I likes; 'four sperm candle'; Nothing like the ready metal; 'Two quarts beer, with snuffers.'

Crowder.Well, he has a fine throat of his own; it smacks of the spigot.

Landlord.Room-hire, cigars, and two juleps, with benches.

Crowder.Well.

Landlord.A small pig with lemon.

Crowder.A pig with lemon!

Landlord.Two plates pickled beans, two rolls twisted bread, and beer extra.

Crowder.Beans, bread, and beer!

Landlord.Six lobster and two pound sage-cheese; likewise a splendid pork-pie made of chops.

Crowder.A splendid pork-pie made of chops!

Landlord.And a suet pudding.

Crowder.Nothing else?

Landlord.Nothing else.

The landlord declares, in answer to a little grumbling, that 'the things' named in the bill were 'sent down for' from the committee-room by way of the chimney, in a stone-bottle 'as big-as my two-fist,' which struck his cook, 'poor hunch-backJenny, in the small, or rather I should say in the big of her back, as she was stooping over a dish ofprawns(?) for Tom Lug!'Crowderpays, of course, in the usual way; but his rival is not to be outdone by such liberality. He 'bears a charmed life:' for Mrs.Gudgeonhas 'told him to buy fresh chick-weed and goose-grass to carry in his pocket, because they say it draws voters!'

But enough. If our readers desire more of Mr.Mathews''Comedy,' they must seek it elsewhere. We have selected the liveliest passages we could find: for there is a calm placidity of emptiness, diversified with a bustling inanity of thought, inotherportions of this performance, which we have small desire to illustrate by examples; since they would not fail to produce at least twenty yawns to a page; a soporific that neither watchman not sick-nurse could support.

We come next in order to the poems on 'Man, in his Various Aspects under the American Republic;' a very comprehensive title to much incomprehensible rhyme with little reason. As a poet, Mr.Mathewscannot reasonably expect to take the exalted order of rank which he holds as a dramatist. That indeed were expecting quite too much! To use the illustration of a nautical critic, his plan of writing-verse would seem to be, to 'fire away with the high-soundingest words he can get, whereby his meaning looms larger than it is, like a fishing-boat in a fog.' Where there is such a ground-swell of language, there can be no great depth of ideas. Yet therearegood ideas in some of the lines in these ten-score of pages, borne down though they be, and almost smothered, with words. For the most part, however, the volume presents but a farrago of crude expressions, ideas, and pictures, some poetical and others 'quite the reverse,' aggregatedin a rude and undigested mass. The writer treats, under nineteen divisions, of Man as child, father, teacher, citizen, farmer, mechanic, merchant, soldier, statesman, etc.; and from some of these we propose to select a few examples of Mr.Mathews'sthoughts and style poetical. The following stanza is taken from the advice given to 'the father' of an infant:

'A soul distinct and sphered, its own true star,Shining andaxledfor a separate way.'

An 'axled soul' is good, asPoloniuswould say; but it is not much better than one or two equally original expressions which ensue:

'Bethou a Heaven of truth and cheerful hope,Clear as the clear round midnight at its full;And he, the Earth beneath that elder cope—And each 'gainst each for highest mastery pull:The child and father, each shall fitly be—Hope in the evening vanward paling down,The one—the other younger Hope upspringing,With the glancing morning for its crown.'

The writer counsels 'the citizen' not to 'overstalk' his brother, but to show in his mien 'each motionforthright, calm, and free;' and he farther advises in the words following, to wit:

'Feelwell with the poised ballot in thy hand,Thine unmatched sovereignty of right and wrong:'Tis thine to bless or blast the waiting land,To shorten up its life or make it long.'

In the annexed stanza there is an assortment of similes, the like of which one seldom encounters in so brief a compass. The lines are addressed to 'the farmer;' and we are acquainted with several excellent persons among that indispensable class of the community, to whom we should like to hear Mr.Mathewsreadthem! It would be a 'rich treat' to hear their opinion of such pellucid poetry:

'Whencloud-like whirling through the stormy StateFierce Revolutions rush in wild-orbed haste,On the still highway stay their darkling course,And soothe with gentle airs their fiery breast;Slaking the anger of their chariot-wheelsIn the cool flowings of the mountain brook,While from the cloud the heavenward prophet castsHis mantle's peace, andshines his better look.'

Cloud-like revolutions stopping on the highway to slake their chariot-wheels in a mountain-brook! If that isn't 'original poetry' we know not what is. Now the opening of the piece from which the above stanza is taken we have no doubt is considered by the writer quite inferior to it; but to our conception, the nature and simplicity which it preserves for a moment are worth all the striking figures to which we have alluded. 'The mechanic,' whose business is to 'shape andfinish forthiron and wood,' comes in for his share of rythmical counsel:

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