Newspaper Page Text
44
(Original Poctrn.
g_ *■'. “ 1 ■ • ■■ ~ - . 1.T3
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
THE BOUQUET.
BY MISS MARY E . LEE.
“ Alas! they must wither!” —this darksome thought
mingled
A drop of keen pain in my cup of delight ;
As, with heart heating quickly, and pulses that tin
gled,
With feeling wound up to an exquisite height,
I gazed on the various and gorgeous ring
Os blossoms, the fairest creations of Spring.
Alas ! they must wither !—these rich jewels shining
In Flora’s full sceptre, each one like a star;
With hues where pearl, ruby, sapphire, topaz, com
bining,
♦
Form galaxy bright a few hours must mar ;
And these relics of Eden, so lovely and frail,
Must soon sigh their last on the soft summer gale.
How best could I prize them l With eager endea
vor
I strove to seek out for each beautiful guest
A tribute of fame, more extended than ever
Could await them within my admiring breast;
And soon ’mid a circle of friends, far and wide,
My peerless bouquet was displayed in its pride!
’Twas the thought of a moment, but who did not
tender
Full praise to those children of light and of air 1
Some folded in garments of deep purple splendor,
Others, clad in white robes, like brides timid and
fair,
While many among them, in tint seemed to vie
With the delicate blush of Aurora’s soft sky.
Yes! warm was their welcome, —in many a dwelling
I knew that their influence was pleasant and sweet;
Mid halls, where the music and laughter were swell
ing;
To the couch, where the sick pulse scarce audibly
beat;
And I joy’d that my blossoms had not lived in vain,
Since they woke some glad thrills in the dull heart of
pain !
Then, thanks to the kind hand that sent me the trea
sure,
Arranged with such innate and exquisite taste ;
And oh! may the odors of joy, in full measure,
lie pour’d o’er his life’s path, in prodigal waste;
While long, though this wish may be selfish of ours,
May he boast all success in the culture of Flowers!
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
A COLLEGE RECOLLECTION.
FROM A RARE COLLECTION.
The memories of the days of yore
Keep in yotjr memory,
When we thought books and themes a bore,
And bore them wearily :
Come muse with me upon those times,
Amusement from them stealing ;
We’ll ring a peal on memory’s chime,
While to the past appealing.
I recollect one rain} r night,
(We were arraign’d next day,)
We play’d a trick on tutor White,
Who thought the trick no play.
A tin spout near his window ran
(Now spoutin’ was his sin) —
And we arranged a simple plan
To make the spout range in.
The tutor was upon his round,
And ere around he came
J he stream that ought to soak the ground
Streamed through his window frame.
His bed lay right beneath the spout
He could not lay right there,
For like a mart all about
The merry waters were !
The tutor shivered when he saw
The shivered window panes,
While from the spout’s extended jaw,
Quick spoutings still there came;
And then he rushed, with desp’rate haste,
The torrent’s rush to stay,
And up the spout, with reckless waste,
A waistcoat stowed away \
It stayed the flood a moment’s space,
And very staid was he ;
The troubled look upon his face
Effaced could not be.
And while twas clear, he must essay
To clear the intruding spout ;
4 he torrent forced the plug away.
And with great force rushed out.
§®®lT!a&lßEl iL il If H& A S & ASH inf H*
The swimming flood fell on his head,
And made his senses swim,
Till down he sunk upon his bed
That was no down to him !
Ilis cry for help was quick and loud
We quick allowed him aid;
A score of boys —a merry crowd
Who thus an old score paid.
We pushed the spout back through the pane,
(There was no pain to us!)
We vowed the act had been insane,
Os those who acted thus.
The tutor grinned a ghastly smile,
But all aghast was he,
And we were choking all the while
To choke in our wild glee !
Oh, ’twas a wondrous funny sight,
(Tho’ fun he thought it not,)
To see him in that watery plight,
As if to sea he’d got.
But we restrained our merriment;
Yet merry meant to be
When to his colleague’s room he went,
And to our rooms went we !
They called us to account next day,
Os small account it proved ;
None knew in what a magic way
The water-spout got moved :
We only heard the tutor call,
When in a herd we ran
Amazed to see a water-fall
Upon a falling man !
The Faculty could only chide
Our faculty for fun
In pointless phrase ; in vain they tried
To point their shafts at one.
So veiling with a frown their smiles,
• (That made it no avail,)
They bade us end our silly wiles —
And here I end my tale !
fjomc Correspondence.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
NEW-YORK LETTERS—NO. YI.
New York, June 7, 1848.
My Dear Sir, —We have been very busy,
since I wrote last, in sympathizing with the
misfortune of the stage proprietors, Kip &
Brown, whose heavy losses by fire I have al
ready mentioned. Our benevolent citizens
have got up quite a furor on this subject,
which is not yet over. A public meeting has
been held, at which between two and three
thousand dollars were subscribed. On Thurs
day last, all the lines of stages in this City
and Brooklyn, doubled the usual fare and ran
for the benefit of Kip & Brown. I am told
that some individuals, with hearts overflowing
with the milk of human kindness, travelled
up and down Broadway from morning till
night, at a great sacrifice of time and comfort,
for no other purpose than to swell the amount
of the proceeds of the day. Committees have
been appointed to collect subscriptions for Kip
& Brown; and the Theatres are giving bene
fit nights for the same object. All this is
laudable—for the beneficiaries, in the day of
their prosperity, were ever ready to contribute
liberally to all such movements in aid of oth
ers. It is singular, however, to watch the
progress of a popular enthusiasm of this sort,
when the ball happens to have received a
lucky start. During the past year, many
equally deserving men have suffered from fire
and other disasters, without receiving the least
sympathy or aid, and many others will doubt
less come in the same category, before anoth
er outbreak of public kindness will come.
Our old favorite Niblo, of “Garden” noto
riety, has taken the Opera House, and com
menced his season there last evening, with
the Viennoise children. His establishment
will supply the vacancy much felt by the
public, since the burning of his establishment
some few years since. Mrs. Butler—Fanny
Kemble —has arrived here, and will appear
before long at the Broadway Theatre. It is
said that she is awaiting the arrival of Ma
cready, who is to play with her. I question
very much, whether her present tour will be
so successful as her last. She has, to be
sure, since her former visit, been the heroine
of various little social and domestic adven
tures, besides having added to her literary no
toriety. But she is older now, and though still
retaining her personal attractions in a great
degree—cannot be quite as interesting a “ Ju
liet” as autrefois. Her recent re-appearance
on the English stage was a complete failure.
We are felicitating ourselves excessively
upon our achievements in Ocean steam navi
gation, as displayed in the triumphant suc
cess of the new American vessel, theU. States.
This noble ship made her homeward voy
age in thirteen days, beating the new English
steamer “Niagara,” which sailed soon after
her. Many heavy bets are said to have been
lost in London, by the success of Jonathan.
We are now well supplied with steamers,
what with the Boston line and those which
come to our port. Soon they will be taking
their departure daily, and in the course of time,
perhaps, will leave so frequently and so reg
ularly as to need no other notice than the
usual ringing of the bell; while the steward
shall travel the deck after passing the “ Nar
rows,” “to summons the passengers what
hasn’t paid their passage, to step up to the
Captain’s office and do the same.”
To-day the great Whig Convention will as
semble in Philadelphia, and of course the cu
riosity to learn the result, is one of the mark
ed features of the hour in Gotham. But we
shall soon know whether we are to hurrah
for “that same old Coon,” “the hasty plate
of soup,” “chowder,” or “the man what nev
er surrenders.”
Mr. Henry Kernot, well known to all lov
ers and collectors of curious and valuable
works, as a book-seller of the old school—one
who has studied his business almost as a sci
ence, has just sent me a rare little volume,
some account of which I think may interest
your readers. It is an admirable sac-simile
copy, in lithograph, of “An Historical and
Geographical account of the Province and
Country of Pennsylvania; and of West New
Jersey in America, etc. By Gabriel Thomas,
who resided there fifteen years.” The book,
one of the earliest concerning this country,
ever published, bears the imprint of “London,
1698.” The antique type has been most ex
cellently imitated by the lithographer, from
title-page to finis. The author dedicates it to
his friend William Penn; signing himself,
“ Thy hearty well-wisher, ever ready to serve
thee on all occasions, (in the way of Truth.”)
I find in it the following curious description
of our goodly sister city. “ Since that time,
(1681,) the industrious inhabitants (nay, in
defatigable) have built a noble and beautiful
city, and called it Philadelphia , which con
tains above two thousand houses, all inhabi
ted ; and most of them stately, and of brick,
generally three stories high, after the mode in
London, and as many several families in each.
