We have read this little poem more than twenty sadness. In many of the shorter compositions which make up the volume of which we speak, times and always with increasing admiration. It "(Records of the Heart") we are forced to recog- is inexpressibly beautiful. No one of real feeling nize the truth and perfect appositeness of the title-can peruse it without a strong inclination to tears. we are made to feel that it is here indeed the heart Its irresistible charm is its absolute truth-the onwhich records, rather than the fancy which invents. The passionate earnestness of the following lines will be acknowledged by every reader capable of appreciating that species of poetry of which the essentiality and inspiration is truth. THE FORSAKEN. It hath been said-for all who die Some pining, bleeding heart to sigh But in that hour of pain and dread Around my humble couch and shed Who watch my life's departing ray And soothe my spirit on its way What mourner round my bier will come And follow me to my long home When lying on my clayey bed, In icy sleep, Who there by pure affection led Will come and weep; By the pale moon implant the rose And bid it cheer my dark repose- Could I but know when I am sleeping Low in the ground One faithful heart would there be keeping As if some gem lay shrined beneath That sod's cold gloom, 'Twould mitigate the And light the tomb. Yes, in that hour if I could feel From halls of glee And Beauty's presence one would steal In secresy, And come and sit and weep by me In nights' deep noon Oh! I would ask of Memory But ah! a lonelier fate is mine A deeper wo: From all I love in youth's sweet time I soon must go Draw round me my cold robes of white, In a dark spot, To sleep through Death's long dreamless night, affected naturalness of its thought. The sentiment which forms the basis of the composition is, perhaps, at once the most universal and the most pas sionate of sentiments. No human being exists, over the age of fifteen, who has not, in his heart of hearts, a ready echo for all here so pathetically expressed. The essential poetry of the ideas would only be impaired by "foreign ornament." This is a case in which we should be repelled by the mere conventionalities of the Muse. We demand, for such thoughts, the most rigorous simplicity at all points. It will be observed that, strictly speaking, there is not an attempt at " imagery" in the whole poem. All is direct, terse, penetrating. In a word nothing could be better done. The versification, while in full keeping with the general character of simplicity, has in certain passages a vigorous, trenchant euphony which would confer honor on the most accomplished masters of the art. We refer, especially to the lines: And follow me to my long home and to the quatrain: Could I but know when I am sleeping Low in the ground One faithful heart would there be keeping The initial trochee here, in each instance, substituted for the iambus produces, so naturally as to seem accidentally, a very effective echo of sound to sense. The thought included in the line "And light the tomb," should be dwelt upon to be appreciated in its full extent of beauty; and the verses which I have italicized in the last stanza are poetry-poetry in the purest sense of that much misused word. They have power-indisputable pow er; making us thrill with a sense of their weird magnificence as we read them. In "The Child of the Sea," Mrs. Lewis has accomplished a much more comprehensive at least, if not at all points a more commendable poem than any included in her "Records of the Heart." One of its most distinguishing merits is the admirable conduct of its narrative-in which every incident has its proper position-where nothing is inconsequent or incoherent-and where, above all, the rich and vivid interest is never, for a single moment, permitted to flag. How few, even of the most accomplished and skilful of poets, are successful in the management of a story, when that story has to be told in verse. The difficulty is easily analyzed. In all mere narrations there are particulars of the dullest prose, which are inevitable and indispensable, but which serve no other purpose than to bind together the true interest of the incidents-in a word, explanatory passages which are yet to be "so done into verse" as not to let down the imagination from its pride of place. Absolutely to poetize these explantory passages is beyond the reach of art, for prose, and that of the flattest kind, is their essentiality; but the skill of the artist should be sufficient to gloss them over so as to seem poetry amid the poetry by which they are surrounded. For this end a very consummate art is demanded. Here the tricks of phraseology-quaintnesses-and rhythmical effects, come opportunely into play. Of the species of skill required, Moore, in his "Alciphron," has given us, upon the whole, the happiest exemplification :-but Mrs. Lewis has very admirably succeeded in her "Child of the Sea." We are strongly tempted; by way of showing what we mean, to give here a digest of her narrative, with comments-but this would be doing the author injustice, in anticipating the interest of her work. The poem, although widely differing in subject from any of Mrs. Lewis' prior compositions, and far superior to any of them in general vigor, artistic skill, and assured certainty of purpose, is nev. ertheless easily recognizable as the production of the same mind which originated "Florence" and "The Forsaken." We perceive, throughout, the same passion, the same enthusiasm, and the same seemingly reckless abandon of