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“the rushing of great rivers The Song of Hiawatha. By Henry Wads

Through their palisades of pine trees,

And the thunder in the mountaius,
Worth Longfellow. Bogue.

Whose innumerable echoes

Flap like eagles in their eyries.”
MR. LONGFELLOW has here done his best
to accomplish for the Indian border-land of

These “ innumerable echoes" are one of America what years ago Walter Scott did for the most marked features in the song. Like our own Scottich border-land. He has given the Hebrew poets, whose verses reply to each it a poetical interest, and sought to link with other in measured cadence, the Indian songit enduring associations. Nor will such a singer never fails to repeat the more emphatic service be a slight one. All future wander- closing lines of every section, varying in ers across those prairies, all who may pene- words. the same in substance. The result is trate the pine forests of the North-western a peculiar and original, and certainly very States, track the course of the Upper Miesis- effective, wildness. sippi, or explore the shore of the Great Lake, There is, however, another peculiarity in will have reason to be grateful to the poet. the poem, which is also as certainly original, Something to complete the charm was absent but hot effective at all. This is the too until now. No tradition linked the present abundant use of Indian words. So far is with the past. No rich imagination, no this carried, that if Mr. Longfellow had warmth or wealth of fancy, bad lighted up wished, in his professional capacity, to give the scene. Travellers, and tourists in Amer- us a course of Ojibway, he could hardly have ica hereafter will owe a debt of honest grati- done more. Nor might we gracefully have tude to the Song of Hiawatha.

declined such a close to the duties of a chair And here at home we have reason to be he has discharged so long with so much grateful. In giving a new life to the far honor. But as English readers and not AmerWest

, Mr. Longfellow has also brought the ican students, we must protest against an spirit of it to our firesides. We get all that introduction of such quantities of miserable, was worth preserving of the Red Man, and harsh, unpleasing, useless words into an may gladly and gratefully consign the rest of English poem. Proper names are admissible. him to extirpation and silence.

Minnehaha (so called after the most sparkThe Song of Hiawatha is a tale of Indian ling of waterfalls), Nokomis, Hiawatha himmythology. Its hero is one who lived, prayed, self, and others – to these we cannot reasontoiled, and fasted for his people's good ; ably object. But to be bored with the Ojibwho was prophet and king, at once a ruler way for “ blue beron," or crawfish," or and a seer, the first of all the “mystery " seagulls,” is quite unnecessary. They add men "; who taught the maize to grow, and no real local truth to the picture. They the weeds to yield their healing virtues ; who weary

and
annoy
the reader.

What possible invented the canoe for the waters, and hunt-object can lines like these serve unless it be ed down the enemies of his race; and who to remind us how Adam named the animals : at last, his mission ended, and his work performed, underwent human loss and sorrow,

“ Saw the wild rice, Mahnomonee,

Saw the blueberry, Moenahga, and faded away in the light of dawning

And the strawberry, Odahmin, Christianity. With this main story are And the gooseberry, Shahbomin, interwoven tradition and legend, descriptions

And the grape vine, the Bemahgut.” of scenery and sketches of life, pathetic, or these : humorous, fanciful, playful, all very fresh and new, and all tinted with the rich color

“ Kago, kago ! do not touch it,

Ah kaween !' said Mudjekeewis." ing of an Indian summer.

The metre of the poem has been boldly Mr. Longfellow must really be persuaded chosen -- but we are not disposed to think to banish from his fifth, or his fiftieth edition, unwisely

. Its unrhymed trochees appear at such specimens of “unknown tongues.” first monotonous and strange ; but as we

Small blemishes are they, however, in a read on we see their meaning and intention volume of so much beauty and tender

grace. better

, and still as we advance they speak to Every page shows us something we would us more and more clearly of

gladly transfer to our columns, particularly

that section of it which seems to us fullest squirrel watches them as they travel through of fancy and choice expression -- the Hunt- his woods. ing of Pau-Puk-Keewis. But we have space only for two short quotations, by no means

“ From the sky the sun benignant

Looked upon them through the branches, remarkable; we could easily choose a hundred

Saying to them, O my children, such,

Love is sunshine, hate is shadow, Hiawatha has a friend, Chibiabos, “ the Life is checkered shade and sunshine : sweet singer," who has died, and Hiawatha Rule by love, O Hiawatha!' sits in his wigwam lamenting.

