172 TO SOMNUS.

these redeeming qualities has its ever-attendant errors and

extremes. Our own inclination is very decidedly in favor of
the former; but a contest on this point may be easily avoided
by acknowledging that many men are of many minds. Not
one of them can regulate the taste of his neighbor by his own.
Not one can be assured (following the words of a “wise saw’)
that his neighbor's meat might not be his own poison.

To SoMNUs.

O Thou, the leaden-eyed with drooping lid

Hanging upon thy sight, and eye half hid
With matted hair—that, with a constant train
Of empty dreams, all shadowless, and vain
*#
As the dim wind, dost sleep in thy dark cave,
With poppies at the mouth, which night winds wave,
And send their breathings downward—on thy bed,
Thine only throne, with darkness overspread,
And curtains black, as are the eyes of night;
Thou who dost come at time of passing light,
And sleep among the woods, where night doth hide
And tremble at the sun, and shadows glide
Among the waving tree-tops; if now there
Thou sleepest in a still and breathless air
Within some nook, amid thick flowers, and moss
Gray colored as thine eyes, while thy dreams toss
Their fantasies about the silent earth,
In waywardness of mirth—
O come and hear the hymn that we are chanting,
Among the starlight through the still leaves slanting.
Thou lover of the banks of idle streams,
O'ershaded by broad oaks, with scattered gleams
From the few stars upon them—of the shore
Of the broad sea, with silence sitting o'er,
The great moon hanging out her lamp to gild
The murmuring waves with hues all pure and mild,
Where thou dost lay upon the sounding sands,
And winds come dancing on from southern lands,
With dreams upon their backs, and unseen waves
Of odors in their hands; thou, in the caves
Of the star-lighted clouds, on summer eves
That liest in all ease, while silence leaves
Her influence about thee—in the sea
That liest, heaving the monotony
Of waves far off above thee, like the wings
Of passing dreams, while the great ocean swings
His bulk above thy sand-supported head :
(As chained on his bed
Some giant, with an idleness of motion,
So swings the still and sleep enthralled ocean.)
 SPECTATort, No. 11. - 173

Thou who dost bless the weary with thy touch,

And makest agony relax his clutch
Upon the bleeding fibres of the heart—
Pale disappointment lose her constant smart,
And sorrow dry her tears, and cease to weep
Her life away, and live anew in sleep:
Thou who dost bless the birds, in every place
Where they have sung their songs with wondrous grace
Throughout the day—and now with drooping wing,
Amid the leaves, receive thy welcoming:
Come with thy crowd of dreams, O thou ! to whom
All noise is most abhorred, and in this gloom,
Beneath the shaded lightness of the sky, -

Where are no sounds, but as the winds go by—

Here touch our eyes, great Somnus, with thy wand.
Ah, here thou art, with touch most light and bland;
And we forget our song, and sink away—
And here until broad day
Come up into the sky, with horses leaping,
Will we recline beneath the vine leaves sleeping. A. P.

SPECTAToR.....No. II.
OU R COUNTRY.

As an unpretending, unambitious citizen, I claim the

privilege of giving to the readers of this Magazine, my views
upon all subjects, religious and political, in as decorous and
impartial a manner as I can. I am not, however, about to
shoot a political squib at either of the parties of the day. It
is enough to say that they divide the country between them—
divide it, too truly—they make aged men hang down their
heads in shame, and the young, who reflect at all, pause and
look for some asylum from the wreck of empire, or something
that may retard the downward tendency of the republic.
Our kind fathers have divided the country between them,
and are furiously engaged in defacing every thing that is
lovely or desirable about it. Its fair, green walks are polluted
with the pestiferous breath of slander; its everlasting rocks
and high hills echo and re-echo the clamors of contention.
Almost every breeze bears upon its wings the loud murmurs
of party, which die not away till they reach the monarchical
regions of Europe, where they are met by the deep laugh of
contempt and derision. Can this be the natural result of
freedom Is its price so great 2 Who then would not be a
slave? Who would not bow his head now and then, when a
WOL. I...N.O. VI. 22
 174 - specTATOR, NO. II.

monarch nods, and spend the remainder of his time in the

rational enjoyments of life, in preference to the continual
strife and even danger which continue to be the handmaids of
freedom * -

Reader, dare you cooly reflect upon the probable loss of

your most cherished hopes—and are you a lover of freedom
and free institutions 2 Then turn your eyes around our
almost boundless country. Look upon what should be pure,
and see how pure it is. See if virtue and honesty are not
depreciated ; and cherish not the forlorn hope, that, because
such things have been before, and the dying groan of dissolu
tion did not succeed—they may be again. To say nothing
of the fact that decay is infectious and seldom purified—can
you, as a philanthropist, a well wisher of mankind, while the *
turged oceans of strife are heaving and rolling and dashing
their offensive spray upon every thing around you—can you
quietly lean your head upon their vapors, and dream that
you are supported by imperishable pillars? Talk of our
institutions as we may, it is an indisputable fact that they
can be of no benefit so long as the community is swayed and
divided by the fires of party.
Send out your imagination over the land. From day to
day, our eyes and our ears are witnesses of the mighty
strugglings of the demon of party. It is here in our closets
and there in our public walks, haunting us like a ghost.
Like some raging fire, it bursts out wherever we turn the
eye. Merchants and mechanics are influenced by it—the
minister in his devotions, is not free from it; and nearly all
are made more or less furious by its lashings. Friendships,
that should be enmities, are formed, and linked together by
an “electric chain,’ and when one link is touched an impetus,
like the force of the wildest winds, is given to all, and the
land is confused by the strife.
It needs not the sight of a god to predict the ultimate
result. As we become assimulated to it, so we shall forget
the several eras of our course—their flitting chidings and
doubts, their alarms and forebodings—until we make party
our master in every thing. Courts of justice will be influenced
by it; it will corrupt the pure atmosphere of our places of
devotion; friendships will receive their coloring from it;
talents and learning will be of no avail unless they bend to it.
Its poisonous influence will be felt in all the actions of life,
and wither every noble, disinterested motive. The mechanic
arts will slumber—science will drop her head, and the paths
of learning be uncheered by the footsteps of a votary. And,
 specTATOR, No. 11. 175

at last, the altar will receive the blood of victims—the fra

ternal blood of the land, offered to appease the ruthless
god.
Are our grounds of alarm causeless? Have we not, with
in the course of a year, seen the red banners of disunion
hoisted, and the startling doctrine of a dissolution of the con
federacy, openly proclaimed: Have not men sitting in seats
of power, been engaged in the most disgusting and nauseating
quarrels, and have they not sported with the interests of the
nation ? Would not an impartial surveyor ascribe to them
all the motives of a determined banditti who are engaged in
dividing the spoils of a splendid achievement? Have they
not mistaken the purposes of a free government, and converted
it into a stage for the exhibition of those detestable qualities
which have convulsed and overturned nations, and made
monarchies unpopular
There are other things which cannot be said here, without
an allusion to men of peculiar politics; for even now our
very life depends upon our political views. Opinions, how
ever true and disinterested, meet with a poor reception when
they clash with pecuniary interest, or the hope of political
advancement.
The young can look upon these things without the selfish
motives of the more advanced. They can ponder upon them,
and acquire, in season for use, that moral firmness and patri
otism, by which the torrent may be arrested which threatens
to overwhelm our beautiful fabric. It devolves upon them
soon to oppose the progress of corruption by stern integrity,
and that unyielding firmness, which, in the days of the revo
lution, made the monster ‘don her crown,” and “smote the
plume from tyranny's crest.”—Ignorance is ever the bane of
freedom; by leaving unchecked that thoughtless and indiscrim
inate enthusiasm which acts without regard to justice or
desert. The hope is cherished, that ignorant politicians will
soon be superseded by those whose advantages of unlimited
education have made them superior to the predominating
influences of the unlearned. That refinement of mind which
science produces, will soon be witnessed in those classes of
society, which, in other countries, have been doomed to per
petual inferiority.
It is allowable to laugh at these things, because it is fash
ionable. But the incredulous sneer will not extinguish the
baleful fires, which ever, but more particularly in the exercise
of the elective franchise, glow in the bosoms and influence
the conduct of so many of the people of this country. The
176 MODERN CHARITY.

influence of wisdom and experience must go out over the

land from the capital—there must be no cup of abomination
there—and private ends must be sacrificed to the public good.
‘then countrymen,
What need we any spur but our own cause
To prick us to redress?’ ‘What other oath
Than honesty to honesty engaged,
. That this shall be—or we will fall for it.” E. B.

