Part 13

'Not that my hair with age is gray, Not that my heart hath yet grown cold, But that remembered friendships say, 'Death loves not best the infirm and old.' As many a bosom knows and feels, Left, in the flower of life, alone, And many an epitaph reveals On the cold monumental stone.'

But the lessons of autumn may partake of a sober gladness as well as of melancholy thoughts; and this is beautifully illustrated by a friend and correspondent, whose _nom de plume_ in the 'New World' cannot divert attention from the characteristics of his style. He too has been looking at the 'glorious autumnal-forest display on the hills,' which were 'bedabbled like a painter's palette.' 'Ah!' he exclaims, 'the frost has done it! And now the outward life of the trees is killed. That beautiful spectacle is Death. Equally lovely does the soul appear when the frost has touched its outer covering. You see what a variety of colors has been produced by the same cause acting upon different natures, for the spiritual life in trees is as various as among men. So it is when our natures are touched by the chills of adversity, or death even; some of us, like the hemlock, will look sad and pale; some, like the wild cherry, will become red and fiery; and others, like those hardy cedars, the good and patient, will retain their primitive greenness and beauty.' * * * THERE is evidently a political or some other conspiracy hatching at this moment in the 'little people's' apartment adjoining our sanctum. Beside the good vrouw's, there are three other female heads together, and one of them belongs to a delegate from the High Priestess of Fashion; and through the two open doors, we can hear, in earnest but broken tones, such exciting words as these: '_White feather_,' '_piece_,' '_piping_,' '_set in all round_,' '_bias_,' '_the skirt_,' '_brought round to the front and fastened_,' '_single bows_,' '_busts_,' '_bugles_,' '_purple_,' '_gore_,' '_when it's made up_,' etc. Now what can all this portend? Putting 'that and that together,' we are led to think that the ladies are about to follow certain sage advice from a _very_ sage quarter, touching the 'rights of women!' These words are doubtless only 'parts of speech'-es to incite to action; fragments, very like, of what runs something in _this_ connection: 'We have shown the 'white feather' long enough! Let us throw away our 'bias' for the gentler virtues, and 'set in all round' for Mr. JOHN NEAL'S paradise of our down-trodden sex! We have been kept on 'the skirt' of society since the days of EVE; it is high time we were 'brought round to the front and fastened' there by public opinion! They think (the 'single beaux' as well as the married men) that we are only fit for 'piping' times of 'peace;' but we will let them know that we are not unfit for war; that we can stand by and see a shell 'bu'st' without winking; that we neither fear 'purple' nor any other 'gore;' and that the blast of an hundred 'bugles' would have no terrors for us. Our resolution, 'when it's made up,' cannot be shaken!' But we _may_ do the ladies (GOD bless them!) injustice. It has just occurred to us, that perhaps after all it may be only the Eleusinian mysteries of millinery and mantuamaking that we are seeking to penetrate. 'Like as not!' * * * WHAT a thoughtful, feeling, truthful poet JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL has become! Not erroneously did we predict, from one of his early poems in the KNICKERBOCKER, 'Threnodia on the Death of an Infant,' that 'to this complexion would he come at last.' Are not these stanzas from '_The Heritage_,' one of Mr. LOWELL'S latest efforts, every way admirable?

'THE rich man's son inherits lands, And piles of brick, and stone, and gold, And he inherits soft, white hands, And tender flesh that fears the cold, Nor dares to wear a garment old: A heritage, it seems to me, One would not care to hold in fee.

'The rich man's son inherits cares; The bank may break, the factory burn, Some breath may burst his bubble shares, And soft, white hands would hardly earn A living that would suit his turn; A heritage, it seems to me, One would not care to hold in fee.

'What does the poor man's son inherit? Stout muscles and a sinewy heart, A hardy frame, a hardier spirit; King of two hands, he does his part In every useful toil and art; A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee.

'What does the poor man's son inherit? Wishes o'erjoyed with humble things, A rank adjudged by toil-worn merit, Content that from employment springs, A heart that in his labor sings; A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee.

