tucky; I think that it has very fine merit. I have known the Author many years, and always regarded him as a man of genius and true inspiration. The people of his State have a right to be proud of him. When I consider the disadvantages that have doubly rested upon him throughout nearly all his life, I cannot but wonder at what he has been able to achieve.

Very respectfully,

GEO. D PRENTICE.

[Copy of a letter received by the publisher from the celebrated and veteran Poet, J. G. WHITTIER]

DEAR SIR:

AMESBURY, 13th October, 1869.

I thank thee for a copy of the beautiful volume of my friend Heady's Poems. Some years ago I read with surprise and admiration the opening poem in the book, in which lie described with almost Miltonic power and pathos his double night of blindness and deafness. I have looked over the long Indian Poem, which, notwithstanding what seems to me an unfortunate rhythmical method, is full of felicitous passages of description and characterisation, which any one in possession of all his senses might well be proud of. The same might be said of the Apocalypse of the Seasons, which rises from quiet pastoral beauty to a lofty hymn of Christian faith and hope. As might be expected, the volume is open to criticism, but I know of nothing in modern literature more remarkable than its production under the circumstances in which its author is placed.

I am, very truly, thy friend,

COPY.

JOHN G. WHITTIER.

[Extracts from a letter, published in the "Virginia Gazette,” written by MRS. MARGARET J. PRESTON, author of "Beechenbrook," and other poems.].

* *

Nothing superior to the volume Seen and Heard, in typography, paper or binding, has ever been issued from any press south of Philadelphia. * * * The Poems Seen and Heard ought not to be arraigned at the bar of ordinary criticism. The knowledge that they are the production of one who is forever shut within that drear domain,

"Where echoless Silence tolls the passing bell

Where shadowless Darkness weaves the shrouding spell,"

as he himself so mournfully describes it in the Poem entitled The Double Night, would, or at least should, drain from the bitterest critical pen all its venom. And even were the contents of the book far less creditable than they are, who would not stretch out in utmost tenderness, a helping and pitying hand to aid the uncertain footsteps of this sad groper through Olympian arcades?

MR. HEADY'S pages abound in such rich imagery, display so much delicate sketching from nature, and manifest an almost Flemish finish in details, that it is hard to persuade oneself that almost since childhood he has been wrapped in "ever-during dark." But Providence has given him a compensation in the possession of

"That inner eye,

Which is the bliss of solitude."

**** Heartily do we commend this volume to the kind appreciation of the reading public. We feel sure that the blind man's exquisite sense of touch must be gratified as he passes his hand over

}

iii

the creamy leaves and handles the rich binding. We hope for him the still higher gratification of a wide circle of most appreciative readers.

* * * * *

Seen and Heard. Poems or the like. Why Mr. Heady allowed the last three words of the title to accompany the other four, we cannot understand; for if his be not poetry, we know not what is: and poetry, too, of a high order. The longest poem in the book is YooNEMSKOTA: An Indian Idyll. It enters as fully into Indian modes of thought and feeling, and speech, as Longfellow's Hiawatha, and is, in our opinion, fully equal to it in everything except perhaps the artistic finish. Nor is it an imitation; for, in the first place, it is written in several different measures; and in the second place, parts of it date back to 1852, which is three or four years earlier than the publication of Hiawatha. ** * * In the Apocalypse of the seasons, at the close of the book, the description of that apparently unpoetical thing - the Reaping Machine-is equal to anything in Thomson. We wish we had space for it; but we must content ourselves with advising our agricultural friends to get the book and read it for themselves. * * * *The book is beautifully gotten up, and will bear comparison with the best productions of the American Press.-Southern Heview.

* * *

*

Yoonemskota follows the Double Night, and is full of many beauties, and written in that style so very rare and beautiful, seldom found, and strange to say, by the "mass" of readers, not appreciated as its truly beautiful rhythm merits. * * * The End of Time is an unparalleled poem, which, in awful sublimity and grandeur, exceeds anything we have ever read. * * * * This collection of poems, taken separately or collectively, is a rare jewel, and should grace the library of every lover of what is really beautiful. * ** The volume is gotten up in the very best style, surpassing in fact anything we have ever seen.-Spencer Journal, Ky.

*

**It is interesting to note what perceptions he still retains from the days when he looked out on the world with youthful eye, not knowing how brief the time allotted him to amass a treasure of fair sights and sounds to serve as his portion of earth's beauty during his life-time to come. It is interesting to note these memories, their vividness, and the skill with which he uses the things which he has once "seen and heard." * * * * We are astonished at the wealth of a memory which is ever ready with life-like pictures, as if the poet had come fresh from the hills and forests of his native Kentucky, to fix the fleeting images on paper.

