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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-