" From the sky the moon looked at them,

Filled the lodge with mystic splendors,
«. He is dead, the sweet musician !
He the sweetest of all singers !

Whispered to them, O my children,
He has gone from us forever,

Day is restless, night is quiet,
He has moved a little nearer

Man imperious, woman feeble,
To the master of all music,

Half is mine, although I follow :
To the master of all singing !

Rule by patience, Laughing Water !!!
0
my brother, Chibiabos !!

Mr. Longfellow's reputation will, we think, “And the melancholy fir trees

be raised by the Song of Hiawatha ; it is by Waved their dark green fans above him,

far, in our judgment, the most original of all Waved their purple cones above him, Sighing with him to console him,

his productions ; though we do not expect it Mingling with his lamentation

to be immediately popular. Its peculiarities Their complaining, their lamenting.” of subject, of treatment, particularly of metre,

may forbid this. But when these get familAs brief must be our closing extraot. iarized to the taste and the ear, its beauties Hiawatha has wooed and won fair Minnebaba will open out and display themselves more (or Laughing Water), a daughter of the freely, and it will appear generally what it Dacotahs. He is bringing her home, and all really is, a charming poem, and an undoubtnature is rejoicing in his joy. The bluebird edly high work of art. and the robin sing out congratulation, and the

NEW SECT IN WHITE. - To whom did Henry marched through various provinces, following a IV. refer in his opening speech to the Parlia- cross borue by the leader of the sect, and by a ment, when he made the following announce- great show of piety, so captivated the people ment?

that numberless persons of every kind joined its “ And whereas the King hath certainly under- ranks. Boniface X., fearing soine plot, ordered stood that a new sect hath risen up, clothed in the leader of this host to be apprehended and white vesture, and assuming to themselves great committed to the flames. After his death the sanctity, and whereas the people of this realm multitude gradually dispersed.”] – Notes and may lightly consent and be perverted by its nov- Queries. elty, their alms be diverted, and the kingdom itself be subverted, should the new professors

QUOTATIONS WANTED. - Who are the authors enter the realm : therefore, by the advice of the of the following ?Lords spiritual and temporal, the King hath Qui jacet in terra, ron habet unde cadat." ordained by proclamation that every county and seaport shall be shut against them; and any one

“ Vox audita perit, litera scripta manet." harboring or maintaining them shall forfeit all “ Fiat justitia, rust cælum." that he is able to forfeit." - Rolls.

J. W.

“ Indocti discunt, et ament meminisse periti." [Mosheim has given some account of this sect

(This is the motto to Laharpe's Cours de Litin his Eccles. Hist., book 111. pt. II. ch. 6: “In térature.) Italy a new sect, that of the White-clad Breth

“ He equall'd all but Shakspeare here below." ren, or the Whites (fratres albati, seu Candida),

“ Death hath a thousand ways to let out life.” produced no little excitement among the people. Near the beginning of the fifteenth century a

Forgiveness to the injured does belong, certain unknown priest descended from the Alps, But they ne'er pardon who have done the clad in a white garment, with an immense num

wrong." ber of people of both sexes in his train, all clothed

J. Sn. like their leader, in white linen, whence their

PALLADELPHIA. name of the White Brethren. This multitude

-Notes and Queries

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From the Critic. ing he ever made, and which had long hung
The Crayon : a Journal devoted to the Graph- framed under that roof.” Another drawing,

ic Aris and the Literature related to them. " a slight sketch," was purchased by the in-
Vol. I. New York : Stillman and Du- defatigable worshipper from a clerk in the
rand. London: Trübner and Co. employ of Messrs. Smith, Elder, and Co.,

Ruskin's publishers; and this last, with Tuis first volume of an American weekly autograph appended, was sent to the New publication, the scope of which is sufficiently York Academy Exhibition, where it excited indicated by its title, deserves notice on ac- much criticism and considerable ridicule. Mr. count of its novelty of plan, as well as the Ruskin, on hearing of this transaction, is enthusiasm that evidently actuates its con- naturally very much annoyed, and writes a ductors. It offers no bait of pretty engrav- letter to The Crayon, of which the following ings