Yoonemskota, an Indian Idyll, is decidedly the most powerful and original of these poems, both in matter and in form. * * * * * The descriptions of scenery in the poem are everywhere singularly fresh and vivid. For instance, the moon-rise, where we actually see the widening light, the sharp edge suddenly protruding above the peak, and then the full-orbed splendor as the planet disengages herself and hangs clear and round in the sky. So the sunset and the sunrise, with the successive awakening of motion and life among inanimate things, the creatures of the forest, and finally the red men in their lodges. * * * * But Mr. Heady can depict sweet and peaceful scenes as well as savage ferocities, and depicts them too in befittingly musical verse. * We feel no hesitation in pro

*
*

nouncing Mr. Heady a poet of true genius and no mean skill in his art, whose works under any circumstances would attract notice and deserve praise; but which, considering the deprivations under which the author suffers, are little less than wonderful. We should not do entire justice to the book were we to omit to notice the extreme elegance of its dress and general finish, on which the publisher seems to have spared neither care nor cost.-Baltimore Statesman.

** * *

"Seen and Heard," is the title of an elegant volume of poems, * * * * all of which display poetic power, and even if not issued under peculiar circumstances, which lend additional interest, the work would be worth while as one of the best collections of amateur poetry made for some time. The elegance of the paper, typography and binding, are worthy of note.-New York Evening Mail.

*** Mr. Heady's compositions show a great deal of poetical feeling, and profound sensibility to and love of the phenomena of nature, and they are ethically of a transparent purity and sweetness. It is impossible to say how high Mr. Heady would have risen in his chosen path with the use of all his exterior senses. For one deprived of the two chief ones, his powers of imagination, expression and description are very remarkable, and the poetical merit of his compositions very high.—American Publisher and Bookseller, N. Y.

This strangely named volume is the product of a true and remarkable genius. Deprived of sight and hearing when a youth, whatever imagery the poet draws of external nature must come from memory's storehouse, lighted up by fancy's glowing lamp. Hence, "Seen and Heard." And it is surprising how well stored is his memory, and how vividly the poet's fancy paints the many-voiced and ever-varying outer world that has so long been to him as a sealed book. His shorter poems are smooth of verse, pathetic, finely expressive in language and versification. In "Yoonemskota" Mr. Heady shows himself to be a poet of original and varied powers. Here we have the Indians, and their haunts, and their ways of life, the seasons and their phenomena, all the varying aspects of nature, limned with rare freshness, force and fidelity, aglow with striking and highly poetical imagery, and evincing no common mastery of rhythmical harmony and variety of movement. There are scenes or situations in this poem so uncommonly fresh and vivid in conception and handling, as would furnish worthy subjects for the greatest living Painters. * ** * Mr. Heady is certainly no "mute, inglorious Milton." Only one of a very rare order of endowments could have written these poems under similar afflictions. The style in which the volume is brought out reflects high credit upon the publisher.-New Orleans Picayune.

* * **

* * * * These poems exhibit a power of personification equal to that of Shelley, and a delicacy and truthfulness of touch in wordpainting that imparts to their descriptions of nature a life-likeness, reminding us of Keats' Eve of St. Agnes. * * * * * The Apocalypse of the Seasons is a poem that we were charmed with at first sight, and have learned to love more and more with each successive reading, until admiration has become a passion. * The book is appropriately named. For although the poet is blind and deaf, so real are his conceptions that we are constrained to acknowledge he has seen deeper into nature's soul, and heard more of her confidential whispers than ourselves, with eyes and ears open to every sight and sound. He has almost beguiled us of our sympathy for his affliction, and tempted us to covet a glimpse of the glorious worlds of fancy" forever singing as they shine," which has made his "Double Night," "a day supernal."-Baltimore Episcopal Methodist. *** Mr. Heady's privations, which in ordinary men would be regarded as a sufficient reason for inactivity, seem to have stimulated our author to preternatural thirst for knowledge and industry in its acquisition. The result we have in part in the exquisite volume now before us. The art of the printer has fitly set these jewels. No one need fear to purchase lest he should buy pinchbeck for gold, or paste for diamonds. * * ** Those loving true poetry will buy the volume and read for themselves. The enjoyment we guarantee.Lexington Gazette.