We hope our readers will soon welcome 'Julian' as heartily to our pages as they were wont to do aforetime.
Story of'The Little Black Slipper.'—The spirited sketch of 'The Little Black Slipper,' which ensues—the beautiful manuscript of which is a treasure to our compositors—was accompanied by a characteristic notelet from our esteemed friend and correspondent, 'H. P. L.,' of Philadelphia, to the following purport: 'The accompanying MS., the production of my amiable friend, Mr.James O'Fistian, of Castle-Bangeroary, details a little incident in his 'Careerings and Loaferings in Other Lands,' and—amongotherladies. I have copied it and corrected it from his original MS., but can lay no claim to its vitality. Its publication would prove a jubilition to its author:'
'Said I, 'Harry, where did you get that slipper?' Said he, 'James, this is the tale:'If any thing will alleviate the little miseries of a two days' diligence-journey, it is having as pretty, good-natured, and cosmopolitan a little widow for your opposite travelling companion, as I had from Cordova on the Guadalquivir, to Madrid on the Manzanares. Tumbling into the 'interior' of a diligence at two o'clock of a June morning after a few hours spent in a vain attempt to sleep, rendered vain and profane by a legion of thosetirailleurs du diable, long-horned mosquitoes, one is by no means as serene in temper as one should be. The writer was savage that morning; and not until themayoral(conductor) had brought a light to see if the passengers were all properly packed in, revealing the cheerful little face of a pretty woman opposite to him, did his good nature shine out as a patent reflector and dissipate the fog of discontent.''A long journey before us: let us make ourselves comfortable,' said the lady, the departingmayoralwith light just enabling me to see that there was a smile on her face. Then there was a shaking of black silk skirts,Gracias a Dios!there were no steel or whalebone petticoats on her blessed form; two little feet sought refuge on my side; two good-sized ones searched for an asylum on her side the diligence; and behold, we were disposed to be friends for life. I don't know whetherTupper, in his 'Proverbial Philosophy,' mentions under the head of 'Friendship' that it is 'a travelling shawl,' but in his next edition he'd better do it, you know,because it is! At least that morning, when I spread mine over my legs, and extended the courtesy to the limbs (Lingua Americana) of the fair widow, she accepted the woollen with a kind acknowledgment that made me feel blessedly pleased with myself and with her. The bells of the eight mules pulling the diligence were jingling; the postillion on the right leader had settled himself in his saddle; thearrierohad hold of the reins; themayoraljumped into his seat in the Imperial; and thezugal, holding his calañes hat tight on his head, sprung out of the door of the diligence-office, uttering fearful yells and cracking his whip with the ferocity of a mad monkey; when—creak, bang, slide, slip! and we were launched on our journey to Madrid.'I went to sleep and had a pleasant dream of being a cherubim, the kind that flew roundNoahwhen he was building the Ark, and had no legs! and having a dear little pair of gaiter boots for wings; while I had for a companion, another æronaut with large black eyes,a proposof which—'I neverloved a dear gazelle,And gazed upon its soft, black eyes,But what it turned out a d—— sell—A damsel heaving gentlest sighs'—who was all thy's and thou's. In addition to black eyes, she had black hair and a travelling-shawl, and she had feet; and both the tiny little ones were somehow thrust into the pockets of my shooting-coat, and —— I woke up and found that there were a pair oflittle, high-heeled, black slippers, with white silk stockings attached, resting on the cushion by my side. You may talk about dream-books, and explanations of dreams, but such bona-fide realizations please me most: and I looked down at them and determined they should be mine if I had to go a hand on them—matrimonially of course,à la mode de'I'd offer thee this hand of mine,' with piano accompaniment.'But she woke up, and as the sun was now shining brightly, she saw me regarding those 'leather mice,' whereupon she at once hid them, not by rudely withdrawing them, but by cuddling them up under one end of the travelling-shawl; which end was in close proximity with my pantaloons pocket. Now reader fancy my feelings nursing a pair of twins like those; belonging to a very pretty woman—moreover a widow.''Buenas dias, Señor!' It was so cheerfully, pleasantly spoken, and with such a winning smile, and the dark eyes beamed so softly under the long black eye-lashes, that it elicited all the writer's stock of amiability in return. It came out in conversation that the lady was from Seville, was a widow, and her first name wasJuanita, (tal y tal, or So-and-So;) and as I had passed many pleasant days in Seville, and bore away gay souvenirs of 'The Marvel,' we were soon in earnest chat about its wonders and beauties. She was charminglynaïvein conversation, and showed in every remark, what is an exception with Spanish ladies—an intelligent and animated disposition. At Bailen, where we dined, I lost my heart when I handed her from the diligence—beside, she faintly pressed my hand with her gloved hand, and showed me those feet!'There is no use doing things in a hurry, so I determined, as we were yet thirty-six hours from Madrid, to wait until we were within three hours of the city before I formally proposed for her heart, hand, and high-heeled shoes.Ay, que gusto, que placer!'Again was the old diligenceen route; again the shades of night were on us, and cool air brought out the travelling-shawl; and again a joint partnership was entered into betweenJuanitaand me. Somehow, near Las Navas de Tolosa, the diligence gave a fearful lurch, andJuanitawas pitched nearly into my arms; seems to me, she must have assisted the shock, else how, in all the darkness of night, for it must have been nearly ten o'clock, and raining, could I have kissed her and taken charge of her for nearly a minute, while the diligence was coming to time?'QUIEN SABE!That's the way to get over the difficulty in Spain; in Italy with a—'CHI LO SA!or to hunt it up to head-quarters in Arabic:'MA AHRIF!if you want it at home:'WHO KNOWS!That was a rose-colored rainy night—the diligence pitched several times with equal success.'I made up mind to turn Spaniard, buy one of those velvet tiles, a black lamb-skin jacket, knee-breeches, pounds of silver waistcoat and coat buttons, leather gaiters with long leather fringe; learn to rollcigarritasand become acigarrista. Go twice a week to theCirco Gallistico, 'where roosters do combat;' bet myduroson the winninggallo, (not gall oh! but on the contrary;) attend every bull-fight, and mass once a week, to keep my hand in; dance thebolero; drinkaguardientevery cautiously; shoot red-legged partridges all the year round, and, to sum up, come out strong as a full-bloodedmajo! either this or edit a paper in Madridprogresisto.'Again the morning broke and up came the sun illumining our breakfast at Valdepeñas, where the wine comes from, at least the baptismal name to table-wine half over Spain. I determined to edit a paper in Madrid,progresisto!'The day wheeled by until we arrived at Tembléque, where our diligence was wheeled on to a railroad-car, and we were to make the fifteen leagues between there and Madrid with great diligence by steam.Tembléquemeans a diamond pin; it sticks me with pain when I think of it, for there, yes there!Juanitawas lost to me (as a wife) forever.'At Tembléque, while taking a hurried lunch, I saw a bill announcing a bull-fight to come off in Madrid next day, and was glad to be able to enjoy this amusement once more; on my return to the diligence, I communicated to the widow the interesting fact.''O jala!' said she, 'how I do love bull-fights! And to seeCuchareswith thecapain one hand and sword in the other,Hésoos!he is aspada; but you should have seenJuan, (pronounceWhan,) he always killed first blow.Ay Caramba! there was a man for you—and such clothes and such legs—poor soul! that last black bull from the mountains was too much for him—too much, too much!' and here the widow paid a tribute of two tears to his memory, and flourished her little hands and white cambric disconsolately.'ThisJuandid not please me, although he had succumbed to the bull, and was gone where good bull-fighters go; the tribute to his memory made me a little-slightly jealous. But concealing my feelings, I asked as unconcernedly as possible: 'Well, who wasJuan?'''Juan?' replied the dear widow, 'Juan? why, he was my husband!''Farewell, orange-flower wreaths, white lace veils, and slow on—farewell, ideas matrimonial. I,Harry Buttons de Buttonville, marry a bull-fighter's widow! By the shadow of my respectability, never!''Juanita, I never can be thine!' said I, in a burst of feeling.''Ay Caramba!but you will see me home in a carriage, when I arrive at Madrid, won't you?' asked the widow.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .'I did—and she gave me the slipper.'
