Part 9

Ere yet my glance anatomized aright The insect race that fluttered in my sight, Oft as the mote-like myriads of Broadway I scanned, their trim and bearing to survey, At each third passenger I could not choose But curl my lip, with frequent _pshas!_ and _poohs!_ To mark the vanity, the coarse conceit, That showed the creature's genus to the street. 'Was ever nation like Sienna's vain?'[C] Says father Dante, in sarcastic strain; And in my book-learned ignorance I quoted The line, to fit the follies which I noted. Surely, quoth I, could emptiness and froth And the poor pride of superfinest cloth To more excess be carried than by these Pert, whiskered, insolent Manhattanese? But soon I found how poor a patriot I, 'Twas _mine own countrymen_ I saw go by! Pride in their port, defiance in their gait, I saw these lords of human kind with hate. O, altered race! with hair upon your chins, In your strut Spaniards, Frenchmen in your grins; The 'snob' and shop-keeper but ill concealed By boots of Paris, bright and brazen-heeled, Newmarket coats, and Cashmere's flowery vests, And half Potosi blazing on your breasts, Made up of coxcomb, pugilist, and sot-- Are ye true Englishmen? I know ye not!

With what fierce air, how lion-like a swell, They pace the pavement of the grand hotel; On each new guest with regal stare look down, Or strike him dead with a victorious frown;[D] These are the fools whom I for natives took, Ere I could read their nation in their look; Now wiser grown, I recognize each ass For a true bit of Birmingham's best brass.

In Astor's mansion, where the rich resort, And exiled Britons toss their daily port, And sometimes angels condescend to sip Their balmy hyson with benignant lip, A nook there is to thirsty pilgrims known, But sacred to male animals alone, Where foreign blades receive their morning's whet, As deep almost in juleps as in debt. There from the throng it pleases me at times To pick out subjects for a few odd rhymes. And who could guess, amid this cloud of smoke, That yonder things were hearts of British oak; Or who that knew the country of their birth, Could by the gilding guess the fabric's worth? Come, let us dare these lions to attack, And hang a calf-skin on each recreant back. Some are third cousins of the penny press, Skilful a piquant paragraph to dress; Some in their veins a dash patrician boast-- Them Stülz has banished from their natal coast: Here sits a lecturer, bearing in his mien More glories than he bought at Aberdeen. These are tragedians--wandering stars--and those Some little nobodies no body knows, Manchester men, deep read in calicoes.

Thomas, your soul abominates a quack, Great, small, high, low--the universal pack. And sure our London is a proper place Wherein to study and detest the race. But O, consider in a land like this, Which owns but one distinction, aim, and bliss; One only difference, by all confessed, Betwixt earth's vilest offspring and her best; One sole ambition for the young and old, Divine, omnipotent, eternal gold; Where genius, goodness, head and heart are weighed By the false balance of delusive Trade, How small, how impotent is Truth's defence } Against the strides of that arch-fiend, Pretence, } The time's worst poison, blight, and pestilence! } Here, only here, a bold and honest lie Its full allowance of success will buy. No sanctity of station, age, or name, Can check the Charlatan's audacious aim; 'A self-made man' is here a fav'rite phrase, So self-made talents earn their self-made praise. Whate'er a freeman claims to be, he is; He knows all magic and all mysteries; No matter in what sphere the scoundrel shine, He made himself, and that's a right divine.

Come, then, ye mountebanks of all degrees, New Cagliostros! fly beyond the seas; Fiddlers from Rome, philanthropists from France, Lords of the lyre, the lancet, and the dance; Hydropathists, and mesmerisers, come; Ye who Cremonas and Clementis thrum, Here build your altars, hang your banners out, Laurel yourselves, and your own pæan shout; Assume what little, take what coin you will, Profess all science, arrogate all skill: What though no university enroll Your name and honors on a Latin scroll? Sure each may constitute himself a college, And be himself the warrant of his knowledge. Then at small cost in some gazette obtain Alike an apotheösis and fane: Amid its hallowed columns once enshrined, Converts and worshippers you soon shall find, Buy of the editor--'tis cheap enough-- The sacred incense of his potent puff; The public nose will catch the sweet aroma, Tut! they who advertise need no diploma.