, like the so-called " Art” periodicals passages have more than merely local interof our own country, but relies upon an earn-est : :=Until I was 18 or 19, I was totally est exposition of, and commentary .upon, the ignorant of the first principles of drawing -profound principles of the graphic arts to and as I never had any invention, it would interest and edify its readers. Its motto is be difficult to produce anything, more confrom * Modern Painters” –“Whence, in temptible in every way than the sort of fine, looking to the whole kingdom of organ- sketch I used to make in my boyhood. Nor ic nature, we find that our full receiving of do I at present rest my hope of being of serits beauty depends, first on the sensibility, vice as a critic on any power of painting. and then on the accuracy and touchstone When I praise Turner, I do not think I can faithfulness of the beart in its moral judg- rival him, any more than in praising Shakments ;” and Ruskin's writings are its chief speare I suppose myself capable of writing oracles. The editor has disinterred and re- another Lear.' But I can now draw steadpublished a long series of papers entitled ily, thoroughly, and rightly, up to a certain * The Poetry of Architecture ; or the Archi- point; and as the American public have seen tecture of the Nations of Europe, considered my child-work, I shall be grateful to them in its Association with Natural Scenery and if they will do me the justice to examine, National Character, by Kata Phusin,” which with some attention, the drawing, which I appeared in Loudon's Architectural Maga- shall take care to have in the next New York zine about eighteen years ago, and are from Exhibition, if it may then be accepted. ... the hand of Ruskin. These are interesting You sent me two rather formidable queries as compositions, belonging to the vernal sea- in your last private note to me. son of a style which has since reached so "What are the limits of detail?' I have elaborate and full-colored a development, something like sixty pages of talk in the third and also as showing the careful study and volume of Modern Painters,' which, if I thought bestowed by the young man upon live, will be out about Christmas; but I may his subject, along with that nicety of obser- answer hurriedly, as you will at once undorvation, at once poetic and microscope, which stand what I mean, that as far as you can is 80 rare and exquisite a gift.

But these

see detail you should always paint it -- if papers also exhibit very distinctly, in their

you intend your picture to be a finished one, cruder modes of expression, his tendency to and to be placed where its finished painting fantastic and incoherent deductions from ill can be seen. In every picture intended established premises, assuming the guise of for finished work, and intended to be seen logical accuracy and the boldness of indispu- near, the limit of detail is- visibility and table truth. We also, from an attempt or no other.' The Crayon is also an advocate two which are utter failures, catch a hint of of the Pre-Raphaelite school of painting, the deficiency of humor in Ruskin, in com- which appears to have many warm admirers mon perhaps with most very dogmatic mon. on the other side of the Atlantic. For the

The Oxford graduate is much more pas- rest, it contains some poetry, not particusionately honored and admired in America larly noticeable either as bad or excellent, than in his own country; and from this feel- and a great deal of æsthetic criticism, which ing, a somewhat amusing incident took its is, we much fear, like most such ware, rather rise in connection with the Academy of De- enthusiastic than strong, rather flatulent sign in New York last spring. An American than nutritious. Enthusiasm, however, is enthusiast, it appears, visiting Mr. Ruskin's at all events a living condition, and we wish house at Denmark Hill, in his absence, our youthful contemporary all manner of obtained from the house-keeper, “ in addi- success and development, internal and extion to other precious little reminiscences ternal. of genius, probably the first preserved draw

On one

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PATIENCE ON A MONUMENT.

DUST.
I KNEEL within the church alone

Dust we were, and dust to be,
All through the long, long day,

Dust upon us, dust about us,
And list the night's low breezes moan

Dust on everything we see,
Amid the turrets gray;

Dust within us, dust without us;
In summer-time I faintly hear

Saith the preacher, “ Dust to dust!"
The laugh of merry children near,

Let them mingle, for they must.
Their voices blithe and gay
Hushed by the aisles and walls of stone

Dust we raise upon the road,
Down to a sad soft under-tone.

Dust we breathe in dancing-hall;

Dust infests our home abode,
They play amid the quiet graves

Dust, a pall, is over all !
That thickly lie around,

'Tis the housewife's daily bread, And softly to the silent caves

Dust, the emblem of the dead.
Comes the untroubled sound;
The long grass trembles in the air,

When the sky above is fair,
The wild thyme sheds its perfume there

And the sun upon the streams,
Above the hallowed ground,

Floats the dust throughout the air, And daisies, like Faith's upward eye,

Gleaming in its fallen beams;
Gaze ever deep into the sky.