'Said I, 'Harry, where did you get that slipper?' Said he, 'James, this is the tale:
'If any thing will alleviate the little miseries of a two days' diligence-journey, it is having as pretty, good-natured, and cosmopolitan a little widow for your opposite travelling companion, as I had from Cordova on the Guadalquivir, to Madrid on the Manzanares. Tumbling into the 'interior' of a diligence at two o'clock of a June morning after a few hours spent in a vain attempt to sleep, rendered vain and profane by a legion of thosetirailleurs du diable, long-horned mosquitoes, one is by no means as serene in temper as one should be. The writer was savage that morning; and not until themayoral(conductor) had brought a light to see if the passengers were all properly packed in, revealing the cheerful little face of a pretty woman opposite to him, did his good nature shine out as a patent reflector and dissipate the fog of discontent.
''A long journey before us: let us make ourselves comfortable,' said the lady, the departingmayoralwith light just enabling me to see that there was a smile on her face. Then there was a shaking of black silk skirts,Gracias a Dios!there were no steel or whalebone petticoats on her blessed form; two little feet sought refuge on my side; two good-sized ones searched for an asylum on her side the diligence; and behold, we were disposed to be friends for life. I don't know whetherTupper, in his 'Proverbial Philosophy,' mentions under the head of 'Friendship' that it is 'a travelling shawl,' but in his next edition he'd better do it, you know,because it is! At least that morning, when I spread mine over my legs, and extended the courtesy to the limbs (Lingua Americana) of the fair widow, she accepted the woollen with a kind acknowledgment that made me feel blessedly pleased with myself and with her. The bells of the eight mules pulling the diligence were jingling; the postillion on the right leader had settled himself in his saddle; thearrierohad hold of the reins; themayoraljumped into his seat in the Imperial; and thezugal, holding his calañes hat tight on his head, sprung out of the door of the diligence-office, uttering fearful yells and cracking his whip with the ferocity of a mad monkey; when—creak, bang, slide, slip! and we were launched on our journey to Madrid.
'I went to sleep and had a pleasant dream of being a cherubim, the kind that flew roundNoahwhen he was building the Ark, and had no legs! and having a dear little pair of gaiter boots for wings; while I had for a companion, another æronaut with large black eyes,a proposof which—
'I neverloved a dear gazelle,And gazed upon its soft, black eyes,But what it turned out a d—— sell—A damsel heaving gentlest sighs'—
'I neverloved a dear gazelle,And gazed upon its soft, black eyes,But what it turned out a d—— sell—A damsel heaving gentlest sighs'—
who was all thy's and thou's. In addition to black eyes, she had black hair and a travelling-shawl, and she had feet; and both the tiny little ones were somehow thrust into the pockets of my shooting-coat, and —— I woke up and found that there were a pair oflittle, high-heeled, black slippers, with white silk stockings attached, resting on the cushion by my side. You may talk about dream-books, and explanations of dreams, but such bona-fide realizations please me most: and I looked down at them and determined they should be mine if I had to go a hand on them—matrimonially of course,à la mode de'I'd offer thee this hand of mine,' with piano accompaniment.
'But she woke up, and as the sun was now shining brightly, she saw me regarding those 'leather mice,' whereupon she at once hid them, not by rudely withdrawing them, but by cuddling them up under one end of the travelling-shawl; which end was in close proximity with my pantaloons pocket. Now reader fancy my feelings nursing a pair of twins like those; belonging to a very pretty woman—moreover a widow.
''Buenas dias, Señor!' It was so cheerfully, pleasantly spoken, and with such a winning smile, and the dark eyes beamed so softly under the long black eye-lashes, that it elicited all the writer's stock of amiability in return. It came out in conversation that the lady was from Seville, was a widow, and her first name wasJuanita, (tal y tal, or So-and-So;) and as I had passed many pleasant days in Seville, and bore away gay souvenirs of 'The Marvel,' we were soon in earnest chat about its wonders and beauties. She was charminglynaïvein conversation, and showed in every remark, what is an exception with Spanish ladies—an intelligent and animated disposition. At Bailen, where we dined, I lost my heart when I handed her from the diligence—beside, she faintly pressed my hand with her gloved hand, and showed me those feet!
'There is no use doing things in a hurry, so I determined, as we were yet thirty-six hours from Madrid, to wait until we were within three hours of the city before I formally proposed for her heart, hand, and high-heeled shoes.Ay, que gusto, que placer!
'Again was the old diligenceen route; again the shades of night were on us, and cool air brought out the travelling-shawl; and again a joint partnership was entered into betweenJuanitaand me. Somehow, near Las Navas de Tolosa, the diligence gave a fearful lurch, andJuanitawas pitched nearly into my arms; seems to me, she must have assisted the shock, else how, in all the darkness of night, for it must have been nearly ten o'clock, and raining, could I have kissed her and taken charge of her for nearly a minute, while the diligence was coming to time?
'QUIEN SABE!
That's the way to get over the difficulty in Spain; in Italy with a—
'CHI LO SA!
or to hunt it up to head-quarters in Arabic:
'MA AHRIF!
if you want it at home:
'WHO KNOWS!
That was a rose-colored rainy night—the diligence pitched several times with equal success.
'I made up mind to turn Spaniard, buy one of those velvet tiles, a black lamb-skin jacket, knee-breeches, pounds of silver waistcoat and coat buttons, leather gaiters with long leather fringe; learn to rollcigarritasand become acigarrista. Go twice a week to theCirco Gallistico, 'where roosters do combat;' bet myduroson the winninggallo, (not gall oh! but on the contrary;) attend every bull-fight, and mass once a week, to keep my hand in; dance thebolero; drinkaguardientevery cautiously; shoot red-legged partridges all the year round, and, to sum up, come out strong as a full-bloodedmajo! either this or edit a paper in Madridprogresisto.
'Again the morning broke and up came the sun illumining our breakfast at Valdepeñas, where the wine comes from, at least the baptismal name to table-wine half over Spain. I determined to edit a paper in Madrid,progresisto!