'What does the poor man's son inherit? A patience learned by being poor, Courage, if sorrow come, to bear it, A fellow-feeling that is sure To make the outcast bless his door: A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee.

'O, rich man's son, there is a toil That with all others level stands; Large charity doth never soil; But only whitens, soft, white hands; This is the best crop from thy lands. A heritage, it seems to me, Worth being rich to hold in fee.

'O, poor man's son, scorn not thy state, There is worse weariness than thine, In merely being rich and great; Work only makes the soul to shine, And makes rest fragrant and benign: A heritage, it seems to me, Worth being poor to hold in fee.

'Both heirs to some six feet of sod, Are equal in the earth at last; Both children of the same dear God; Prove title to your heirship vast By record of a well-filled past: A heritage, it seems to me, Well worth a life to hold in fee.'

'A TURKEY,' once remarked a huge feeder in our presence, 'is a very _inconvenient_ bird, in p'int of comin' over a man's pocket, and satisfying his stomach. You see, it's too much for _one_, and not enough for _two_!' This is exactly our quandary in relation to the excellent story of our Mississippi correspondent. It makes 'too much for one, and not enough for two' numbers of the KNICKERBOCKER. Beside which, it has 'scene undividable, colloquy unlimited.' We may _try_ hereafter to insert it entire, after the printer shall have 'taken its measure.' If we _do_ print it, however, we shall take the liberty to erase such words as _e'er_, _ne'er_, _o'er_, etc., which have no business in prose. Ellipses like these are for poetry only, and not always felicitously employed, even in verse. 'Clang,' moreover, ('the one only hope to which his heart _clang_,') is a compound fracture of Old PRISCIAN'S skull, which would lay his brain open to day-light, and us to an action for assault and battery. * * * MRS. KIRKLAND ('MARY CLAVERS,') the well-known author of 'A New Home,' 'Forest Life,' etc., has opened a school for young ladies in this city, at 214 Thompson-street, near Fourth. Familiar with the languages of Europe; thoroughly conversant with all the branches of an accomplished English education; of varied experience in society and real life; and possessing, with great kindness of heart and amenity of manner, a rare _instructive tact_; we cannot doubt that our fair correspondent will attract many pupils to her 'new home,' and that more will 'follow.' * * * OUR excellent friend, the historian of Tinnecum, has been passing a few pleasant days on the Hudson, and in the neighborhood of the city of that name; and from his gossipping epistle thence, we shall venture to select a characteristic Daguerreotype-passage, for the entertainment of our readers: 'THE high hills are a refuge for the wild goats, and so are the rocks for the conies. Hills and goats, rocks and conies, are plenty with me, as you shall perceive. _Cras donaberis hædo_, if I can get him out to you. The Lancashire sheep, a long-fleeced breed, come and eat corn out of my hand. I kept my eye on the beautiful blue ranges of the Kaätskills as long as possible, and then delved into this lovely valley. Mountains shut it in on every side, and every night the sun lingers upon their summits, and crowns them with a diadem of fire. Yesterday the whole scene was white as Soracte. As I was going to the cider-mill to get a jug of the sweet juice, my guide stopped to show me the identical spot where a low-spirited man, oh! horrible! cut his own throat. 'What did he do it for?' said I. 'Oh, he was low'n spurruts, wery _cidery_ and wery grunty. The devil was into him.' 'Bad business,' said I, 'this cutting of throats;' yet did you know that a hog always does it, when he swims across a stream, which is no doubt the derivation of _suicide_. The cider was delicious. The mill was in full operation, set in motion by an old blind horse. 'Look!' said my cicerone, with a mysterious whisper, as I was busy at the tub, at the same time directing my attention to the person who was attending at the mill; 'the _son_ of the man who cut his throat!' I gazed in utter astonishment, and endeavored to obtain a 'realizing sense' of the fact. It was _almost_ as good as 'the _fork_ that belonged to the _case-knife_ with which BEAUCHAMPE murdered Colonel SHARPE in Kentucky,' which proved such a rival attraction to a western museum-proprietor.' 'This morning I went into the woods to gather chestnuts, which the hogs having got before devoured them all up. It was the same old story as on the frequented chestnut-grounds about Tinnecum. 'There! I found _one_! There! I found another! Two! three! four! five! six! Oh! oh! _aint_ they plenty!' Then, alas! no more were to be had far or near. I piled them on a little hillock, and calling the attention of a neighboring Berkshire to the pile, had the gratification to see him address himself to their mastication, with evident _goût_.' * * * OUR correspondent who writes upon the '_Manifestation of Mind in Animals_,' and those interested in his able papers upon this theme, will find in the following a very forcible illustration of the correctness of his positions:

