The chirography of Mr. Longfellow is remarkably | language. Each tale is perfect in its every part, and good, bold, and with every degree of proportion. The so unlike any of the others that each might bear the signature gives a just conception of the writing. The paternity of any other man of equal genius without man who writes as he does will never send anything detection. The "Murders in the Rue Morgue,” in into the world half finished,-for the glowing richness the way of tracing the effect to its cause, in the palof his fancy could not conceive in abortion. His style pably obscure and shadowy distinctness, are superior is purity itself. There are no extraneous thoughts, no to anything, in the way of a tale, that has ever been embellishments, but all is rigidly simple. His poetry written in America. The "House of Usher" is also rings on the ear like the grand and solemn voice of a grand and sombre building, made up of shadows, the organ. It is not wishy-washy, but strong, vigor- but all of its ontlines are so distinctly seen that these ous and compact,-almost every part alike good, and phantasmagorias may be mistaken for realities. The none but what is of a high order. His "Psalm of intellect of Mr. Poe is of that order which never obLife" is one of the most beautiful compositions in the scures his subject,—but out of the most misty subEnglish language. ject he will make every thing plain,-and from the The letter which I received from him was in the folimpalpable obscure he will give the obscure palpable. lowing words:

PHILADELPHIA, October 5, 1842. MY DEAR SIR, I have just received your kind letter of the 21st ult., and hasten to reply.

(NOTE BY THE EDITOR.-The MSS. of the Toddlebar family had become so disfigured by dampness in this place that it was with difficulty it could be deciphered. In some places the writing had entirely faded, and only a word here and there, and often so far apart that it was impossible at all times to make out the meaning. The words "Spanish Student" are discovered in one place, but the critique of more than a page is entirely obliterated. As I have but little doubt that the MSS. contained a very It is my firm determination to commence the "Penn learned dissertation on the above beautiful poem, the loss of his Magazine" on the first of January next. The diffireflections on this subject is much to be regretted. The "Span-culties which impeded me last year have vanished, ish Student" is certainly a very beautiful composition so far as mere sentiment is concerned, but is a work of very feeble construction and of no dramatic power. Mr. Longfellow is unquestionably a very fine painter, so far as his own individual eye is concerned, but he ever fails to transmute into his writings the individual character of another. All is Longfellow-every echo being only a reverberation from his own voice. His forte is certainly not in dramatic writing.)

and there will be now nothing to prevent success.

in the beginning of the enterprise, is worth five afterwords. My list of subscribers is getting to be quite respectable, although, as yet, I have positively taken no overt steps to procure names.

It is my firm intention to get up such a journal as this country, at least, has never yet seen.

Truly your prend

Edypest Pal

I am to receive an office in the Custom House in this city, which will leave me the greater portion of my time unemployed, while, at the same time, it will afford me a good salary. With this to fall back upon as a certain resource until the Magazine is fairly afloat, The next letter, the seal of which I had the honor of all must go well. After the elections here (2d Tuesbreaking, was one from that remarkable man, Edgar A. day in this month,) I will issue my new prospectuses Poe. He is a sui generis, and in many respects one of and set to work in good earnest. As soon as printed, the most remarkable man in the country. Mr. Poe I will send you some. In the meantime, may I ask was born in Virginia in the year 1811, and was adopt-you to do what you can for me? Every new name, ed by a grand-uncle of his, a Mr. Allen, with whom he quarrelled, and left most abruptly his uncle's roof for the shores of Greece. He was only then in his fifteenth year. By some mishap, instead of landing in Greece, the first place he found himself after leaving home was in St. Petersburg, Russia. How he came there, the fates and himself only know-and how he got back, our Diplomatic Minister can best tell. I have often thought how it was possible (and with this query have often perplexed my brain) for a man to leave the United States, to participate in the glories of the Greek revolution, and immediately find himself, in the high northern latitudes of Russia. If Mr. Edgar A. Poe should devote his leisure hours It was so, however, in the case of Mr. Poe,-and the distinction which he no doubt would have won in the to the cultivation of his poetic genius, there is no man land of Themistocles was baulked by his untimely ar- of the ingredients of a great mind-a poetical fancy in America that would be half his equal. He has all rival in the capital of all the Russias,-the land of Peter the Great. To this strange freak of fortune and a high imagination—not so much as Shelley had American letters have been greatly indebted, how-for, as the great minstrel of Ireland once said, he ever,—for had he landed in Greece, the impetuosity temperament of Poe is subdued his impulses brought had enough to make twenty respectable poets. The of his nature, like that of Byron's from the same causes, down as subjects to his reason, the man has been might have fell under the same influences. swallowed up in the circumstances of his destiny.Nothwithstanding all of these things, there is no man living, be he whom he may, of the high order of genius, half the equal of the author of the beautiful poem of "Lenore." I speak these things advisedly, knowing what I say, and defending what I believe. His powers of analysis are unequalled,—a rare faculty in the mind of a poet-a gifted organization that nature has not thought proper to bestow on the many.