'The day wheeled by until we arrived at Tembléque, where our diligence was wheeled on to a railroad-car, and we were to make the fifteen leagues between there and Madrid with great diligence by steam.Tembléquemeans a diamond pin; it sticks me with pain when I think of it, for there, yes there!Juanitawas lost to me (as a wife) forever.
'At Tembléque, while taking a hurried lunch, I saw a bill announcing a bull-fight to come off in Madrid next day, and was glad to be able to enjoy this amusement once more; on my return to the diligence, I communicated to the widow the interesting fact.
''O jala!' said she, 'how I do love bull-fights! And to seeCuchareswith thecapain one hand and sword in the other,Hésoos!he is aspada; but you should have seenJuan, (pronounceWhan,) he always killed first blow.Ay Caramba! there was a man for you—and such clothes and such legs—poor soul! that last black bull from the mountains was too much for him—too much, too much!' and here the widow paid a tribute of two tears to his memory, and flourished her little hands and white cambric disconsolately.
'ThisJuandid not please me, although he had succumbed to the bull, and was gone where good bull-fighters go; the tribute to his memory made me a little-slightly jealous. But concealing my feelings, I asked as unconcernedly as possible: 'Well, who wasJuan?'
''Juan?' replied the dear widow, 'Juan? why, he was my husband!'
'Farewell, orange-flower wreaths, white lace veils, and slow on—farewell, ideas matrimonial. I,Harry Buttons de Buttonville, marry a bull-fighter's widow! By the shadow of my respectability, never!
''Juanita, I never can be thine!' said I, in a burst of feeling.
''Ay Caramba!but you will see me home in a carriage, when I arrive at Madrid, won't you?' asked the widow.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
'I did—and she gave me the slipper.'
'Working-Men' at Home and Abroad.—We encounter the following passage in a recent editorial letter from abroad, in 'Wilkes' Spirit of the Times.' He is speaking of the little town of Veviers, a place containing some thirty thousand inhabitants, (with a large suburban population,) on the road thenceward from Paris to Cologne: a city, as Mr.Wilkesremarks, that has moreneedof 'Cologne-water' than any whichhehas ever visited. That wasColeridge'simpression, also; since the multitudinous seas, he thought, could never wash the river clean again, that 'washed' the town of Cologne:
'Veviersis devoted mainly to cloth manufacture, in which it employs some fifty thousand hands, who work from twelve to fifteen hours a day, and who are drilled to as close a discipline as the convicts in a prison, or slaves at an oar. A few work in their houses, but the greater number labor in large shops, the various lofts of which are filled with men and women, who seldom look up from their looms, and who never venture to speak, except by permission of the overseer. This silent system is terrible to the mind as well as body; but there is no power on the part of the oppressed to resist, for a discharge from an establishment is a condemnation to starvation, since, according to a convention among the employers, none will hire a man whom another has turned off. This of course reduces the working classes to a state of absolute vassalage, and wherever sucha regulation exists, they may be said to breathe only by the sufferance of their employers. Attempts have been made at different times by certain manufacturers, to introduce this system in the United States, but the atrocious project has always been defeated with infamy to the inventors. The working people of Veviers, those at least who labor in the factories, are remarkable for their downcast look, and the first curse seems to be written in heavy lines upon their brows. They go along like men without hope, as if life were a penalty, and the only expiration of their term of condemnation were to arrive with death. Ah! if these poor people could but see an American mechanic, with his bright eye, erect head, and proud and cheerful carriage, they would understand the value of liberty at a glance, and increase their hours of toil till they could earn enough to enable them to escape into an atmosphere where they may breathe and live.'
'Veviersis devoted mainly to cloth manufacture, in which it employs some fifty thousand hands, who work from twelve to fifteen hours a day, and who are drilled to as close a discipline as the convicts in a prison, or slaves at an oar. A few work in their houses, but the greater number labor in large shops, the various lofts of which are filled with men and women, who seldom look up from their looms, and who never venture to speak, except by permission of the overseer. This silent system is terrible to the mind as well as body; but there is no power on the part of the oppressed to resist, for a discharge from an establishment is a condemnation to starvation, since, according to a convention among the employers, none will hire a man whom another has turned off. This of course reduces the working classes to a state of absolute vassalage, and wherever sucha regulation exists, they may be said to breathe only by the sufferance of their employers. Attempts have been made at different times by certain manufacturers, to introduce this system in the United States, but the atrocious project has always been defeated with infamy to the inventors. The working people of Veviers, those at least who labor in the factories, are remarkable for their downcast look, and the first curse seems to be written in heavy lines upon their brows. They go along like men without hope, as if life were a penalty, and the only expiration of their term of condemnation were to arrive with death. Ah! if these poor people could but see an American mechanic, with his bright eye, erect head, and proud and cheerful carriage, they would understand the value of liberty at a glance, and increase their hours of toil till they could earn enough to enable them to escape into an atmosphere where they may breathe and live.'
Such are the thoughts which we love to see entertained by observant Americans travelling abroad.
The 'North British' on American Humor.—A favorite and popular correspondent of our Magazine once wrote for these pages a paper upon 'Wit and Humor,' separately considered and artistically contrasted: but he has been out-written and out-argued, by a most admirable and evidently competent critic in the last 'North-British Review,' in an article upon 'American Humor.' In quoting from it, we really feel 'l'embarras des richesses'—the embarrassment of riches—for it is full and conclusive upon every point which it touches; while, as to themannerof the reviewer, there cannot possibly be but one opinion. But listen to him, please, in a few segregated passages:
'Theinfluence of healthy Wit and Humor is a benign one, if it comes to us at times, and kindly makes us forget sad thoughts and cankering cares; makes the oldest feel young and fresh, and turns the wrinkles of our sorrow into ripples of laughter.Shakspeare, who mirrored our whole humanity, did not leave the laugh out of its reflected face. He tells us, 'Your merry heart goes all the day;' and he knew how much the merry heart may have to carry. 'We may well be refreshed,' saysJeremy Taylor, 'by a clean and brisk discourse, as by the air of Campanian wines, and our faces and our heads may well be anointed and look pleasant with wit, as with the fat of the Balsam tree.' Humor not only has an earlier beginning than Wit, but it has also a far wider range. It will reach the uneducated as well as the educated; and among the former may often be found very unctuous humorists. In the earlier history of nations and literatures, when life is strong and thought is unperplexed, we get writers full enough in force, and direct enough in expression, to touch nature at most points. Hence the earlier great writers reach the depths of tragedy, and the breadths of humor. In their times they see the full play of the outward actions in which Life expresses itself: all those strikingcontrastsof life; those broad lights and bold shadows of character which, as they cross and re-cross in the world's web, make rare and splendid patterns for the tragic poet and humorist. It would have been perfectly impossible for the wit ofPunchto have been produced in any other time than ours, or in any other place and societary conditions than those of London. No past time could have given usThomas Hood.... Wit deals more with thoughts, and Humor with outward things. Wit only reaches characteristics, and therefore it finds more food in a later time and more complex state of society. Humor deals with character. The more robust and striking the character, the better for humor: hence the earlier times, being more fruitful inpeculiar character, are most fruitful in humor. Wit is more artificial, and a thing of culture; Humor lies nearer to nature. Wit is oftenest shown in the quality of the thought; Humor by the nature of the action. With Wit, two opposite and combustible qualities of the thought are brought into contact, and they explode in the ludicrous. Humor shows us two opposite personal characters which mingle, and dissimilitude is dove-tailed in the