'A GENTLEMAN receiving a present of some Florence oil, the flasks were set in his cellar, at the bottom of a shallow box; the oil not being wanted for use, they remained there for some time; when the owner, going one day by chance in the cellar, was surprised to find the wicker-work by which the flasks were stopped, gnawed from the greater part of them, and upon examination the oil sunk about two inches or two and a half from the neck of each flask. It soon occurred to him that it must be the work of some kind of vermin; and being a man of speculative turn, he resolved to satisfy the curiosity raised in his mind. He accordingly found means to watch, and actually detect three rats in the very act; the neck of the flasks were long and narrow; it therefore required some contrivance; one of these stood upon the edge of the box, while another mounting his back, dipped his tail into the neck of the flask, and presented it to a third to lick; they then changed places; the rat which stood uppermost descended, and was accommodated in the same manner with the tail of his companion, till it was his turn to act the porter, and he took his station at the bottom. In this manner the three alternately relieved each other, and banqueted upon the oil till they had sucked it beyond the length of their tails.'

WOULD that our esteemed friend 'POLYGON' could really _know_ how many times we have strenuously endeavoured to gain leisure, from avocations more than usually various and constant, to return, in such poor sort as we might, the gratification we have always derived from his personal correspondence! It is in vain, we fear, that we hope to be able to redeem the past; for 'by-gones,' he must let us talk with him, as we have done, in this desultory 'Gossip' of ours; for the future, Providence permitting, we shall aim to escape even the _appearance_ of indifference or neglect. Will 'J. N. B.,' of W----, New-Hampshire, also bear with us a little?' We have his last missive filed among our '_Notes Payable_;' for there were thoughts in it that touched us nearly. 'L. H. B.,' too, of B----, to whom we have been indebted for many favors, must not infer neglect or indifference from our compulsory silence. 'Say not the words, if you and me is to continual friends, for sech is not the case;' as quoth 'Mrs. GAMP.' We must hope, likewise, that 'W. G.,' of H----t Hill (_how_ of the removal, and _what_ of the old homestead?) and our kind Tinnecum friend, will also look upon the above explanatory card as apologetical (if not satisfactory) for 'short-comings' of which, under other circumstances, they might with good reason complain. * * * IF you are 'i' the vein,' reader, suppose you follow us in a hop-skip-and-jump flitting through the pungent, pithy, punning paragraphs of PUNCH, the '_London_ CHARIVARI,' late arrivals of which garnish our table. Among its 'complaints,' is one against the clock of St. Clement's church, which stands opposite its publication-office in the Strand: 'We are constantly troubled by parties coming into the office to inquire why all the four dials tell a different story, and why every one of them is always wrong. If the clock cannot keep going, let it turn off all its hands, wind up its affairs, and retire at once from public observation; but let it not continue to occupy a high and prominent position, if it is unable to fill it with credit to itself and profit to the community. We have put up with more from this clock than from any other public servant. We thought it might only want time to bring itself round; but finding it will not give us any hour, we will no longer give it any quarter. We expected a meeting of the hands the other day at twelve o'clock, but it did not occur, and things remain in the same uncertainty. We feel justified in calling on the clock for an account of its works; and, if no minutes have been kept, we shall leave the public to judge of the entire matter. Since writing the above, we have been told that it is the hour-hand which refuses to move in the affair, but that the minute-hand is quite ready to second any thing reasonable.' Could any thing be more felicitous than this application of 'suspended payment' terms to the disarrangements of a public time-piece? PUNCH himself had just returned from a trip to Paris. He describes a diligence as 'a post-chaise fastened to a stage-coach before, and a slice of omnibus attached behind, with a worn-out cab mounted aloft;' which we are told is a perfect _portrait_ of this lumbering conveyance. Here is a solution of one 'cause why' the French wear so much hair on their faces: 'The inferiority of French cutlery, especially razors, renders shaving an elaborate process, for which reason it is generally abandoned; and in common with the usual treatment of most things springing from a poor soil, they pay more attention to dressing their crops than cutting them. In fact, they consider all attraction to be capillary.' PUNCH was greatly interested in the 'Egyptian obstacle' in the Place de la Guerre, 'supposed to be CLEOPATRA'S Needle, covered with hieroglyphics, of which the thread is altogether lost!' Among the domestic intelligence, is an account of the raising of fragments of the brig Télémaque, by means of a diving-bell. There were found 'a bit of the binnacle; half a yard of yard-arm; a quarter of the quarter-deck; a hen-roost and a portion of the hatch-way; a part of the cat-head, and an old mouse-trap.' In his brief notices to correspondents, the readers of the 'Charivari' are informed that the editor does not know 'who built BACON'S _Novum Organum_,' nor whether the elephant at the Zoological Gardens has his name in brass-nails on his trunk or not! * * * IN a late number of the Albany '_Northern Light_' monthly journal, there is a very able paper by WILLIS GAYLORD, Esq., based upon a paragraph in the report of the Geological Lectures of Dr. A. SMITH, of this city, from which we take the subjoined extract:

