signed it to take charge of "The Washington Banner," published at Alleghany, opposite to Pittsburg. A volume of his poems appeared in Philadelphia in 1840. THE TIMES. Inaction now is crime. The old earth reels In worship foul to Mammon, is contemn'd. Revered as law; and he whose righteous way THE PILGRIM FATHERS. Bold men were they, and true, that pilgrim band, Amid the ancient forests of a land Wild, gloomy, vast, magnificently grand! Friends, country, hallow'd homes they left, to se Tireless in zeal, devotion, labor, hope; Constant in faith; in justice how severe ! JUNE. June, with its roses,-June! The gladdest month of our capricious year, Of the bright leaping waters, as they pass Earth, at her joyous coming, While myriad voices, humming Their welcome song, breathe dreamy music round The overarching sky Weareth a softer tint, a lovelier blue, As if the light of heaven were melting through Hiding the sunshine in their vapory breast, Pour'd by the birds, as o'er their callow young Music heart-born, like that which mothers sing On the warm hill-side, where The sunlight lingers latest, through the grass Crushing the gather'd fruit in playful mood, To the half-ripen'd cherry, as the sun The truant schoolboy looks with longing eyes, The farmer, in his field, Draws the rich mould around the tender maize; An ample harvest, and around his hearth The butterfly, whose life is but an hour, Born for the sunshine and the summer-day, These are thy pictures, June! Brightest of summer-months,-thou month of flowers! First-born of beauty, whose swift-footed hours Dance to the merry tune Of birds, and waters, and the pleasant shout I feel it were not wrong To deem thou art a type of heaven's clime, The flowers-air-beauty-music-all are thine, HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. HARRIET ELIZABETH BEECHER, daughter of Rev. Lyman Beecher, D.D., was born at Litchfield, Connecticut, on the 14th of June, 1812. She was educated at her sister Catharine's school in Hartford, and in the autumn of 1832 removed with her father to Cincinnati, Ohio. Her first publication was the story of Uncle Lot, printed with a different title in Judge Hall's "Monthly Magazine," at Cincinnati, in 1833; in which year also she was married to Rev. Calvin E. Stowe, at that time Professor of Languages and Biblical Literature in Lane Theological Seminary. During her residence in Cincinnati, she became deeply interested in the question of slavery, from seeing many fugitives from the Slave States and hearing from them their tales of suffering. From the date of her first publication, she became a frequent and popular writer in the various periodicals in Cincinnati, Philadelphia, New York, and Boston. In 1849, a collection of her pieces was published by the Harpers, entitled The May Flower, which was much enlarged in a new edition published in 1855,-a collection of tales and essays hardly equalled for ease and naturalness of description, touching narrative, and elevating moral tone. In 1850, Professor Stowe was called to Brunswick College, Maine, and removed thither with his family. The passage of the Fugitive Slave Bill in that year excited Mrs. Stowe to write Uncle Tom's Cabin, or Life among the Lowly, which she wrote with almost miraculous rapidity, under a constant pressure of school and family cares, and frail health,-enough of themselves to tax the most vigorcus intellect to its utmost. This was published in numbers every week, in the "National Era," at Washington; and in 1852 it appeared in book-form from the press of John P. Jewett & Co., of Boston. Its success was wonderful,—such as no other book has ever met with. And richly did it deserve it; for, independent of its being one of the most powerful blows ever aimed at slavery, as well as of its high and pure tone of Christian morality, and its truthfulness throughout to God and humanity, it exhibits such a knowledge of human nature, such powers of description, such heart-stirring pathos, and such richness and beauty of thought and language, as to make it the most remarkable book published in our country. In 1852, Professor Stowe was called to the chair of Biblical Literature in An "By the end of November, 1852, 150,000 copies had been sold in America; and in September of that year the London publishers furnished to one house 10,000 copies per day for about four weeks. We cannot follow it beyond 1852, but at that time more than a million of copies had been sold in England,-probably ten times as many as have been sold of any other work, except the Bible and Prayer-Book. In France, Uncle Tom still covers the shop-windows of the Boulevards, and one publisher alone, Eustace Basba, has sent out five different editions in different forms. Before the end of 1852 it had been translated into Italian, Spanish, Danish, Swedish, Dutch, Flemish, German, Polish, and Magyar. There are two different Dutch translations, and twelve different German ones; and the Italian translation enjoys the honor of the Pope's prohibition. It has been dramatized in twenty different forms, and acted in every capital in Europe and in the free States of America."