laughable.... One of Wit's greatest elements of success is surprise. Indeed, sometimes when your surprise is over, you find nothing else; you have been cheated upon false pretences. Not so with Humor. He is in no hurry. He is for 'keeping it up.' He don't move in straight lines but flows in circles. He carries you irresistibly along with him. With Wit you are on the 'qui vive;' with Humor you grow glorious. If brevity be the soul of Wit, the soul of Humor is longevity.'Humor makes as much of its subject as possible. It revels in exaggeration; it reigns in Brobdignag. Wit is thinner; it has a subtler spark of light in its eye, and a less carnal gush of jollity in its laugh. It is, as we often say, very dry. But Humor rejoices in ample physical health; it has a strong ruddy nature, a glow and glory of sensuous life, a playful overflow of animal spirits. As the word indicates, Humor has more moisture of the bodily temperament. Its words drop fatness, its face oozes with unctuousness, its eyes swim with dews of mirth. As stout people often make the best dancers and swimmers, so Humor relies on size. It must have 'body,' like good old wine. Humor has more common human feeling than Wit; it is wealthiest, wisest, kindliest. LordDudley, the eccentric, said pleasantly toSydney Smith: 'You have been laughing at me constantly, Sydney, for the last seven years, and yet in all that time, you have never said a single thing to me that I wished unsaid.'... Humor, like imagination, pours itself out, strong and splendid as flowing gold, with oneness and continuity. Wit twinkles and corruscates, gleams and glances about the subject. Humor lightens right to the heart of the matter at once, without by-play. Wit will show you the live sparks rushing red-rustling from the chimney, and prettily dancing away in the dark, a 'moment bright, then gone forever.' But Humor shall give you a pleasanter peep through the lighted window, and show you the fire glowing and ruddy—the smiling heart of home—shining in the dear faces of those you love, who are waiting to overflow in one warm embracing wave of love the moment the door is opened for your coming. Wit teases, tickles, and titillates. But Humor floods you to the brim with measureful content. Wit sends you a sharp, sudden, electric shock, that leaves you tingling from without. Humor operates from within, with its slow and prolonged excitation of your risible soul. Wit gives you a quick, bright nod, and is off. 'What's, going on?' said a bore toDouglas Jerrold. 'I am,' said he. That is just what Wit does. You must be sharp, too, in taking the hit. The most obvious characteristic of American humor is its power of 'pitching it strong,' and drawing the long bow. It is the humor of exaggeration. This consists of fattening up a joke until it is rotund and rubicund, unctuous and irresistible asFalstaffhimself, who was created byShakspeare, and fed fat, so as to become for all time the very impersonation of Humor. There are many differences betwixt the Wit and Humor of different nations. German humor generally goes ponderously upon all fours. Frenchespritis intangible to the English mind. Irish humor is often so natural that its accidents look intentional. The Scotch have been said not to understand a joke. Undoubtedly they have not the Cockney quickness necessary to catch some kinds of word-wit. But where will you find richer, pawkier humor?'
'Theinfluence of healthy Wit and Humor is a benign one, if it comes to us at times, and kindly makes us forget sad thoughts and cankering cares; makes the oldest feel young and fresh, and turns the wrinkles of our sorrow into ripples of laughter.Shakspeare, who mirrored our whole humanity, did not leave the laugh out of its reflected face. He tells us, 'Your merry heart goes all the day;' and he knew how much the merry heart may have to carry. 'We may well be refreshed,' saysJeremy Taylor, 'by a clean and brisk discourse, as by the air of Campanian wines, and our faces and our heads may well be anointed and look pleasant with wit, as with the fat of the Balsam tree.' Humor not only has an earlier beginning than Wit, but it has also a far wider range. It will reach the uneducated as well as the educated; and among the former may often be found very unctuous humorists. In the earlier history of nations and literatures, when life is strong and thought is unperplexed, we get writers full enough in force, and direct enough in expression, to touch nature at most points. Hence the earlier great writers reach the depths of tragedy, and the breadths of humor. In their times they see the full play of the outward actions in which Life expresses itself: all those strikingcontrastsof life; those broad lights and bold shadows of character which, as they cross and re-cross in the world's web, make rare and splendid patterns for the tragic poet and humorist. It would have been perfectly impossible for the wit ofPunchto have been produced in any other time than ours, or in any other place and societary conditions than those of London. No past time could have given usThomas Hood.... Wit deals more with thoughts, and Humor with outward things. Wit only reaches characteristics, and therefore it finds more food in a later time and more complex state of society. Humor deals with character. The more robust and striking the character, the better for humor: hence the earlier times, being more fruitful inpeculiar character, are most fruitful in humor. Wit is more artificial, and a thing of culture; Humor lies nearer to nature. Wit is oftenest shown in the quality of the thought; Humor by the nature of the action. With Wit, two opposite and combustible qualities of the thought are brought into contact, and they explode in the ludicrous. Humor shows us two opposite personal characters which mingle, and dissimilitude is dove-tailed in the laughable.... One of Wit's greatest elements of success is surprise. Indeed, sometimes when your surprise is over, you find nothing else; you have been cheated upon false pretences. Not so with Humor. He is in no hurry. He is for 'keeping it up.' He don't move in straight lines but flows in circles. He carries you irresistibly along with him. With Wit you are on the 'qui vive;' with Humor you grow glorious. If brevity be the soul of Wit, the soul of Humor is longevity.
'Humor makes as much of its subject as possible. It revels in exaggeration; it reigns in Brobdignag. Wit is thinner; it has a subtler spark of light in its eye, and a less carnal gush of jollity in its laugh. It is, as we often say, very dry. But Humor rejoices in ample physical health; it has a strong ruddy nature, a glow and glory of sensuous life, a playful overflow of animal spirits. As the word indicates, Humor has more moisture of the bodily temperament. Its words drop fatness, its face oozes with unctuousness, its eyes swim with dews of mirth. As stout people often make the best dancers and swimmers, so Humor relies on size. It must have 'body,' like good old wine. Humor has more common human feeling than Wit; it is wealthiest, wisest, kindliest. LordDudley, the eccentric, said pleasantly toSydney Smith: 'You have been laughing at me constantly, Sydney, for the last seven years, and yet in all that time, you have never said a single thing to me that I wished unsaid.'... Humor, like imagination, pours itself out, strong and splendid as flowing gold, with oneness and continuity. Wit twinkles and corruscates, gleams and glances about the subject. Humor lightens right to the heart of the matter at once, without by-play. Wit will show you the live sparks rushing red-rustling from the chimney, and prettily dancing away in the dark, a 'moment bright, then gone forever.' But Humor shall give you a pleasanter peep through the lighted window, and show you the fire glowing and ruddy—the smiling heart of home—shining in the dear faces of those you love, who are waiting to overflow in one warm embracing wave of love the moment the door is opened for your coming. Wit teases, tickles, and titillates. But Humor floods you to the brim with measureful content. Wit sends you a sharp, sudden, electric shock, that leaves you tingling from without. Humor operates from within, with its slow and prolonged excitation of your risible soul. Wit gives you a quick, bright nod, and is off. 'What's, going on?' said a bore toDouglas Jerrold. 'I am,' said he. That is just what Wit does. You must be sharp, too, in taking the hit. The most obvious characteristic of American humor is its power of 'pitching it strong,' and drawing the long bow. It is the humor of exaggeration. This consists of fattening up a joke until it is rotund and rubicund, unctuous and irresistible asFalstaffhimself, who was created byShakspeare, and fed fat, so as to become for all time the very impersonation of Humor. There are many differences betwixt the Wit and Humor of different nations. German humor generally goes ponderously upon all fours. Frenchespritis intangible to the English mind. Irish humor is often so natural that its accidents look intentional. The Scotch have been said not to understand a joke. Undoubtedly they have not the Cockney quickness necessary to catch some kinds of word-wit. But where will you find richer, pawkier humor?'