'Good heavens!' methinks I hear my Thomas cry, 'With what a low, derogatory eye You view the beautiful, primeval shore Where first-born forests guard the torrent's roar. What! is there nothing in that lovely land Mid all that's fair, and excellent, and grand, Nothing more worthy of a poet's pen Than sots and rogues and bastard Englishmen?' Patience! philosopher: as yet I dwell In the dull echoes of a tavern-bell; My inspiration is not born of rocks, Nor meads, nor mountains white with snowy flocks; Streets and their sights are all that fire me now To tap the bump ideal of my brow; Mine ears are thrilled not by Niagara's noise, But that of drays and cabs and bawling boys; And scarce the day one quiet hour affords To fit my fancies with harmonious words; Yet oft at evening, when the moon is up, When trees on dew and men on slumber sup, Along the gas-lit rampart of the bay In rhymeful mood as undisturbed I stray, Awhile my present 'whereabout' I lose, And on my loved ones o'er the water muse. Sometimes lulled ocean heaves an orient sigh, Which brings our terrace and its roses nigh; While each Æolian murmur of the sea Seems whispering fragrantly of home and thee; But something soon dispels the pleasing dream, The fire-fly's flash, the night-hawk's whistling scream, Or katydid, complaining in the dark, Or other sound unheard in Regent's Park. For wheresoe'er by night or noon I tread, Thought guides me still, like Ariadne's thread, Through shops and crowds and placard-pasted walls Till on my brain Sleep's filmy finger falls And cuts the filament, with gentle knife, That leads me through this labyrinth of life. I feel it now, the power of the dull god; The verse imperfect halts--Thomas, I nod; 'Tis late--o'er Caurus hangs the northern car; My page is out--and so is your cigar.

T.W.P.

[A] See New-York Police Reports.

[B] Moss. We had always taken this word, so common in New-York, to be pure and choice Manhattanese, and thought our cockney friend was at fault: but on looking up the authorities, we find that one SHAKSPERE, a person of quondam reputation, has used the same word in the same way.

ED. KNICKERBOCKER.

[C] 'Or fu mai Gente si vana come la Sanese?'--DANTE.

[D] A modest line borrowed from Doctor JOHNSON'S 'Irene.'

MEMORIALS.

WHO that surveys this span of earth we press, This speck of life in Time's great wilderness, This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless seas, The past, the future--two eternities, Would sully the bright spot, or leave it bare, When he might build him a proud temple there; A name that long shall hallow all its space, And be each purer soul's high resting-place?

LITERARY NOTICES

TRAVELS IN EGYPT, ARABIA PETREA, AND THE HOLY LAND. By Rev. STEPHEN OLIN, D. D., President of the Wesleyan University. With twelve Illustrations, on Steel. New-York: HARPER AND BROTHERS.