-Edinburgh Review, April, 1855. dover Theological Seminary. As Uncle Tom had been grossly assailed as giving a too dark and a false view of slavery, Mrs. Stowe published the Key to Uncle Tom, consisting of a collection of facts drawn chiefly from Southern authorities, which more than verified all that she had before depicted. Soon after the publication of the Key, Mrs. Stowe, with her husband and her brother, the Rev. Charles Beecher, went to Europe for her health, where she was received everywhere with the warmest enthusiasm. On her return, she published Sunny Memories of Foreign Lands, being her observations and reflections on what she saw abroad; and in 1855, Dred, or a Tale of the Dismal Swamp. Though not equal to Uncle Tom's Cabin in the unity of the plot, in the simplicity and naturalness of the story, in deep pathos, or in the absorbing interest it excites in the several characters, it contains, nevertheless, many passages of powerful and beautiful writing, and is in advance of its great prototype in the withering scorn and indignant sarcasm with which it holds up before the world that sham religion that puts "sacrifice" before "mercy" and substitutes mere church-going and outward observances for practical righteousness. In the "Atlantic Monthly" for December, 1858, Mrs. Stowe begins a new story, entitled The Minister's Wooing, which has been received with universal favor, and promises to be second only to Uncle Tom,-and that is praise enough. EVA'S DEATH. Eva, after this, declined rapidly: there was no more any doubt of the event; the fondest hope could not be blinded. Her beautiful room was avowedly a sick-room; and Miss Ophelia day and night performed the duties of a nurse, and never did her friends appreciate her value more than in that capacity. With so welltrained a hand and eye, such perfect adroitness and practice in every art which could promote neatness and comfort and keep out of sight every disagreeable incident of sickness,-with such a perfect sense of time, such a clear, untroubled head, such exact accuracy in remembering every prescription and direction of the doctors, she was every thing to St. Clare. They who had shrugged their shoulders at the little peculiarities and setnessesso unlike the careless freedom of Southern manners-acknowledged that now she was the exact person that was wanted. Uncle Tom was much in Eva's room. The child suffered much from nervous restlessness, and it was a relief to her to be carried; and it was Tom's greatest delight to carry her little frail form in his arms, resting on a pillow, now up and down her room, now out into the veranda; and when the fresh seabreezes blew from the lake,—and the child felt freshest in the morning, he would sometimes walk with her under the orange 1 Matthew xii. 7. trees in the garden, or, sitting down in some of their old seats, sing to her their favorite old hymns. Her father often did the same thing; but his frame was slighter, and when he was weary, Eva would say to him, "Oh, papa, let Tom take me. Poor fellow! it pleases him; and you know it's all he can do now, and he wants to do something!" "So do I, Eva!" said her father. "Well, papa, you can do every thing, and are every thing to me. You read to me, you sit up nights; and Tom has only this one thing, and his singing; and I know, too, he does it easier than you can. He carries me so strong!" The desire to do something was not confined to Tom. Every servant in the establishment showed the same feeling, and, in their way, did what they could. But the friend who knew most of Eva's own imaginings and foreshadowings was her faithful bearer, Tom. To him she said what she would not disturb her father by saying. To him she imparted those mysterious intimations which the soul feels as the cords begin to unbind ere it leaves its clay forever. Tom, at last, would not sleep in his room, but lay all night in the outer veranda, ready to rouse at every call. "Uncle Tom, what alive have you taken to sleeping anywhere and everywhere, like a dog, for?" said Miss Ophelia. "I thought you was one of the orderly sort, that liked to lie in bed in a Christian way." "I do, Miss Feely," said Tom, mysteriously. "I do; but "We mustn't speak loud; Mas'r St. Clare won't hear on't; but, Miss Feely, you know there must be somebody watchin' for the bridegroom." "What do you mean, Tom?" "You know it says in Scripture, At midnight there was a great cry made. Behold, the bridegroom cometh.' That's what I'm spectin' now, every night, Miss Feely; and I couldn't sleep out o' hearin', no ways." "Why, Uncle Tom, what makes you think so?" "Miss Eva she talks to me. The Lord, He sends his messenger in the soul. I must be thar, Miss Feely; for when that ar blessed child goes into the kingdom, they'll open the door so wide, we'll all get a look in at the glory, Miss Feely." "Uncle Tom, did Miss Eva say she felt more unwell than usual, to-night?" "No; but she telled me this morning she was coming nearer, -thar's them that tells it to the child, Miss Feely. It's the |