We commend the entire article, from which these brief passages are taken, to the notice and admiration of our readers. It is one of the most attractive papers in the entire number.
Gossip with Readers and Correspondents.—A Boston correspondent, 'A Believer in Phrenology,' must look again, and 'mark, learn, and digest' what itwasthatOllapodsaid in our last, as to the 'science' of Phrenology. Its 'general principles' he admitted; it was only its 'infinitesimal detail' which he satirized. Phrenology, let us say to our 'Believer,' has always had a 'fair show' in the pages of theKnickerbocker; 'else wherefore breathe we in a Christian land?' For the 'New-York Observer,' a religious journal, states that pious probulgences are to 'rule' hereafter as a clerical test in our Church; an exaggerated 'explication,' of course, of the remarks of an able Episcopal contemporary. But as for ourselves, have we not been 'through the mill?' 'Slightuously!' Ask our friends,FowlerandWells, leaders in 'Bumpology,' else. Were we not 'manipulated?' Did we not lie down in a box like a coffin, and were we not then and there covered, from our 'burst' upward, with a Plaster-of-Paris hasty-pudding? Did not the operation 'fix' us?Rather! It was solemn at first, and upward to the mouth, such was the expression, in the sudden 'solidarity' of our 'mug;' but when Mr.Fowlerdirected his assistant to use a spoon in feeding us with the white pudding, and not to suffocate us by stopping up our nostrils, we began to laugh; but the laughing muscles stopped short off at the junction with the lugubrious fixed plaster. We saw theresultnext day, in the show-window of Mr.Fowler, on the Nassau street side ofClinton-Hall. There we were, large as life, labelled and sandwiched betweenRobinson, the New-Brunswick murderer, and ColonelJames Watson Webb, of the 'Courier and Enquirer' daily journal. Haven't we 'suffered' for the 'science' of Phrenology? 'Probably!' 'Phrenology,' says our 'down-east' correspondent, 'can no longer be laughed at.' 'We caänt be laughed at!' is the amusing 'objugatory' of an English Cockney in a modern play; but peoplewilllaugh at the marvels which are said to accompany the development of even the smallest and thickest-set organs of the human head. WhenGallandSpurzheimwere in 'Edinboro,' had established the first Phrenological Society in Great-Britain, and were gaining 'converts' only by slow degrees, they and their confrères were 'laughed at' to somethingmorethan 'their hearts' content.' On one occasion, we remember, a dry Scottish wag bought from a countyman a vegetablelusus natura, in the shape of a big Swedish turnip, which presented in perfection the features and 'developments' of a not very good-looking but remarkably 'intellectual' human head. He had a mould made from it, and sent a plaster image to the new Phrenological Society, as a 'cast from the head of ProfessorThornipson, a learned Swede of Sockholm!' The bait took; a chart was made at once of the 'cerebral protuberances;' lectures were delivered upon its characteristics; and two or three officers andsavantsof the Society were overjoyed to find corresponding 'bumps' on their own craniums! Edinburgh, inappreciative of fun though the Scotch are said to be, gave one loud guffaw when the diverting 'trick' was exposed in the 'Courant' by the shrewd joker who perpetrated it, Buta proposof 'Bumpology;' our Cedar-Hill neighbor, 'theColonel,' tells a capital story thereanent, which we will essay to jot down: One day, in the weekly newspaper of a small village in 'old Chatauque,'there appeared an advertisement, setting forth that ProfessorFeelover, Practical Phrenologist, had arrived, and stood ready to examine heads, give 'certified charts' of character, lecture, and give lessons upon the 'Science.' He 'put up' at the principal hotel, which he found a 'good 'stand' for business,' for a week had passed on, since the paper came out, yet not a solitary person had inquired for theProfessor. Tired of this indifference to 'science,' he was broodingly 'fetching a walk' in the outskirts of the village, when a 'slow,' green-looking young countryman entered the hotel, and addressing the landlord, said: 'Be yeöu the Phrenologist that feels of folkses' heads, and gives a receipt for what's inside on 'em?' 'Yes,' answered the fat, good-naturedBoniface, who loved a joke better than his dinner; 'yes, I 'm the man.' 'What d' yeöu tax?' 'Half a dollar.' 'Wal, go ahead.' The landlord seated his 'patient,' and directed his clerk at the desk to take down, in two columns, the result. He fumbled, and pinched, and pressed the head of his wincing customer, calling out at the same time the subjoined developments:
Gullibility,16Verticality,19Reverence,7Shallowness,18Assininity,24Ideality,4Caution,3Exteriority,1Noodleity,10Quantity,13Philoprogenitiveness,9Horizontality,5Combativeness,1Benevolence,8Color,2Inertness,11Sound,13Rotundity,6
'There, that'll do; got 'em all down? Nowadd 'em up!' said the landlord, without moving a muscle. 'Comes outexactly even!' said the clerk; 'eighty-five in each column.' 'Why,' exclaimedBoniface, looking down contemptuously upon his astonished 'customer,' you haven'tgotany character at all;youdon't want any chart; you'd be ashamed to show it the second time;Ishould be ashamed even tokeepit. I neversawsuch a case in all my large experience; 'comes out even!'—a perfect blank! Why, you must be the 'Damphool' that Mr.Doesticksdescribes!' With great shamefacedness the 'customer' arranged his disordered locks, put on his hat, and departed a sadder but a wiser man.' * * *A correspondentofThe New-York Observer, writing from Wales, in regard to the great religious revival which is prevailing among the workmen in the lead-mines of Conroy, says: 'Some of the miners established 'An Underground Prayer-Meeting,' and assembled at it in large numbers, continuing to praise and pray for several hours. It was followed by extraordinary effects; and the result was 'a wonderful reformation in the morals and character of the miners.' One writing from the 'Gogian Lead-Mines,' says: 'Prayer-meetings are held here far below the surface of the earth. The 'clefts of the rocks,' in which they assemble for prayer and praise, seem to remind them of the 'cleft' in another rock, evenChrist, in which the sinner is permitted to behold the divine glory:
'Rockof Ages, cleft for me,Let me hide myself inThee.'
'Rockof Ages, cleft for me,Let me hide myself inThee.'
