all the nations under heaven. The world is all before them where to choose. Only let them choose for themselves, and not suffer themselves to be dictated to by pragmatical ignoramuses, whose only qualifications for such an office are long tongues and strong lungs, and whose inkstands are never dry, for they are constantly putting in more water. But let them, when they have selected a subject, love the theme of their own choice, and work it out with patient, true affection, and they will be doing their duty to American Art. There are then but two grand requisites for the formation of an American School of Historical Painting. First That there shall be American painters. Second: That these American painters shall paint well. Pottawotamies, Chickasaws, Black-feet and Flat- naturalize, in American art, all the nationalities of heads, braves, squaws, and papooses? Is he to be shut up forever in the forest, or the smoky and spacious wigwam? Oh no! say these patriotic curtailers of the Liberty of Art,—there are "Washington and his Generals." And are these to be done to death by American artists, as "Napoleon and his Marshals" have been served by the French? "But then," chimes in a nasal down-easter," there are the Pilgrim fathers, let them paint them!" I would respectfully remind the nasal down-easter, that, in the first place, the Pilgrim fathers are not very picturesque objects, and, in the second place, that they have been very extensively "done" al ready; Weir made the most of them, and there they are in the Capitol, as gray as Norway rats and as cold as Quincy granite. No! FREEDOM is the motto of our country! The son of New England is at liberty to go forth to any corner of the world, | Of all the classes and professions in this country, however remote, trade and traffic there, and bring they shall not be singled out as the only ones to be home the proceeds of his enterprise to enrich his hampered and hemmed in by a high fence; they native place, and enjoy himself on his gains. And shall not be manacled and fettered by any rules exmay not the Yankee artist likewise go to any quar-cept those that flow from the nature of their art, ter of the world for the subject of his picture? Let him handle it well, let the fire of genius warm his fancy, and the patience of perseverance bring his design to a perfect work, and no matter whence the subject comes, he has brought fame to his country and to her school of painting, and let him enjoy it without interference. It would be a poor sort of liberty we have, and one not worth boasting of or painting pictures for its everlasting glorification, if the Yankee artist were not at least as free as the Yankee pedlar. No! the field, spread out before the American Historical Painter is as wide as the domain of Art can make it. Religion lies first, and highest, and deepest. It is the source of the truest and most enduring inspiration, and has ever been the favorite subject of the greatest works of the pencil. And her sacred finger has already signed the youthful forehead of American Art with the sign of the Cross. For here were the noblest efforts of West displayed. Here Allston exerted his highest powers. Here our living Huntington has chosen his home, and his "Mercy's dream," and "Christiana passing through the valley of the shadow of death," will live and bring comfort and peace to the heart of many an humble believer,—yes, and be reckoned high in the school of American Historical painting too, when Colonel Trumbull's National picture of one hundred and twelve legs, in knee-breeches, shall have passed away, or sunk into the insignificance which many may think it enjoys already. and govern its exercise all the world over; they shall not be confined to a narrow, monotonous and beaten round, like an omnibus horse in Broadway, or a thief in the tread-mill, while on every side around them are the breezy mountains, the murmuring rivers, and the sunny meadows of their love. Liberty is theirs! Let them show their country and the world, that they know how to use it! DRYBURGH ABBEY. The following very beautiful stanzas were first published in a London paper soon after the death of Sir Walter Scott. We had not seen them for many years until, a short time since, a kind friend placed them in our hands for republication in the Messenger. Short fragments of the verse, like snatches of dimly-remembered music, had lingered in our memory, but we have read it over with fresh delight and increased admiration. It is a noble strain, indeed, and most worthy of its subject;-the immortal "Ariosto of the North."-Ed. Mess. "Twas morn-but mist and cloud hung deep upon the lonely vale, And shadows, like the wings of death, were out upon the gale. Besides the inexhaustible field of religion it must be remembered, that since our country has opened as it were an asylum for the oppressed of all countries, and reckons among her citizens natives of For he whose spirit woke the dust of nations into life— almost, if not quite all, the kingdoms and States in That o'er the waste and barren earth spread flowers and christendom, so American painters have a right to fruitage rife of sentiment, so rare, that Madame Butler will surely estimate them at their value." "These qualities affect me more than you think, and I am delighted with this constancy of affection." M. Laclos hastened to seize Madame Butler's hand and to press it to his lips. "Virginia," said he, in the softened, subdued tone of an elegy-" Virginia only gave me the apparition of happiness; she caused me to dream of a phantom; you, Madam, you make me experience the reality." "Come now," cried M. Bonnemain, drawing from his pocket the form of a contract of marriage; here is that which will give legal sanction to the sentiments that animate you both. I pass over the surnames, Christian names, all the ordinary protocol. Madam will you inform my principal clerk here of all these details. There are but two things to be determined-the rule under which you will marry the property of the parties. "We marry according to the rule of a community of goods," M. Laclos hastened to remark. Madame Butler threw a little glance towards M. Laclos, which signified that this rule would be infinitely sweet. 66 In the beginning of February, sir." "Before the Republic," cried Laclos, "she is ruined! she is ruined! That rail-road stock, which has already fallen thirty, forty, sixty per cent, will be down to nothing-you will see." "Well, sir-what if it should?" said Madame Butler. "What!" answered M. Laclos, "this is very heroic. But, after all," added he after a pause, "it does not much matter if this be done." M. Laclos then rose, extended his hand, seized the form of the marriage contract and tore it to pieces. "Certificates of the Lyons rail-road," repeated he, "railroad stock instead of money! oh, no!" The notary, when he saw this brutal action, let his glass of champagne fall from his hand and spilled it on his arm-chair. "M. Laclos!" he exclaimed, "M. Laclos!" "You have deceived me, sir," said M. Laclos, "Under the rule of a community of goods, let it addressing the notary, "Lyons railroad! it is worthbe then," said M. Bonnemain, " Madame Butler-less-not a farthing. And then a house worth forty to begin with you, Madam," added he with a res- thousand francs less ten; thirty-an estate of sixtypectful and gallant smile, "first brings to this com-five thousand less fifteen-forty-five; total seventymunity the property of which she is this day, May 24, 1848, the lawful proprietor-as follows: First. A house situated in the street, called la Cerisaie, Paris, valued at forty thousand francs and mortgaged to the amount of ten thousand francs. Second. A landed estate of the value of about sixty thousand livres, and mortgaged for the sum of fifteen thousand francs." Although M. Laclos had been forwarned that these two pieces of real estate, belonging to Madame Butler, were each mortgaged; he could not conceal a slight grimace, which blanched the roses of the widow's cheeks, but not confining himself even to that he added five. Madame has but seventy-five thousand francs; that is no match-the affair can proceed no further." And M. Laclos, whose life had commenced with an eclogue, rose limping, took his cane and made ready to depart. Madame Butler left her chair and ran up to him. "Paul, Paul," cried she, don't you remember me? I am your Virginia--yes, her very self, my dear Paul, Virginia, your first love and, as I am now sure, your first and only love. Alas! it was for me that you risked your life-that you threw yourself out of a third-story window. Oh, Heavens! for thirty years you have not been able to take a step without calling to mind your early and only Your father deceived you, my dear Paul, your Virginia never espoused a Dutchman; she is not dead; she was united, against her will, to an English captain; she has passed her life in loving you, and as soon as she became a widow and free, behold! she has returned to you." "Let people say what they will, I do not like love. mortgages." "Here is that which will make them disappear," replied M. Bonnemain. And he continued "Third, Three hundred thousand francs in crowns, deposited with M. Rothschild, banker at Paris." "This woman would cause stones to weep," said M. Bonnemain, wiping his eyes with a fine India silk handkerchief. M. Laclos must have had a heart harder than a diamond, for he wept not a single tear; on the contrary, he wore a constrained and embarrassed air. Evidently the eclogue of the rich capitalist had ended a long time ago and he had no desire to "How!" cried M. Laclos, "and have you not recommence it. He was satisfied that his first love, then a hundred thousand crowns?" Virginia, should have been married at Harlem, and of his moral qualities, had spoken of his disinterestedness, his generosity, his sensibility of soul; he had, in a word, bestowed on this man all the qualities he lacked; he had therefore deceived his female client and had thus been the means of exposing her died, since Madame Butler had stock in the Lyons was not M. Laclos whom he had entangled in a rail-road instead of three hundred thousand francs wasp's nest, caught in a trap, it was Madame Butler. in the vaults of M. Rothschild. In abandoning the It was true that this poor lady, at the mere mention pastoral style, M. Laclos had become positively of M. Laclos, had consented to his proposals; but terrible. He had before him a panting creature, the notary had drawn the most attractive portrait full of passion and fondness, who was gazing on him tenderly and waiting but for a single word, or gesture to throw herself in his arms-yet he saw not in her Virginia Bernard, so miraculously found again, but a woman whose imprudence had compromised her fortune--one who represented a capi-to a refusal as outrageous as it was painful. tal of seventy-five thousand francs in property difficult to sell-in one word the worst possible match. Disdaining even to reply to the poor lady, he cast an irritated glance on the notary, and said to him in a tone hardly polite "Will you, sir, do me the favor to grant me a moment's interview in your cabinet." This result was the more melancholy, as Madame Butler was the last person in the world, to whom the notary would have caused sorrow. Bonnemain, nevertheless, felt a sort of inexplicable pleasure at the refusal of M. Laclos. Madame Butler had fascinated him. The beauty of the widow, the freshness of her complexion, the "I am at your service, sir," replied the notary, softness of her manners had produced an impresand he followed his rich client. "Bonnemain," said the latter, when they were alone in the cabinet, "you have caught me in a trap-you knew all." sion on his heart. Old fellows, who have spent thirty years of their lives in contemning matrimony, and in swearing that they would never put "their free, unhoused condition In circumscription and confine❞— "I give you my word of honor, sir," replied Bonnemain angrily, "that I was as ignorant as yourself. I had not yet in possession the papers of Madame Butler; she was not to send them to me are more inclined than others to pass suddenly from till to-morrow. I could not guess that her maiden one extreme to another, and to wake up some name was Bernard, and, as to the hundred thousand morning quite wearied with the isolation of their crowns, proof of my good faith may be found in lives. Such was our notary's position; add to that the fact that my head-clerk is now gone to draw them from M. Rothschild; he has not yet returned." "Come, come, M. Bonnemain-you must rid me of this woman." "What, sir-your first passion-the Amaryllis of your eclogue! The Lyons rail-road may get up again in the market, M. Laclos." "Poh! never-I could not get fifteen hundred francs out of her hundred thousand. Again I say, you got me into this scape-get me out again." 66 'Your Virginia, M. Laclos-but what has passed since." "Thirty years have passed, sir." "Monsieur Laclos," observed the notary gravely, you have disengaged yourself; you have torn up the memorandum of contract all is done." "If that is enough, well and good," answered M. Laclos, who coldly saluted the notary and departed, helping himself along with his cane, like a man who escapes an ambuscade without being robbed. The first aim of M. Bonnemain, as soon as he found himself free, was to run to the dining-room. Madame Butler was no longer there; she had left the table to go into the parlor and there he found her fainted away on a sofa. He hastened to her, raised her up, dashed water in her face; he tormented her in such a fashion that she soon came to herself. his regarding himself as the cause of the injury to which Madame Butler had been subjected, that he was rich, naturally generous, and you will perceive that if he once get an inclination towards matrimony, he would have no fear of espousing a dowerless bride. Bonnemain threw himself on his knees before Madame Butler, as soon as he saw that she had come to herself and commenced bitterly to execrate the conduct of M. Laclos. "Who could have suspected," exclaimed he, "such infamy? He, who should have had two hearts to love you twice,-yes, he could neither love the beautiful, the adorable Madame Butler, nor Virginia Bernard, his first passion-I have nothing to say with regard to the young girl, but I do not understand how he could resist Madame Butler." The widow answered only by sighs; her bosom, violently agitated, heaved beneath her silken dress. The shame, spite, anger, bitter displeasure, excited by such a desertion, occupied all her thoughts. "How false and deceitful are men!" cried she. Meanwhile the notary had taken her hand and was pressing it to his lips, and that hand was not withdrawn. Encouraged by this favor, Bonnemain continued : "As for me, I have no eclogue to recite. I never broke my leg for any woman; mortgages do not frighten me; and if you have any partiality for The position of the notary was a delicate one. It Lyons rail-road stock, I am capable of investing one hundred thousand francs more in it, provided all talents except that of business, so he kept the we can join the whole together." hundred thousand crowns." Madame Butler half sate up from her recumbent posture and glanced at Bonnemain. True he was somewhat fat, but his face beamed with candor and good humor; his eyes were handsome and sparkling, his hands remarkably well made, his tone and address those of a gentleman, and, at the moment of which we speak, his looks were replete with sentiment. An instant only is necessary to persuade a woman, especially a woman wounded in her self-love and burning to be revenged. What a difference between M. Bonnemain and M. Laclos! The latter forgot his first love and brutally deserted her, swayed by sordid interest; the former laid his fortune at the feet of a ruined woman and spoke even of risking that fortune, if the beloved object wished to gratify an absurd caprice. "Are you in earnest, sir?" cried the widow. "Do you love me? do you desire to make me your wife?" "You are the pearl of clerks," said the notary. Just then the door of the parlor was opened and M. Laclos came in, as it were, on the heels of the clerk. Paul was proceeding to cast himself at the feet of his Virginia, the hundred thousand crowns so miraculously received doubtless suggesting to him good reasons for excusing his conduct, when "Ah! Madam," said Bonnemain, fairly jump- Madame Butler spared him the trouble of revealing ing with joy, "instantly—if possible to-morrow-them. She rose, opened a door and went into the the sooner the better; the mayor of this quarter is next room, absolutely as if she had been in her own my friend; I am on good terms with the curate of the parish; we will purchase the banns; we will abridge the formalities; I will soon bring matters to a focus." "My hand is yours," answered the widow. As it is impossible to have a good dinner without coffee, a servant brought on a waiter the ardent mocha and that liqueur of Jamaica, the golden hue of which, in the light of the candles, gleamed and glistened in the crystal glasses. Madame Butler was too much agitated to allow herself anything but a glass of sugared water. M. Bonnemain was inhaling with delight the ambrosia of Voltaire when the head-clerk came in with a package in his hand. "What do you wish, M. Robert? demanded Bonnemain. "I come from M. Rothschild." house. "It is my wife," negligently observed the notary, she is going to her own room." "Your wife!" 66 Yes-my dear client-you asked me to rid you of her, and I knew no better way than to marry her myself." "My Virginia!" said M. Laclos quite out of countenance, and in spite of himself taking up the thread of the expressions which he had arranged in his own head to appease the widow. "Your Virginia will be my wife before eight days are over," replied the notary with a resolute airYou might break your good leg for her, if you choose, but that would not change our plans-the business is settled. Perhaps we shall buy stock in the Lyons rail-road; perhaps not-we shall see. "Ah, I am sorry I sent you there, sir, on a use- M. Robert, go put these hundred thousand crowns less errand." 66 A useless errand ?" said M. Robert, "not at all." "How not at all?" "Because, sir, I have the money." "Money-what money?" "The hundred thousand crowns you sent me to draw out by virtue of Madame Butler's power of attorney." "The hundred thousand crowns. They are certificates of rail-road stock." The head-clerk began to laugh. "Yes, yes," said he, "M. Rothschild spoke to me about that-a letter from Madame, which directed him to buy a hundred thousand crowns worth of Lyons rail-road stock." "It is even so," said the notary. "Oh!" said the head-clerk, "M. Rothschild was of a contrary opinion. He believed the lady had" VOL. XIV-93 in my trunk. Will you take coffee, M. Laclos ?" FAREWELL. Inscribed to a Lady of Kentucky. BY WM. H. HOLCOMBE. In vain, in vain have 1 essayed To speak the word "good-bye;" And there's no need of Reason's wiles but, unhappily, the one point at which they are very Greek is that point, precisely, at which they should be nothing but Feltonian. They always close with what is meant for a spondee. To be consistently silly, they should die off in a dactyl. That a truly Greek hexameter cannot, however, be readily composed in English, is a proposition which I am by no means inclined to admit. I think I could manage the point myself. For example: when may we hope to make | men of sense | out of the Pundits | Do tell Born and brought up with their | snouts deep | down in I the mud of the Frog-pond? Why ask? who ever | yet saw | money made | out of a fat old Jew, or downright | upright | nutmegs out of a pineknot? | The proper spondee predominance is here preserved. Some of the dactyls are not so good as I could wish-but, upon the whole, the rhythm is very decent-to say nothing of its excellent sense. But in its fitful sweetness makes A music all its own. "All alone!" Slowly die the tones away With a melancholy thrill, And the shadows gather round, Dark and still! But amid the heart's deep cham Echoes still the mournful ton As sighs the wind through ruine Of lonely and forsaken balls "All alone! Vain thy dreams of loveliness, Who can share that untold blis In thy sadness and thy woe, Who such grief as thine can k In thy fancies bright and free, None to share those thoughts To thy spirit's restless yearni None to give a full returning; Thou art sad and lonely nowShadows gather o'er thy brow Mid glad hearts and spirits ga Thine is dwelling far awaySeeking what may not be fou Hearing still what hath no so Seeing what none else may s Lonely still thy heart must be. Richmond. ALONE. Thrills a whisper on the stillness, Murmuring in a quiet tone, Half of joy, and half of sadness, **All alone!" All alone, while softly round thee, Fades the day-light's pallid beam; While a spell of thought hath bound thee, Deepening to a quiet dream. Softly thrills the mystic tone, All alone! Now may fancy fold her wings In a sober contemplation, Shrouded in a still delight, And luxury of meditation; Now may spirits round thee glide Hovering on viewless wings, Now a presence by thy side Whisper wondrous things,- As some beauteous cloud-land lies Sull and bright! Mingling fitfully and free, To a dream-like melody, No certain air, no measured tone THE GAME FISH OF NO BY CHARLES LA ATH No. I. THE STRIPED BASSE O We consider the striped bas game fish to be found in Ameri all that we can learn it is pecul and to particular sections, not b North than Maine, nor farther S olinas, where it is known as th varies in weight from six ounce pounds, and though a native of th a portion of every year in the fr yet it seems to be partial to the m Our naturalists ha ger estuaries. a member of the Perch family, and scientific propriety, but we have sẽ would outweigh at least four score perch found in the country. The b set and solid fish, having a strong b sharp teeth. In color it varies from on the back to a rich silvery hue on its scales are large and of a metalli 471 |