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fided by the state to Dr. Cooper, this gentleman, then feeling some touch of age, found a hearty co-laborer in M'Cord-who worked con amore; and, indeed, what with his love for the work and his friendship for Dr. Cooper, a large portion of the achievement was performed by him; and the last volume-the Inder, I think-was exclusively his; thus furnishing at once a monument of his willingness to labor in a praiseworthy work, and the kindliness of his temper to do a favor to a friend.

He was conspicuous for spirit, candor, and friendship. He was faithful and true, fearless and warmhearted; loved learning and philosophy-the learning which is consonant with the business and bosoms of men-the philosophy which is not "harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose," but genial and diffusive, running over into and permeating the affairs of life. As his early life was amidst struggle and bustle-the fumum strepitumque of the public arena -so his latter years were amidst the repose of an elegant and lettered retirement, in his well cultivated fields, and amongst his books. His last moments were solaced by the tender assiduities of his congenial help-mate, of his children, and of his old and longfamiliar friends.

It was a somewhat curious coincidence, that the disease which terminated his existence, struck him in the Library of the College, whither his tastes and habits led him habitually.

To this we may here appropriately add an acknowledgment of the friendly services of the late Colonel M'Cord to the present work on American literature. We are indebted to his pen for much information of value relative to his literary associates at Columbia, the affairs of the college of which he was a trustee, and particularly for a sketch of his conversations with the late eminent Judge Cooper, with whom he was intimate-an interesting paper, which will be found in the appendix to the present volume.

LOUISA S. M'CORD, the widow of Colonel M'Cord, a lady of strong natural powers, who

Louisa S. McCord.

has cultivated with success both poetry and philosophy, is a resident of Columbia, South Caro

lina. She is the daughter of the eminent politician, the Hon. Langdon Cheves,* and was born in South Carolina, in December, 1810. In 1840 she was married to Colonel David J. M'Cord. Her winter residence is the plantation of Fort Mott, the scene of a heroic adventure in the revolutionary annals of the state, in which Mrs. Mott made herself famous by the voluntary sacrifice of her property.

The literary productions of Mrs. M'Cord are a volume of poems, My Dreams, published in Philadelphia in 1848; Sophisms of the Protective Policy, a translation from the French of Bastiat, issued by Putnam, New York, the same year; Caius Gracchus, printed at New York in 1851, and numerous contributions to the Southern Quarterly Review, De Bow's Review, and the Southern Literary Messenger, from 1849 to the present time.t These review papers, written with spirit and energy, are of a conservative character, with resources derived from the study of political economy, mainly treating the question of southern slavery in reference to the diversity of races, its comparison with the white laboring class, with a rather sharp handling of the novel of Mrs. Stowe. Mrs. M'Cord has also discussed the woman's rights movements of the day with pungency and good sense. In one of these articles in reply to a proposition of the Westminster Review, that "a reason must be given why anything should be permitted to one person and interdicted to another," she exclaimed, "A reason! -a reason why man cannot drink fire and breathe

The Hon. Langdon Cheves, the venerable contemporary of the Revolution, was born in Abbeville, S. C., September, 17, 1776. A lawyer by profession, he was elected to Congress in the winter of 1810-11, and became a member of the celebrated war mess," as the coadjutors, Messrs. Cheves, Clay, Loundes, Calhoun, and Bibb, were termed, who carried the declaration of war in 1512. His speech on the "Merchants' Bonds" in December, 1811, was justly characterized by Mr. Clay, then Speaker of the House, as "a splendid exhibition of eloquence." His speeches on the Loan and Navy Bills in the beginning of 1812, gained him much distinction. Mr. Cheves was always opposed to the restrictive system. He succeeded Mr. Clay as Speaker of the House, and during his tenure of that offic (which was till he left Congress, declining a reelection in March, 1815), not a single decision of his was ever reversed by that body. On leaving Congress, Mr. Cheves was chosen one of the Superior Judges of the Courts of Law of South Carolina, and in 1-19 Lecame President of the Bank of the United States at Philadelphia, the affairs of which he managed with great ability at an important crisis of its history. He held this arduous office for three years, and continued to reside for some time further in Pennsylvania, when he returned to South Carolina.

As a literary nian, Mr. Cheves is known by his speeches in Congress, as well as by divers occasional papers; among others, his essays on the subject of the Bank, published with the signature of "Say," which attracted much attention. At a later period, his "occasional reviews," opposing nullification and adVocating a Southern Confederacy, as a check upon the advanc ing movement of the non-slave-holding states; his letter on the same subject to the people of Columbia in 1830; his letter to the people of Pendleton: his letter to the "Charleston Mercury" on Southern Wrongs in 1844; his speech at the Nashville Convention, and other letters, show his accustomed qualities of power, vigor, and eloquence.

+ The papers in the Southern Quarterly Review, are "Justice and Fraternity," July, 1849;The Right to Labor," October, 1849; "Diversity of the Races, its bearing upon Negro Slavery," April, 1851; "Negro and White Slavery, wherein do they differ," July, 1951; Enfranchisement of Women," April, 1852; "Uncle Tom's Cabin," January, 1853: Carey on the Slave Trade," January, 1854. In De Bow's Review, "Negro Mania," May, 1852: "Woman and her Needs," September, 1852; British Philanthropy and American Slavery," March, 1853. Southern Literary Messenger, the paper, Charity which does not begin at home," April, 1853.

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The "Uncle Tom" movement a'so called forth from Mrs. M'Cord, "A Letter to the Duchess of Sutherland from a Lady of South Carolina. July 30, 1853," published in the "Charleston Mercury," and reprinted in several northern papers.

water! A scientific answer about hydrogen and oxygen will not answer the purpose. These are facts, not reasons. Why? Why? Why is anything on God's earth what it is? Can Miss Martineau tell? We cannot. God has made it so, and reason, instinct, and experience, teach us its uses. Woman, Nature teaches you yours." Again she writes in reference to the demand for opportunities: Even at her own fireside, may woman find duties enough, cares enough, troubles enough, thought enough, wisdom enough, to fit a martyr for the stake, a philosopher for life, or a saint for heaven."

Mrs. M'Cord herself illustrates her views of female life by her own daily example. She conducts the hospital on her own large plantation, attends to the personal wants of the negroes, and on one occasion perfectly set a fracture of a broken arm. Thoroughly accomplished in the modern languages of Europe, she employs her leisure in the education of her children.

The poetry of Mrs. M'Cord is simply and clearly uttered, and is the expression of a healthy nature. Her tragedy of Caius Gracchus, a dramatic poem for the closet, is balanced in its philosophy and argument, Cornelia wisely tempering the democratic fervor of her son. Many sound, pithy aphorisms of conduct may be extracted from this piece; all expressed with purity and precision. The character of Cornelia is well sustained.

THE VOICE OF YEARS.

It floated by, on the passing breeze,

The voice of years:

It breathed o'er ocean, it wandered through earth,
It spoke of the time when words had birth,
When the spirit of God moved over the sea,
When earth was only a thing-to be.

And it sighed, as it passed on that passing breeze,
The voice of years.

From ocean it came on a murmuring wave,
The voice of years:

And it spoke of the time ere the birth of light;
When earth was hushed, 'neath the ocean's might,
And the waters rolled, and the dashing roar,
Of the angered surge owned not yet the power,
Which whispers in that murmuring wave

From earth it came,

The voice of years.

from her inmost deep, The voice of years: It murmured forth with the bubbling stream, It came like the sound of a long-past dreamAnd it spoke of the hour ere Time had birth, When living thing moved not yet on earth, And, solemnly sad, it rose from the deep,

The voice of years.

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gone,

Of hopes which were blighted, and joys which were flown;

Of the wreck of so much that was bright and was fair;

And it made me sad, and I wept to hear,
As it came from yon moss-grown ruin gray,
The voice of years.

And it rose from the grave, with the song of death,
The voice of
years:
And I shuddered to hear the tale it told,
Of blighted youth, and hearts grown cold;
And anguish and sorrow which crept to the grave,
To hide from the spoiler the wound which he gave,
And sadly it rose from that home of death,
The voice of years.

But again it passed on the passing breeze,
The voice of years:

And it spoke of a God, who watched us here,
Who heard the sigh, and who saw the tear;
And it spoke of mercy, and not of wo;
There was love and hope in its whispering low,
And I listened to catch, on that passing breeze,
The voice of years.

And it spoke of a pain which might not last,
That voice of years:

And it taught me to think, that the God who gave
The breath of life, could wake from the grave;
And it taught me to see that this beautiful earth,
Was not only made to give sorrow birth;
And it whispered, that mercy must reign at last,
That voice of years.

And strangely methought, as it floated by,
That voice of years

Seemed fraught with a tone from some higher sphere,
It whispered around me, that God was near;
He spoke from the sunbeam; He spoke from the

wave;

He spoke from the ruin; He spoke from the grave; "Twas the voice of God, as it floated by, That voice of years.

CORNELIA AND GRACCHUS.

[Act ill. Scene 1.]
Gracchus.

Wolves breed not lambs, nor can the lioness Rear fawns among her litter. You but chide The spirit, mother, which is born from you.

Cornelia.

Curb it, my son; and watch against ambition!
Half demon and half god, she oft misleads
With the bold face of virtue. I know well
The breath of discontent is loud in Rome;
And a hoarse murmuring vengeance smoulders there
Against the tyrannous rule which, iron shod,
Doth trample out man's life. The crisis comes.
But oh! beware my son, how you shall force it!

Gracchus.

Nay, let it come, that dreaded day of doom,
When by the audit of his cruel wrongs
Heaped by the rich oppressor on the crowd
Of struggling victims, he must stand condemned
To vomit forth the ill-got gains which gorge

His luxury to repletion. Let it come!

The world can sleep no longer. Reason wakes

To know man's rights, and forward progress points.

Cornelia.

By reason led, and peaceful wisdom nursed,
All progress is for good. But the deep curse
Of bleeding nations follows in the track
Of mad ambition, which doth cheat itself
To find a glory in its lust of rule;

Which piling private ill on public wrong,
Beneath the garb of patriotism hides

Its large-mawed cravings; and would thoughtless plunge

To every change, however riot waits,

With feud intestine, by mad uproar driven,
And red-eyed murder, to reproach the deed.
Death in its direst forms doth wait on such.

Gracchus.

Man lives to die, and there's no better way To let the shackled spirit find its freedom .Than in a glorious combat 'gainst oppression.

I would not grudge the breath lost in the struggle.

Cornelia.

Nor I, when duty calls. I am content,
May but my son prove worthy of the crisis;
Not shrinking from the trial, nor yet leaping
Beyond the marked outline of licensed right;
Curbing his passions to his duty's rule;
Giving his country all,-life, fortune, fame,
And only clutching back, with miser's care,
His all untainted honor. But take heed!
The world doth set itself on stilts, to wear
The countenance of some higher, better thing.
'Tis well to seek this wisely; but with haste
Grasping too high, like child beyond its reach
It trips in the aspiring, and thus falls
To lowlier condition. Rashness drags
Remorse and darkest evil in her train.
Pause, ere the cry of suffering pleads to Heaven
Against this fearful mockery of right;
This license wild, which smothers liberty
While feigning to embrace it.

Gracchus.

Thought fantastic Doth drapery evil thus with unsketched ills. No heart-sick maid nor dream-struck boy am I To scare myself with these. There's that in man Doth long to rise by nature. Ever he Couching in lethargy, doth wrong himself.

Cornelia.

Most true and more. I reverence human mind;
And with a mingled love and pride I kneel
To nature's inborn majesty in man.
But as I reverence, therefore would I lend
My feeble aid, this mighty power to lead
To its true aim and end. Most often 'tis
When crowds do wander wide of right, and fall
To foul misuse of highest purposes,
The madness of their leaders drags them on.
I would not check aspiring, justly poised;
But rather bid you "on"-where light is clear
And your track plainly marked. I scorn the slang
Of "greedy populace," and " dirty crowd,"
Nor slander thus the nature which I bear.
Men in the aggregate not therefore cease
Still to be men; and where untaught they fall,
It is a noble duty, to awake

The heart of truth, that slumbers in them still.
It is a glorious sight to rouse the soul,
The reasoning heart that in a nation sleeps!
And Wisdom is a laggard at her task
When but in closet speculations toiling
She doth forget to share her thought abroad
And make mankind her heir.

HENRY JUNIUS NOTT

WAS the son of the Hon. Abram Nott (a distinguished judge of the South Carolina Bench), and was born on the borders of Pacolet river, Union District, South Carolina, November 4th, 1797. At a very early age he showed great fondness for poetry and old songs, reciting endless collections of verses, hymns, and corn-shucking catches. In 1806 his father removed to Columbia, where, at the "South Carolina College," young Nott was educated. While at college he was by no means distinguished for attention to the regular course of studies, yet few boys of his class had a higher reputation for talents or acquirements. He read much and never forgot anything. In 1818 he came to the Bar in Columbia, where he soon acquired a high standing and a good practice. This was in competition with a Bar distinguished for many years for its ability and learning. While engaged in the practice of the law Mr. Nott, in conjunction with his intimate friend D. J. M'Cord, published two volumes of Law Reports.

In 1821 preferring the pursuits of literature to the law, Mr. Nott abandoned his profession and took up his abode in France and Holland, the better to pursue his studies. Before his return, the professorship of Belles Lettres was established in the College of South Carolina, and he was elected, while still absent in Europe, to fill this position. On his return, about January, 1824, he commenced the fulfilment of its duties. His extensive reading, wonderful memory, and facility of quotation, united with a sprightly mind, ready wit, and amiable temper, rendered him an exceedingly popular lecturer.

A few years before his death Mr. Nott published in 1834 two volumes of tales called Novellettes of a Traveller; or, Odds and Ends from the Knapsack of Thomas Singularity, Journeyman Printer. These are taken from life (many of the incidents being at the time well known about Columbia), and exhibit in a style of much humor, the happy faculty possessed by Mr. Nott of catching every odd trait of character that presented itself. This peculiarity, with his various acquirements and accomplishments, rendered him a most agreeable companion.

Prof. Nott was a good Greek and Latin scholar, as well as master of several modern languages. While in Holland he met Prof. Gaisford of Oxford, for whom he contracted a high esteem, which was we presume mutual.

Mr. Nott wrote several articles for the "Southern Quarterly," of which we are enabled to mention the following:-Life of Wyttenbach, May, 1828; Life of Erasmus, February, 1829; Paul Louis Courier, February, 1830; Woolrych's Life of Judge Jeffrey, August, 1831; D'Aguesseau, February, 1832. These with a MS. novel (a pirate story founded upon historical events in the history of South Carolina) left at his death, and which has never been published, are all that we have of his literary productions.

Mr. Nott and his wife were lost in the wreck of the unfortunate steamer "The Home" off the coast of North Carolina 13th Oct. 1837, leaving an only daughter, now Mrs. W. McKenzie Parker of St. Andrews, S. C. We have been told by eyewitnesses of the fearful tragedy of the wreck in which he perished, that Mr. Nott might easily

have saved himself, but, with generous devotion refusing to separate from his wife, he perished with her. No one in the community in which he dwelt was ever more beloved, and none could have been more deeply regretted.

As a specimen of his writing we extract the character of Mr. Hunt, from the story of Thomas Singularity.*

Though in all cases a prudent, gain-saving kind of a man, Mr. Hunt's bowels for once yearned with pity, and he pleaded with his spouse that, inasmuch as their marriage-bed was barren, they should at least give the little unfortunate a domicil till they could make due perquisition about it. This request was proposed in a singularly bland tone, but with that peculiar propriety and force of emphasis he was wont to use when he might not be gainsaid.

From day to day the foundling increased in the affection of his protector, to whom, strange as it may seem, he exhibited a prodigious likeness. This was enough, in the present generation, to excite the surmises and gibes of wicked fancies and slanderous tongues, although it was well known that Zephaniah came from the land of steady habits, and was then a burning and a shining light of orthodox faith. True it was, that "in life's merry morn" he had cut his gambols as wildly as an ass's colt, but he had long ago eschewed his youthful follies, and especially since entering the holy bands of wedlock, had been of staid, I had almost said of saintly, demeanor. He was regular every Sunday, or, as he always termed it, Sabbath, in attending morning and evening service, at the latter of which, of a verity, he generally took a comfortable snooze;-belonged to the Tract Society, Missionary Society, Peace Society, Temperance Society, Abolition Society, and the Society for the Promotion of Psalmody, whereof he led the bass. But as the bard of Avon has said or

sung, "Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny"-various young men that prowled about when honest people should be at home abed and asleep, intimated, in what might be called Irish hints, that they had espied the worthy Mr. Hunt at irregular places and at irregular hours. The censorious, too, had expressed their suspicions that as his helpmate was a good ten years older than himself, and had brought a substantial dowry, his match had proceeded more from a love of filthy

lucre than from that etherial flame which warmed the bosom of chivalry or inspired the lay of the troubadour. The perfect" counterfeit presentment" that the foundling exhibited to the honest man, was a constant theme with those who wished to bring him to shame, and was eventually whispered by some kind friend into the ears of his spouse. Now although she had a "pretty considerable" belief in Zephaniah's marital faith and seraphic piety, still it must be confessed that she was but a woman, and the monster, whom poets portray as green-eyed, communicated a beryl tinge to the cat-like visual ray of Mrs. Hunt, that rapidly assumed the deepest hue of the emerald. She boldly upbraided her husband for contaminating the sanctuary of married life with the unholy fruits of his wayward propensities, and required that the bantling should forthwith be sent a-packing, as one roof could no longer cover both of them. Mr. Hunt, after expressing some astonishment at this outrageous and unmerited attack, replied with marvellous mildness and composure that, as for turning out of doors a helpless infant, cast, as it were, by Providence under his protection, he could not and would not do it; but that

Novellettes of a Traveller, i. 7.

as for her staying under the same roof he, as a Christian, did not think himself authorized to employ any compulsion over one he had ever considered his equal, and that therefore she was at liberty to go, when and where to her seemed meet. Upon this she burst into a flood of tears, calling him a cruel, perjured man, with many other such endearing epithets, accompanied by loud screams and violent kicks, As I have before noticed, he was a man of won drously composed temperament, and not liking scenes of this kind, he slipped off easily into the shop, where he drank a pint of Philadelphia beer, qualified with a gill of New England rum, then putting a quid of pigtail tobacco in his mouth, he bid his clerk to keep a tight eye on the shop, and walked off to attend a meeting of the Magdalen Society. Meanwhile the afflicted fair one, stealthily opening an eye, perceived that she was alone; and foreseeing that nothing was to be gained by a further contest, got up, wiped off her tears with the corner of her apron, and made up her mind to remain rather by her own cosy fireside, than to run the risk of going further and faring worse. Yet for a long tract of time she continued in the dumps, and poured forth her sorrows to the neighboring gossips, by all of whom her lord and master was vilipended as a barbarous husband and most salacious old heathen. He perhaps thinking, according to the proverb, that the least said is soonest mended, held "the noiseless tenor of his way," with as much composure as a veteran porker amid the impotent attacks of a nest of hornets, until, persuaded by his sober carriage, one half of his enemies began to doubt, and the other, turning fairly round, declared his wife a jealous, weak-minded body, and him an injured saint.

STEPHEN OLIN,

THE President of the Wesleyan University, was born in Leicester, Vermont, March 2, 1797, of a family which first settled in Rhode Island in 1678. His father, Henry Olin, who attained the dignity of judge of the Supreme Court in Vermont, was a man of force of character and of genuine humor. He directed his son's education, and inspired it with his own vigorous example. At seventeen Stephen taught a village school, then entered a lawyer's office at Middlebury, from which he transferred himself to the College at that place, where he completed his course in 1820. In his twenty-fourth year, while engaged as a teacher in a newly founded seminary in South Carolina, he became a Methodist preacher. In 1826 he be

Stephere ohd

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came Professor of Belles Lettres in Franklin College at Athens in Georgia, and in 1832 President of a Methodist institution, the Randolph Macon College in Virginia, in which he undertook the departments of Mental and Moral Science, Belles Lettres, and Political Philosophy. In 1837, driven thither by ill health, he visited Europe and the East, on a protracted journey of several years; and, on his return, published in 1843 his Travels in Egypt, Arabia Petræa, and the Holy Land. His last post of duty, varied by another visit to Europe, during which he was delegate to the Evangelical Alliance in London in 1846, was the Presidency of the Wesleyan University in Middle

KATHARINE AUGUSTA WARE; NATHANIEL GREENE; ROBERT S. COFFIN.

town, Connecticut. He died August 16, 1851, at the age of fifty-four.

Besides the book of travels alluded to, he published a series of Sermons and Lectures and Addresses, which were collected in a posthumous publication of his works by the Harpers in 1852. A large collection of his correspondence was also published in his Life and Letters in 1853, two vofumes of Memoirs composed of the joint contributions of Dr. McClintock, the able editor of the Methodist Quarterly Review, Dr. Holdich, and

other faithful friends.

The academic discourses of Dr. Olin disclose a well trained mind, seeking constantly for the principle to test the fact, and insisting upon the development of mental discipline before the mere accumulation of knowledge. He was a sound conservative in the cause of education, distrusting many of the pretentious expedients of the day. He appreciated the study of the classics in a course of instruction. His religious discourses were of a practical character, and maintain a high rank in Christian precept. His character and teachings gave him great influence with his students.

In person Dr. Olin was over six feet in height, of a large frame and broad shoulders, and a fine head. His voice was of great power and compass, while his gestures were stiff and constrained.

KATHARINE AUGUSTA WARE

THIS lady, the daughter of Dr. Rhodes of Quincy, Mass., and wife of Charles A. Ware, of the Navy, is the author of a volume entitled Power of the Passions, and other Poems, published by Pickering in London in 1842. She was born in 1797, was married in 1819, wrote occasional poems for the papers, edited The Boer of Taste in Boston, and visiting Europe in 1839 died at Paris in 1843. She was a relative of Robert Treat Paine, and at the age of fifteen wrote some verses on his death.

VOICE OF THE SEASONS.

There is a voice in the western breeze,
As it floats o'er Spring's young roses,
Or sighs among the blossoming trees,

Where the spirit of love reposes.
It tells of the joys of the pure and young,
E'er they wander life's 'wildering paths among.

There is a voice in the Summer gale,

Which breathes among regions of bloom,
Or murmurs soft through the dewy vale,
In moonlight's tender gloom.

It tells of hopes unblighted yet,
And of hours the soul can ne'er forget.

There is a voice in the Autumn blast,
That wafts the falling leaf,
When the glowing scene is fading fast,
For the hour of bloom is brief;
It tells of life of its sure decay,
And of earthly splendors that pass away

There is a voice in the wintry storm,
For the blasting spirit is there,
Sweeping o'er every vernal charm,

O'er all that was bright and fair;
It tells of death, as it moans around,
And the desolate hull returns the sound.

And there's a voice-a small, still voice, That comes when the storm is past; It bids the sufferer's heart rejoice, In the haven of peace at last! It tells of joys beyond the grave, And of Him who died a world to save.

NATHANIEL GREENE.

255

NATHANIEL GREENE was born at Boscawen, N.H., May 20, 1797. By the death of his father, a lawyer of the town, he was thrown at the age of ten on his own exertions, and at first found occupation in a country store. The perusal of the autobiography of Franklin inspired him with the desire to become an editor, which led him, when Isaac Hill established the New Hampshire Patriot at Concord, to offer himself as an apprentice in the printing-office. This he did on the fourth of July of that year, and was accepted. He remained two years in this mechanical pursuit, when, at the early age of fifteen, he was placed in charge, as editor, of the Concord Gazette, of which he was the sole conductor till 1814, when he became engaged on the New Hampshire Gazette, at Portsmouth. In 1815 he removed to Haverhill, Mass., and edited the Gazette at that place. With this juvenile experience he started a new Democratic journal, The Essex Patriot, on his own account, in 1817, which he continued till he commenced The Boston Statesman in 1821, a paper which, as it grew from a semi-weekly to a triweekly and daily, vigorously supported the Democratic policy and the election of General Jackson. In 1829 he became postmaster of Boston, and disposed of his newspaper interest to his brother, the present able and witty editor of the Boston Post, Mr. Charles G. Greene.

Besides his writings as editor, Mr. Greene has employed the leisure of official life in the prepa ration of several works, chiefly versions from the German of popular tales. His tales and sketches translated from the Italian, Gerinan, and French, appeared in Boston in 1843.

ROBERT S. COFFIN,

THE self-styled "Boston Bard," was a native of the state of Maine. He served his apprenticeship as a printer in Newburyport; worked on newspapers in Boston, New York, and Philadelphia, and illuminated their poet's corner with his verses. A number of these were collected in a volume entitled the Oriental Harp, Poems of the Boston Bard, with a stiff portrait of the author, in a Byronically disposed shirt collar. The contents are as varied as the productions of newspaper laureates are apt to be. Anything will inspire their ever-ready muse. The bard lying awake at night, hears "Yankee Doodle" in the street

To arms, to arms! I waking, cried;
To arms! the foe is nigh.

A crutch! a hatchet! shovel! spade!
On; death or victory.

"Presenting a lady with a cake of soap," in itself a somewhat questionable liberty, seems to be made doubly so by the lecture which accompanies it, the moral as well as material alkali. The occasion is "improved" after the manner of Erskine's "Smoking spiritualized."

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