The men work in companies; and there is not a company without its prayer-meeting under ground. It is delightful to hear the voice of melody and praiseascending to heaven from the very bowels of the earth. 'Out of the depths cried I untoThee,' may literally be said of this subterranean 'Great Awakening.' There was butoneperson working in the mine who was not a converted subject of the revival, andhisconversion was made the subject of daily 'fervent prayer.'' The veryreverseof this, was the foundation of a most interesting story which we remember having heard when a boy, some twenty years ago. It was connected with one of the coal-mines of England, and was, if we remember rightly, to the following purport: A young miner, who led a most exemplary life, who was aChristianby 'profession,' by 'precept,' and by 'example,' was in the daily habit of retiring from the mouth of the mine with the mid-day meal which his wife had prepared, and which his little son had brought to him in a small tin vessel, together with a worn and dingy copy of the New Testament, from which he always read a chapter before touching his dinner. One of his every-day maxims, whatever might happen, was: 'It is all for the best: it is well ordered:It is All for the Best.' One day, while reading and 'pondering' his customary 'Bookof Books,' a vagrant dog passed along, seized his 'tin' dinner and ran off with it: his fellow-miners jeering and shouting, 'Is the loss of thy Dinner, too,Joe, 'for the best?'' After having their laugh out, and while their comrade was racing around after the canine delinquent, the bell rang, and the 'operatives' descended into the mine. Meantime, unable to overhaul the dog-thief, the 'victim' had returned, and was nearing the mine, when a loud explosion and fire and smoke issuing from the wide open fissure in the ground, revealed the ignited 'Fire-Damp' and its inevitable, awful accessories! Not a man of all his late jeering companions was rescued from that terrible subterranean 'consuming fire!' And how natural was the exclamation—the story, we remember, was in verse—which poured from his over-burthened, grateful heart:
'Howcould it appear to a short-sighted sinner,That my life should be saved by the loss of my dinner.'
'Howcould it appear to a short-sighted sinner,That my life should be saved by the loss of my dinner.'
The simple 'Working-Man's Lesson' involved in this anecdote, and the 'fulness of faith' which it embodies, are not unworthy of remembrance and of heed. It impressedusforcibly. * * * 'Tom Hood' once mentioned, 'in his own way,' his experience in crossing the Great Desert. He 'came to grief in the journey by means of 'getting off the track' of antecedent camelian-caravans. They had nothing to eat and less to drink, on their hot and toilsome journey. They encountered a 'simoom,' which a Yankee sailor described as 'a Boston East Windboiled;' there was a mirage, too, in which they saw, far off on the level rim of the desert, camels and 'men as trees walking.' Long was their journey over the burning sands: andHoodnarrates that the travellers were reduced to the greatest straits.HungerandThirst—terrible tyrants—asserted their prerogatives. 'On the dim, faint line toward Cairo,' saysHood, 'wethoughtwe saw a well in the desert: for much people were gathered together far beyond us upon the level, sultry plain. We approached; we joined them: but only to be again, for the third time, most grievously disappointed.' 'It is no joke,' he adds, 'to be without food or water in an Egyptian desert. When we were at the worst, we went in ballast with the soles and uppers of the newest shoes in the caravan; and we were enabled to slake our burning thirst by a second-hand 'swig' at the cistern of a freshly-deceased and stillwarm camel, which had 'givenout' early in the journey, and had now 'givenin:'' This was certainly a bad state of affairs; but when we read the hardships of recent African travel, as recorded by the German African explorer, Dr.Krapf, in his 'Researches in Eastern Africa,' we could no longer deem the story fabulous. The goodDoctorhad succeeded in making his escape from an attack, which had been made upon himself and his party, by a band of sable 'salvages;' he had wandered far: was 'weary and way-worn,' and had lain down behind a bush, for protection against the keen wind which blew over the plain, from which he had no protection save the dry grass which he spread under and over his body. After a fitful slumber, he awoke unrefreshed, 'and started again.' 'I felt,' he says, 'the pangs of hunger and thirst: the water in my telescope-case ran out, and that in the barrels of my gun, which I had not drunk, had been lost on my way, as the bushes had torn out the grass stoppers, and so I lost a portion of the invaluable fluid, which, in spite of the gunpowder flavor imparted to it by the barrels, thirst had rendered delicious. My hunger was so great that I tried to chew leaves, roots, and elephant's excrement to stay it: and when day broke, to break my fast on ants.' Night came on; and he travelled on until day-light. Soon after day-break, he saw four immense rhinoceroses feeding behind some bushes ahead of him: they 'stared at him, but did not move.' 'Coming presently,' he mentions, to a 'sand-pit,' with a somewhatmoistishsurface, 'like as a hart panteth for the water-brooks,' I anticipated the precious fluid; I dug into the sand for it, but only to meet with disappointment: so I put some of thewet sandin my mouth, which only increased my thirst.' What ensues could not be better told than in the brave explorer's own words: 'About noon I came upon the dry and sandy bed of the river, which we must have crossed to the south-west only a few days before. Scarcely had I entered its bed when I heard the chattering of monkeys, a most joyful sound, for I knew that there must be water wherever monkeys appear in a low-lying place. I followed the course of the bed, and soon came to a pit dug by the monkeys in the sand, in which I found the priceless water. I thankedGodfor this great gift; and having quenched my thirst, I first filled my powder-horn, tying up the powder in my handkerchief, and then my telescope-case, and the barrels of my gun. To still the pangs of hunger, I took a handful of powder and ate it with some shoots of a young tree which grew near the water; but they were very bitter.' Such 'experiences' as these will serve to show how much the world owes to our indefatigable modern explorers, self-denying, self-abrogating men, likeLivingstoneandKrapf, who scarcely 'set their life at a pin's fee' in pursuing unwearied their laborious and painful researches. * * *Observenow how this old friend of ourscouldwrite, if hewould. In the pauses of his avocation as President of a Bank in 'Old Erie,' he drops us a hasty note, in which he says: 'At times I feel chock-full of unwritten words, and say to myself: 'I only wish I had the use of a stenographic amanuensis for about an hour or so. I would create an article worth an hour's existence.' I wish I could only stop growing older; I don't mind having time 'roll on,' for I shouldn't want to be always living at the same moment; but I don't care about rolling on with it, and finally being rolled off or 'dumped' off. I frequently smile at the consolatory remark of the divine to his hearers, that they had great cause to bethankful that Death was at the end of life instead of the beginning, for this fortunate arrangement ofProvidencegave them time to prepare for the event. Now such reasoning appears at the first glance quite ludicrous; and yet when you analyze it you will find there is a great deal of force in it. I have scratched this off in the midst of my financial correspondence, and you are lucky not to find any 'dollars and cents' in it.' We wish 'E. P.' would come to the 'scratch' often. * * *James Sunney, the 'Atmospherical Poet,' in our last, and the 'Blooming Bard' of a 'Blossoming Hotel,' in previous 'issoos,' is a man without envy of his inspired brothers in art. Song, to be sure, is hisspecialite;butmusichath charms also wherewith to soothe his savage breast. We do not jest, on the contrary, we ask especial attention to the following fervent tribute, paid by Mr.Sunneyto the musical powers of our friend and cosmopolitan correspondent, ColonelPipes, of Pipesville, otherwise known asStephen C. Massett, Esq., the popular vocalist, lecturer, andraconteur. Instantaneously the 'Colonel' dispatches to us the flattering missive, or missile; as like unto a non-resistant catapult it was 'precipitated' from the o'ercharged brain of the appreciative poet.Wefeel with 'Pipes:' for, asEditorof theKnickerbocker,wetoo have been 'indorsed' bySunney, as a man, take us by and large, 'not likely to be met with by any body in a hurry!' But we keep our readers from the 'Letter from James Sunney, 'Blossoming Bard' of the 'Blooming Hotel,' to Colonel Pipes, the Ripened Reciter and Vocalist.' Hear him for his cause, and 'hold your yawp,' till he has said what he hasgotto say. Can't you dothatmuch? 'Sa-a-y?' Try it:
'New-York, Nov.12, 1860.'Dear Sir: It affords me great pleasure to acknowledge the delicacy of delight and joy I felt while perusing the many songs composed and sung by you, at the palacious rooms in London and elsewhere. The presses of Great Britain has certainly paid a great tribute to your mental capacity and physical ability, as a vocalist superior toRussell, whose name was entitled to record on the first pages of history. You are certainly a man of high standing and respectability, whose intellectual faculties has added much to the brilliancy of youth, taste, and grandeur. I rejoice at the testimony bore to your character by some of the most eminent and distinguished writers in Ewrop. Melody of the feathered songsters could not warble with more harmony through the refractive powers of theAtmosphere, than did your voluble fluency vociferate in the grand 'Adelaide of Australia.' As an elocutionist, your name is eminently combined with the ablest men of the age; and elevated to a higher degree than my pen is able to expound. At the same time I cannot refrain from any thing that has a tendency to morality without giving it my humble but human approbation.'Yours respectfully,'James Sunney.'
