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nished on which the nest, or cocoon, is spun ; and direction by stone walls, and interspersed with vathe worm, as worm, dies. A butterfly, however, riously verdant woods. would emerge from the cocoon in len or twelve A barley field, three or four miles beyond Hampdays, by eating its way out and thus spoiling the son. The owner says that Putnam's famous wolfsilk, if it were not plunged in scalding water to den, (for which I have been steering these iwo kill the fly. Then the tow, or outer part, is pulled days,) is but a mile or two off. The road he pointoff, and spun into a coarser silk; the rest is woond, ed out, led me to two very rough men, sining in the or seeled off, to make the proper silk--worth $4 a wayside ; one of whom, after some parley, engapound. Fons, five, ten, fifiy, and even a hundred ged to guide me for 25 cents. I never saw more pounds a year, are made in some families. In one the air and manners of a ruffian ; yet a cowhouse, where 12lbs. were made, a girl of 15 was ardly and good-humored one. Barefooted, in closely employed. Mansfield, some miles to the his shirt sleeves-hat and waistcoat, mere a pololeft of my road, is the township most famous for gies for the gear so called. He said he owned a silk.
fine farm close by-pointing to il—and offered to Hampton village-Entered the school house, go by it and get his horse and carryall for me. But
I chose to walk, and we jogged on, sociably. After where is kept one of the famed "Common-schools" of New England. The house is planned like many house of a Mr. Fay, to whom he introduced me as
going a quarter of a mile, he invited me into the that I have passed. Framed-one story-24 feet long by about 18 wide, with a stove and four win a friend of his, who was going to see the wolf's
den. Having taken several hearty draughis of dows in the school-room. A partition cuts off one end, to make an entry six feet wide, in which pots, fect on him, must have been no thin potation.) my
cider, for which he called, (and which, from its efbunnels, baskets, &c., are left ; and out of which you go into the school room. Thus the latter has guide, Mr. Andrew Downing, resumed the line of
march. Not 500 yards further, he proposed stopdo outer door-to the promotion of its warmth and cleanliness. When I knocked, the teacher, (a pret-cool cider." I acquiesced : having been told of
ping at 'Squire Sharpe's, to get another drink of 15 young woman of 19 vr 20,) came to receive me Mr. Sharpe's as a place where good directions and, on my asking permission to rest awhile and
might be gotten ; and desiring to see the inside of see her mode of teaching, she said, “ if you please, sir"—and surrendered me her chair ; she standing,
as many houses as possible. The squire was not
at home ; but his wife was—and a ladylike, kind, and walking round to her several classes and pupils. and sensible woman she seemed. She promptly Two or three classes said spelling lessons. On
complied with Mr. Downing's call for some cideribeir coming up to recite, she would stamp with her foot, and say, “ Altend!" when each one drop-she pressed on me some switchell.
offering me a glass, too; and when I declined it, ped a curtesy, or made a bow, and forth with the re
We took our leave, after sjuing twenty minutes ; citation began. The spelling was odd enough and in the outer room, my guide, spying the cider letters and syllables mumbled over, yet with tem
pitcher a sideboard, took a long, and earnest pestuous loudness, so that I could only guess what farewell draught. He now almost staggered ; his the varlets were saying. A reading class actually got throngh five or six sentences, before I could fences and through fields, “ in various talk th' in
On we strode over
tongue perceptibly tripped. with my best endeavors distinguish one word, or conjecture what the subject was.
structive“ moments passing. Andrew particularly
All the half hour that I staid, the teacher, (or school-marm, as he was sure he and I would be pleased with each
regretted Squire Sharpe's absence from home, as they call her,) was on her feet; walking to and fro, o her. Andrew had been a prodigious traveller and rebuking one, patting another to make him take
sailor: had been to New York, Pennsylvania and his bands out of his breeches, --soothing and en-Ohio _"10 Europe and France," and Cape Horn. couraging. Her counienance betokened much decision of character and intelligence.
“ Are you not related," said I, “ to the famous
Major Jack Downing, who has written so many Hampton Hill commands a fine prospect. But a funny letters in the newspapers ?” finer, though less extensive, presently occorred. “ He is a cousin of mine," said Andrew, with Descending into the valley, then mounting the op- perfect gravity and nonchalance. With a linile en. posite hill, and the top of a large rock, there lay couragement no doubt he would have essayed a before and around me the village of Hampton ; a description of Downingville from personal obserromantic brook, (one of the Thames' head waters.) vation. running due South, along the valley ; a singular He pointed out a second farm of his, let to a hill, round as the dome of a rotonda, and not much tenant. larger, crowned with tombstones, and surrounded This "lown” (township) is Pomfret-General at jis base by a stone fence which sets it apart as Putnam's native one-in Windham county. The the village burying-ground ;-many a neai farm, whole region is semi-mountainous, with a great deal and many a boldly swelling hill, crossed in every of woodland for Connecticut-half, I should think.