Every mote is like a man,
Here have I heard the bridal vows

Dancing gaily while he can.
In faltering accents low,

Ere the tempest gathers strong,
Have gazed on fair unfurrowed brows

Blows at times the warning gust,
Unworn by wave of wo;

O’er the plain it sweeps along,
Have heard the pastor's voice proclaim

Tempest's thrall, a cloud of dust;
The union of heart and name,

Every mote is like a man,
And seen her tears o'erflow

Flying from Oppression's van.
Who saw the strange new path untried,
And feared, yet joyed, to be a bride.

Now the swollen clouds grow dark,

Comes the long-expected flood,
And I have seen through silent aisles
The dead brought solemnly

Falling deluge-like and stark ;

Dust is beaten down to mud,
Past the gray columns' ancient piles,
Beneath my gaze to lie;

So are times when men must grovel
And while the clear, calm voice of prayer

In the palace as the hovel.
Silverly fell on the hushed air,

Thus we are but motes of dust,
Have seen the mourner's eye

On the ground and in the air,
Turn with a fierce despair on mo,

Blown by pleasure, fear, and lust,
As though I mocked his misery.

Beaten down to low despair;
I gazed with calm and tranquil gaze

Born of dust, to come to dust,
Upon his bloodshot eye;

Let us mingle, for we must.
The sunlight's suft and pleasant rays

Fell on him tenderly;
A prisoned robin's quiet lay

A SIMILE.
Whispered his wild despair away

BY H. W. LONGFELLOW.
Like tones of memory,
And gentler thoughts around him crept, SLOWLY, slowly up the wall
Until
he bowed his head and wept.

Steals the sunshine, steals the shade;
I watch amid the slumberers here,

Évening damps begin to fall,
And the long years roll on;

Evening shadows are displayed.
Each Sabbath, listening throngs appear, Round me, o'er me, everywhere,
Each week, I am alone;

All the sky is grand with clouds,
New faces fill each vacant nook,

And athwart the evening air
New children turn their thoughtful look Wheel the swallows home in crowds.
Upon my brow of stone,

Shafts of sunshine from the West
New tombstones stare in moonlight cold,
New lichens grow upon the old.

Paint the dusky windows red;

Darker shadows deeper rest
The gray-haired minister will pass

Underneath and overhead:
Amid his flock to rest,
Soon o'er his head the waving grass

Darker, darker, and more wan.
By strangers' feet be prest;

In my breast the shadows fall;
The sun's last parting rays will come

Upward steals the life of man,

As the sunshine from the wall.
And squares of light amid the gloom
Fall softly on my breast,

From the wall into the sky,
Till, rising from their silent caves,

From the roof along the spire;
The dead shall leave me but their graves Ah, the souls of saints that die
-Chambers' Journal.

I. R V. Are but sunbeams lifted higher.

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CHAPTER XXX. ANOTHER JOURNEY.

1

Zaidee take different directions. There is a PART THE LAST. BOOK III.

painful hesitation between them when they address each other, which Zaidee understands very

well, but which Percy cannot understand; and THERE was no very long time necessary to once more his thoughts, baffled and perplexed, bring to completion the scheme of Mary ; it centre upon Mary Cumberland's beautiful sister, was still fine weather although the end of Octo- who is so like his own. Unconsciously to himber

, and Mrs. Cumberland became very soon self, this rencontre increases Percy's difficulty. enthusiastic about the visit to Cheshire, to Cas- She is not Mary Cumberland's sister; she is only tle Vivian, and the Grange. “I expect to see an adopted child. It suddenly occurs to Percy quite a delightful sight in your brother's return that Mary meant him to draw some inference to your attached peasantry, Mr. Vivian,” said from this fact, wþich she stated to him so abMrs. Cumberland; and Mr. Cumberland himself ruptly; and, more than ever puzzled, his was persuaded to go with the party, to initiate thoughts pursue the subject; but he can draw the country gentlemen there into his views, and no inference; he is only extremely curious, inperhaps to extend his own ideas. “There are terested, and wondering; he never thinks of Zaimany admirable customs hidden in the depths of dee in connection with this beautiful and silent the country,” said this candid philosopher; girl. "some ancient use and wont in the matter of And the next day their journey began. TrayFelcome, I should not be surprised — and I am elling in a railway carriage, even when you can a candid man, sister Burtonshaw." So the phi- fill it comfortably with your own party, is not a losopher gave his consent; and hers, too, with a mode of journeying favorable to conversation. sigh of regret for Sylvo's place, gave Mrs. Bur- Leaning back in her corner, covered up and half tonshaw.

concealed under Aunt Burtonshaw's shawls, During the one day which they spent in Lon- looking at the long stripes of green fields, the don before starting for Cheshire, Zaidee, who fiat lines of country that quivered by the window felt this journey full of fate for her, a new and with the speed of lightning, Zaidee found in this decisive crisis in her life, wandered out, in her dreaded journey & soothing, influence which restless uneasiness. Mary did not watch her calmed her heart. Convinced as she was that quite so jealously as she had done, and she was Mary's object was to try her fully, by bringing glad to be alone. Without thinking, Zaidee her into close contact with her own family, Zaistrayed along those unfeatured lines of street dee had earnestly endeavored to fortify herself till she came to the well-remembered environ- for the ordeal. But through this long day, ment of squares which surrounded Bedford when her thoughts were uninterrupted, when no Place. Thinking wistfully of her old self, and one spoke but Percy and Mary, whose conversaher rain childish sacrifice, Zaidee passed timidly tion was not for the common ear-or Aunt Burthrough it, looking up for Mrs. Disbrowe's tonshaw, whose addresses were more general, house. Some one before her went up to this and chiefly directed to the subjects of taking house hurriedly as Zaidee advanced, but hesitat-cold or taking refreshments

- a pleasant delued, as she did, when he perceived a great many sion of going home stole upon Zaidee's weary carriages, with coachmen in white gloves and heart. Mr. Cumberland, who had been greatly favors,

-a large bridal party before the door. struck at the very outset of their journey by the The gentleman before her paused a little, and so large sphere of operation for his educational djd Zaidee; there was a momentary commotion theory, his decorated and emblazoned letters, in in the little crowd, which made an avenue be- those names of railway stations at present intween the door of the house and the carriage scribed in prosaic black and white, was making drawn up before it, and forth issued a bride in notes and sketches for this important object, to llowing white robes and orange blossoms, not lose no time; Mrs. Cumberland was enjoying her too shy to throw a glance around her as she step- languor; Mrs. Burtonshaw presided over the ped into the vehicle. Zaidee shrank, fearing to draughts, the windows, and the basket of sandbe remembered, when she found how she recog- wiches. There was no painful idea, no scrutiny, nized at once Minnie Disbrowe's saucy face. And or search, or suspicion, in all these faces. GoMr. Disbrone is with the bride; and there is ing home! The dream crept over Zaidee's mamma, of still ampler proportions, but not less mind, and it was so sweet, she suffered it to comely, than of old; and a string of bridesmaids, come. She closed her eyes to see the joyous in whose degrees of stature, one lesser than the drawing-room of the Grange, all bright and gay other, Zaidee fancies she can see Rosie and Let- for the travellers — Elizabeth, Margaret, Sophy tie and Sissy, the little rebels who tried her so – Philip even — and Zaidee coming home. sorely once. Looking on all this with interested These impossible dreams were not common to eyes, Zaidee does not immediately perceive that Zaidee; she yielded herself up to the charm of this is Mr. Percy Vivian who was bending his this one with a thankful heart. course to Mrs. Disbrow's. When she does per That night they spent at Chester, where Mr.

a pause of mutual embarrass- Cumberland made great progress in his scheme ment. He is wondering if she can know these for the railway stations. There was still another people, and she is wondering why he should call day's respite for Zaidee, for to-morrow they had at Bedford Place; but the carriages sweep on arranged to visit Castle Vivian, and the next with their gay company, and after the inter- day after that to continue their journey to the change of a very few formal words, Percy and Grange.

VOL XII. 4

ceive him, there

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DCVI.

LIVING AGE.

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