'IT is a well-ascertained fact derived from a known law of centrifugal motion, that were the earth to revolve on its axis once in eighty minutes, as it now does in twenty-four hours, all bodies would lose their weight at the equator; if the revolution was made in a still shorter time, all bodies would fly off, like the drops of water from a rapidly revolving grind-stone. A universal deluge of all the temperate and polar regions would be the result of a stoppage or retardation of the earth's motion. Indeed, the first result would be the deluge of the whole; as the waters of the ocean would obey the impulse already communicated, and sweep over the entire earth from west to east; although it is easy to see that when this first impulse was over, the waters must flow to, and accumulate around the poles. If there _must_ be a philosophical solution given of the existing evidences of a general deluge, can there be one more simple, or which better fulfils all the conditions of such a catastrophe, than the one here alluded to? All solutions must exist more or less on suppositions, and we have only to suppose the earth checked in its orbit from some cause, to produce all the observed phenomena of the deluge.'

Apropos of the 'Northern Light;' it is a journal which we always open with avidity, and from which we seldom fail to derive instruction and pleasure. Mr. STREET discharges his editorial function with ability, and his collaborateurs are men of mark in the scientific and literary world.... WHAT has 'enured' to our esteemed friend and correspondent, the '_Georgia Lawyer_?' There has been 'good exclamation on his Worship' from various quarters of the Union, accompanied by inquiries after his health, and the state of his 'Port-folio.' QUÆRE: Has a Georgia lawyer a legal right to 'set himself up against the will of the people?' Has not the 'party of the second part' the power to set aside a literary _nol. pros._ of that sort? 'By the mass! but we think we may stay him' from keeping all his pleasant thoughts to himself.... WE are glad to learn that our young artist-friend Mr. T. B. READ, formerly of Cincinnati, is meeting with deserved success in Boston, where he has set up his easel. His improvement is very marked. There is at this moment before us a little cabinet-gem of his, which really seems to light up our sanctum. It is the portrait of a young and lovely maiden, whose attention is suddenly arrested as she is about descending a stair:

'She is fresh and she is fair, Glossy is her golden hair; Like a blue spot in the sky Is her clear and loving eye.'