(NOTE BY THE EDITOR.-It will be necessary to mention here, for the better explanation of some of the above passages, that the American vessel which took Mr. Poe out was originally bound for Liverpool, where he himself was to re-ship for Greece. After leaving New York, the captain, he being owner of the cargo himself, changed his direction, and instead of going to the place where he had agreed to land Mr. Poe, sailed directly for St. Petersburg. This is the true version of the affair, and the only one to be relied on, for I have had it myself from the mouth of Edgar A. Poe.)

The one hundred tales of the "Grotesque and the Arabesque" are the most remarkable ever written by one man of any in the English or any other

(NOTE BY THE EDITOR.-The MSS. of the Toddlebar family are so mildewed, that it is impossible to make out in this place the meaning of our author. I have but little doubt but what the literary world has lost every thing that is great and glorious in the

Give me a long letter at your earliest convenience, and believe me, sincerely,

Jou preno

opinions of this celebrated author. I should like to have seen his opinions of the "Raven" and "Ullahana," the two most remarkable poems ever published on this continent. Miss Barrett, who, it is known, is a poetess of some distinction in England, speaks of the Raven" as the most remarkable performance of an American. I beg leave, however, to dissent from her opinion, not from malice, nor for any other thing incompatible with a sheer sense of justice, but from the known fact that she is an old maid, and wishes to marry. Notwithstanding the "Thanatopsis" of Bryant has had a great many admirers like N. P. Willis, 1 am solemnly impressed with the belief, that, since the The Acanthus that entwines its tendrils around days of Shelley, no man, dead or alive, has written a poem of half the artistical merit of Ullahana. Mr. Poe is yet quite a young some Grecian pillar, fallen from a temple dedicaman, comparatively speaking, and should he devote his leisure hours to the worship of Urania, for she seems to be his favorite ted to the Gods, represents, in the greenness of its muse, there is no telling to what high distinction he will arise. foliage, the classic mind of the author of the " Hymns There is no truth in the old idea, and common observation proves to the Gods." He has been a tenant in the wild it, that the imagination decays with the passing away of years. Of the celebrated Bacon, of the epoch of Queen Elizabeth, it is said, woods, he has hunted the Buffalo for a recreation, in his old age, his imagination, instead of becoming weak, increas--and has made himself familiar with the spotted ed in intensity, and, like the glorious sunset, became larger at fawn of the mountains. The chirography of Mr. Pike, its setting. Milton, too, although in his Tracts, his fugitive if not clearly represented in his signature, gives a just writings, he had an inkling for the creed of Mahomet, or that part of it that impresses on the mind a multiplicity of wives, in conception of the uniformity of his writing. No his old age became the most remarkable poet of the world. In man that writes as he does can be devoid of genius, his decrepitude, when it is believed that the faculties are all-and the State of Arkansas should be proud of such decayed, the poetical one especially, blind and infirm, he dictated to his daughter the poem of "Paradise Lost." Dryden, an inhabitant. Such is Albert Pike, the poor boy, who too,-old glorious John, as he was called in the miscalled pseudo, in his wanderings from Santa Fe, to find a foothold commonwealth of England-translated Virgil after he was sixty on the footstool of God's green earth settled himself years old. With these examplars before the mind of Edgar A. Poe, with a genius bright and clear as the noon-tide sun, if he a-down in the wilderness of forest that skirted the wishes to become the Byronian temple at which scorn levels its green banks of the Arkansas river. The idiosyncraarrows, the only thing which he has to do is to despise the opin-cies of his mind are plainly, developed in his chiroions of man, and devote his time to the worship of his own high gonius.)