thought and manner which we have already mentioned as characterizing the writer. We should have spoken also, of a fastidious yet most sensitive and almost voluptuous sense of Beauty. These are the general traits of "The Child of the Sea :" but undoubtedly the chief value of the poem, to ordinary readers, will be found to lie in the aggregation of its imaginative passages—its quotable points. We give a few of these at random :-the opening lines will be at once appreciated : Where blooms the myrtle and the olive flings Where the sad bird of night forever sings Again: Fresh blows the breeze on Tarick's burnished bay; The silent sea-mews bend them through the spray : The Beauty-freighted barges bound afar To the soft music of the gay guitar. -the oblivious world of sleep That rayless realm where Fancy never beamsThat Nothingness beyond the Land of Dreams. Folded his arms across his sable vest, As if to keep the heart within his breast. -he lingers by the streams, Pondering on incommunicable themes. It will be understood, of course, that we quote these brief passages by no means as the best, or even as particularly excelling the rest of the poem, on an averaged estimate of merit, but simply with a view of exemplifying some of the author's more obvious traits-those, especially, of vigorous rhythm, and forcible expression. In no case can the loftier qualities of a truly great poem be conveyed through the citation of its component portions, in detail, even when long extracts are given-how much less, then, by such mere points as we have selected. If we err not greatly, "The Child of the Sea" will confer immortality on its author. ALL THINGS SPEAK OF GOD. BY J. A. TURNER. The flower that blushes on its stem The bubbling brook that sends its stream Delights to kiss the solar beam The zephyr that unfurls its wing, The bird that warbles on the tree The star that twinkles in the sky race, for whose benefit, the time and labors of these humane and distinguished men were applied with such blessed success. They have passed from the earth, but imperishable must ever be the fame and fruits of their good works, their ingenuity and exertions;-to borrow the words of an interesting tourist, their names and praises shall live, when the marble upon which they are engraved, shall have crumbled into dust. The Abbé de L'Epée possessed only a moderate income, yet supported at his own private expense no less than forty deaf and dumb children, and by his indefatigable instructions and patience, accomplished his design of rendering them susceptive of enjoyment within themselves and useful members of Society. He even communicated to them the knowledge of various languages and sciencessome became mathematicians and engineers, and others poets and writers for literary works--all were taught a trade or profession. Such was his regard for his protegées, that when quite an old man, he has been known to deprive himself of a fire during an entire winter, in order to supply them liberally with that, and other comforts. Government at length rewarded his generosity and successful efforts by its patronage, and erected a public Institution which was committed to his guidance and control. It is located in the Rue du Faubourg St. Jaques, towards the southern extremity of Paris, and is certainly one of the most in REMINISCENCES OF A TRAVELLER.teresting establishments in the city. NO. VII. One morning in every week it is thrown open for public inspection, and at the close of every month there is a public examination of the pupils, The Institution for the Deaf and Dumb, and the to which admission may be obtained by merely ap Blind Asylum in Paris. Not far from the little free-stone chapel which crowns the summit of Mont Louis in the cemetery of Pere La Chaise, stands a small black marble sepulchre, bearing the date of 1823, and the name of Sicard, spelt in the expressive manual Alphabet of the Deaf and Dumb. The letters are formed by six hands, delineated in different positions, after the manner of Egyptian Hieroglyphics, and neatly carved on the front of the tomb. It is an object of peculiar interest, and we paused before it, not from curiosity alone, but from an innate feeling of respect for the memory of him whose remains are enshrined within-whose life and talents were so nobly, so energetically devoted to that work of wonder and benevolence, the education of the Deaf and Dumb! To the Abbé Roch Ambroise Cucurron Sicard of Tousseret, near Bordeaux, and to his teacher and predecessor, the Abbé Charles Michael de L'Epée, of Versailles, both the gratitude and admiration of all philanthropists are due, but more especially the gratitude of such as have ties connecting them with that once helpless portion of our plying to the director for tickets, and well worth while it is to do this and go there to witness an interesting and touching scene, which will occupy only a few hours and leave a pleasing and lasting impression on both mind and heart. The number of pupils is limited to ninety, and their rapid progress and attainments in different branches of knowledge, their development of pow er and acuteness in metaphysical reasoning-in short, their utter change from mental obscurity to soul-cheering light of intellect, inspire the visitor with pleasure and amazement, and almost induce the belief that providence, who always "tempers the wind to the shorn lamb," has bestowed on this unfortunate class of human beings, higher capacities than common, to compensate in some measure for their deprivation of hearing and speech. After the death of the Abbé de L'Epée, which occurred in 1789, his friend and assistant, the Abbé Sicard, conducted the school with equal skill and credit--indeed it seemed as if, like Elijah of old, his master had cast his mantle upon him, and with it transmitted his ability and zeal for the office he bequeathed to him. To the original list of studies, Monsieur Sicard "As the sunflower turns on her God when he sets, The same look which she turned when he rose." Moore. added the accomplishments of drawing, painting | The constant turning of the sunflower to the and working in Mosaic, and had the gratification sun. of sending forth from his seminary many proficients in each, but death, the fell destroyer of the good as well as the wicked, put an end to the labors of this excellent man, while in the prime of his life and usefulness, and on the 10th of May, 1822, (a gloomy day for the poor mutes!) he was laid upon his bier. When we were in Paris, the Abbé Gondelin, occupied his place at the head of the Institution and Madame had charge of the girls, for both male and female children are admitted, a circumstance I have neglected to mention. Ingratitude-The thorns of the Rose piercing the hand which nourished it. Fear-The shrinking of the Sensitive plant from the hand that would touch it. Pride-The towering of the stately hollyhock above more attractive and sweeter flowers of humbler growth. Humility-The lowliness of the sweet and beau Revenge-The stinging of the nettle when dis turbed. Those who can afford to pay, are charged for board and tuition, but the poor are received gratui-teous violet. tously: none of the latter, however, are suffered to enter without the testimony of a surgeon to their being deaf and dumb, nor without the most satisfactory proofs that their parents are unable to provide for their support and education. When these are obtained, the candidates are welcomed to a comfortable home, there to reside five years and be fitted to share in the pursuits of their fellow-creatures, and maintain themselves by that trade or profession they may prove best calculated to acquire. Dr. Johnson calls their education "a philosophical curiosity," and so it really is. The idea of instructing them, and the method of doing so, is said to have originated with a Benedictine Monk, about the end of the sixteenth century-his name was Pedro de Ponce. He educated two Castilian children of high birth, who were mates, and his success excited both wonder and applause. After his time several other Spaniards and individuals in different countries applied themselves to the same benevolent vocation, but their labors extended to a very few pupils, and their system of teaching was very incomplete: the happiness and honor of perfecting it were reserved for the two eminent Frenchmen of whom I have been speaking. According to a computation made some years ago by the Academy of Science in Paris, there were then in Europe more than eighty institutions for the deaf and dumb, and several in the United States of America. Modesty-The retiring of the lily of the valley within its leaves. Patience The prostration of the tulip during the storm. Punctuality-The opening and closing of the morning glory. Power-The exhalation from the Upas blossom, overcoming all within its influence. The fragrance of the Ottar-gul. Lord Byron in a note to one of his poems, relates that an eastern swain once broke a vial of this rich perfume, (the Ottar-gul, or Ottar of Roses,) under the nose of a Duenna employed to keep guard over his lady-love, and that the old woman was so overwhelmed by its potency, that she fainted away, and thus he was enabled to enter the forbidden ground and obtain the interview he desired to have with her fair charge. But a truce with digressions! Let me resume the thread of my reminiscences and tell you of two other charitable establishments of peculiar interest, situated in the same quarter of Paris with that for the deaf and dumb, these are the "Hospital of the Quinze Vingts," and the "Royal Institution for the Young Blind." The first was founded by Saint Louis in 1220, and is exclusively appropriated to the indigent blind, who are taught various mechanical arts and trades, and soon learn to gain their own subsistence, instead of depending for it on the To give you an idea of the unique and fanciful community. The appellation of "Quinze Vingts," style in which the mutes usually express their con- (fifteen twenties,) is derived from the number of ceptions of any given subject, here are a series of paupers originally admitted, but which has since flowery definitions I have written in imitation of been allowed to be considerably augmented. it. Suppose them to be asked the meaning of Gratitude, Fidelity, Ingratitude, Fear, Pride, Humility, Revenge, Modesty, Patience, Punctuality and Power, they would probably answer somewhat as fol-pupils including boys and girls; like that too it aflows: The hospital for the young blind is, as its name imports, designed for the young alone, and like the Institution for the deaf and dumb, receives ninety fords the stranger an opportunity of witnessing an Gratitude-The incense and beauty with which interesting examination at the close of every month, the flower repays the care and trouble of him who and is open to the public several mornings during reared it. the week. The course of instruction is also nearly Fidelity-The adherence of the Ivy to the scath- the same, and the method of teaching, though toed oak or ruined tower. tally different, is equally ingenious. The children are taught reading, cyphering and although deprived of their eyes, can see with their music by means of cards and papers stamped in a fingers and I have read of a sculptor who had not peculiar manner, expressly for their use. The let seen a ray of light for ten years, yet carved two ters, figures and notes are rendered palpable to the marble statues with correctness and skill, and from touch by being printed in relievo, that is, raised memory produced a good likeness of the persons above the surface of the card, or paper, and they he intended to represent. Be that as it may, we learn them with facility and quickness by passing were astonished at the extreme neatness and delitheir fingers to and fro upon the lines of the page. cacy of a variety of mechanical works executed In writing, iron pens without slits are used. With by the blind inmates of the Institutions we visited: these they distinctly trace the letters upon soft, even clock making was carried almost to perfectough paper by bearing very hard upon the pen. tion. To keep their lines straight and their letters equi- We were so fortunate as to call one morning distant, the paper is arranged in a very curious and ingenious machine contrived for the purpose, and as whatever is thus written must necessarily be read on the opposite side of the paper, they proceed from right to left, like the Chinese in their grotesque operations.* when a singing class was in full chorus, and thereby had the benefit of quite a melodious concert, for they sang remarkably well; and we noticed among the female voices, several which were full, clear and sweet. The class kept excellent time, guided by the In printing, they are furnished with little boxes, tapping of a light wand upon a music desk in each one containing a liberal supply of a different front of the leader, who flourished it aloft with letter of the alphabet which they easily select and the many gesticulations usual upon such squally arrange by feeling. When the types are set, a occasions. We lingered nearly a half hour lis moistened sheet of paper, or paste-board, is laid tening to his bevy of warblers, and amused too at upon them, and by the operation of a press, or the his varied motions and emotions if there chanced repeated strokes of a hammer, the desired impres-to tingle upon his quickened ear the dismal sound, sions are permanently made. One of the pupils or semblance of a false note. composed a comedy in verse and printed it for his The memory of the blind is singularly retentive, companions to act--and they used often to perform so much so, that some have been known to recogit with great zest and animation. Many of them nize persons whom they had not met for years, evince considerable genius and a decided talent for merely by the tone of their voices. Their entire composition, but this fact will not surprise those separation from outward scenes brightens and imwho have read the biography of Doctor Thomas proves this faculty as well as their mental percepBlacklock, a Scotch clergyman and poet, professor tions. of divinity in the College at Aberdeen, and that of To me no earthly evil or misfortune appears so Doctor Nicholas Saunderson, professor of mathe-great and awful as total blindness! and I have been matics in Cambridge University, both of whom lost perfectly amazed to hear some persons aver that their eyes by small pox while they were infants, they would choose being in that state, in prefer and yet in after life, obtained such celebrity for ence to being deaf and dumb, if compelled to suftheir learning and acquirements. Then there was fer one or the other of these stupendous afflictions! Didymus of Alexandria, who flourished in the fourth They adduce as a reason for this (to me) strange century, and was the preceptor of St. Jerome. choice, that the blind appear generally cheerful and He became blind in childhood, yet was deeply gay, and the mutes sad and morose. They should versed in every branch of science, and so conver-consider that when one sees the blind in company, sant in ecclesiastical history and controversial the- or with a companion, it is beholding them under the ology, that he was chosen to fill the chair of the most favorable auspices. They may then be exeiAlexandrian school. He was pronounced the most ted or enlivened by those around them and for a learned man of the age and was the author of nu- while, thus made to forget their misery, or at least merous valuable works. to feel it less sensibly, whereas, it is at such periIt is an established theory, I believe, based upon ods that the mutes experience most fully the unthe maxim of Practice making perfect, that by the happiness of their condition, so cruelly incapacitaloss of the sight, the remaining senses are shar- ting them for joining in the conversation, and merpened, being continually called into exercise to sup-riment of the moment. The mute it is true, can ply its place. The touch especially being most but seldom enjoy social intercourse, and is dead to employed, becomes so exquisitely subtle, that it has mortal voices and heavenly sounds, all of which been playfully remarked, that many of the blind, The system of instruction here described is substantially the same, we believe, with that pursued at the excellent Asylum for the Blind, of our own State, at Staunton. [Ed. Mess. are free to the blind, but then the latter, poor wretch! is shut out from God's glorious light! and the view of all the beauties, the sublimities, the wonders of nature! Here, permit me to quote those touching lines of Milton, from his "Samson Agonistes;" where |