statue, keeping the usual lookout. A group of some half a dozen sailors had gathered together on the forecastle, where they were supinely lying under the shade of the bulwarks; and here and there, upon the gun-slides along the gangway, sat three or four others one, with his clothes-bag beside him, overhauling his simple wardrobe; another working a set of clues for some favorite officer's hammock; and a third engaged, perhaps, in carving his name in rude letters upon the handle of a jack-knife, or in knotting a laniard by which to suspend it round his neck. On the top of the boom-cover, and in the full glare of the level sun, lay black Jake, the jig-maker of the ship, and a striking specimen of African peculiarities, in whose single person they were all strongly developed. His flat nose was dilated to unusual width, and his ebony cheeks fairly glistened with delight, as he looked up at the gambols of a large monkey, which, clinging to the main-stay, just above Jake's woolly head, was chattering and grinning back at the negro, as if there existed some means of mutual intelligence between them. It was my watch on deck, and I had been standing several minutes leaning on the main fiferail, amusing myself by observing the antics of the black and his congenial playmate; but at length, tiring of the rude mirth, had turned towards the tafferel, to gaze on the more agreeable features of that scene which I have feebly attempted to describe. Just at that moment a shout and a merry laugh burst upon my ear, and looking quickly round, to ascertain the cause of the unusual sound on a frigate's deck, I saw little Bob Stay (as we called our commodore's son) standing half-way up the main-hatch ladder, clapping his hands, and looking aloft at some object that seemed to inspire him with a deal of glee. A single glance to the mainyard explained the occasion of his merriment. He had been coming up from the gun-deck, when Jacko, perceiving him on the ladder, dropped suddenly down from the main-stay, and running along the boom cover, leaped upon Bob's shoulder, seized his cap from his head, and immediately darted up the main-topsail sheet, and thence to the bunt of the main-yard, where he now sat, picking threads from the tassel of his prize, and occasionally scratching his side and chattering, as if with exultation for the success of his mischief. But Bob was a sprightly, active little fellow; and though he could not climb quite as nimbly as a monkey, yet he had no mind to lose his cap without an effort to regain it. Perhaps he was more strongly incited to make chase after Jacko from noticing me to smile at his plight, or by the loud laugh of Jake, who seemed inexpressibly delighted at the occurrence, and endeavored to evince, by tumbling about the boom-cloth, shaking his huge misshapen head, and sundry other grotesque actions, the pleasure for which he had no words. "Ha, you d- -d rascal, Jacko, hab you no more respec' for de young officer, den to steal his cab? We bring you to de gangway, you black nigger, and gib you a dozen on de bare back for a tief." The monkey looked down from his perch as if he understood the threat of the negro, and chattered a sort of defiance in answer. "Ha, ha! Massa Stay, he say you mus' ketch him 'fore you flog him; and it's no so easy for a midshipman in boots to ketch a monkey barefoot." A red spot mounted to the cheek of little Bob, as he cast one glance of offended pride at Jake, and then sprang across the deck to the Jacob's ladder. In an instant he was half-way up the rigging, running over the ratlines as lightly as if they were an easy flight of stairs, whilst the shrouds scarcely quivered beneath his elastic motion. In a second more his hand was on the futtocks. 66 Massa Stay!" cried Jake, who sometimes, from being a favorite, ventured to take liberties with the younger officers, Massa Stay, you best crawi through de lubber's hole-it take a sailor to climb the futtock shroud." But he had scarcely time to utter his pretended caution before Bob was in the top. The monkey, in the meanwhile, had awaited his approach, until he had got nearly up the rigging, when it suddenly put the cap on its own head, and running along the yard to the opposite side of the top, sprang up a rope, and thence to the topmast backstay, up which it ran to the topmast cross-trees, where it again quietly seated itself, and resumed its work of picking the tassel to pieces. For several minutes I stood watching my little messmate follow Jacko from one piece of rigging to another, the monkey, all the while, seeming to exert only as much agility as was neces sary to elude the pursuer, and pausing whenever the latter appeared to be growing weary of the chase. At last, by this kind of manoeuvring, the mischievous animal succeeded in enticing Bob as high as the royal-mast-head, when springing suddenly on the royal stay, it ran nimbly down to the foretop-gallant-mast-head, thence down the rigging to the foretop, when leaping on the foreyard, it ran out to the yard-arm, and hung the cap on the end of the studding-sail boom, where, taking its seat, it raised a loud and exulting chattering. Bob by this time was completely tired out, and, perhaps, unwilling to return to the deck to be laughed at for his fruitless chase, he sat down in the royal cross-trees; while those who had been attracted by the sport, returned to