MoDERN CHARITY.
“The world is still deceived with ornaments.”

It is certainly a natural and a reasonable supposition, that

if aught possesses a foundation sufficiently deep and an
adaptation to the wants and capacities of mankind of suffi
ciently extensive application to insure its exemption from per
version, it must be that system of moral truths recog
nised by reason, attested by conscience, and demonstrated, in
innumerable manifestations, by human history and individual
experience—that system, in short, which, when practically
evinced, we call virtue. And yet it is a subject, we appre
hend, concerning which very vague impressions prevail.
Few, indeed, can err in determining whether an action or
motive is morally right or wrong; but the erroneous concep
tions to which we refer, are chiefly manifested in the dispropor
tionate moral worth frequently attached to human conduct.
Perhaps this, tending, as it does, to obscure the true glory of
virtue, has done more than is generally supposed to lessen
its attractiveness. Surely, whatever transforms virtue from
a principle innate in man, and capable of endless develope
ment, into an abstract system, and whatever deprives it of its
active character, as consisting in moral effort and not in passive
subservience, robs it of its birth-right, and thus weakens its
hold on human regards. It is eminently an independent
principle—the product, alone, of self-exertion; and yet means
have been adopted, for the avowed purpose of securing men's
allegiance to duty, which presuppose, in their very nature, an
agent in the formation of individual virtue more powerful than
moral energy and more efficient than virtuous example. But
our concern is, to speak of these perversions with reference
to that beautiful virtue, charity.
Bacon has significantly compared innovations to births of
living creatures, which at first are ill-shapen; but the parallel
 MODERN CHARITY. 177

must rest here, when applied to many of the modern methods of

exercising charity: for it can hardly be anticipated that these
will ever assume more symmetrical or consistent forms than
they exhibited at their origin. It is beneath the dignity of its
office to be ranked with mere amusement; it is too holy to pio
neer those whose natural delicacy should interpret its true
character, into ‘the rank beams of vulgar fame;’ it is too
closely allied with what is truly excellent, to serve as a bright
surface beneath which the turbid waters of contending pas
sions may flow unseen. But even in self-defence, charity will
use no other than the weapons of love : it is more meet, there
fore, that her advocates should, as far as in them Hies, exhibit
her true features, than to inveigh against the perversions that
bear her name. -

It is charity, then, that effaces the bad impression, ere it

strengthens into a practice; that respects conscientious opin
ions too much for difference to be riveted by bigotry; that over
looks error in consideration for the motive; that checks the
passionate or thoughtless exclamation, lest the tender cords of
feeling should be too widely struck; that exercises its moral
and mental functions in a pure and invigorating atmos
phere.
And in all this, it is plain that the actuating motive is a
respect for and a consequent sympathy with human nature.
Thence ‘its field is the world.” Charity, then, far from being
dependent on momentary sensibility, is essentially founded on
principle, and calls into action some of the noblest powers—
self-denial, active and widely diffused love, liberality and self
government. It is in its office of relieving outward distress, as
in every other manifestation, that charity, like a sister virtue,
“blesses him that gives and him that takes; and without this
double influence, it is evidently miscalled charity.”
Its chief good is within. It is its chief purpose to raise to a
common level every member of the human family. And it is
with strict reference to this end, that it produces its effects, the
cause, like the source of a mighty river, being concealed from
the view. It is objected, that the inciting influence of exam
ple is thus lost. There are those, however, who are unaffected
by the flaming meteor, but whose moral sense is permanently
awakened, when attracted to some little star that beams
serenely and ‘meekly through the kindling air.’
Charity, like every other virtue, is chiefly to be sought for it
** He that relieves another upon the bare suggestion with bowels of pity, doth
not this so much for his sake as his own; for by compassion we make others’ misery
our own, and so by relieving them we relieve ourselves also.”
 179 To a backwood's boy.

self; not only as being its own reward, but because it strips
self-love of the perversions which have debased it from the
guardian and guide of virtue to its deadliest foe. Who can
doubt that charity directs the principle of selfishness to its
legitimate end, by teaching that the true field for its exercise
and the gratification of its desires, can only be found in disin
terestedness?
Virtuous sensibility, however wounded by the view of
moral evil, never suffers more acutely than when contempla
ting the low and unworthy standards which are so often made
the ordeals of human conduct. Not only is the sublime
form of virtue in a measure shrouded, but there is afforded a
sad, yet striking proof, that to many is still unrevealed the
glory and power of their nature.
‘How is it so forgotten ? Will it live
When the great firmament has rolled away ?
Hath it a voice forever audible,
* I am Eternal /* Can it overcome
This mocking-passion find, and even here
Live like a seraph upon truth and light?'

To A BAckwood's Boy,
Running hatless, stockingless, and in the remnants of his summer dress, on a
wintry day in the streets of Cincinnati.
HAIL, hardy representative
Of freedom's boldest class,
Those who like mountain oaks shall stand
When the mortal tempests pass.
'T is the rugged rock that bids the waves
Thus far, no further go ;
The golden sands, Oh where are they
In the raging overflow 2
And you, brave boy, while the frosty breeze
Sports rudely with your hair,
Playing hide and seek in the mantle rents,
Hear it whisper Hero there.
O Fortune, when your gifts you shower
On your soft dependent train,
How seldom you fail to steal the power
That would make them free again.
And man how like the tree that grows
In an isle of the southern sea ;
The poorer the gifts the soil bestows,
More rich and rare the tree.
 MUSICAL TASTE. 179

Music AL TASTE.

[The following remarks are from a communication received some time ago,
the whole of which is not inserted on account of several local criticisms and ob
servations not appropriate to our Magazine.]