'New-York, Nov.12, 1860.
'Dear Sir: It affords me great pleasure to acknowledge the delicacy of delight and joy I felt while perusing the many songs composed and sung by you, at the palacious rooms in London and elsewhere. The presses of Great Britain has certainly paid a great tribute to your mental capacity and physical ability, as a vocalist superior toRussell, whose name was entitled to record on the first pages of history. You are certainly a man of high standing and respectability, whose intellectual faculties has added much to the brilliancy of youth, taste, and grandeur. I rejoice at the testimony bore to your character by some of the most eminent and distinguished writers in Ewrop. Melody of the feathered songsters could not warble with more harmony through the refractive powers of theAtmosphere, than did your voluble fluency vociferate in the grand 'Adelaide of Australia.' As an elocutionist, your name is eminently combined with the ablest men of the age; and elevated to a higher degree than my pen is able to expound. At the same time I cannot refrain from any thing that has a tendency to morality without giving it my humble but human approbation.
'Yours respectfully,'James Sunney.'
Where is our sable friend and correspondent of the Louisville Hotel? That colored orator and model letter-writer must look tohissesquipedalian fame. But this aside. The above, Mr.Sunney, is fine prose; but you must look to your poetic 'bays:' not aspanof spanking 'bays,' Mr.Sunney, on the Bloomingdale-Road, but the laurelgreensby which 'bards,' although quite unlike yourself, were wont to be crowned. We repeat that you must look tothiskind of 'bays,' because there is a fellow-bard, a Yankee, yet a kindred spirit, down in Maine, who can rhyme you 'out o' house and home.' He is the 'Bard of Misery,' and hence, of course, a most miserable poet. Where Sorrow dwells,there is his country. He revels especially in marine disasters:therehe 'expands and bourgeons.' A friendly 'Devil,' (no 'Goblin-Damned,' we'll be sworn,) writing to us from a newspaper printing-office in Bangor, Maine, says: 'Will you kindly permit me to approach your Most Excellent Ma'—gazine, of which I am a constant reader, with a little contribution which I have picked up from the many similar 'favors' which we have had the honor of printing for the 'Son of the Muse,' whose effusions, somehow, don't seem to what-they-call 'Take:' but I expect these passageswill.' Our modest, welcome correspondent is right: the 'passages' which he has marked for usmust'take.' For example: only a few 'brief stanzas' from the 'poem' depicting 'Levi P. Willey's Last Voyage to Cubey.'Levihad, 'by all accounts,' a hard time. 'A few' of his 'experiences' are recorded in the lines which we annex:Eben Babbidgebeing the name of the skipper, 'as he sailed, as he sailed:'
'Ineighteen hundred and fifty-nine,It was to me a solemn time:To a port in Cuba I did go;What happened there you shall know.'AsGodwould have it so to be,I was cook on board the open sea;I was at work, the crew did know,And from my lungs fresh blood did flow.'Unto the captain I did go,He did for me all that he know;He called the mate and all the crew,And for the doctor they did go.'In due time the doctor cameTo stop the blood and ease my pain;He said that I must go on shore,And stop a day, or two, or more.'And the Spanish people thereDid use me well, I do declare;Five days on shore I did remain,Then went on board the brig again.'My captain was so kind and good,He done for me all that he could,He is a kind and generous man,Would always lend a helping hand.'Scott Cooksonwas our second mate,As to my friends I will relate;He was loved and honored too,By the captain, mate, and the crew.'Roscoe, andGeorge, andFrederick, too,That was the names of all the crew;They were smart and noble boys,To reef topsails it was their joys.'When our brig was ready for to sail,We was blest with a pleasant gale;AsGodwould have it so to be,We came to Boston in America.'When we arrived in Boston town,We got a bed for to lie down,For I was tired and very weak,I had been three days without sleep.'The next morning, at seven o'clock,We made bargain with the truck,Across the city for to go,To the Eastern Main Depo.'From Boston to Camden I came,My lungs were weak and racked with pain,To the doctor I went straightway,He gave me some relief without delay.'
'Ineighteen hundred and fifty-nine,It was to me a solemn time:To a port in Cuba I did go;What happened there you shall know.
'AsGodwould have it so to be,I was cook on board the open sea;I was at work, the crew did know,And from my lungs fresh blood did flow.
'Unto the captain I did go,He did for me all that he know;He called the mate and all the crew,And for the doctor they did go.
'In due time the doctor cameTo stop the blood and ease my pain;He said that I must go on shore,And stop a day, or two, or more.
'And the Spanish people thereDid use me well, I do declare;Five days on shore I did remain,Then went on board the brig again.
'My captain was so kind and good,He done for me all that he could,He is a kind and generous man,Would always lend a helping hand.
'Scott Cooksonwas our second mate,As to my friends I will relate;He was loved and honored too,By the captain, mate, and the crew.
'Roscoe, andGeorge, andFrederick, too,That was the names of all the crew;They were smart and noble boys,To reef topsails it was their joys.
'When our brig was ready for to sail,We was blest with a pleasant gale;AsGodwould have it so to be,We came to Boston in America.
'When we arrived in Boston town,We got a bed for to lie down,For I was tired and very weak,I had been three days without sleep.
'The next morning, at seven o'clock,We made bargain with the truck,Across the city for to go,To the Eastern Main Depo.
'From Boston to Camden I came,My lungs were weak and racked with pain,To the doctor I went straightway,He gave me some relief without delay.'
