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1852.]
the order of Babis, and had taken a solemn oath
to send the Shah into the other world. They,
however, were sent there before him, having been
immediately executed, while according to the last
accounts their intended victim was recovering.
An Extract.
From “Walks and Talks of an American Farm
er in England,” noticed in our book table, wo
take the following:
“Church Stretton is a little village mostly made
up of inns on the main street. We chose the
Stag’s Head, a picturesque, many-gabled cottage,
part of it very old, and, as we were told, formerly
a manor-house of the Earl of Derby, who spent
one night (ever to be remembered !) in it. It was
close by a curiously-carved church and graveyard.
From among a great many “improving” epitaphs,
I selected the following as worthy of more ex
tended influence.”
I.
A “non sequitur.”
“Farewell my wife
And children dear, in number seven,
Therefore prepare yourself for Heaven,”
11.
“AN HONEST MAN.”
“Erected by the Curate of Church Stretton.”
111.
“Farewell, vain world, I have seen my last of thee ;
Thy smiles I court not, frowns I fear,
My cares are past, my head lies quiet here,
My time was short in this world, my work is done,
My rest I hope is in another,
In a quiet grave I lie, near my beloved mother,”
The Washington Monument.
This Monument has now reached the height of
118 feet, and at the close of the season will prob
ably stand a few feet higher. The sums hitherto
derived from voluntary contributions are beginning
to fail, and it has been proposed that during tne
Presidential election, boxes labelled “Contribu
tions to the National Monument” be plaeed at the
polls. One dime only is solicited. As the entire
cost of the Monument will not exceed $140,000,
it is supposed that the mode alluded to, notwith
standing the meagreness of the contribution, will
be successfully employed. It will indeed be a dis
grace, if in this “great Commonwealth”—as the
papers term it—we cannot raise a paltry sum for
such an eminently patriotic purpose as the con
struction of a Monument to the “Father of his
country.”
Musical Beasts.
A correspondent of some Western journal, ex
presses his opinion of the musical ability of brutes
thus :
“He says that the ox tribe are the most musical
beasts. He knows an Ole Bull who is a stunner
on the fiddle, and he is informed all the family are
very effective with the horn ; even cats are not so
mew-sical.”
A New Poem of Praed’s.
A correspondent of the Literary World has
communicated to that journal a poem of Praed’s
hitherto unpublished. It professes to be an epi
taph upon “the late King of the Sandwich Is
lands,” but is intended throughout to refer to
George IV. The poem, like all of its author’s
efforts, is piquant and graceful. Some of the
verses indeed are very severe, exhibiting both
nerve and passion. We are glad that Dr. Gris-
SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
wold has lately published an enlarged edition of
Praed’s works, as he is certainly a poet of rare
ability—and that peculiar species of humour which
is calculated to render him universally popular.
The poem we have mentioned shall shortly be
published in the Gazette.
Ingenious.
A correspondent of the Knickerbocker, dis
proves the assertion that there is no rhyme to the
word month, by composing the following couplet:
“There is no rhyme ’tis said to month,
Here’s one that he may read who runt'h.”
To which one of our Devils ad’th the follow
ing:—
Which he will understand wh opun’th,
And his ardent fancy sun’th,
’Mid the quips and quirks of wit;
. Yet the poet doubtless/j/n’tA,
It he saith that pun’th,
Or sun’th, or fun’th, or run'th, or dun’th ;
Or any words like these, lie liun’th,
Have solved a puzzle or made a hit.
“Trust in Providence!”
This is a frequent exclamation of persons, who
have no more reverence for God, or faith in Truth,
than so many wild Hottentots. It is merely used
as a cloak to hide their lack of sympathy with
suffering, or to excuse incorrigible indolence.
The following anecdote illustrates the latter ob
servation admirably:
“Trust to Providence! Trust to Providence
for assistance,” exclaimed a lazy husband, while
his affectionate spouse was endeavouring to roll a
barrel of flour up stairs.
“Trust to Providence, eh ! you lazy shape of a
man ! Do you suppose that Providence will come
and assist me to roll this barrel of flour up stairs,
while the devil is looking on I”
Modern Poetry.
There is a decided leaning in modern poetry,
(American poetry especially,) towards mere sen
suous images, and the delineation of beauty so
completely of the “earth, earthy,” that the most
powerful imagination, and the most felicitous de
scriptive touches, not unfrequently lose a certain
portion of their effect. Os the sensuous school of
verse Keats may be considered the founder. The
luscious fruit, the sweet siesta, the mere exstacy of
animal enjoyment, seemed to have stirred his fan
cy more congenially than the loftier and more
ethereal elements that enter into the finer song of
Byron, and the sublimated moods of Shelley. Os
American poets, somewhat inclined to follow too
closely after Keats, we would mention Richard
Henry Stoddard. This gentleman, of whose ge
nius we entertain the very highest opinion, has
systematically disfigured some of hits best verses
by elaborate pictures of table and side-board fur
niture, (witness certain passages in the “Castle in
the Air,”) and appears to have expended as much
fire and enthusiasm upon minute descriptions of
Turkey carpets, Persian hangings, antique goblets,
curious vases, &.c. &c., as upon delineations of
high sentiment and passion. Now such descrip
tions are commendable in their way., but the poet
who looks to continued fame, must not indulge in
them too frequently. “Hyperion,” “Lama,” and
other productions that may be considered fa
vourable specimens of the sensuous “school,” pos
sess, in our opinion, but a slender chance of “im
mortality ; whereas, “ St. Agnes’ Eve,” whose
passionate and artistic cadences strike upon the
true chord, will be coeval, we believe, with the
English language. Mr. Stoddard, whom we con
scientiously regard as the most promising of our
younger bards, (Read excepted,) would do well
perhaps to change somewhat the channel of his
thoughts, and to devote himself to those higher
departments of his vocation, in which he cannot
fail to excel.
Oqlp gooli Iqble.
Walks and Talks of an American Farmer in Eng
land, in the years 1850-’sl. By F. L. Olmsted. Part 11.
Geo. P. Putnam &. Cos., New-York.
Putnam’s “semi-monthly Library for travellers
and the fireside,” promises to be in a short time
the rarest collection of entertaining books imagi
nable. The present work is a valuable addition
to it. The author’s brief preface will inform our
readers of its object and character more clearly
than we can.
“The kind and uncritical reception of my first
volume, both at home and abroad, leaves no occa
sion for a formal introduction of my second. Sit
ting at the same broad old farm-house fireside, let
me assume the same friendly companionable rela
tion with my readers, improved by better acquaint
ance, and go on with my talk freely and uncon
strainedly as before.
“To any stranger who may like to know what
it is about, I will add, that the volume is almost
entirely descriptive of rustic and r :ral matters, as
they came in the way of a party of young Amer
icans walking through some of the western and
southern parts of England, with such observations
upon them as a young democratic farmer would
naturally make.”
Garden Walks with the Poets. By Mrs. C. M. Kirk
land. G. P. Putnam & Cos., New-York. [From S. Hart,
King- st.
Mrs. Kirkland, whose delicate taste, and pure
discriminating judgement, have been exercised
upon this beautiful publication, has succeeded in
giving to her readers a collection of poems, which
are certainly unrivalled in their way. The idea of
making a selection of the best verses upon “the
Garden,” which the English language affords, was
a somewhat novel one. It has been admirably
developed, and we are pleased to recommend the
proof of what we say (the present charming vol
ume,) to all who see poetry in flowers, and take
delight in their cultivation.
Stray Leaves from an Artic Journal, or Eighteen
Months in the Polar Regions. By Lieut. Shepard
Osborne. George P. Putnam, New-York. [From John
Russell, King-st.
This book, which consists of a carefully kept
and entertaining Journal, scarcely needs com
mendation. Any thing written by one who has
penetrated the Arctic regions, especially upon an
expedition so interesting as the search after Sir
John Franklin, commends itself. We feel bound
to say, however, that independently of the interest
attaching to the subject of his work, Lieut. Os
borne’s journal is decidedly meritorious. It dis
plays close observation, a lively fancy, good taste,
and an excellent heart. In his dedication of the
book to Lady Franklin, the author says :
“If, on the one hand, the name of Sir John
Franklin, that chief ‘sans peur et sans reproche,
is dearly associated with our recollections of the
honours won in the ice-bound regions of the Pole,
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