The next letter which I had the honor of opening, was from the distinguished poet of Arkansas, Albert Pike-the man whom Professor Wilson, (old glorious Christopher North) lauded to the skies. And who is this celebrated Editor of the Edinburgh Miscellany? Although a man of high order of mind, like Sir Walter Scott, he is a dupe of Victoria Regina or Georgius Rex. Mind is independent of place or quality, and he who thinks to make it subservient to these things is reckoning without his host, Albert Pike, in person, is the best representative of the olden gods of whom he has sang of any of whom I have seen and with his form towering above common men, he seems the APOLLO BELVIDERE of the gods. Such is Albert Pike, the poet, and wOULD-BE United States Senator for the glorious State of Arkansas. The letter which I had the honor of receiving from him was in the following words, videlicit :

LITTLE ROCK, MARCH 9, 1840.

MY DEAR SIR-I am happy to inform you that the grief expressed in " Isadore" is entirely imaginative suggested by reflections running through my brain as to what I should do and feel, if I were to lose my dear wife, who, thank God, is spared to smile upon me, in so good health that I have no ground to apprehend she will be taken from me, to leave my pleasant home desolate and my little ones motherless.

I had hoped for your candid opinion of "Isadore," of which, sincerely, 1 have but a poor opinion of my

own.

I wrote a poem once entitled "Ariel." Did it ever meet your eye? It is the best thing I ever wrote, but it was published in a paper of little circulation-and so the world knows naught of it. I would really like to get it republished somewhere. It is somewhat long too.

graphy.

(NOTE BY THE EDITOR.-The MSS. of the Toddlebar family having become defaced by the mildew of that invisible agent called dampness. I take this occasion to assert that Mr. Pike (although of a high order of talents) is not entitled to a crown of poesy. If imagination, as has been contended, is the highest order of poetic temperament, Mr. Pike falls far short of the standard. He is undoubtedly a man of talents, and that of a high order; but I have always had my doubts whether or not the Gods had beseeched to him the divine afflatus.)

I come now to the note of Henry Clay, written with an eye to the discrimination of personal character. This tall son of Anak,-of the F. F. V.,and O God! tell me who are the first families of Virginia!-I know not, and indeed I care not. In 1844, and previous to that, I took no active part in any election, for the great reason that God, in his proper wisdom, had not thought proper, at a proper time, according to the laws and constitution of the United States, to bring me into a world of pain and The letter which I had the honor of resorrow. ceiving from him is "brief as woman's love," and is embodied in the following paragraph, to-wit:

ASHLAND, 13th June, 1844. DEAR SIR,-I take pleasure in complying with the request, made in your letter of the 6th instant, for my autograph.

The idiosyncracies of Mr. Clay's mind are vigor. With these remarks I take leave of Henry Clay, now and forand force of literary style. His chirography com- ever.) prehends clearly all these things. There is depth, breadth, and proportion in his writing. Notwithstanding that he is dubbed the great letter-writer of the United States, he is superior to ridicule, or any of these concomitants. Although he has suffered himself to become the tool of a party, he has too much of genius to remain long in this thraldom. Whatever may be the faults of Henry Clay, he is a man of too high an order of mind to become the dupe of a congregated world. He has, in an eminent degree, boldness and independence of character. In him we find much of the glowing and compact eloquence of a Cicero, with all the daring fancy of the indomitable Demosthenes. Although we shall never "look upon his like again," he is one of the most remarkable men in the annals of our time.

(NOTE BY THE EDITOR.-The humid atmosphere of this great Valley of the Mississipi, has so destroyed the MSS. of the Toddlebar family, that it is impossible to decipher what follows. That Henry Clay is a great man, there is no one so presumptuous as to gainsay. But with all his admirable qualities, he has stooped to the homage of inferior minds, which makes him less in the admiration of the human family than he is justly entitled to.

The insult given to Delia DeSaussare by Henry Leneau, has again seized upon my mind, and I must be gone to revenge her injured manes. In the code of honor, whatever may be its peculiar creed, I am determined to make one mortal account with his blood for the insult given to her remaining friends. Again, I am full of her love, and the one that dares to gainsay my right to the deepest affection of her sainted mind, is the veriest fool that God has ever created. I know that God creates a thousand fools for one sensible man,—and in this he shows his wisdom,-for God never intended the salvation of the many. My old love has come again, and I am the slave of Delia DeSaussare, the maiden sainted in heaven. The next time that you hear from me, my hands will be so deeply involved in blood that nothing I can wash the stains from them. With these remarks, incoherent as they are, dear reader, in the solitude of your mind, be so good as to refer to the next chapter, for many things that will interest you in the same degree that the previous chapters have done. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

MYNHEER JOHANNES SCHMIDT'S TRIP ON THE HARLEM

RAILROAD.