My guide says, the poor of Abinglon society, in a traveller 10 hurry on, though he has no business this town, 15 or 20 in all, are kept by him, as the ahead, and no body is expecting him. lowest bidder, at so much a head. The paupers Reached Pomfret Landing (on the Qninebang) who can, work; and he has the proceeds. in 2 miles: and in 34 more Field's tavern, in a
Presently reached the wood's edge, on a steep small village, formed by a factory and the buildings hill-side, where the den was. Here D. professed connected with it. My landlord, like most in Coggreai perplexity as to the spot; though he had necticut, does what is essential to a goesi's combeen to it " fifiy times in the last twelve months." fort, bui is grudging of bland words, and even of He actually rambled about for half an hour before courteous answers to questions. Says there are he found it.
Indeed a Whether this affectation was to raise more abolitionists in the neighborhood. my estimale of his service, or for some other pur
fire-eating one is at my elbow while I jnt dora pose of knavery or waggery I could not discover;
these noles : a working man be calls bimself. His but after following hini in a few of his turns I sal reasonings on the subject are above my compredown upon a log, bidding him search away, and hension. My host is with me. The fire.eater call me when he had found the place.
gives me a shocking account of the factory moralsresorted to conjuration. Cutting a whortleberry
a many-headed depravity among the operatives. twig he put it, leaves downward, against a sapling;
To bed at half past nine. Feet and aneles sore then splitting the butt end, and looking very wise, and aching-having walked 22 miles to-day. My with several strange gestures—“The den is south!" yesterday's walk was 30. said he. But it proved to be north. For, after going south a litile way, he turned and went much farther norih : and at last hailed me to the den. I went; and saw what, with the exploit of which it was the scene, has filled a larger space in my wondering fancy from childhood than Tom Thumb, Jack the Giant Killer, and Red Ridinghood all put together.
MORNING IN SUMMER. The den runs as it were into the hill, beneath a slightly projecting rock. The mouth is 2 or 3 feet wide from right to left; and about as high. For 7 or 8 feet from the entrance it slopes gently downwards; thence, narrowing, it slightly ascends.
The rising sun with gollen fingers parts I did not enter; as, from the first, I must have The sable locks from off fair Morning's brow, crawled on hands and knees, and then more ab. And warmly kisses from her dew-wet cheek jectly still; which would have soiled my clothes
The marks of grief which night had scallered ibere, besides risk of foul air, and rattle-snakes-the lat
Then leads ber blushing forth, in radiance dressed,
To meet and yield her virgin charms and reign ter being frequent. Neither did I think my hat and
To noon's embrace and fervid rule. coat would be safe in the custody of my worthy
Anon, cicerone, while their owner should be buried in the
The murky vapors, which have hearg lain woll's lair.
Upon the mountain's top, thence spreading wire
Their ghostly folds the sleeping landscape o'er, D. insisted that I should add my name to hun.
More slowly up the rugged mountain's side, dreds of others, carved on the surrounding trees ; And from its lopmost peak reluctant tahe and smoothed me a place on a maple. Nexi, he Their leave of earth, and wildly launch upon led me to an overhanging rock, lower down the
A long ærial, uncertain voyage, hill; where he said, the neighbors, a hundred at
The idle sport of every changing wind,
Which soon each misty wreath will rend, and lay least, met, after the wolf affair, and celebrated it
Their pride upon some distant shore, 10 kiss with divers bottles of wine. This must have been
The vulgar soil, or quickly in the storm, 1750, on the frontier of an infant colony-of puri- Blend with the ocean's waves their last remains, tans too! Guiding ine out of the wood he showed The prowling beasts and croaking birds of night, me the road to a point on Quinebaug river (a branch
On soul and murderons aims intent, now seek
The dismal cave, to hide in deepest gloom of the Thames,) where the turnpike from Hart
Afraid, as men of guilty souls would shun ford to Providence crosses. D. repeatedly urged The searching light of day, which would expose me to go home with him, where he promised fid- Their thievish plots, or deeds of darker dye; dling and dancing, plenty of cider, and an assem- But spotless innocence walks fearless forth, blage of pretty girls. I was so foolish as to refuse Nor shuns the brightest glare of heaven's light, this capital opportunity of seeing rustic manners,
Which brings no dread, but gilds with brighter bues
Its native truthfulness ! in one of the most primitive districts of New Eng.
All grades of life, land. Partly, the mean character of my new friend
Which through the night has been bur passive beld, prevented me—and partly that vague proneness of As from a general resurrection, now
BY SIDNEY DYER.
Arise, all teeming with activity.
From Twenly to Fifty Years Since, fc.
A Mr. Lee, member of the House of Delegates, Their downy velvet richly jewelled o'er
wore a wig, with a long queue, in the old fashion. With infinite drops of dew, which reflect
A waggish brother member (Roberts of Culpeper) A thousand tiny rainbows round its form.
one day saw Lee wriggling in his seat, and trying The lowers, whose closing leaves had barred their halls, to catch the speaker's eye, that he might rise and As night approached to spread ils sable shades, And rob them of their beauly, now unfold
make a speech. R. dexterously tied the queue to Their iragrant leaves to catch a brighter hue
the high back of the bench, on which L. sal—and From the fresh paletie of the moming sun.
such as all that House sat on, till within the last The busy huiming bee fies forth to cull,
ten or twelve years. The next moment, a favoraWitb eager haste, the sweets remaining from
ble juncture came, and Mr. Lee rose eagerly, exThe flower's last banqueting. The calle low Upon the bills, or rise to cross the plain.
claiming, “ Mr. Speaker !”—but his wig came off; Toe frisking lamb runs sportive o'er the mead,
and, turning to Roberts, he in the same breath cried Or wages mimic war, and hold defies
out, " You're a fool!" The leader out.. Proud chanticleer awakes,
The House roared, of course.
A member, before the convention sat in 1829 to With lighter heart than ever beat beneath
amend the Constitution of Virginia, used to say A royal diadem; while round the door,
that he could write a better constitution than the Just from iheir beds, half dressed, the urchins play, old one, with a fire-coal, upon a board. With rosy cheeks, bright eyes, and flaxen curls. Their joyous happy shout rings loud and clear, As with old Ponto locked they roll supine Aking the ground, or trip it lightly o'er
When the Virginia school-system (such it is) was under discussion, General Breckenridge wished the
disposable funds laid out in a university, and colleNow sounds the mellow horn, ges: Mr. Doddridge, in Primary Schools, for teachWhose welcome note declares the morning meal
ing rudiments. As they sat together one day in Already laid upon the well-spread board, An early gift from beaven. First round the hearth
The H. of D., an old member named B The bappy group with reverence come, to hear
making a speech, mentioned" the sov-e-ran-ity of The words of truth flow froin a father's lips;
the Stales." Said Brackenridge aside to DodAnd then with him to kneel with humble awe
dridge, “I think that's strong argument in favor of Around that Allar, where so oft ihe heart
a University.” “No,” replied D., “I think it is a Has poured ils sorrow's out in fervent prayer, And tell them pass away, as light returns,
stronger one for Primary Schools."
Mr. Doddridge was once in the chair; and, there Is seen, and faith which no denial takes;
being no business going on, pulled out some bank And turongla its time-narked lines, the soul within Seenis struggling out, as though it would leap forth,
notes, and began to count them. Gen. Blackburn Aud mingle back with its elernal source !
rose and said, " Mr. Speaker, I move that those Their thanks devoutly paisl, they slowly rise,
Bills be laid upon the table." Doddridge hastily And seek the wonted place around the board
huddled his noles into his pocket, and said, “ The So truly wessed of heaven! Then each with joy gentleman from Bath is out of order!" Returns to that employ which yields the fruit Of honest toil and hearen-rewarded care ! But now the circling earth bas onward moved To that position marked, where blushing morn
A bashful member (from Augusta, I think) rose Resigns ils brief control 10 servid noon.
to make his maiden speech, on some local question interesting to his constituents, and began,-
" Mr. Speaker !- What shall I say to my constituents ?”—and then, unable to ulier another syllable, stood with lips aparı, in the nute slupefac. tion of terror.
The door yard green.
Gen. Blackburn, leaning forward in his seat, said in a whisper audible all over the House," Tell
Notices of New Works. 'em you tried to make a speech!" The poor viclim of bashfulness sunk down opon the bench, and never attempied to speak afterwards.