their usual avocations or amusements. The monkey, no longer the object of pursuit or attention, remained but a little while on the yard-arm; but soon taking up the cap, returned in towards the slings, and dropped it down upon deck. Some little piece of duty occurred at this moment to engage me, as soon as which was performed, I walked aft, and leaning my elbow on the tafferel, was quickly lost in the recollection of scenes very different from the small pantomime I had just been witnessing. Soothed by the low hum of the crew, and by the quiet loveliness of everything around, my thoughts had travelled far away from the realities of my situation, when I was suddenly startled by a cry from black Jake, which brought me on the instant back to consciousness. "My God! Massa Scupper," cried he, "Massa Stay is on de maintruck!" A cold shudder ran through my veins as the word reached my ear. I cast my eyes up-it was too true! The adventurous boy, after resting on the royal cross-trees, had been seized with a wish to go still higher, and, impelled by one of those impulses by which men are sometimes instigated to place themselves in situations of imminent peril, without a possibility of good resulting from the exposure, he had climbed the sky-sail pole, and, at the moment of my looking up, was actually standing on the main-truck! a small circular piece of wood on the very summit of the loftiest mast, and at a height so great from the deck that my brain turned dizzy as I looked up at him. The reverse of Virgil's line was true in this instance. It was comparatively easy to ascend-but to descend-my head swam round, and my stomach felt sick at thought of the perils comprised in that one word. There was nothing above him or around him but the empty airand beneath him, nothing but a point, a mere point -a small, unstable wheel, that seemed no bigger from the deck than the button on the end of a foil, and the taper sky-sail pole itself scarcely larger than the blade. Dreadful temerity! If he should attempt to stoop, what could he take hold of to steady his descent His feet quite covered up the small and fearful platform that he stood upon, and beneath that, a long, smooth, naked spar, which seemed to bend with his weight, was all that upheld him from destruction. An attempt to get down from "that bad eminence," would be almost certain death; he would inevitably lose his equilibrium, and be precipitated to the deck, a crushed and shapeless mass. Such was the nature of the thoughts that crowded through my mind as I first raised my eye, and saw the terrible truth of Jake's exclamation. What was to be done in the pressing and horrible exigency? To hail him, and inform him of his danger, would be but to insure his ruin. Indeed, I fancied that the rash boy already perceived the imminence of his peril; and I half thought that I could see his limbs begin to quiver, and his cheek turn deadly pale. Every moment I expected to see the dreadful catastrophe. I could not bear to look at him, and yet could not withdraw my gaze. A film came over my eyes, and a faintness over my heart. The atmosphere seemed to grow thick, and to tremble and waver like the heated air around a furnace; the mast appeared to totter, and the ship to pass from under my feet. I myself had the sensations of one about to fall from a great height, and making a strong effort to recover myself, like that of a dreamer who fancies he is shoved from a precipice, I staggered up against the bulwarks. When my eyes were once turned from the dreadful object to which they had been riveted, my sense and consciousness came back. I looked around me the deck was already crowded with people. The intelligence of poor Bob's temerity had spread through the ship like wild-fire-as such news always will-and the officers and crew were all crowding to the deck to behold the appalling-the heartrending spectacle. Every one, as he looked up, turned pale, and his eye became fastened in silence on the truck-like that of a spectator of an execution on the gallows with a steadfast, unblinking and intense, yet abhorrent gaze, as if momentarily expecting a fatal termination to the awful suspense. No one made a suggestion-no one spoke. Every feeling, every faculty seemed to be absorbed and swallowed up in one deep, intense emotion of agony. Once the first lieutenant seized the trumpet, as if to hail poor Bob, but he had scarce raised it to his lips, when his arm dropped again, and sank listlessly down beside him, as if from a sad consciousness of the utter inutility of what he had been going to say. Every soul in the ship was now on the spar-deck, and every eye was turned to the main-truck. At this moment there was a stir among the crew about the gangway, and directly after another face was added to those on the quarter-deck-it was that of the commodore, Bob's father. He had come alongside in a shore boat, without having been noticed by a single eye, so intense and universal was the interest that had fastened every gaze upon the spot where poor Bob stood trembling on the awful verge of fate. The commodore asked not a question, uttered not a syllable. He was a dark-faced, austere man, and it was thought by some of the midshipmen that he entertained but little affection for his son. However that might have been, it was certain that he treated him with precisely the same strict discipline that he did the other young officers, or if there was any difference at all, it was not in favor of Bob. Some who pretended to have studied his character closely, affirmed that he loved his boy too well to spoil him, and that, intending him for the arduous profession in which he had himself risen to fame and eminence, he thought it would be of service to him to experience some of its privations and hardships at the outset. The arrival of the commodore changed the direction of several eyes, which now turned on him to trace what emotions the danger of his son would occasion. But their scrutiny was foiled. By no outward sign did he show what was passing within. His eye still retained its severe expression, his brow the slight frown which it usually wore, and his lip its haughty curl. Immediately on reaching the deck, he had ordered a marine to hand him a musket, and with this stepping aft, and getting on the lookout-block, he raised it to his shoulder, and took a deliberate aim at his son, at the same time hailing him, without a trumpet, in his voice of thunderRobert!" cried he, "jump! jump overboard! or I'll fire at you!" 46 The boy seemed to hesitate, and it was plain that he was tottering, for his arms were thrown out like those of one scarcely able to retain his balance. The commodore raised his voice again, and in a quicker and more energetic tone, cried, "Jump! 'tis your only chance for life." The words were scarcely out of his mouth, before the body was seen to leave the truck and spring out into the air. A sound, between a shriek and a groan, burst from many lips. The father spoke not-sighed not-indeed he did not seem to breathe. For a moment of intense agony a pin might have been heard to drop on deck. With a rush like that of a cannon ball, the body descended to the water, and before the waves closed over it, twenty stout fellows, among them several officers, had dived from the bulwarks. Another short period of bitter suspense ensued. It rose-he was alive! his arms were seen to move! he struck out towards the ship!-and despite the discipline of a man-of-war, three loud huzzas, an outburst of unfeigned and unrestrainable joy from the hearts of our crew of five hundred men, pealed through the air, and made the welkin ring. Till this moment the old commodore had stood unmoved. The eyes, that glistening with pleasure now sought his face, saw that it was ashy pale. He attempted to descend the horse-block, but his knees bent under him; he seemed to gasp for breath, and put up his hand, as if to tear open his vest; but before he accomplished his object, he staggered forward, and would have fallen on the deck, had he not been caught by old black Jake. He was borne into his cabin, where the surgeon attended him, whose utmost skill was required to restore his mind to its usual equability and self-command, in which he at last happily succeeded. As soon as he recovered from the dreadful shock, he sent for Bob, and had a long confidential conference with him; and it was noticed, when the little fellow left the cabin, that he was in tears. The next day we sent down our taunt and dashy poles, and replaced them with the stump-to'-gallant-masts; and on the third, we weighed anchor, and made sail for Gibraltar. representative of the best literary, dramatic, and artistic interests of the day, having among its contributors, Bryant, Halleck, Paulding, Leggett, Hoffman, and numerous other writers of distinction, while Theodore S. Fay, Nathaniel P. Willis, William Cox, Epes Sargent, were more especially identified with its pages. It was, during the period for which it was published, one of the literary institutions" of the country. In 1843 the periodical was revived, with the title The New Mirror, three volumes of which were published in the royal octavo form. Mr. Willis was again associated in the editorship with Mr. Morris, contributing some of his best sketches, while the earlier numbers were weekly illustrated by the pencil of the artist J. G. Chapman. The publication was successful, but an interpretation of the postage laws interfering with its circulation, Messrs. Morris and Willis projected a new enterprise in the Evening Mirror, a daily paper at New York, which was commenced in the autumn of 1844. The present editor of this journal, Mr. Hiram Fuller, soon became associated in this undertaking, which was conducted for more than two years by the three associates. view Mr. Morris's series of newspaper enterprises, extending over a period of thirty years. The uniform success with which they have been attended is due to his editorial tact and judgment; his shrewd sense of the public requirements; and his provision for the more refined and permanently acceptable departments of literature. Good taste and delicacy have always presided over the journals conducted by Mr. Morris. The old Mirror was liberally connected with the arts of design, supplying a series of national portraits and views of scenery from originals by Leslie, Inman, Cole, Weir, engraved by Durand, Smillie, Casilear, and others, which have not since been surpassed in their department of illustration. This One of the earliest productions of Mr. Morris was his drama of Brier Cliff, which was produced at the Chatham Theatre, New York, in 1837, and acted for forty nights. It was constructed on incidents of the American Revolution. remains unpublished. In 1842, he wrote the libretto of an opera, The Maid of Saxony, which was set to music by Mr. C. E. Horn, and performed for fourteen nights at the Park Theatre. The songs of Mr. Morris have been produced at intervals during the whole term of his literary career. They have been successfully set to music, and popularly sung on both sides of the Atlantic. The themes include most varieties of situation, presenting the love ballad, the patriotic song, the expression of patriotism, of friendship, and numerous occasional topics. 98 Morris. At the close of 1845, Mr. Morris commenced alone a new weekly, The National Press. It was carried on by him for nearly a year, when his former literary partner, Mr. Willis, became associated in the paper, the title of which was then changed to the Home Journal. Under the joint editorship it soon became firmly established, and a general favorite as a popular newspaper of the fashionable and belles-lettres interests of the day.* Undercliff. There have been several editions of the songs and ballads from the press of Appleton, in 1840, with illustrations by Weir and Chapman; a ministure volume by Paine and Burgess, in 1846; and a costly illustrated octavo, The Deserted Bride, and o'her productions, from the press of Scribner, in 1853, accompanied by engravings from designs by Mr. Weir, who has also illustrated each stanza of the poem, The Whip-poor-will, in an earlier We have thus presented in an uninterrupted edition, printed from steel. The first number of the New York Mirror and Ladies' Literary Gazette, was published in New York, Aug. 2, 1823; the last appeared Dec. 81, 1842. The "New Mirror was published weekly, from April 8, 1848, to Sept. 25, 1844. The first number of the Evening Mirror app ared Oct. 7, 1844. The National Press became the Home Journal, with its forty-first number, Nov. 21, 1846. A collection of specimens of the Song Writers of America, of National Melodies, a joint composition with Mr. Willis of the Prose and Poetry of Europe and America, with a volume of prose sketches, The Little Frenchman and his Water Lots, in 1838, illustrated by the comic designer Why dost thou come at set of sun, Those pensive words to say? J. R. DRAKE, Why whip poor Will?-What has he done- Why come from yon leaf-shaded hill, A suppliant at my door? Why ask of me to whip poor Will? If poverty's his crime, let mirth Art Will himself?-It must be so- Yet wherefore strain thy tiny throat, What means thy melancholy note?— Still" Whip poor Will!"-Art thou a sprite, To wander in the gloom of night, Is thine a conscience sore beset With guilt?-or, what is worse, Hast thou to meet writs, duns, and debt- If this be thy hard fate indeed, Art thou a lover, Will?-Hast proved Thine is the lot of all who've loved Hast trusted in a friend, and seen A common error-men still lean Hast thou, in seeking wealth or fame, O'er all the earth 'tis just the same Hast found the world a Babel wide, Where man to Mammon stoops? Where flourish Arrogance and Pride, What, none of these?-Then, whence thy pain? Pray have the kindness to explain Dost merely ask thy just desert? But use thee kindly-for my nerves, Like thine, have penance done, "Use every man as he deserves Who shall 'scape whipping?"-none! Farewell, poor Will!-not valueless WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE. Woodman, spare that tree! Whose glory and renown I sought its grateful shade; Here too my sisters played. But let that old oak stand! My heart-strings round thee cling, I'M WITH YOU ONCE AGAIN. I'm with you once again, my friends, No other clime has skies so blue, Or streams so broad and clear, Since last, with spirits wild and free, I've seen fair realms of the earth, Which taught me how to prize the worth In other countries when I heard The language of my own, How fondly each familiar word But when our woodland songs were sung The vows that faltered on the tongue To me the world's an open book, I read it in the running brook That sings its way towards the sen. It whispers in the leaves of trees, The swelling grain, the waving grass, And in the cool, fresh evening breeze That crisps the wavelets as they pass. The flowers below, the stars above, In all their bloom and brightness given, Are, like the attributes of love, The poetry of earth and heaven. Thus Nature's volume, read aright, Attunes the soul to minstrelsy, Tinging life's clouds with rosy light And all the world with poetry. To her grave these tears are given, Ever to flow; She's the star I missed from heaven, Long time ago! THE CROTON ODE-WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF THE CORPO- Gushing from this living fountain, As the Goddess of the Mountain Glides the rock-king's dove-eyed daughter, Lay their cheeks, as on a pillow, Hail the wanderer from a far land! While her conquered foes retire! Water shouts a glad hosanna! Bubbles up the earth to bless! Cheers it like the precious manna In the barren wilderness. Here we wondering gaze, assembled Like the grateful Hebrew band, When the hidden fountain trembled, And obeyed the Prophet's wand. Round the Aqueducts of story, As the mists of Lethe throng, Croton's waves in all their glory, Troop in melody along. Ever sparkling, bright and single, Will this rock-ribbed stream appear When Posterity shall mingle Like the gathered waters here. MY MOTHER'S BIBLE. This book is all that's left me now:- |