THE descriptions of the Eastern hemisphere, by enlightened American travellers, are the richest contributions to our native literature; and especially the pictures of Western Asia and Egypt, with which the constant perusal of the Bible has already made us familiar. Hence, the principle declared by Dr. OLIN in his preface is undeniable: 'An unexceptionable book of oriental travels is a commentary upon the Bible, whose divine teachings derive from no other source illustrations so pleasing, so popular, and so effective.' This statement is true, not only of the erudite researches made expressly to elucidate the apparent difficulties in the sacred volume, but also of the unpretending notices of the visiter who merely records the objects as they passed before his eyes, and the actual impressions derived from the scenes as he surveyed them. From the first publication of that pioneer work, '_Harmer's Observations_,' through all its successors of the same character, the result has been identical; the evidence has been progressively cumulative, to verify the infallible accuracy of the historical details connected with the scriptural archæology; and to American citizens probably the illustrations of antiquity, especially of Palestine, Egypt, and the intermediate Deserts, are the most acceptable; because our native travellers have none of the prejudices and prepossessions with which almost all the European monarchists, and especially those of Britain, are trammelled; and the anti-Asiatic citizens of this republic inspect the 'modern antiques' of the old countries through a medium of original freshness and simplicity, which give to their narrative a peculiar naïveté and vividness, evidently distinguished from the impressions on the minds of Europeans. The correctness of this position is obvious on all the pages of Dr. OLIN'S interesting volumes; and while he has expressly and designedly excluded all exhibitions of 'critical, philological, and antiquarian learning,' he has yet given us a work which, instead of satiating the desire to know the character of Egypt, Arabia Petrea, and the Holy Land, produces an earnest solicitude for a more extensive and profound acquaintance with those countries, with which all our loftiest mental and devout associations are inseparably conjoined.

It is not an easy task to specify any particular passages which require distinct notice, in volumes where all is so excellently adapted to interest and edify; but we may remark that Dr. OLIN'S disquisition on MOHAMMED ALI is the best article that we have seen on that topic. Every pure sensibility of the heart is awakened, as we peruse the writer's transcript of his emotions and reminiscences while roaming along the Red Sea; as he read the decalogue on Mount Sinai; studied the prophecies concerning Edom at Petra; contemplated 'the cave in the field of Macphelah;' chanted the songs of DAVID at Bethlehem; surveyed the 'Potter's field;' 'fell among thieves' near Jericho; bathed over the ruins of 'Sodom and Gomorrah;' walked in the garden of Gethsemane; and explored 'the city of the great King.' From all those subjects, lucid passages of great pathos and elegance might be cited to recommend Dr. OLIN'S volumes.

The decisively emphatic testimony which he has given to the dignified character and the noble qualifications of _all_ the American Protestant missionaries, is of the highest importance and value, and constitutes a very forcible recommendation of his excellent work to every patriot and philanthropist. It is proper also to add, that the amiable spirit and the expansive benevolence which it every where developes, render it as grateful as it is instructive and refreshing. We cannot, however, better express our judgment of Dr. OLIN'S volumes, than in a sentiment from his own preface: 'Whether considered in reference to the intellectual tastes and habits produced or fostered by this species of reading, or to the doubtful or pernicious character of the lighter literature which it may supersede, every simple and true account of foreign countries, of their physical or moral peculiarities, manners, institutions, and historical monuments, and of their intellectual and economical condition, brings a valuable contribution to the best interests of education, good morals, and public happiness.' Without doubt such will be the benign effects of the work before us, wherever it is introduced. It will both extend very useful knowledge, and exert a most salutary influence among all who peruse it. Therefore we may hope, to adopt again our author's own language, that 'the fruits of his weakness and affliction will promote the cause which is so dear to his heart,' by the circulation of his travels among Bible classes and Sabbath schools, so that his 'highest ambition may be gratified,' and that 'good reward of his labors' be returned to him in ample abundance, for his perennial enjoyment.

A MEMOIR OF THE CONSTRUCTION, COST, AND CAPACITY OF THE CROTON AQUEDUCT: COMPILED FROM OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS: together with an Account of the Civic Celebration of the Completion of the Great Work, etc. By CHARLES KING. In one volume, royal quarto, pp. 306.