ORTA-Undis, and other Poems. By J. M. Legaré. Bos.
ton. William D. Ticknor & Company. 1848. When the late Governor Barbour was Speaker,
A writer in a recent number of Fraser's Magazine, in rea member from a Southside county (whom I shall frst poem of indigenous American growth. We are not
viewing Mr. Longfellow's Evangeline, hails it as the very call Mr. Kyle) rose to speak—unaccustomed prepared to concede this, but, assuredly, our poets have disperhaps it was his maiden speech. He was very played as yet little literary patriotism, and we are inelibed much in love with the beauteous Miss Fouray, to think that, if we had a rostrum and an audience, we daughier of doctor Fonray, who was also a mern- could“ pronounce” them a very good lecture “on the daty ber. Mr. K. began
of”- staying at home. To reproduce the feeble imagery of
the Lake School or to send back the echoes of Mrs. He “Mr. Speaker ! I rise, freighted with opinions mans seems to be the design of a majority of our modern too big for utterance, yet too momentous and too minstrels. Some there are, (even of the highest on the mighty to be suppressed :” [Here Dr. Fouray en rollo) who can find nothing on their own soil to kindle the
sacred flame, whose best productions are inspired by ste. tered the Hall] “ But-yonder comes doctor Fou
nery they have never beheld or events that belong to a pest ray!”—and down Mr. K. sat, without further power age,of utterance. The speaker, willing to relieve his embarrassment and rally his fainting spirit, called
Presenting Thebes or Pelops' line,
Or the tale of Troy divine,-. out, " Mr. Kyle has the floor !" Mr. K. hereupon rose again and said,
others, with cosmopolitan frenzy, sing of localities all
round the world, while others again seem really to bere “Mr. Speaker! The grandest thoughts were in written in vacuo, for their “airy nothings” have no “ local my mind, that it ever entered into my soul to con- habitation" w batever. ceive : but, sir, to my own grief, and to the great
This is altogether wrong.
We want no ppies of a con loss of mankind, they were entirely dissipated by
ventional world, no madrigals of moonshine. The litera
ture of America should be marked by a distinctive bomethe entrance of Doctor Fouray!” He sat down, feeling and nourished by the affections that spring up from and spoke no more that session.
her own earth. There are abundant sources of inspiration
everywhere throughout her borders, then why should be T The names are feigned, in this anecdote. sons seek for other climes to celebrate, or “think to climb
Parnassus, by dint o' Greek”? They may find subjects in their own homesteads. The elements of song are all arond
them. The same stars are set in the heavens that the ChalEvery body knows that Henry made his debut deans saw, nature still robes the fields in gay colors, the saras a lawyer in what is called “The Parsons' cause," ges of the everlasting sea are sounding in our ears, and in in the county court of Hanover. One particular the heart of man are the same desires and longings-ibe passage of that speech is said by his biographer, same impulses and aspirations—the same hopes and meste. Mr. Wirt, to have driven the reverend clergy in ries, that have furnished themes of speculation to the poets
of all time. dismay from the Bench and from the Court-House,
These reflections have been suggested by the modest liwhere they had assembled in the confident expec- tle volume before us. We are glad to recognize in Mr. Le. tation of an easy victory. The following is a part garé a true worshipper of Nature, a genuine poet of the of that passage-reported by Mr. W. N., of Louisa South, whose healthy and graceful verses reflect the very county, whose memory is a store-house of varied features of her landscapes. In every descriptive poem we and valuable reminiscences. He derived this one have an exquisite lule picture, radiant with all the bues of from his grandfather, who was an eye-and-ear-wit. specimen of his style.
the Southern sky. We select the following as a pleasing ness of the scene :
THE REAPER. “Gentlemen of the Jury, do these pretended dis
How still Earth lies !-hebind the pines ciples of Christ obey the precepts and imitate the
The summer clouds sink slowly down. example of their sacred master Jesus, in feeding The sunset gilds the higher hills the hungry and clothing the naked,—in going about And distant steeples of the town. every day, continually doing good ? No, no,-far,
Refreshed and moist the meadow spreads, very far from it! Such is the avarice, such the in
Birds sing from out the dripping leaves, satiable thirst for gold, of these ecclesiastical har
And standing in the breast-high corn pies, that they would take the last hoecake from the I see the farmer bind his sheares. widow and the orphan, and the last blanket from
It was when on the fallow fields the lying-in woman!"
The heavy frosts of winter lay,
A rustic with upsparing hand
Strewed seed along the furrowed way,
And I 100, walking through the waste
We mention these faults, because we would have Mr. And wintry hours of the past,
Legaré avoid the commission of similar ones in future. Have in the surrows made by griefs
We shall look with great interest to his literary efforts, The seeds of future harvests cast.
feeling assured that he will yet achieve something of per
manent fame for himself and Southern Literature.
The Power Of The PULPIT, or Thoughts Addressed to
Christian Ministers, and those who hear them. By GardDown in the meadows of the heart
ner Spring, D. D. New York. Baker & Scribner. The birds sing out a last refrain,
1848. And ready garnered for the mart I see the ripe and golden grain.
The last, and in many respects the hest work, of an able
and venerable man. The most careless observer cannot These four stanzas for “ A May Morn" are highly con. fail to be struck with the extending influence of religious sonant to nature.
sentiment, among all ranks and classes of society. At no Last night the town was close and warm,
former period, in the history of our country, at least, has But while we slept, arose a storm :
there been a more universal deference paid to religion and And now how clear
its ministers. This is rendered every day more apparent, And cool and fresh the morning air.
by the increasing numbers who throng the churches of the
evangelical denominations in our land--by the multiplicaHow still it is!-the city lies
lion of religious newspapers and periodicals--by the markBehind, half hidden from the eyes;
ed attention which even the secular press now pays to ecAnd from the iops
clesiastical assemblages and acts-and by the demand for a Of trees around the moisture drops.
higher standard of ministerial talent and attainment than A bird with scarlet on his wings,
was once required. Down in the meadow sits and sings;
It was, in part, in reference to this demand, that Dr. Spring Beneath his weight
issued the work now under consideration. Containing as The long corn-tassels undulate.
it does the results of long observation, the conclusions of
a highly gifted and matured mind, replete with stirring apThe thrush and red bird in the brake
peals to those who fill the sacred office on the responsibiliFlit up and from the blossoms shake,
ty of their station, the necessity of profound and varied Across the grass,
learning, of accomplished and conciliating manners, and A fragrant shower where I pass.
above all, of deep-toned personal piety-it cannot fail to
aid in the elevation of that standard of ministerial qualifi. Mr. Legare is no mean poet of the affections. He does hot indeed emhalm in anapæsts the heartless sentimen- cation, and in the angmenting of that hallowed "Power" ta,isto of an artificial society, nor does he, with senseless
which the pulpit must possess, in order that it may ever kaotism, lay bare his own heart to our gaze, but he sings
acknowledged stand of those delights and regrets which have their birth in the
The most important and effectual guard, tender passion and which have set apart forever the love
Support, and ornament of virtue's cause. songs of Burns. We adduce no instance of this, because we regard the poems in the present volume, rather as afford.
On first opening the look, our eye chanced to light on a ing promise of what Mr. Legaré will do, than as enduring beautiful and well-deserved tribute to the memory of an il
lustrious Divine recently deceased-one in whose splendid Occasionally the effect of Mr. Legaré's versification is genius the gospel was so enshrined, as to liken it to “an Almarred by a needless inversion, as the stanza,
hambra with a seraph for its occupant." " As costly diamonds in their lees,
That this is no extravagant encomium, all will admit, Washed from beneath the roots of trees
when we mention, as we ever must, with the profoundest By torrents, find the Bengalese."
veneration, the name of CHALMERS.
We beg leave to extract Dr. Spring's brief, but happy where the construction is just the reverse of what Mr. Le reference 10 his character and lahors. “The life and death gare intended. Again, in a very sweet poem, we find a of the late Dr. Chalmers present a most delightful view of passage in which we are perplexed to get at the author's that high degree of enjoyment which attends a laborious
minister. In all the voluminous productions of his pen I " When Diana dimly rising
do not recollect a gloomy or pensive thought. The most
grave and weighly subjects he treats, not indeed without Through the open work of trees, On the cliffsides, on the steeples
solemnity, but with a buoyancy and vigor that indicates a
cheersul and happy mind. I love to think of such a man, Travels down by slow degrees
and to dwell on the undying verdure of his clustering Silently the pallid splendor,
thoughts. Even his stern and struggling career interests Tillbehind our sbadows stream,
me, it was so light and gladsome. I love to think of him Like the shapes uncouth and dismal
climbing up the bill of Mount Zion, holding on sometimes We encounter in a dream." pp. 70, 71.
by the jurring rochs, and sometimes by the green boughs,
ever tasking his sortitude as he ascends, till, like Moses on Should it not have been
the top of Nebo, he looks for the last time on the plain be"When Diana dimly rises ?"
low, and carcely conscious of the change, finds himself by
The men of light and love, and in the presence of God and “Quæ Pulchrior ?" if only to the Lamb. I sometimes think of such a man, and say, I show how trippingly the verse runs on, and to ask Mr. Le would not be a Lazzaroni. I have no desire to be a weed gare the meaning of a “carcanet mind."
evidences of his power.
on the shore."
We should like to copy