[ORIGINAL.]

READY FOR A START.

MYNHEER JOHANNES SCHMIDT, when at the age after looking through the door-window to see if he generally called of maturity, determined, despite the had forgotten anything, proclaimed himself admonitions of his friends, to visit America. He did visit that land of milk and honey, and-but we'll see what he did while here. Like other distinguished foreigners, he resolved to write a book; and on the morning after his arrival, commenced a terrific tirade upon America and her institutions, and the vice and vanity of the great metropolis, as developed in his ride from the ship to his hotel. The article, if finished, would doubtless have incited a war between Germany and this unfortunate country; but luckily his stock in trade was exhausted before he reached the second page. After ascertaining the best method of examining the internal resourses of the country, which information he gleaned from a young gentleman attached to the steamboat interest on the North River, he concluded to proceed to the magnificent city of Harlem, situated on the river of the same name, about eight miles from New York, and inspect its public buildings and places.

The young man upon the box had apparently been watching with a sick person the previous night, for his eyes were terribly inflamed, his gait feeble and unsteady, his voice incoherent and weak, and his language peculiarly indicative of a disordered mind. In fact he was compelled, after mounting the box, to "go around the corner to the drug store and get some eyewater;" after the application of which he seemed somewhat better, and able to assume the reigns of government.

In half an hour everything being ready, they pre

His young friend volunteered to call a cab to take him to the depot of the railroad, and almost cotem-pared to go. poraneous with his offer the cab drove up to the door. It was not what might be designated a stylish cab, but, as the steamboat devotee remarked, "it was a cab as was made for use, not to look at." Mr. S.,

The cabman and horse, after a long consultation, during which various inducements were held out to the latter to move, without any effect-he merely an swering nay to all propositions-at last came to blows.

With an energy

The horse, being of an amiable disposition, and not But it was only for a moment. wishing to have any words on the subject, very peace-peculiar to strong minds and energetic animals, and ably laid down till the other's wrath should subside, particularly noticeable in eccentric authors and ableand it was only after a violent remonstrance from bodied circus horses, he, like a quadruped Phoenix, three policemen and a continual use of numerous two- rose from the ashes, and signified by actions, rather inch plank, that he was reinstated to his former po- than words, his intention of making a day of it, and sition in society. Suddenly, as if to assure them that proceeding on his journey. But here he calculated he was willing to accede to their wishes, he started without his host. The partially-inebriated gentleman off very rapidly, and after following a track which upon the box, having been at first thrown into a doze might consistently have been laid for the letter Z, by the gentle undulating motion of the cab, was, by managed to check very materially the progress of a the unexpected rencontre with the iron fence, brought cab proceeding in another direction. "They met, to a sense of his " peculiarly perplexing predicament." 'twas in a crowd," and exemplified, pictorially, per With cabman-like instinct, he saw that a check upon his rein would be of no service to him (Louis Philippe had experienced something similar attended with no beneficial results) and he boldly resolved to put his shoulder to the wheel and stop the revolution instanter. No sooner said than done. Before the horse could recover from the shock occasioned by the little emeute between himself and the fence, he seized him by the head, and, while the animal was vigorously persisting in his endeavors to run upon the bank, pena

Without waiting to hear the opinions of the gentlemen in the other cab, though they were personally directed to himself, the cabman applied the lash to his now furious steed, and immediately commenced the Utopian task of annihilating space. Away sped the infuriated beast-onward and still on he kept his course over cobble stones as well as coblers, wooden blocks as well as blockheads, Russ pavement and rusty pavement, till his mission below, like Time's, seemed endless. At last, however, he came to a stand-an apple and confectionary depot on the corner of the Walsh, and Gen. Leslie Conn Van Buren, Mike Combs (we mention all To say that this was all Dutch to Mr. Schmidt would be wrong. names as we are perfectly non-committal in politics), It was all English to him, and the took the stand for a knock-down argument so mate- consequence was he didn't understand a word of it. rially, that the vender presented spoiliation claims to But finding that his remonstrances were of no avail, the driver. His sudden propulsion against an iron he quietly settled himself down in his seat and stoically fence having now effectually stopped his gait, he pre-resolved to bide his time. Mr. Schmidt was unquessented to view a truthful picture of

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