IT is my good fortune to be a great lover of music; and I

pass as being an enthusiast in it. I make no pretensions to
any particular quantity of taste, or any special nicety of ear;
but, though I am somewhat sedate in my character, I am seldom
troubled for words when in conversation on the subject of music.
I think that any one who converses on music, pays the person
with whom he converses one of the best compliments in the
world. What can be a greater one, than to show a lady that
you think she possesses a rich mind, a nice and delicate
ear, and a fine-toned heart; for all these are necessary in or
der to be a lover of music—and she who possesses them may
think herself in truth well endowed.
There is nothing more rare than a good musical taste, unless
it be possessed by a good musician; and there is nothing in
which taste is so easily satisfied when it is just forming, and
so difficult to satisfy after it is well advanced; and until it
arrives to a good degree of advancement, there is nothing which
varies so much. One man likes nothing but a dancing tune,
or a march; another, likes nothing save sacred music; another,
nothing but songs. One man cannot hear a beautiful anthem;
one does not like a variation;–but it is not very often that you
can find a civilized being, to say that he would rather hear
a saw whet than the highest note on a violin. I have no hopes
of such a man as that; he will never have an integral portion
of taste. I have not much hope of one who only likes a danc
ing tune. I have a kind feeling for one who likes variations;
but he should never say that there are too many to Auld Lang
Syne:-and when a person likes a concerto, I will shake hands
with him. -

The most amusing thing about musical taste, is, the count
less pretenders to it, and the way in which those who make
these pretensions manage. It is thought to be a sure sign that
a man has music in his soul when he talks all the time that
the best things are playing—and there are a thousand such
people in the world. There are multitudes, too, some of whom
I have fallen in with, who learn to sing some half dozen psalm
tunes, and then set themselves up for judges of music : and I
have known one of this class, who could not read a difficult
psalm tune at sight, to act with one who could read and play
180 THE INSANE HOSPITAL AT CHARLESTOWN.

anything at sight, as if he knew more of music than he did.

Such people think that they are singers, and judges of
music, in which they ought to undeceived.
It is unfortunate, that professors of music are so generally
underrated as to character and respectability. There are many
who sincerely think that a musician cannot be respectable.
You cannot make them believe that a member of an orchestra .
can be an inmate of the first houses, or a visitor in the first
company. Such people are entirely ignorant of the fact, that
there is a difference between one who scratches a tune in a
ball-room, or rattles one of his keys before a militia company,
and him whose talents put him as high in the world as the poet,
the sculptor, or the painter. They do not know that a great
performer on an instrument, is as talented—and in the same
kind of talent—as a great poet. A painter—is his employment
not to a considerable degree mechanical? does it depend
upon a talent so much as does performance on any instrument 2
It is a common mistake to say without qualification, that prac
tice makes perfect—and to suppose that any man can become
perfect by it; for many would have to practice more than a life
time, to equal an Ostinelli, or a Kendall. There is a spirit and
a grace in playing, which come from the mind, and which
practice may elicit from nature, but cannot create. S.

THE INSANE Hospit AL,

cHARLEs Tow N, MAss.
‘Many persons within two miles of this institution have a strange idea of it;
they imagine that five or six men are required to take care of a crazy person.”
AN opinion not more ‘strange’ than false, is entertained
by a large portion of the community, respecting the Insane
Hospital.
A hospital —why, many suppose that it is a place where
sick persons are stowed away in a manner, perhaps, somewhat
similar to that in which slaves are placed in the hold of a
ship; and think it matters but little to the officers whether
the patients live or die. We would not affirm that any one
labors under so gross a delusion with regard to this institu
tion; yet we sincerely believe the above paragraph would
require but a slight modification, to express what is imagin
ed in many a mind respecting it: yes—to express the notion
entertained by the writer of this communication, previous to
the year 1831.
 THE INSANE HOSPITAL AT CHARLESTOWN. 181

During that year, reason took her flight from a beloved

father. He became a tenant within those walls. There, for a
time, he lived—and there he died. I need not mention that
affection called for repeated visits to this place. These visits
dispelled a mistaken notion, which hitherto prevented me from
viewing this institution in its true light. -

Perhaps it will not be amiss to make a few extracts from

what is said preceding the ‘regulations for the admission and
discharge of boarders, published for the information of appli
cants.”
“The Massachusetts General Hospital was incorporated in
1811. It consists of two departments, the Hospital in Boston,
and the McLean Asylum for the Insane in Charlestown. Both
departments are under the management of a Board of twelve
Trustees, and the inspection of a Board of five Visitors. The
latter is composed of the Governor, Lieutenant-Governor,
President of the Senate, Speaker of the House of Represen
tatives, and the Chaplains of the two Houses. The Trustees
serve gratuitously, and are annually chosen—eight by the
contributors authorized to vote, and four by the Board of Visi
tors. A committee of the Trustees visits the Asylum every
week, to inspect the buildings, and see that proper care and
attention are bestowed upon the boarders.”
Two hundred thousand dollars have been expended on the
buildings. “The charity of the coutributors could not be
properly and effectually dispensed, without edifices of un
common construction, and provided with a variety of accom
modations. No expense, therefore, has been spared in the
erection and gradual extension of the buildings, with every
known convenience which the wants of the boarders and the
nature of their malady require. A distinct sleeping room is
appropriated to each boarder, and the apartments for males
and those for females are in buildings entirely separated.” The
rooms (not cells, as some imagine) are peculiarly adapted to
those for whom they were prepared. They are so constructed
as to afford a free circulation of air, warm or cool, which
renders them comfortable at all seasons of the year. Some
are more retired than others—designed particularly for those
who may be confined to their beds, where their friends are at
liberty to visit them. Everything with which patients might
injure themselves, is kept from them. Besides these, there
are halls for exercising, dining rooms, &c.; all of which ex
hibit extraordinary neatness. Outside of the buildings are
yards for exercising, where patients can enjoy the pure air;
WOL. I....N.O. VI. 23
182 TO

and wherever they may be, within or without the buildings,

they are under the inspection of keepers or attendants.
The superintending physician, Dr. Wyman, attends strictly
to his business. This may be inferred from the fact, that “he
has held this office thirteen years, and has been absent from
the Hospital but two nights.” He always exhibits a deep in
terest in the welfare of the patients, and is ever eager to pro
cure, in addition to the rich variety provided, that something
which may benefit or satisfy his patient. With regard to his
skill, the many persons who were brought to this institution
deranged and went away with a sound mind, afford ample
proof of his superior abilities as a physician. It is not too
much to say that the steward, Mr. Tyler, is a model of kind
ness. The attendants, too, from their conduct, ever appear
to make the case of friends and patients their own. In short,
all connected with this institution seem to know their duty,
and be willing strictly to perform it. Order and regularity
everywhere pervade.
Who will not admit that this is the most proper place
for an insane person 2 We do not say, that death never enters
the Hospital; but we do say that everything is done for the
patients which human agency can effect. INCEPTOR.

To e

FALSE one! I cannot speak thy name,

Still, still too dear to me;
Though not the conscious glow of shame,
Which lights my cheek for thee,
Can blot thine image from my heart,
Or bid the phantom hope depart.
Though I have shun'd thee since the hour
My thoughts were known to thee,
Still I am fettered by a power
From which l cannot flee:
And yet my spirit will not bow
Unto the stroke which rends it now.

To thee I was the soul of truth,

To thee my heart was given;
But thou hast scorned my guileless youth,
And from this bosom driven
The #. thy hand had planted there,
And I have reap'd the #.".
 FREDERIC TRIFLER. 183

What though my eye remains unwet,

And outwardly I smile 2
Yet my lone heart is desolate,
From pleasure an exile;
And, like a wanderer, I explore
The path which ne'er can know me more.
'T is vain to hope where hope is lost,
Or wither'd, like the flower
Exposed to an untimely frost
Beneath the tempest's power;
And so the breast may feel a chill
As deadly, though it may not kill.
Farewell! farewell! thou art forgiven,
Though thou hast wronged me; still
Thy vow is registered in heaven—
And thou must wait His will,
Whose sentence is, ‘what ye have sown
That shall ye reap before my throne.’ X.