Mr. KING, by the production of this elaborate work, has linked his name with one of the most grand and beneficent enterprises of the present century, and the fame of which will be perpetuated so long as the Croton river courses through our streets, or bursts in its freshness from a thousand hydrants, or surges into the serene sky from hundreds of fountains. We can well believe that the extent and variety of research, and the perspicuous collation of relevant facts, which this work exhibits, are the result of a toil which could have been to the author none other than a 'labor of love' for the renown of 'the city of his birth and his affections.' Indeed there is nothing omitted, which could add to the interest or value of the book. A preliminary essay presents us with a cursory but clear and well-arranged examination and description of the chief ancient and modern aqueducts, as well as of the devices for supplying themselves with water, in use among the earliest peoples. The memoir of the Croton Aqueduct is in all respects complete and authentic; and includes, we are glad to perceive, a sketch of the numerous attempts which, from an early day, were made by the citizens of our metropolis to insure a supply of pure and wholesome water. The principal public water-works of other cities and towns of the United States are not forgotten: a general description of them leaves nothing in this regard to be desired. That this excellent record of our crowning glory as a city will attain a wide metropolitan and State circulation, it would be unjust even to doubt; but it should do more; it should be in the hands of the citizens of _other_ cities all over the Union. Emulation of a great local good may thus be stimulated, as well as that just pride of _country_, which every addition to our public enterprises is so well calculated to inspire. The volume, which is printed with great luxury of type and paper, is embellished with a fine steel engraving of the Croton dam, and three or four minor illustrations. The dedication of the book to the people of New-York, and their representatives in the successive Common Councils, is brief, forcible, and in good taste. In short, the work is an honor alike to the city and to the author.

THE ILLUSTRATED EDITION OF THE BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER, AND ADMINISTRATION OF THE SACRAMENTS; and other Rites and Ceremonies of the Church: according to the use of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of America: together with the Psalter, or Psalms of DAVID. Edited by Rev. J. M. WAINWRIGHT, D. D. New-YORK: H. W. HEWET, Publisher.

Six numbers of this exceedingly beautiful publication are before us; and we hazard little in saying, that when completed it will form one of the most elegant volumes of a kindred character that has ever been produced in this country. The whole work will be concluded in twenty semi-monthly numbers, or within six months from the present time. The illustrations consist of vignettes of a beautiful character and design, and of sacred subjects, from the works of the first masters, adapted to the Epistles and Gospels, and the Psalter. That these will be tasteful and appropriate, may be inferred from the fact that their arrangement and adaptation are confided to the capable supervision of the accomplished editor. The greater part of them will be selected from the English edition of the Pictorial Prayer Book; many others, however, will be added from original drawings, prepared expressly for the work, by Mr. J. G. CHAPMAN. Thus far, they have been engraved in a masterly manner, reflecting additional beauty upon the clear letter-press and pure white paper by which the emulous printer is perpetuating the remembrance of his care and skill. 'As an appropriate companion for the work, Dr. WAINWRIGHT will prepare a history of the Liturgy, together with a commentary upon the text and rubrics. This work will be embellished with designs having special reference to the church in this country. It will be comprised in twenty numbers. The whole will form two handsome volumes in royal octavo. Either of these volumes may, however, be taken independently of the other, so arranged as to be bound in a single volume.' The cost of the numbers is but thirty-one cents each! The enterprise has received the warmest eulogiums and recommendations from the entire clergy of New-York and Brooklyn, as well as from the clergy and laymen of other States.

LAYS OF MY HOME, AND OTHER POEMS. By JOHN G. WHITTIER. In one volume, pp. 122. Boston: WILLIAM D. TICKNOR.

WE regard Mr. WHITTIER as one among the very first of our poets. With one or two eminent exceptions, no one of our best writers excels him in the melody of his verse, and the appositeness and beauty of his imagery. There is, moreover, a depth of feeling, an earnestness and ardor, visible in his later writings, which sufficiently distinguish him from the herd who write verse as they would write an advertisement; stimulated, too often it may be, by the same impulse in the one case as in the other. Mr. WHITTIER never sits down with a pen in his hand and a sheet of foolscap before him, to 'pump up a feeling' touching some pliable theme or another, as to the precise nature of which he is either entirely ignorant or quite undecided. How many of our rhymists, miscalled poets, differ from our friend in this! Sitting down with a desperate determination to get up an _afflatus_; to write, and to rhyme, at all events; to secure the requisite number of feet and the required number of necessary lines; is a process of composition which can never result in the production of poetry. A goodly proportion, and the best parts (evidently so deemed by the writer, who has given them the place of honor) of the volume before us appeared originally in the KNICKERBOCKER. Much of the remainder, although not now first published, will be new to many of our readers, to all of whom we cordially commend Friend WHITTIER's neat and tastefully-executed volume.