Still more 'terrible' are the 'Verses on the Loss of the Lady Elgin Steamboat,' 'composed byA. W. Harmon,' the 'gifted' author of the foregoing animated lines. Our extract must be brief: but we can assure our readers that the entire 'lot' is fully equal to the subjoined 'sample:'
'Comeold and young, pray now attendTo the sad tale that I've now penned,About theLady Elginsfate,And her disaster on the lake.'CaptainJohn Wilson, with courage brave,Esteem'd by all on land or wave,Associated in many minds,And memories of the choisest kinds.'At the moment the ships together came,Music and dancing were the game;But in one instant all was still,In thirty minutes the steamer filled!'Whether they were not awareOf their sad danger and despair,Or whether their appalling fate,Them speachless made, I cannot state.'A boat was lowered with the design,If possible, the leak to find:To stop the leak was our intent,But in one half-hour down she went.'The noble Captain firm and brave,Is thus supposed in trying to saveThat mother and her child he fellAnd died beneath the foaming swell.'
'Comeold and young, pray now attendTo the sad tale that I've now penned,About theLady Elginsfate,And her disaster on the lake.
'CaptainJohn Wilson, with courage brave,Esteem'd by all on land or wave,Associated in many minds,And memories of the choisest kinds.
'At the moment the ships together came,Music and dancing were the game;But in one instant all was still,In thirty minutes the steamer filled!
'Whether they were not awareOf their sad danger and despair,Or whether their appalling fate,Them speachless made, I cannot state.
'A boat was lowered with the design,If possible, the leak to find:To stop the leak was our intent,But in one half-hour down she went.
'The noble Captain firm and brave,Is thus supposed in trying to saveThat mother and her child he fellAnd died beneath the foaming swell.'
The 'verses' are toohorribleto bear farther quotation: 'The lake withfabrics did abound, and human beings floated round,' is the opening of a most miserable picture.Sunney, you have a 'rival near your throne.' * * * ACLEVERcorrespondent, dating from 'Saline Mines, Illinois,' sends us the following amusing specimen of 'Keeping Score by Double-Entry.' It will be a 'nut' for book-keepers:
'YouknowElije Scroggins, up here in White County? Yes? Well, about six years ago,Elijekept a kind of 'one-horse' grocery on the edge of 'Seven-mile Pararie.' I don't think he kept much beside 'bald-faced, thirty-day whiskey,' and may-be some ginger-brandy. Times were 'mighty tight,' and not much money stirring in that settlement; soElijehad to credit most of his customers till corn-gathering time, or till fur was good; and, as he had no 'book learning,' he used to make some kind of a mark for his different 'patrons' on a clapboard which he kept for the purpose, and then chalk down 'the drinks' against them as they got them, which in some cases was pretty often. One day there was a 'big meeting' appointed at the 'Possum Ridge school-house,' about five miles fromElije's, and his wife persuaded him to go: so on Sunday morning they gathered up the children and 'toted' off to meeting to 'make a day of it.' Along through the day some of the neighbors getting a 'leetle dry,' went over toElije'sto 'moisten their clay,' and finding the door shut, and nobody about, they were somewhat alarmed, and 'didn't know but some body was either sick or dead;' so they pushed in to see about it, and finding things all right, they concluded thatElijeand his 'old woman' had gone off on a visit; so they took a drink all around, out of friendly feeling to him, and were about going off, when one of them caught sight of the tally-board stuck under the rafter, and pulled it down: and either out of pure devilment, or thinking it an easy way to pay off a score, gave it a wipe, and stuck it back again. In the evening, whenElijegot back, he had occasion to look at his accounts for some purpose or other, when to his great amazement and dismay, he found it considerably 'mixed!' He scratched his head over it for some time, evidently trying to make it out, and finally calling his wife in he showed it to her, and said: 'There, that's what a man gets for going off and neglecting his business.' On the whole, however, he got over it pretty quietly for him, forElijeuse to swear 'mightily' 'when his back was up.' He didn't have much to say now, though, but sat with his chin on his hands, and his elbows on his knees, looking in the fire all the evening: but on Monday morning he got up 'bright and early,' and taking down the clap-board, gave it a good wash, and began very industriously to figure away upon it. Two or three times during the morning his wife looked in, and he was still working away at it; and at dinner-time, when she came to call him, she ventured to ask how he was getting on. 'Well,' said he, holding the tally-board off at arms'-length, and looking at it very earnestly, with his head on one side, 'I don't know as I've got as much charged as I had,but I've got it on better men!''
'YouknowElije Scroggins, up here in White County? Yes? Well, about six years ago,Elijekept a kind of 'one-horse' grocery on the edge of 'Seven-mile Pararie.' I don't think he kept much beside 'bald-faced, thirty-day whiskey,' and may-be some ginger-brandy. Times were 'mighty tight,' and not much money stirring in that settlement; soElijehad to credit most of his customers till corn-gathering time, or till fur was good; and, as he had no 'book learning,' he used to make some kind of a mark for his different 'patrons' on a clapboard which he kept for the purpose, and then chalk down 'the drinks' against them as they got them, which in some cases was pretty often. One day there was a 'big meeting' appointed at the 'Possum Ridge school-house,' about five miles fromElije's, and his wife persuaded him to go: so on Sunday morning they gathered up the children and 'toted' off to meeting to 'make a day of it.' Along through the day some of the neighbors getting a 'leetle dry,' went over toElije'sto 'moisten their clay,' and finding the door shut, and nobody about, they were somewhat alarmed, and 'didn't know but some body was either sick or dead;' so they pushed in to see about it, and finding things all right, they concluded thatElijeand his 'old woman' had gone off on a visit; so they took a drink all around, out of friendly feeling to him, and were about going off, when one of them caught sight of the tally-board stuck under the rafter, and pulled it down: and either out of pure devilment, or thinking it an easy way to pay off a score, gave it a wipe, and stuck it back again. In the evening, whenElijegot back, he had occasion to look at his accounts for some purpose or other, when to his great amazement and dismay, he found it considerably 'mixed!' He scratched his head over it for some time, evidently trying to make it out, and finally calling his wife in he showed it to her, and said: 'There, that's what a man gets for going off and neglecting his business.' On the whole, however, he got over it pretty quietly for him, forElijeuse to swear 'mightily' 'when his back was up.' He didn't have much to say now, though, but sat with his chin on his hands, and his elbows on his knees, looking in the fire all the evening: but on Monday morning he got up 'bright and early,' and taking down the clap-board, gave it a good wash, and began very industriously to figure away upon it. Two or three times during the morning his wife looked in, and he was still working away at it; and at dinner-time, when she came to call him, she ventured to ask how he was getting on. 'Well,' said he, holding the tally-board off at arms'-length, and looking at it very earnestly, with his head on one side, 'I don't know as I've got as much charged as I had,but I've got it on better men!''
'A new way to make old debts!' * * *Howsuddenly, how unexpectedly, in aWinterish Day in the Country, comes up the 'fond remembrance' of days and friends that are no more! As one walks mid-leg deep amidst the damp-rustling leaves, listens to the moaning of the winds, and watches the red sunlight dying into shadow between the folds of the hills over the broad river, the sad hours of memory come up in long review: