her bounty has prepared for us. Afraid to give female teacher, and the trustees of our female him an opportunity of replying, or even speaking, academy advertised for the purpose of obtaining I hastily handed him the sugar and cream, which, one. Shortly after the publication of the adverto my infinite delight, he took without remark. It tisement, a letter was received from a lady stating is as impossible for me to describe, as it is to forget, that she had but lately arrived in this country the sensations of joy that almost convulsed me, from London. On her voyage she had suffered when I observed that my allusion to the sex of our shipwreck, and was now a stranger among stranhostess had fallen from me unnoticed. Afraid lest gers, and destitute. She had lest England because my emotions should betray themselves, I hastened she was friendless, and it had been her design to back to the topic that had occupied us on our engage in teaching from choice, even if shipwreck entrance, and found him as ready to renew the had not made her anxious to do so, from necessity. discussion as myself. The delicacy of language in which the note was couched, and here and there a tear, which had blotted its pages, together with the unfortunate circumstances of the writer, won the sympathies of the trustees, and they sent for her immediately. It is thirty years since she came among us, but I remember her first appearance as if it was but yesterday. She had the brow of a queen and a full black eye, that might once have been bright and flashing-but sorrow had softened it. A gold chain around her neck was attached to a miniature almost concealed by her belt. This was the only earthly treasure the waves had left her.

It is unnecessary to tax the reader's patience by a detail of the daily visits we continued to make to the same place. Suffice it to say, that I continued to make casual mention of the sex, and was daily more and more pointed in my allusions. I could observe no change in him on these occasions; he only seemed not to notice my remarks. Yet it was a matter of delight to me that he would at all suffer them to be made in his presence, since, formerly, the least mention of the feminine gender of any species whatever, would produce upon him a sensible expression of disgust-an allusion to a woman, had never failed to call forth a torrent of invective.

I pursued my original plan with him for weeks. Every opportunity of introducing the subject was embraced, and with more and more satisfying results. At length I ventured, occasionally, to touch upon instances where women had proved signal blessings to the world. He would listen to me-and that was all.

I had never been in the habit of looking at Mr. Ethelwaite, when conversing with him in this way, lest he might suspect some design; but a deep groan hastily arrested me, and turning towards him, I saw the very soul of agony depicted on his features. The veins of his forehead stood out like cords, and were swelled almost to bursting. His eyes seemed starting from their sockets-his mouth was slightly open, as if to drink in every word that fell from my lips.

Shocked beyond the power of speech, I took his arm to lead him home.

Hastily repulsing my attempt, he gasped out "Dorcas Ad― Lindsay?—Go on."

One afternoon the miller himself made one of our party in the little summer-house. Just as he was becoming warmly engaged in conversation, a servant came with a message requiring his personal attendance. He left us, expressing his sorrow that he was called away so soon, and begging My dear sir, I have no more to say. She lived that we would not let his departure affect our stay. among us like a saint, and died as she lived. Let Scarcely had he gone, when Mr. Ethelwaite re-me lead you home, you are unwell. marked, "How rarely do we meet with such unaffected urbanity in the lower walks of life "

Ah, said I, he owes everything to his wife. He was once a degraded sot, but her affection and her prayers won him back to the paths of duty. She in turn owes everything to one who has entailed a debt of gratitude upon us all. I mean Dorcas Lindsay, to whose worth the marble slab in our church is a feeble tribute. I do not like the practice of blazoning forth the virtues of the creature in the temples of the Creator, but Miss Lindsay was of so pure and saintly a nature, that we could hardly reckon the atmosphere of earth her natural element.

"The miniature?"

She carried it with her to her dying day, and by her own request I had it buried with her in her coffin.

"Was it this?" grasping my arm, fixing his hair in a particular way that displayed a large scar, and glaring upon me with his eyes as if he would pierce my very soul.

The miniature certainly had a scar upon the head, but it was of quite a young man. Do let me lead you home.

"Was it this?" dashing his hand into his pocket and out again, with a miniature which he held full before my eyes, his own glaring upon me, as before.

Fearing that the eulogium into which I had been drawn would make him impatient, I changed the tone of my discourse, by remarking-Her manner of coming among us was rather mysterious. We had long felt the want of a good He rightly interpreted my silence. Gradually

What could I say? The miniature in his hand was fellow to the one I had buried with Dorcas Lindsay.

his muscles relaxed, till he sunk upon his seat | effort-said faintly,-" You will-find-all-exwith a deep groan. I took his arm, and led him plained-in-that-." I followed with my eyes forth like a little child to my own house. All that the motion of his hand, as he pointed to a small night, all the next day, and all the night follow-writing desk, and when I turned them on him ing, he was in a raging fever. On the morning again, he was dead!

of the second day he fell into a sleep so hushed, that my wife, who was standing with me by his bedside, gently felt his pulse. The touch aroused him; and opening his eyes he grasped her hand, saying, in a subdued voice, "Dorcas, have you come back to me?" His brain was still confused, but his senses were gradually returning. When they were more fully restored, he recognized me, and spoke of the long, long dream he had had.

From this time he gradually recovered. I would fain have prevailed with him to continue his abode at my house, but no; he had become attached to his little room, and expressed himself anxious to die there. Taking an affectionate leave of my wife, and venting his gratitude to her by a tear, he started, myself accompanying him, for his solitary residence.

NIGHT.*

By Professor C. C. Felton.

N. N. N.

The sun goes down; along the western sky
Lies the warm flush, a sea of gold, outspread
Beneath the many-tinted pile that overhead
Blends with the blue of evening's canopy :-
High on the brow serene of star-crowned night
The tiny crescent of a new-born moon
Steals out, unseen at first, but soon
Shoots o'er the dreaming world her skimmering light.
The darkling leaves, to heaven uplifted, sleep
On the still bosom of the "upper deep."
The west-wind rustling through the dusky trees
Shakes the rich odors of the blossomed spring
From every flutter of his dewy wing.

"You will show me her grave," said he, as he
pressed my hand, at parting. I bowed assent, and Again, O viewless spirit of the breeze,

the next day complied with his request. After this, I visited him daily for three days, and always found him writing. It was on the night of the third day, that the little boy came for me, as above.

Come forth, and linger on thy welcome way
Around my heated brow-its feverish throb allay.

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES

OF LIVING AMERICAN POETS AND NOVELISTS.
NO. II.

JAMES FENIMORE COOPER, ESQ.

With a mind full of solicitude, I reached his door. I could hear him pacing the room in violent agitation, and venting, at intervals, groans that came from his soul's deepest chambers. I rapped, but received no answer. I rapped again, but still no answer was returned. I mentioned my name; still he continued walking to and fro. I repeated it, louder. The sound arrested him. He suddenly unlocked the door, and then went on pacing the room and groaning. I entered, and what a sight met my vision! There was Mr. Ethelwaite, his coat soiled and muddy, his features worked up to the highest pitch of anguish, and ever and anon, venting those unearthly groans that even now chill my blood. He held two miniatures, one in each hand, at which he alternately gazed, after which he would groan out-poets, lovers and wits, adorn the pages of the two "Too true! too true!"

He took no notice of my entrance, nor of my entreaties that he would lie down. At length he suddenly turned to me and said vehemently, "God has sent you here. Too true! too true! This night I entered her grave, and found the miniature that was to be, to her, my type, during my absence. She was too happy as she gazed on it, and the fiends of hell first envied, and then stole her joy. Oh!-my-Go-"

The rush of thought choked his utterance. He would have fallen, but I caught and bore him to the bed. His breath became harder and harderhis groans less and less audible—when suddenly raising himself, he grasped my hand with a dying|

Until near the close of the last century, American literature was of an extremely miscellaneous character, and sustained by no writers who were authors by profession. Occasionally, a lawyer, a divine, a politician, or a schoolmaster, might turn aside from the serious business of his life, and compile or compose a book upon the subjects connected with his individual pursuits; and incipient

or three magazines then existing, with quaint sonnets, ballads, squibs, elegies and epigrams: further than this, American literature had neither form nor comeliness. We except here the diplomatic correspondence of Washington, Lee, Hamilton, Adams, and other distinguished writers and scholars of the revolution; compositions, which for elegance of diction, strength and directness of expression, and Roman vigor of style, are surpassed by no writings of a later period, and may compare with the best of the brightest era of British literature: it is alone of literature as a pursuit, of authors by profession, to which these remarks have reference. After Americans became

Copied from the American Monthly Magazine.

One or two unsuccessful imitations of "The Foresters," followed soon afterwards; but no novelist appeared until 1798, when Charles Brockden Brown published "Wieland," which noble composition gave the author a title to rank among the most popular writers of fiction of his time. This was succeeded by Arthur Mervyn, Edgar Huntly, Clara Howard, and others, which added to the fame of the writer. These novels are characterised by a richness of language, wild and brilliant imagery, and in every page betray the poet of nature, and man of genius. Brown was the pioneer in the wilds of American fiction; and

independent of Great Britain, they began to think for themselves in literature as well as in politics; and writers on various subjects began to make their appearance, and rapidly to increase in numbers, dignifying and elevating their pursuit, by the extent, variety, and boldness of their productions, and by the genius and learning they displayed. But not until about the year seventeen hundred and ninety, could American literature be properly classed, or authors be designated by names derived from their devotion to one branch of learning. And although at the period we have just named, few or no writers followed, to the exclusion of other branches of science, or other pro-like all who travel an unbeaten path, had many fessions, any one path of literature, still, with less difficulty than twenty years before, they admitted of classification under respective heads. Thus, in 1790, the United States could boast her historians, her biographers, her jurists, her theologians, her travellers, her poets, and her novelists; and so rapid, since that period, has been her progress in every field of literature, art and science, that at this time she holds a proud rank in the world of letters, to which, during the last forty years, her contributions in the various departments of science, have been equalled by no nations except England, and perhaps Germany.

obstacles to encounter. The novelist of that period was looked upon as little better than an infidel; his work was seldom met with in the library of the learned, or the boudoir of the rich and refined; and a devout abhorrence for works of the imagination, was inculcated and considered a good test of morality. This prejudice has not yet entirely subsided; and the experience of many readers will no doubt readily revert to instances of its exhibition like the following: "A young friend, not a great while since, on entering his study after his return from church, was struck with the meager appearance of his book-case. On examination, he took from it the covers of threescore novels, the ac

Cooper's. His pious mother, taking advantage of his absence, had torn out and burned their godless contents, and replaced the harmless skeletons.”

Of the classes of writers abovementioned, the novelist was the slowest in his advances into pub-cumulation of years, including many of Scott's and lic favor. The severe cast of character of that grave generation, which still retained traces of the stern and severely moral tone of feeling derived from the early settlers of the colonies, presented The next novelist of importance was Mrs. Fospowerful obstacles to the introduction of a species ter, who, inspired by the popularity of Wieland of literature, whose object was amusement, and and its successors, wrote a lively novel, called which, in the opinion of the sober people of the "The Boarding School;" but only added another age, was akin to the sorceries of the Moabites and to a numerous species of English novels, adapted Ammonites, and a temptation of the devil. The to the taste of the day. Its success, however, was first American novelist, who had the temerity limited. Shortly afterwards, she published “ The to encounter these puritanic prejudices, was a clergyman! the Rev. Dr. Belknap. He was an accurate scholar, and distinguished for the soundness of his learning in various departments of science, especially legal jurisprudence, history, and politics, that do not usually invite the attention of divines. Some of his opinions upon society and political government, were of a bold, original and dangerous character; and such as he did not think it wise to divulge without some precautions. He therefore, in imitation of certain French writers, wrote a novel, in which he introduced many well-drawn characters, which he made the medium of expressing sentiments he deemed it imprudent to convey to the public through a more direct channel. This novel he entitled "The Foresters." It became very popular, and the reverend novelist, instead of being, with his book, compared with Aaron and the golden calf, tempting men to idolatry, in lieu of pointing them to Heaven, gained by his production, deserved reputation.

Coquette," a fiction of the same class and degree of merit; but many of its incidents having actually happened, and several of the characters which were drawn with skill and truth, being prominent living individuals, it created a certain kind of artificial excitement, and was read by every body. This novel was instrumental in creating a taste for fictitious compositions, which was increased by the publication of "Charlotte Temple," a captivating fiction from the pen of Mrs. Rawson. Several other works by the same graceful writer, afterwards made their appearance, and were extensively read and admired. Many romances, from anonymous authors, and from others whose names were then known, but which fame has not recorded, were successively published, read and forgotten.

The fame of the Great Unknown, and the revolution in public sentiment in relation to fiction, at length drew many competitors into the field, both in Great Britain and the United States. The genius of Sir Walter Scott seemed to have en

invaded until this crisis, were now rapidly cleared of a work, the merits of which had been first seen and appreciated in a foreign land. Verily," a prophet hath no honor in his own country."

In 1823, Mr. Cooper sent forth his third work, "The Pioneers," the principal scenes of which are laid in the American wilderness. Taught by this time how to estimate their novelist, the American press received this production more favorably, but still held back the full meed of praise, until they could hear from the other side of the water.

It is not the object of the writer to discuss the merits of these novels, but to offer a brief notice of them and their author. The " Pilot," the scenes of which are laid on the coast of England, in the revolutionary war, and the hero of which, who also gives the title to the work, is John Paul Jones, was published in the year 1824, and forthwith became popular. The time embraced by the whole book, excepting the last chapter, is less than seventy-two hours. It is undoubtedly one of the best, as it certainly is the most finished, of Mr. Cooper's fictions. "Lionel Lincoln❞ soon followed "The Pilot," in 1825; and its popularity was unprecedented. The scenes of this romance are laid in Boston during its occupation by the British troops, at the beginning of the revolution

kindled a hundred minds. Among the numerous | The judgment proved to be favorable, and the candidates for novelistic honors in America, the shelves of the publishers, which had remained ungentleman whose name has given title to this paper, was destined to stand forth the most distinguished. Mr. Cooper is a native of Burlington, in the state of New-Jersey. He was educated at Yale College, and subsequently became a midshipman in the navy, in which situation he acquired that nautical knowledge to which his countrymen are indebted for the " Pilot," the "Red Rover," and the "Water Witch." At the close of the last war, he left the service, which after the peace, presented no attractions to an active and ardent mind, and returned to the family mansion of his father, Judge Cooper, then residing in New York, in the vicinity of Otsego Lake-the romantic scenery of which the novelist has described in "The Pioneer," with the pen of a poet and naturalist. Retirement, to an imaginative mind, is the parent of invention; invention pants for expression; the pen is at once seized as the medium, and the hermit is converted into the author. The genius of Cooper soon caught inspiration from the objects by which he was surrounded, and as the result of his seclusion, he produced a work of fiction, entitled" Precaution." Although this novel possesses distinguished merit, and is surpassed by but two or three of Mr. Cooper's later productions, it was received with indifference by the American public; for Waverley and Guy Man-ary struggle. It is second, in point of merit, to nering, at this period, had created, or rather confirmed the taste for English literature of this class, and a corresponding contempt for domestic talent. "Precaution" was not only neglected, but so severely criticised, that the author, if he had looked for fame to his countrymen, would never have a mania. resumed his pen. But the British press, with that In 1826, Mr. Cooper sent out from his prolific justice, dignity and candor, which has almost uni-pen, another annual;—for his appearance was now versally characterised it, in relation to American marked with the regularity of the seasons; and a literature, taught the Americans to appreciate his new novel, yearly, from the "author of the Spy," genius. The English critics praised his book; as he was designated, had got to be as much a his countrymen re-echoed their opinions, and read matter of course, as the annual message from the and praised it also: for now that it was properly president. This, his sixth romance, is entitled endorsed, there could be no error. To the justice"The Last of the Mohicans," and is assimilated, and good sense of the English press, which may in the peculiarities of its principal scenes and cha claim the distinction of giving America her most racters, to "The Pioneers," both of which fictions celebrated novelist, Mr. Cooper is also indebted to may, with propriety, be denominated in contradisthe ultimate success of his second novel, "The tinction to "Nautical,"-"Indian novels:" their Spy," a revolutionary tale, which the encourage- prominent features being the portraiture of Indian ment of the British press induced him to publish, manners and customs, the peculiarities of which although not until some time afterward, in the are exhibited in the habitudes of certain aboriginal year 1822. This production now ranks one of characters therein introduced. In painting Indian the first of the Cooperian novels; yet, on its first scenes of still life, or in delineating the warrior appearance, as it had not passed the ordeal of the and hunter, the battle or the chase, our novelist, English press, which at that time governed the as he is the first who seized upon subjects so full literary taste of the American public, as absolute-of interest for the romancer, so is he alone and ly as ever the ministry governed the American unrivalled in this branch of his art. The forest, colonies, it was received with doubt and hesitation. ocean, and camp, constitute the legitimate empire No man ventured an opinion; all eyes were di- of Mr. Cooper's genius. At his bidding the savrected towards England, awaiting her decision. Jage warrior, the fearless seaman, the gallant sol

others by the same author, but yields to none of them in interest. It was this production that created in Boston and throughout New-England, a popularity for Mr. Cooper's works, at one period so great, as to become among novel readers, almost

novelty of the subjects and characters on which Sir Walter Scott exercised his pen, contributed essentially, not only to the popularity of his novels in England, but especially in America. Here, we knew but little or nothing of highlanders from observation; and our imaginations exaggera

readily referred to that "distance which lends enchantment to the view," and that leads us, this side of the Atlantic, to view all connected with England through a singularly false medium; an illusion, which, by merely substituting the telesco

dier, move, speak and act with wonderful reality. | with which they are invested, when exhibited to But in the streets of a city; in the green fields; the reader through their seductive pages. The in the parlor or in the bower, he is not so entirely at home; and the details of rural and domestic life, are apparently unsuited to the character of his genius. His mind is deeply imbued with love for the stern and the sublime: as a poet, he doubtless would have written very much like Campbell. In 1827, Mr. Cooper published his seventh ro-ting what little knowledge we did possess through mance, entitled "The Prairie,”—-a fiction of the distorted and imported traditions, prepared us for same species of the Pioneers, and by judicious the reception of romances (such as Scott's earlier critics esteemed one of the best from his pen. novels,) professing to portray the more romantic The "author of the Spy" had now attained to that features of their manners and habits. Aside from degree of popularity, when, at length, an author's their intrinsic merit, the novels of Cooper, also, productions are received unquestioned, read with- from causes similar to these, became universally out criticism, and have become a part of the cur-popular in England. An Englishman who has rent literature of the age. The words "By the never visited America, has peculiar ideas of that author of the Spy," on the title page of a novel, terra incognita, an American forest, and of its was now sufficient for its introduction, unread, not aboriginal inhabitants. His imagination invests only into the boudoir, but into the libraries of men both with a sort of oriental interest, of which an of taste and learning. Having successfully over-American cannot well conceive. This can be come the rapids, quicksands and whirlpools which obstructed his onset, Mr. Cooper had now only to spread his sail, recline at ease in his bark, and, wafted by the breezes of popular favor, glide peacefully over the placid sea of literary fame. The popularity of the Prairie was unprece-pic for the microscopic distance, it has been proven dented by any previous works from the same pen. At this period, the English language presented the remarkable feature of two of its writers, natives of different lands, engrossing the whole field of romance, controlling the public taste, and each founding at the same time, in opposite hemispheres, an immortal school of fiction. Scott opened the treasures of the highlands, and scattered their inexhaustible stores throughout Christendom: and by the power of his unaided genius, he has thrown a classic interest over the hills, glens, towers and lakes of his native country, as imperishable as the charm which the epic poets of Rome and countrymen and Europeans. His works had not Greece have thrown around their lands. Cooper only reached Great Britain, but previous to this unfolded the mysteries of the pathless wilderness, time had drawn the attention of Germany and snatched its native lords from the oblivion into France, into the languages of which nations they which they were sinking, and bade them live, were translated, and received with a popularity before the eyes of the admiring world, in all the rivalling that which they had met with in Engpoetry and romance of their characters. The land and the United States. Perhaps no novel has magic of his pen has invested the forest with an been more extensively read by all classes of sointerest such as genius can alone create. He has ciety, than this last mentioned production. The so portrayed the character of a primitive people, whole of this year, with the exception of a few who were men until the contact of civilization weeks spent in England, was passed by Mr. made them brutes, that, when they shall at length Cooper in France, Belgium and Holland. The live only in the page of history, it is alone through year 1829, which he also spent on the continent, the inspired pen of the novelist, that future ages was marked in his literary history by the publicawill most delight to contemplate their character. tion of two works-"The Notes of a Travelling Both Scott and Cooper have thrown an exag- Bachelor," and the " Wept of the Wish-Tongerated poetic interest around the characters they Wish." Neither of these productions materially most loved to draw; and the rude highlander of increased his popularity as a writer. The first was the Scottish hills, and the savage of the American not a fiction. Mr. Cooper had been so long treating wilds, are, perhaps, equally indebted to the ima- his friends to an annual hamper of champaign, that gination of the novelist for the peculiar charms they would not put up with healthy cider, though

may easily be dispelled. Mr. Cooper, therefore, so far as the English public were concerned, had his work half done to his hands; and his pictures of Indian character and western life and adventure, were received in Great Britain with unbounded enthusiasm: race-horses and club-boats were named after his novels; pretty villas were christened with half a dozen Indian monosyllables, and savage warriors in full costume stalked among masqueraders in the halls of mirth and fashion.

In 1828, the "Red Rover" made its appearance, and won for the author fresh laurels, both from his