EDITOR'S TABLE

EARLY WRITINGS OF THE LATE R. C. SANDS: THIRD NOTICE.--Through the continued kindness of the co-member of the 'Literary Confederacy,' of which the lamented SANDS was so bright an ornament, we are enabled to set before our readers another Salmagundi from that gifted writer's facile pen. We have lately touched in these pages upon the character and proceedings of the early Puritans; and as a pleasant illustration of their peculiar views, manners, and customs, we shall venture to select a few passages from '_Salem Witchcraft, an Eastern Tale_,' in which SANDS's love of the ludicrous and the burlesque is forcibly exhibited. The era of the story is that _annus mirabilis_, 1692; the scene the town of Salem, (Mass.,) into which a stranger, mounted on a charger, descended from John of Gaunt's ploughing team, enters at a devout gait. This is FAITHFUL HANDY, an ordained teacher of the Word, who has 'a recommend' from a reverend brother to DELIVERANCE HOBBES; which 'recommend' in some degree superseded the formalities of courtship in those primitive days. Miss HOBBES was no Hebe, if we may judge from this sketch of her person and features, taken as she turned round, while drawing water at a well, to reconnoitre the new comer: 'SHE squinted in the peculiar mode described by the poet, 'when one eye looked up, the other looked down;' and was terribly deformed in her person. Nature, in elaborating this rare article, seemed to have been trying an optical experiment; as if to show, by adapting her crooked figure to a parabolical reflector, how symmetry may be produced from the most hideous and uncouth distortion. Her head, shaped like a broad-axe, was garnished with a tuft of red wool, which 'streamed like a meteor to the troubled air,' and would, if transplanted, like the locks of Berenice, have affrighted the nations, threatening pestilence and war. Her green eyes were set deep in her head, and seemed affected, like the grass, by the hot weather. A huge hawked nose covered half her face. Her ears were set like a dog's in the back of her head; and her broad concave cheeks were rivelled with seams, stigmatized with scars, and riddled with the small-pox. Thin skinny lips, and a Bavarian poke of the chin, completed the nomenclature of her charms; and the rest of her person tallied with her face. Such was the dragon that answered in a shrill voice to the parson's inquiries, 'Yes, Deliverance Hobbes lives here; and I am her daughter Beautiful!' This was confirmed by the apparition of the matron herself; who was the exemplar of her daughter's attractions, except that her own charms had become mellowed by age, and contrary to the usual course of nature, matured into something rather less ghastly and horrible. She seemed to be informed of the purport of her visiter's mission; for her first inquiry was: 'Be you the minister that's got a recommend from Hugh Peters?' Faithful groaned in the spirit, as he replied, he was; and as he entered the house, could not repress an inward ejaculation: 'Hugh Peters had not ought to have did this! The Lord deliver me from Deliverance Hobbes, and the Gorgon, her beautiful daughter!' DELIVERANCE expresses her willingness that the preacher should 'keep company with her daughter Beautiful,' in which the latter acquiesces, with a supernatural leer; whereat the preacher is greatly perturbed. 'She is too bitter ornary!' he exclaims, mentally; and even a plentiful repast of bread, butter, milk, hominy, pork, sweet-meats, pumpkin-pie, and onions, cannot blind him to _that_ fact; hence he makes an excuse to depart for a brief season, to visit his friend Goody MERCY PEABODY, who lives hard by, promising soon to return: