ART. I. SKETCHES OF WESTERN LIFE. NUMBER FOUR, III. LINES: SUMMER SAILING. BY EDWARD WILLETT, IV. THE GYPSIES OF ART. FROM THE FRENCH, BY CHARLES ASTOR Bristed, VI. MEN, MANNERS, AND MOUNTAINS By R. M. RICHARDSON, VIII. MEMORIES. BY A WESTERN MISSIONARY, IX. BATTLE OF EYLAU. BY ISAAC MACLELLAN, X. SKETCHES OF TRAVEL AND CHARACTER, XI. DREAM OF THE DEMOS. BY WILLIAM PITT PALMER, XII. THE NOON-TIDE GUN AT THE PALAIS-ROYAL, XIII. A SERENADE. BY COLONEL EIDOLON, XIV. STANZAS: LIFE'S COURSE, XV. HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT, IN THE OLDEN TIME, XVI. CHILDHOOD: A FRAGMENT, XVII. MARY'S HOLLOW, NEAR PEEKSKILL. BY THOMAS MACKELLAR, 6 XVIII. THE FUDGE PAPERS. BY THE AUTHOR OF REVERIES OF A BACHELOR,'. 221 225 226 997 233 235 244 245 248 250 255 256 258 259 259. 272 273 274 282 XXI. A SOLDIER'S TALE OF LOVE. BY REV. JAMES GILBORNE LYONS, 1. THE AUSTRALIAN CRUSOES. BY CHARLES CROWCROFT, Esq. . 4. A MEMORIAL OF HORATIO GREENOUGH. BY HENRY T. TUCKERMAN, EDITOR'S TABLE: 1. ANOTHER LETTER FROM UP THE RIVER: (WITH AN 'ADDITION,') 3. GOSSIP WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS, 1. THE PALACE OF GLASS: THE 'MIND-DIRECTED HAND.' 2. AN AMUSING SCENE AT THE ALBANY MUSEUM. 3. A PALPABLE HIT: INCOMPREHENSIBLE MUSIC. 4. A SMART' MEDICAL STUDENT 'OUT WEST.' 5. THE GLORIOUS FOURTH' ON THE GREAT PRAIRIE OF THE FAR WEST.' 6. THE 'DODGES' OF ADVER TISING. 7. LAMARTINE COTTAGE,' HOBOKEN: NAPOLEON THE 'GREAT' EMPEROR: REMINISCENCES OF BATTLE. 8. SOMETHING ABOUT THE MOON,' BY A MOON-STRUCK BARD. 9. A DUTCH MILITARY RECUSSANT. 10. LINES: 'IT'LL ALL BE RIGHT IN THE MORNING.' 11. PANORAMAS IN General, and A WESTERN PANORAMA IN PARTICULAR. 12. AN INQUISITIVE LAWYER, AND A 'TOO WILLING' WITNESS. 13. 'PURSUIT OF KNOWLEDGE UNDER DIFFICULTIES,' UNDER THE MAINE LIQUOR-LAW. 14. NEW POME' BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE ALEGAITER AND THE WATER-SNAIK :''SOLILEQY ADRESSED TO A BERD ON THE FENS.' 15. THE 'PILGRIM' CELEBRATION AT PLYMOUTH: SPEECH OF HON. EDWARD EVERETT. 16. WOMAN'S RIGHTS: A PREGNANT LESSON. 17. COTILLION-PARTIES: DANCING MADE EASY' TO ALL DOUBTERS. 18. AN 'ESSENTIAL ERROR' CORRECTED. 19. A PLAGIARIST IN THE PILLORY. 20. A LITERARY CURIOSITY AT THE CRYSTAL PALACE. 21. A 'RULING PASSION' INVOLUNTARILY EXPOSED. 22. RAPID CIRCULATION' OF A CONTEMPORARY. 23. OURSELVES,' A POEM: WITH EXTRACTS. 24. NOTICE OF THE DEATH, AND A BRIEF BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH, OF THE LATE H. C. SEYMOUR. 25. 'TALL' CORN AT OLD KNICK PLACE:' AGRICULTURAL AMBITION. 26. THE MYSTERY OF A HIGHFALUTING' STYLE. 27. PIERMONT, ON THE HUDSON. 28. THE LAW OF UMBRELLAS: IMPROVED CODE. 29. A QUESTION FOR OUR UP-RIVER' CORRESPONDENT. 30. AMUSING LETTER FROM THE IMAUM ALI ZADI TO LAYARD, THE ORIENTAL TRAVELLER. 31. SOCIAL HONORS TO LITERATURE IN ENGLAND. 32. ANOTHER'BIT' OF WESTERN PHRASEOLOGY. 33. MR. JULIUS CESAR HANNIBAL GOUGHED' AT THE 'CRISTILE PALLAS.' 34. CASUAL TRIP TO NYACK BEAUTIFUL RESIDENCE. 35. 'HARRY HARSON,' BY THE AUTHOR OF THE ATTORNEY:' NEW NOVEL FOR THE KNICKERBOCKER, BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 86. TO CORRESPONDENTS: DEFERRED NOTICES: ETC. 298 309 311 ENTERED ACCORDING TO ACT OF CONGRESS, IN THE YEAR 1853, BY SAMUEL HUESTON IN THE CERK'S OFFICE OF THE DISTRICT COURT OF THE UNITED STATES FOR THE 80 THERN DISTRICT OF NEW YORK OUR neighborhood is prolific in geniuses. But all our diamonds are in the rough, and live and die unknown to fame, except in their own little circle of friends and critics. It is a question not easily decided, whether they are fortunate or unfortunate in their seclusion from the praise or blame of the great world. They have a great deal of harmless vanity which it would be cruelty to wound, as it is accompanied by so much simplicity, and an entire ignorance of the real value of the talents they possess. Knowledge might make them unhappy: reviewers would miss the poor little buds before they had a chance to become fruit. It is best their light should be hidden under a bushel, where there is not much likelihood of it being extinguished before its time by the cold breath of criticism. Of all those gifted individuals, famous for native talent, in our precincts, 'Ik Custis' was undeniably the most deserving of the name of genius: I say was, for, poor fellow, he is no more a genius of this world. I remember being much struck by his originality of appearance and character, when I first had the happiness of seeing him. It was at the house of an old friend, who had lately arrived in the country with his family: a very attractive house, for he had three or four pleasant daughters, and I was one of the 'smiled-upon.' I was sitting, one delightful summer-morning, on the piazza, enjoying a meditative pipe with my old friend, and thinking of his pretty daughters, when I was awakened from my abstraction by a voice, with the sharp, nasal twang of a genuine 'Down-Easter,' making the courteous inquiry: 'Any thin' I can dew for you to-day, Mister?" I glanced up and perceived a tall, lank, meagre-visaged figure, on a sprained old roan mare, which seemed hardly able to carry the weight of her rider, much less the enormous pair of saddle-bags which nearly hid her from view. 'Any cradlin', any mowin' standin', or any rail-splittin'-ye ha'n't engaged?' asked the scare-crow apparition, with an expansive and benign smile, divided between my friend and me. The old gentleman gave a most laconic' No!' for answer, and resumed his pipe, to signify that he wished no farther conversation with the gifted individual before him: but he, however, was not to be so easily put off; for he dismounted leisurely, and picking up a chip, seated himself on the porch-rail, with the old mare's bridle over his arm, and commenced whittling and talking: 'Well, now, Mister, guess you'd like tew hev' your pieter done, or may-be the women-folks would? Here's the feller can do it for ye, if ye would.' Finding no answer forthcoming, he continued: If ye jest want a small specification of how I dew it, why there's the old Jidge's-old Jidge Harris, over in the Grove: I took his'n, and it can't be beat, no how! Ye see, he hung off about it, jist like yourself, at fust. But now I'll set a spell, and tell you 'zactly how it was: I went one day, when I was dreadful short o' cash, to borrer a dollar from the Jidge, but the old cuss was so cussed mean, he would n't gin it to me no how. He swore he had n't a shillin' to-hum. I know'd better; so I sot a gabbin' some time, and at last sez I, 'Jidge! did you ever hev your portrait_tuck?' "No!' sez he, ugly as you please, 'nor never mean to, nuther.' ''Dew tell!' sez I; why, you ha'n't got no young uns as I knows on, nor a' n't likely to hev, and now you're a goin' down to the silent tomb, without leavin' any memorial whatsumever of your hevin' been Jidge seven year nor more.' 'Now you'd better believe that match went off like nothin'! "Why,' sez he, a settin' straight up, 'I never thought o' that afore: conscience! -ef I hev!' Time enough, Jidge,' sez I; 'and I'm the feller can dew it for you, easy as butcherin'!' What's the cost?' sez he. "Why,' sez I, 'seein' you 're an old friend, and ha'n't got no ha'r, I'll do it cheap say twelve shillin'.' "Done!' sez he: 'but whar's your fixins?' "I hev' 'em out here convenient,' sez I: 'I allers carries 'em along with me, in case some one might be taken of a suddent with a notion to hev their picter-'specially the women-folks.' "Well, you get ready,' sez he, 'and I'll go and slick up a bit.' 'Well, I set to, and worked like smoke, till I come to the shiny old head of the critter. It a' n't o' no use, Jidge,' sez I: 'it won't work, no ways. I must give you some kiverin'.' "Betsy,' sez he, a-callin' to old Marm Harris, 'fitch me my old wig.' "Heavenly marcies!' sez she,' if that don't beat creation! When you guv it to the masons yourself last fall, to mix the plasterin' for the new back kitching, when they could n't get no ha'r any whar!' "What's to be done now, Ik?' sez he. "Never mind,' sez I: 'I'll gin you a head of ha'r'll astonish the natives.' Arter a spell, old Marm Harris come a-peakin' over my shoulder, and bursts out a larfin: "Why,' sez she, 'you've made his top parts as black as the old bellwether's, and he was allers as red about the head as a turkey-gobbler!' "Hold your tongue, Mammy, can't you?' sez the Jidge: 'can't I get a black wig when I goes east next spring?' 'Old Marm shut up, but I seed she war n't pleased: she went off to wash the dishes, grumblin' at me. But I knowed how to come round the old lady. Marm Harris,' sez I, kind o' coaxin-like, 'jest you stand as you are now, and I'll find room for ye:' and I jest tuk a view of her back parts as she was a washin' the dishes; and I tell ye now, it was as like as life, and more. There was the hooks a-bustin' off her dress: you could a'most hear 'em crack; and the dish-water a drip, drip, drip-pin' from the table- all about twice as nat'ral as life. It was the best picter I ever took, and no mistake.' As he finished his story, his eyes remained on me; and putting his hand in his pocket, with a peculiarly knowing look, he drew forth a crumpled piece of paper, and said, with an insinuating smile, 'P'r'aps you'd like me to write an acrostic on your young woman's name. Here's one on the names of Ameliar Ann, and her young man, William Jones. It's hardly a fair sample, though, for I made it all while I was up in the timber, a-splittin' rails for old Hiram Powers, and I hadn't no dictionary, nor nothin', to find the rhymes to it.' I politely but positively declined the poetical assistance of Mr. Custis: and rising lazily from his seat, with a look of blank disappointment, the man of genius moved slowly away. But suddenly a bright thought seemed to strike him: he returned, and again addressed the old gentleman. Taking a handful of boxes out of his pocket, he began briskly : 'Any body got the agur here? It looks as though there was a dreadful smart chance for it here, it's so low and ma'shy.' He looked at the beautiful prairie, sloping down to the river, as he spoke. This remark elicited a short, angry negative from my old friend: 'Oh, you ha'n't?' said the imperturbable Yankee. Well, may-be you'll ketch it some time, and these 'ere pills was made by a bully-good doctor. They'll cure the agur, sure as shootin'. Why, now, let me tell ye, I've hed it, on and off, more 'n a year, or may-be three, and if I had n't taken fifteen boxes of these 'ere pills, may-be I would n't 'a bin no wheres now. They've done me a heap o' good. Say, old gentleman, hev a box?' My old friend closed his eyes and made no response: so the poor pillvender lingeringly mounted his Rosinante, and went off muttering wrathfully to himself: 'That old hoss's a dotin', or somethin' wuss: but I guess the agur 'll shake it out of him yet!' Strange and ignorant as poor Ik Custis appeared, he was as great, perhaps a greater genius, than many who have a niche in the temple of Fame. In fact, it is a certain proof of talent that a man like him, brought up in the lowest walks of life, should evince such tastes, and prosecute them as far as his means and advantages allowed. Poor Custis! he was happier that he never knew his real worth, or experienced the heart-burning which more knowledge gives to genius. It is some years ago since we sustained an almost irreparable loss in the death (by drowning) of a little red-headed carpenter, who shone as an author of pathetic and satirical poems, and a composer of western melodies, the words of which were interlarded by very singular French: in fact, it was necessary he should sing his own songs, (which he did with much emphasis,) and to interpret the French aforesaid, before the most |