MR. Essayist—Frederic Trifler, is a person with whom all

the town is acquainted, but whose true character few know.
He is quite pleasant in his appearance; and his face is what
the ladies call pretty. He is a good dancer, a genteel pedes
trian, an interesting and talkative beau—in fine, he is such a
person as is apt to win the affections of a lady, and with whom
a female, so far as appearances are concerned, would desire to
be united. He has several good qualities; but he has one bad
one which dims the mirror in which all the rest are discovered.
Fond of sporting with that delicately-strung organ, the
female heart, he pays attentions to a lady until he winds
himself round it, like the subtle, wreathing snake around the
stalk of the lilly, causing it first to bend, then to break, next
to wither, and last to die.
For instance, he places his cunning eye upon Miss Sophro
nia Sensitive ; and immediately insinuates himself into her
company. He soon offers himself to her for a husband; and
perhaps without sufficient thought upon so important a sub
ject, she accepts his offer. A little time elapses, when she
receives a note similar to the following: -

ONce LovEd SoPHRoNIA—I am obliged thus to address you, as I have

given my heart to another. I have this moment sent a letter offering
myself to a young lady, whose beauty is only superior to yours, as the
diamond to the pearl. You see by this, then, that we need have no more
intercourse, as it will avail nothing.
I would request some of your correspondents to propose
measures for checking this villanous conduct. Q
 184 A TRiP EASTWARD.

A TRIP EASTw ARD.

(From the Diary of an Observer.)
M A I N E.

THE short voyage from St. John's to Eastport was very

agreeable, as we embarked about sunset with a gentle but
auspicious breeze. On coming upon deck the succeeding
morning, we were particularly struck with the peculiar ap
pearance of the sun, it being of a pale green color, and having
two or three opaque spots on its disk. But our attention was
soon diverted from the most brilliant of natural objects, to a
specimen of one of the most interesting varieties of the human
species. * -

Far away to our right, and just visible through the fog, we
descried a party of Indians shooting the porpoises as they
gambolled near their canoes. This novel kind of hunting is
pursued to a considerable extent, and with surprising expert
ness, by these sons of the forest. The flesh of the animal
furnishes their food, and the oil with which it abounds is very
saleable.
Two of our fellow passengers, being desirous of reaching
their destination as early as possible, halloed to their red
brethren, with the hope of inducing them to transport them
to the desired haven. For a long time, however, their vocal
powers were strained in vain. But, at length, one canoe sep
arated from the rest, and perceptibly approached our packet;
and in a few moments she came along side. The canoe was
perfectly new, and, to all appearance, as frail as beautiful.
Its proprietor was clad in a loose cloth dress, having a silver
crucifix on his neck, and two muskets, a powder horn, spear
and cap, beside him. When offered nine shillings if he would
row them to Eastport, he replied—‘Brother, me catch um
more —meaning his game would prove more profitable.
Finally, he agreed to perform the voyage for two dollars.
When all was ready, he plied his oar, and his light and fragile
bark bounded over the waves like a dolphin, and was soon
lost to view. -

He seemed quite affable and civilized; indeed, the squad of

Indians to which he belongs is wholly civilized, and they are
all Catholics, inhabiting a pleasant cape a few miles from
Eastport, called point Pleasant. This small band, like most
of the remnants of the ‘lion race,’ retain few of the traits of
genuine Indian character. Their contiguity with the whites
induces dissipated habits, and greatly accelerates the approach
of that period when they will become wholly extinct.
 A TRiP EASTWARD. 185

The entrance into the harbor of Eastport is quite pictur

esque. The water seemed boiling under us, so numerous are
the currents. Above the steeples and high roofs of the town,
the American flag floated gaily in the breeze, “not a stripe
diminished nor a single star obscured,’ and formed no unpleas
ant object to yankee eyes—especially after our sojourn in the
Provinces. -

In crossing the ferry from Eastport to Lubec, we saw a

singular rock, which stands like a pillar on the shore, and
which it requires no great effort of imagination to transform
into a hermit standing at the entrance of his cell to enjoy the
sea breeze. Hence its very appropriate name—‘Old Friar.”
At Lubec a mine has been recently discovered. The ore
contains lead, copper and some silver, and in its native state
is valued at two hundred dollars per ton. It promises to be
a source of wealth to the township. -

Among the many objects of interest at Portland, is its meat

and well-located burying ground. Here repose the three
officers who fell in the engagement between the Enterprise
and Boxer. They are, L. K. Waters, midshipman of the Boxer,
who received a wound which ultimately caused his death,
Sept. 25th, 1813—(a tablet, with a suitable inscription, was
erected by the young men of Portland); William Burrows,
commander of the Enterprise, aged 28 years—(his monument
was raised by a stranger); and Capt. S. Blithe, commander
of the Boxer. -

The view of these three graves forms a subject of reflection

too striking not to arrest the thoughts. There lie, side by
side, three men, in life enemies. The same principle ani
mated their breasts, alike they burned with the ardor of the
contest and the hope of victory, and ‘in death laid low they
rest together.
The rocky coast and immense woodlands which character
ize the eastern portion of our country, have caused us, almost
habitually, to regard it as deficient in attractiveness. This
sentimént is just only as respects those portions of forest.
land which lie half-cleared, or exhibiting the desolate and
blackened remnants of extensive burnings.
The interest excited by the present condition of Maine,
arises from the fact that its internal resources are continually
augmenting, both in number and productiveness.
Of these resources, by far the most extensive and promising
are the almost interminable forests, which, far from being
exhausted, are to a considerable extent unexplored.
The timber thus afforded forms the staple article of trade;
and this trade involves a much greater risk than at first
1 S6 LOVE OF COUNTRY.

might be imagined. The constant and assiduous labors of

overseers are requisite to counteract the trespassing which
is continually going on, notwithstanding the penalties of the
law are great and rigidly enforced.
In this connection we cannot but percieve what an immense
advantage is derived from the Kennebec river. Without it,
this mine of wealth would, to a great degree, be unproductive.
It beautifies the state, and forms a medium of communication
which no art can rival. The Kennebec is one hundred and
seventy miles long, and rises in a remarkable lake called
Moosehead Lake, which is seventy miles long, and from ten to
forty wide. The banks of the river are adorned with beautiful
towns and villages, and upon its waters, at the proper seasons,
may be seen hundreds of logs rafting down, and numerous small
craft; and one or two steamboats (too ordinary it must be
confessed) ply between the principal towns.
Possessing such natural advantages, it is certainly reason
able to anticipate the rapid growth of Maine. A proper spirit
among the inhabitants seems all that is requisite; and this
is evidently at work in the more thickly settled parts of the
state. But in the country there is less enterprise, chiefly
owing to the superabundance of land in proportion to the
population; and the good people are too well satisfied to
compromise with true prudence and industry, and to stuff an
old hat or petticoat into the broken pane, and to let the shat
tered barn fall gradually, but surely, to ruins.
A generation of hardy and industrious men, and the total
abolishment of the intemperate habits which at present pre
wail, (though in this respect there has been a decided im
provement within a few years,) seem to be the chief means
by which the resources of this state are to be developed, the
river navigation improved, the stumps, which deform the fields,
to be cleared away, and the whole face of the country more
thoroughly fertilized. RAMBLER.

LovE of Country.

ExILED from his native land, man always sighs to retrace

his wanderings thence, and there to end his weary pilgrim
age. Be he high or low, rich or poor, bond or free, one
thrilling emotion of love for country pervades his soul. Of
the land of dreariness and desolation, as well as that of waving
fields and fruitful harvests; of the frozen legions of Green
land and the torrid wastes of Africa, as well as the bright vale
 LOWE OF COUNTRY. 187

of Europe and America; their sons and citizens think, and

upon them they gaze with feelings of the most ardent affec
tion. Though there scarce remains a trace of loved objects
with which he was once familiar, and though friend after
friend has departed to the silent tomb, severing the silken
chains which bind the soul to earth; the man, long resident
in foreign abodes, still with sadness thinks of the time when
he exclaimed in the words of poesy, “My native land, good
night”; and burns to sing for a joyful return thither a grateful
hymn of praise.
But whence is this attachment 2 Are there no ties more close
ly knit around the heart, no chords whose vibrations are most
quick, and whose sweet and gentle music sends through the
soul a thrill of intenser emotion ? Watch the operations of
his mind, who “remote, unfriended,” and alone, turns to
wards his native land his wistful eye. At the mention of his
country's name, his thoughts fly over extended lands and
oceans, unimpeded by lofty mountains, unattracted by nature's
ornaments, leaving the sublime, the grand and the beautiful
without a passing notice. As they draw nearer her shores,
the mental eye is directed with earnest look to see the hori
son's dim outline first broken by the distant blue. Soon they
arrive; soon the beloved soil is traversed from one boundary
to another, and noticed in every part. But swift as the dove
to Noah's ark, so to one narrow spot, the thoughts pursue
their flight; and there they hover, looking at every object
and scanning every face. Shortly, however, forgetting all
else, they gather, like the solar beams tending to a focus,
upon one loved mansion. They enter it, and extatic and
unquenchable emotions rise within the soul. There they em
brace the father they reverence, who guided them in youth
by his sage counsels, there they are welcomed by the fond
mother, who watched their infant, days, whose memory has
ever since clung to them, and whose picture has ever been
deeply engraven upon the heart. Brothers and sisters cluster
around, to give the cordial greeting and to gaze upon the re
turned wanderer with fond affection. It was in this abode
the man began existence. It was here that light first dawned
upon the eye; the air of life was first inhaled; and the melo
dy of a mother's soothing voice first broke upon the deafness
of the ear. It was here the soul began to think, to act, to
live. Here were instilled the first rays of knowledge. Here
were spent the bright rosy hours of younger days, full of hi
larity and mirth, and freed from every corroding care. Here
were the companions of youth; here were cherished the day
 188 LOVE OF COUNTRY.

dreams of future happiness and glory. Here, too, as age ad

vanced, the mental vision enlarged, the capacities of the soul
multiplied, and the objects and ends of life were first discern
ed. Home ! It has been the subject of the poet's song, the
painter's pencil, and the musician's harp. Its picture is stamp
ed upon every soul, indelible as the marble inscription, and
lasting as life. Home, -

“Where ere man roams, whatever lands to see,

His heart, untravelled, fondly turns thee.’
Since, then, every association of early life is connected with
home, and every object so connected is endeared to the
heart, the patriot's bosom warms with his country's love. In
proportion, too, as an object is united with home, it engages
his affections. Home is first the paternal roof; and then it
is the social circle. This is included by the community and
state, which are themselves embraced by the body politic.
Such is the commencement and origin of love of country.
This love is enhanced by a familiarity with her laws, an
attachment to her manners and customs, an interest in her
institutions and her glorious exploits. The patriot's ‘first,
best country, ever is at home.” She is the standard by which
he judges of foreign climes and nations. Incited by this sa
cred principle of love, he rouses his powers and energies,
and raises himself to usefulness and esteem. The patriot,
who sees his country threatened by foreign foes, or distracted
with internal commotions, actuated by a fond regard for her,
enlists in her cause. Is he a warrior 2 he fights her battles;
for her he sheds his blood, for her he dies. Is he a states
man 2 with keenness he watches the movements of surround
ing nations, that for her he may frame councils of wisdom,
which shall ward off every deadly blow. He pleads her inter
ests with the earnest eloquence of love and zeal. Whatever
he be, with her he stands or falls. For her he spends, and
is willing to be spent. Her institutions he supports, her laws
he loves, her welfare he seeks, and her renown he desires to
promote.
To Americans, what theme is more cheering than the praise
of the land they love . As the sun first purples, then gilds the
eastern horizon, then mounts aloft on his majestic course,
‘rejoicing as a strong man to run a race,’ and diffusing his
glories with ardent blaze, so America, emerging from obscu
rity, has risen higher with passing years, and shone brighter
and brighter until the present moment. Arising too, at a
period when Europe was herself removing the superstitions
 º

Associations 1N PRovidence, R. I. 189

of the dark ages, and was bringing the light of the glorious
reformation to drive error from her secret corners. America
has outstripped the mother countries in the pursuit of liber
ty-has become a beacon to the world, portending emanci
pation from the slavery of despotism,_and with distinction
takes her seat among the nations. These intently view her
lofty and commanding eminence, and burn with ardor to ſol
low in her train. Her fame has gone abroad into all the
world. Her name and her flag are a passport to every clime,
and are greeted by every people. The fountains of knowl
edge, scattered over her territories, enlighten the minds of
all her children. Peace and prosperity reign within and
around her borders. Her course is still onward. Her influ
ence on the destiny of man is to be predominant. She is to
take the lead, not only in the glorious march of freedom, in
which nations are already marshalling under her banner, but
also in advancing the great moral interests of mankind.
Justly proud of his country, let every American watch that
her escutcheon be free from every stain. Prompted by her
love, and aroused to new zeal in her cause, let him seek to
increase her glory; let him elevate her character, by his own
patriotic deeds, his own virtues, his own example. Let him
fix his eye upon his country's polar star, immortal Washing
ton, and turning toward all the shining constellations of wor
* thies, which have arisen to bespangle the firmament of her
heaven, let him follow in their luminous path. Then, eleva
ted above all grovelling aims and partizan contentions, and
adorned with the greatness of soul, and the fervent piety of
his ancestors, he shall rise with the eagle of America, upon
bolder wing, and shall only cease his flight to repose with her
upon the sun, the glorious fountain of light, the summit of
the universe. W. Y.

Extract from a recent Letter to the Editor.

Associations For MUTUAL IMPRovement IN PRovidence, R. I.

THE Franklin Society stands at the head of the list. It
has about thirty members, who evince a very honorable ambi
tion to become respectable in scientific attainments, and are
generally very respectable as literary men. During the past
winter, an acceptable course of lectures was delivered to
about three hundred auditors. The society possesses a val
uable philosophical apparatus, a cabinet of natural and arti
WOL. I...N.O. VI. 24
190 Associations IN PROvIDENCE, R. 1.
ficial curiosities of considerable value, and a small library.
The legislature of the state recently passed an act author
izing the society to raise five thousand dollars by lottery, by
which its means of usefulness have been much increased.
The Westminster Debating Society comes next in order.
Its energies are devoted to the improvement of its members
in composition and elocution, many of whom have obtained
much benefit from attending the exercises of the society. It
has thirty active members, who have attempted the establish
ment of a library and cabinet, but have only succeeded in lay
ing the foundation. It has been in existence about five
years, and if conducted as it has been, will long continue to
be useful. Four members are appointed to speak once each
on every question, after which the debate is free for all pres
ent. One week's notice is given of duty to speak. The ques
tions are selected from a list presented by a committee ap
pointed at each quarterly meeting. Every member in his turn
is required to read an original essay. Lectures are occasion
ally given voluntarily on the part of members. None but
members are admitted to the regular meetings, which are held
on Tuesday evenings throughout the year.
There is a society whose name the following letters ex
press: T. R. I. A. O. E. A. O. F. sometimes called the T. R. I.
or the Odd Fellows. Its object is similar to that of the foregoing,
but I believe not so well effected. It has a large number of
members, or is said to have, who meet rather for amusement
than for any other purpose, though questions are discussed,
and other literary exercises performed.
The Providence Association of Mechanics and Manufac
turers, has recently completed its 45th year; a very respecta
ble body, but making no pretensions to literature. Of late, .
occasional lectures have been delivered by several of the
members, and an attempt is now making by the younger mem
bers to obtain an appropriation of five hundred dollars to
procure sufficient apparatus for the elucidation of popular
subjects. With what success this attempt will meet, a few
days will determine.” The Association has a fund of five
thousand dollars, and a respectable library.
The Providence Library Association has for some time past
been in a state of lethargy, but is awakening, and erecting a
stone building for its books. The number I do not know,
but am told the collection is somewhat extensive.

*Since this account was received, we have learned that this sum was
obtained.—ED.
 LOVE MELANCHOLY. * 191

The Providence Athenaeum has recently commenced oper

ations, and has now collected about two thousand volumes,
many of them valuable. Its stock is divided into shares of
twenty-five dollars each, and has about six thousand dollars
subscribed. D.

LovE MELANcholy....No. I.

By Democritus, Jr.—abridged for the Essayist by Franklin, Jr.

P. R. E. F. A. C. E.

THERE will not be wanting, I presume, one or other that

will much discommend some parts of this Treatise of Love
Melancholy, and object, that it is too light for a divine, too
comical a subject to speak of love symptoms, too fantastical,
and fit alone for a wanton poet, a feeling young lovesick gal
lant, an effeminate courtier, or some such idle person. And
’t is true, they say: for, by the folly of men, it is so come to
pass, the very name of love is odious to chaster ears; and
therefore some again, out of an affected gravity, will dislike
all for the name sake before they read a word; and seem to
be angry that their ears are violated with such obscene speech
es, that so they may be admired for grave philosophers, and
staid carriage. They cannot abide to hear talk of love toys,
or amorous discourses: and yet in their cogitations, they are
all out as bad, if not worse than others. But let these cavil
lers and counterfeit Catos know, that, as lord John answered
the queen, an old, grave, discreet man is fittest to discourse
of love matters, because he hath likely more experience,
observed more, hath a more staid judgment, can better dis
cern, resolve, discuss, advise, give better cautions, and more
solid precepts, better inform his auditors on such a subject,
and, by reason of his riper years, sooner divert. Besides, love
is a species of melancholy, and a necessary part of this my
treatise, which I may not omit, and I must and will perform
my task. And that short excuse of Mercerus, for his edition
of Aristaenetus, shall be mine ; ‘If I have spent my time ill
to write, let them not be so idle as to read.” But I am
persuaded it is not so ill spent ; I ought not to excuse or
repent myself of this subject, on which many grave and worthy
men have written whole volumes. Cadmus Milesius wrote
fourteen books of love; and why should I be ashamed to
write an epistle in favor of young men, on this subject. Plat'
192 - LOVE MELANCHOLY.

was reproved without cause for writing on love matters; for

all love is honest and good, and they are worthy to be loved
that speak well of love. Being to speak of this admirable
affection of love, says Walleirola, “there lies open a vast and
philosophical field to my discourse, by which many lovers be
come mad ; let me leave my more serious meditations, wan
der in these philosophical fields, and look into those pleasant
groves of the Muses, where, with unspeakable variety of flow
ers, we may make garlands to ourselves, not to adorn us only,
but with their pleasant smell and juice to nourish our souls,
and fill our minds desirous of knowledge.’ The comical poet
made it his only care and sole study, to please the people,
tickle the ear, and to delight; but my earnest intent is as
much to profit as to please: and these my writings, I hope,
shall take like gilt pills, which are so composed, as well
to tempt the appetite, and deceive the palate, as to help and
medicinally work upon the whole body : my lines shall not
only recreate, but rectify the mind. - -

And thus much I have thought good to say by way of

preface, lest any man should blame in me lightness, wanton
ness, rashness, in speaking of love cases, enticements, symp
toms, remedies, lawful and unlawful loves; and lust itself. “I
speak it only to tax and deter others from it; not to teach, but
to show the vanities and fopperies of this heroical or Hercule
an love, and to apply remedies unto it. I beseech thee, good
reader, not to mistake me, or misconstrue what is here written.
'T is a comical subject: in sober sadness I crave pardon for
what is amiss, and desire thee to suspend thy judgment, wink
at small faults, or to be silent at least; but if thou likest, speak
well of it, and wish me good success.
I am resolved, in the Olympics, with those CEliesian wrest
lers in Philostratus, boldly to show myself in this common
stage, and in this tragi-comedy of love, to act several parts,
some satirically, some comically, some in a mixed tone, as the
subject I have in hand gives occasion, and present scene shall
require, or offer itself.
\
 ESSAYIST ROOM. 193

Ess Ay Is T Roo M.

FIRsT Book of THE FINE AND Us EFUL ARTs, for the use of Schools and
Lyceums—compiled by Märshall S. Perry, M. D. Boston, Carter and Hen
dee. 12mo. pp. 126.
WE think a work of this character is called for at the pre
sent time. Besides the valuable information it affords to the
young student, it is well calculated to incite a deep interest
in the study of the fine and useful arts, and thereby lead to
the perusal of more elaborate treatises. It also meets the
wants of those classes of the community who have not time
to read, or are not able to purchase, expensive books on the
various arts, as the series will probably furnish all the infor
mation that is absolutely necessary in the common walks of
life. It seems to be compiled with good judgment; and we
do not hesitate to recommend it as affording, at a cheap rate,
an amount of knowledge of the arts which every citizen ought
to possess.

AN ADDREss delivered before the Teachers of the Hancock Sunday School,

March, 1832. By the Superintendent. Boston, 1832, 12mo, pp. 24.
We always feel gratified in having an opportunity to
peruse a production, of any description, written by a business
man. Though it may not bear the marks of extensive schol
arship, yet it may contain practical truths far more valuable
than the mere speculations of the man of learning, who has
had comparatively little experience in the active concerns of
life. A studious mind in the business world, is not only fitted
for active duties which no other mind can perform, but pos
sesses pre-eminent advantages for becoming well disci
plined, and qualified to decide upon the practicability of the
theories of the learned. It is difficult for a business student
to become a finished writer; but whatever his qualifications
in this respect may be, his practical knowledge cannot fail to
fit him for extensive usefulness, both in the intellectual and
moral world. -

These remarks apply, in a particular manner, to religious

knowledge. Who is so well qualified to ascertain the truth
or falsehood of a religious principle, as the man who mingles
with the world, and watches its effects on different minds under
the various circumstances which affect the actions of men 2
and who possesses so many advantages for learning the best
method of communicating religious information to the human
understanding The divine may point to the sun of religious
 194 ESSAYIST ROOM.

knowledge, which shines upon this portion of the universe of

God, feeling and believing that it is a luminary of heaven;
but who is so well able to judge of its efficiency in dispelling
those clouds which darken the intellect, and occasion the cor
ruption of the heart, as the man to whose feet it has been a
light and to whose path it has been a lamp, amid the thousand
shifting scenes of active life? -

The writer of the pamphlet before us, is well known as a

bookseller and publisher in this city. It seems to have been
written somewhat in haste, as there are several trifling faults
in style, which the author might doubtless have avoided if he
had devoted a little more attention to this department of his
composition. But, as a whole, the Address exhibits a well
informed mind, and a feeling of benevolence which could
spring only from a heart imbued with the spirit of christianity.
We rejoice to see such young men volunteer their efforts to
guide the youth of our country in the green paths of wisdom.
It bespeaks a noble spirit, which we trust will continue to
awaken in the bosoms of our young men, until the present
popular standard of excellence among a large portion of them,
shall be universally looked upon as being what it is in reality
—a narrow, degraded standard, unworthy of the aspirations
of a mortal, to say nothing of an immortal mind.
The following passage shows a practical knowledge of the
results of a serious study of the Bible:
“But in that preparation, that study and investigation which the teacher
gives to Holy Writ, we discover gradually the mind developing itself;
the faculties are called into exercise, the sentiment and taste become re
fined and elevated, and the character assumes a new aspect. He is
breaking through the mist that had gathered around him, and his mind,
though it had become dimmed, now starts forth afresh. The book of
revealed truth leads him to other studies, and science and natural religion
claim his attention, and he soon becomes interested in his researches, and
enjoys that mental happiness which raises him in the scale of being, and
enables him to dispense more readily to others that knowledge which is
becoming so precious to himself. How many who began in these insti
tutions with minds no way distinguished, have found their capacities
enlarged, and developed important traits of character by the simple pre
paration of their Sunday lesson. Thus nourished and strengthened, the
mind gradually gains in mental and moral power.’
It may be thought that we have wandered from our sphere,
in thus noticing a religious pamphlet. If any apology is
necessary, we need only to say, that we deem the circum
stance of the writer's being a respectable business as well as
a young man, sufficient to render the foregoing remarks ap
propriate to our Magazine.
 ESSAYIST ROOM. 195

Poems of Miss Hannah F. Gould. Boston, Hilliard, Gray, Little & Wilkins,
1832. pp. 174.
The poetry of Miss Gould is so well known to the public
that we deem it unnecessary to offer any mere general re
marks on the work before us; especially as we intend soon
to give a particular notice of all our female writers in the po
etical department. Still we cannot but express the gratifi
cation we received from the perusal of many of these poems,
together with our hope that the book will meet with an ex
tensive sale. We shall extract one of her imitations of the
Scottish.
THE s IL L ER P E N.

I tell ye what! twixt frien’ and frien”,

I dinna like the siller pen.
An’, sin my reason ye wad ken,
Tho' odd enough, I’ll gie it. -

It is too perfect—ilka part

1t does, is wi' sic care an’ art,
There's nae a particle o’ heart
Or feelin' gangin wi' it!
'T is nae the siller I despise ;
For poortith loud an’ daily cries;
An’, if I had but mair supplies,
I'd then feel a’ the better.
But, tho’’t wad truly glad my een
To see its bright an’ cheerful sheen,
My purse's hollow sides between,
Ise shun it in the letter

I wad na see the new-born thought,

Laid on the sheet, sae stiff an’ straught,
As if 't were dead, an’ cauld; an' braught
Before me for interment.
I like the gracefu', yieldin nib,
To gang sae careless an' sae glib,
An' shoot my fancies, like a squib,
Just while they're in the fermentſ
An’, whiles (ye ’ve, aiblins, felt the pain,)
I wait upon the tardy brain
For something I can ne'er obtain,
An’ founder'd a' thegether;
I like, if I can do nae mair,
To hae the quill to scrape an' pare,
An' find the faut o” dullness there,
In honest goosie's feather.
For nature's laws maun be obey'd,
An' this is ane she strictly laid
On ilka saul she ever made,
. Down frae our earliest mither:
“Be sel your first an’ greatest care—
Frae a' reproach the darlin’ spare,
An’, ony blame, that she should bear,
Pit off upon anither!’
196 ESSAYIST ROOM

Had nature ta'en a second thought,

A better precept she had taught ;
An' guid instead o’ evil wrought
By those the power possessin'!
For, sel had been pit out o' sight,
The love o' ithers brought to light:
In short, the wrang had a been right,
An' man to man a blessin'! ... *-

Account of THE TRIAL of EUGENE ARAM. First American, from the

eleventh London edition. Boston, B. Franklin Edmands, 1832.

The lovers of stories about murderous catastrophes, will

no doubt meet with uncommon gratification in the perusal
of this narrative. It is said to be genuine, and the ground
work of Bulwer's Eugene Aram. At the end of the pamphlet
is the famous poetical piece entitled, “Dream of Eugene
Aram,” by Thomas Hood, Esq.
Boston LITERARY MAGAzINE. Edited by an Association of Gentlemen.
Boston, Clapp & Hull, 1832. pp. 48.
THE second number of this Magazine is more interesting
and promising than the first. It has the ascendency over
several of the periodicals of the day, from the fact that it is
calculated to exert a good moral influence wherever it is
circulated, as well as to instruct and amuse. We may notice
it more particularly when its editors shall have had more op
portunity to establish its literary character.

New ENGLAND MUSEUM.—This establishment has undergone

a thorough repair since it was partially burnt, and the new
arrangements which have been made, render it better fitted
for the reception of visitors than it was previous to the fire.
The Paintings, alone, with which the Museum is now embel
lished, will constitute a rich entertainment to all who are
disposed to patronize it.
Associations of YouNG MEN.—Being desirous of publishing a list of the
Associations of Young Men in our country, for religious, moral, intellectual or
political purposes, we shall esteem it a favor to be furnished with the names of
any Associations of this class, with which our friends may be acquainted,
together with a brief statement of their objects.
 T H E E ss A Y Is T.
Wol. I. J U LY, 1832. No. VII.

FEMALE AMERICAN LITERATURE.

SoME of our readers may perhaps feel disposed to quarrel

with us at the threshold of our present essay, for undertaking
to discuss a matter not in existence. There is no such thing,
say they, as a female literature in this country—meaning, of
course, a body of original productions from the pens of the
gentle sex, of such quality and such quantity, as both to bear
a character, and to give pledge to the public that such char
acter is settled and sincere, and may be maintained hereafter.
Now, we shall waive an argument on this point. If there is
indeed no such thing, we can have no better apology than
that very fact. It is at least a singular phenomenon; for it
must be acknowledged, there are not many countries in chris
tendom where a similar remark can be justly applied. France
is as highly distinguished by her Sevigné and De Stael, as by
her Woltaire and Rousseau, and far more honorably withal.
Mrs. Montagu's Letters are read with more than the admi
ration of Gray’s. The names of Opie, Moore, Baillie, Howitt,
and Edgeworth, are scarcely less prevalent that those of Camp
bell and Scott; while that of Mrs. Hemans—alone sufficient
to illustrate the land and the age of her birth—how many
myriads of tongues has it dwelt upon ; how many hearts has
it cheered, in city and country, in hut and hall, from our own
‘stern and rock-bound shore” to the green hills of Scotland
and the far-off banks of the Ganges. No such influence has
been exerted—it must be confessed—no such reputation has
been acquired, by an American female. No essay-writer, no
letter-writer, no dramatist—and scarcely a novelist or a poet,
we had almost said—has arisen to maintain the dignity of the
sex, or promote the literary character of their native land.
VOL. I....N.O. VII. 25
198 FEMALE AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Why is it thus? Few will have the hardihood to apply

to our ladies that bigoted and churlish sentiment which
some of the European naturalists have heretofore applied to
the lower orders of American animals. No person whose
own observation entitles his opinion to notice, will deny them
a fair share of the talent which generally characterizes the
sex. The talent, we say. We find ourselves unconsciously, but
constantly, running upon the snags of old moot questions—
but we are resolved to argue nothing. The talent, we repeat,
whatever may be its kind or degree. In several departments
of literature, the ladies have certainly been distinguished;
and we will not undertake to prove that they might not be
in all. In others, especially in essay and epistolary writing,
and in species of poetry, they have been the models and
the admiration of the world. Again, then, why is it otherwise
among ourselves
To be brief, the same circumstances exist to account for
this deficiency which have heretofore operated, in a consid:
erable if not equal degree, to keep back our literature in gen
eral. Some of our men of science, indeed, are well known
abroad; and so are some of our men of sense—our gener
als, statesmen, politicians, and inventors—our Washingtons,
Franklins, Clintons, and Fultons. But ‘who reads an American
book?'—was but too pertinent a question a few years ago, and
not more than one or two writers have recently done much to
remove either the prejudice or the occasion of it. The
cause lies in the political situation of the country, and the
practical character of the people. Nobody has leisure to
read or write, as either reading or writing should be done.
There are no sources of opulent patronage sufficient to induce
the best exertions of genius independently of the market.
That division of labor, so necessary to success in all depart
ments, is hardly yet known in literature. No professed schol
ars or writers can be supported ; and if they are, they must
be scholars in, and writers of, everything; and therefore can
effect comparatively nothing. Now, if such be true of our
male population—if their occupations and taste be so practi
cal, so pressing, so exclusive—how must it be with the other
sex, who have not only to share and sympathize in all these,
but to sustain the additional burthen which belongs, in every
situation, to the sister, mother, and wife. She whose ambition,
or energy, or folly—not listlessness, or leisure, or learning, or
love of writing, as in other countries—leads her to attempt
an author's career among us, must do it half the time at the
expense instead of benefit of her reputation; and always with a
 FEMALE AMERICAN LITERATURE, 19.

nursery overhead, and a kitchen underneath—knitting-needles

in one hand, and frocks for ‘small children’ in the other.
And here we may be asked, Is not this a proper and ne
cessary state of things?—(another obstruction risen to the
surface of the smooth stream we were sailing on)—to which
we should make answer, as we have made a statement of facts,
applicable to our literature at large. It is, to a certain ex
tent, both proper and necessary. It must be so for some time
to come. But it is less so now than it has been, and the ob
jection is growing every day less weighty. Nor even now,
can a general rule be laid down for all ladies, any more
than for all gentlemen. It must depend upon the education,
situation, talent and taste in each particular case.
But most persons will agree that, so far as we undertake
such a thing as female literature at all, the better it is, the
better it must be, both for writers and readers, and especially
for the reputation of the country. What, then, are the best
qualities of a female writer; and what are the departments
in which she may be expected to meet with most success, to
give most pleasure, and to do most good?
We answer—those qualities and those departments whereby
and wherein she may effect an influence over the public
which shall precisely correspond to that personal influence
over her private acquaintance, which it is the peculiar prov
ince, the highest pride of the sex to establish and to extend.
Her means of course must be literary, but let her motive and
aim be a moral one. She must address the head, as the
door-keeper of the heart. Let her faculties of observation
and delineation be exerted to show what society is, while
nature and truth are sedulously held up to illustrate what it
should be. Then let the fascination of genius, like that of
manners, do all that it may, to enforce what it teaches. Let
it appeal, as it knows how to do so irresistibly, to the better
feelings of our nature. Let it wake up honor, humanity,
patriotism, piety, natural affection—the pure and true love of
God, our race, our country, our kindred and ourselves. Such
should be the glory of female literature, because it is, and as
it is, the glory of female life. - -

We had proposed to notice, in the course of this article,

some of the most distinguished of our female writers, and
especially the writers of poetry, but the space we have already
occupied makes it improper to enter into such analysises or
strictures as would do them justice. Of our most volumin
ous poetess, Mrs. Sigourney, our opinion is, that she writes
too much and too fast, though frequently well, and occasion
200 FEMALE AMERICAN LITERATURE.

ally very well. She wants discipline, however, and she also
wants dignity. In a word, she does not set a sufficiently high
estimate on either the science or the art of poetry—to do
which, it is neither necessary to sacrifice the natural feelings
or the sound sense which belong to her intellect. Will any
one charge Mrs. Hemans with such deficiencies; and yet who
has more of the art or the science of poetry. Mrs. Sigourney
does not generally, perhaps in her circumstances connot, do
justice to herself; and, of course, in saying this, we set a
high estimate on her abilities. -

Miss Gould's name occurs to us, because she has just pub
lished a little volume of poems, which happen to lie before
us. She, like Mrs. Sigourney, has the merit of thinking and
feeling well, and she also wants caution and drilling. As ex
tempore poetry alone, hers may be considered highly credita
ble, though rather for what it indicates than for what it is.
Some of her passages have a feminine charm about them,
which delights all readers. Delicacy is her first recommen
dation, and simplicity her second; but she has also humor,
ingenuity, and an unsuspicious, unaffected care of composi
tion which refreshes the reader of more labored and learned
productions, like an odor of new-mown hay, this hot weather,
or a breeze from the ocean. A very good specimen of her
manner is the following little piece which she very probably
wrote in fifteen minutes : -

c U P 1 D's w A R N IN G.
‘Take heed take heed
They will go with speed;
For I've just new-strung my bow !
My quiver is full; and if oft I pull,
Some arrow may hit, you know,
You know, you know,
Some arrow may hit, you know.’
‘Oh! pull away,’
Did the maiden say,
‘For who is the coward to mind
A shaft that's flung by a boy so young,
When both of his eyes are blind,
Are blind, are blind,
When both of his eyes are blind?”
His bow he drew;
And the shafts they flew,
Till the maiden was heard to cry,
‘Oh! take the dart from my aching heart,
Dear Cupid, or else I die -

I die, I die, - -
Dear Cupid, or else I die ' '
 THE cobbleR's GENIUs. 201

He said, and smiled,

‘I am but a child,
And should have no skill to find,
E’en with both my eyes, where the dart now lies;
Then you know, fair maid, I'm blind,
I'm blind, I'm blind,
You know, fair maid, I'm blind l’

THE CoRBLER's GENIUs....No. II.

‘The most subtle reasoning would fail of convincing you,

that circumstances cannot render a man truly great or happy.
I will now give you examples, point out traits in human na
ture, and shew the fallacy of human reasoning and judgment.
Behold ! I felt a numbness seize me; my eyes reeled in their
sockets; I felt a singular kind of dizziness in my head; I lost
all feeling in my extremities, and insensibility gradually spread
all over me; I now felta rattling in my throat, a slight pricking
in my brain, and for an instant I became insensible. My
powers were lost but for an instant, and I found myself in a
neatly furnished room. Every object appeared more distinct
to my view than it had ever done before, but how it could be so,
I knew not. I felt sensible that I was present, but in what man
ner I knew not. I could see every object around me, but could
see nothing of myself, neither could I feel. I was like a thought
turned to a distant home, or a sigh from the heart when absent
from the object of one's love. ‘Observe,” said the genius, who
was still present to my sight, ‘the youth who reclines so list
lessly upon that sofa. Mark what a finely-turned head—it
would be the admiration of a sculptor. See the changes of
his countenance; the glance of his eye; the gradual knitting
of his brows; the enlargement and glowing of the right eye,
and the contraction and scintillation of the left. There is soul
in that ; a glowing fire that could inflame the imagination of a
poet. This youth gives an example of the insufficiency of in
tellectual greatness to render its possessor happy. He was
formed in nature's finest mould ; one faculty is in due propor
tion to another; he possesses a splendid imagination, chasten
ed by correct judgment, deep penetration, quick apprehen
sion, and a powerful command of ideas. But, as is the case
with most of those who possess uncommon genius, he lacks con
centration; so that his splendid powers are of no use to himself
or to the world. Still, if this be a natural defect, which I shall
not say, it might be remedied if he would take pains to restrain