There are very many Lanes and Alleys, as first,
Hutton’’ s-Lane, Morris’-Lane, Jones’ -Lane,
wherein are very good buildings; Shorter 1 s-
Alley, Tower’’s-Lane, Waller's-Alley, Turner 1 s-
Lane, Sike 1 s-Alley and Flower 1 s-Alley. All
these Alleys and Lanes extend from the Front
street to the second street. There are also,
besides these Alleys and Lanes, several fine
Squares and Courts, within this magnificent
city, (for so I may justly call it.) As for the
particular names of the several Streets con
tained therein, the principal are as follows,
viz: Walnut Street, Vine Street, Mulberry
Street, Chesnut Street and Sassafras Street
taking these names from the abundance of
those trees which formerly grew there— High
Street Broad Street , Delaware Street, Front
Street , with several of less note, too tedious
to insert here. It hath in it 1 \\vee Fairs every
year, and Two Markets, every week. They
kill above Twenty Fat Bullocks every week,
in the hottest time in summer, for their pres
ent spending in that city, besides many sheep,
calves and hogs .”
In another portion the author says,- “It is
now time for us to return to the city of Bro
therly Love, (for so much of the Greek word
or name Philadelphia imports,) which, though
at present so obscure, that neither the Map-
Makers nor Geographers have taken the least
notice of her, though she far exceeds her
namesake of Lydia; yet, in a short space of
time, she will probably make a figure in the
world, and be a most celebrated Emporium. I’’ 1 ’’
The author further informs us that “in this
famous city of Philadelphia, there are several
Rope-Makers, who have large and curious
Rope-Walks, especially one Joseph Wilcox.
In the said city,” he continues, “are several
good Schools of Learning, for youth, in order
to the attainment of Arts and Sciences, as also
reading, writing, etc. Here is to be had on
any day in the week, Tarts, Pies, Calces, etc .
We have also several Cook Shops, both roast
ing and boyling, as in the city of London.”
After discoursing upon the resources of the
country in products, game, minerals, manu
factures, etc., he adds, “of Lawyers and Phy
sicians I shall say nothing, because this coun
try is very Peaceable and Healthy; long may
it so continue, and never have occasion for
the tongue of the one, nor the pen of the oth
er, both equally destructive to Men’s Estates
and Lives.” The author went in the very
first vessel which sailed for the province, af
ter it received the name of Pennsylvania,and
was an eye witness of all he relates. He
even saw “the first cellar, when it was dig
ging for the use of our Governor, Will. Penn.”
Much other curious matter in relation to both
Pennsylvania and New Jersey, might be quo
ted from this little volume, only that I fear I
have already devoted to it more than sufficient
time and space.
Goupil, Yibert & Cos., whose gallery of
paintings, by the living French Masters, 1
recently spoke of, have just added to the col
lection some new works, and a large ami
beautiful variety of bronzes, statues, and
groups from the antique and other subjects.
Those of your readers who visit the North
this summer, and desire to purchase elegant
and classical parlor or boudoir ornaments,
or who find pleasure in looking at those
“ things of beauty which are a joy forever,”
as the poet says, must not fail to visit the at
tractive rooms of these enterprising gentlemen.
By the way, caution your friends, too,
against ending their visits to New York, with
out a stroll to the beahtiful parks and glens
and hills of Hoboken and Weehawken; and to
Greenwood Cemetery, the Croton Water
Works, and many other charming resorts in
the vicinage of our great city. Without such
visits they cannot possibly conceive a just
impression of the beauties and attractions we
have around us.
The American Art-Union has just had the
good fortune to become the possessor of the
great series of imaginative landscapes, by the
late Thomas Cole—entitled the “ Voyage of
Life.” These exquisite works are among the
noblest productions of the deceased Master,
and were the most attractive feature of the
late exhibition of his pictures. They depict
in a beautifully told story, or rather in an ex*
quisle poem, the various eras of childhood,
youth, manhood and old age. The pictures,
four in number, are uniform in size, each cov
ering no less than 78 by 52 inchesof canvass.
The possession of this glorious series will be
a fortune to some lucky gentleman next De
cember, for the whole are to form one prize
among those to be distributed to the members
of the Art-L nion for the present year. Oh!
that the gods may fall in love with me about
next Christmas.
Amidst all the excitement of foreign news,
and the prose of political squabbles, it is re
freshing to catch an occasional scintillation
of poetry in the columns of our daily Press.
The venerable editor of the “ Commercial Ad
vertiser,” in his yesterday’s issue, was most
touchingly pathetic. Under the very senti
mental head of “City Items,” he thus winds
up a discourse about fragrant bouquets, ten
dered to his antiquity by youthful innocence.
Hear the man! * * * * * “Howspon-