offered a situation with his uncle, Mr. Nathaniel Cogswell, an eminent merchant, who resided at one of the Canary Islands. Thither he went; but a passion for the beauties of the spot prevailed over the demands of business, and he failed in the objects of the journey. He returned to his beloved Rowley, where, upon the death of his grandmother and brother Henry, being left without resources, he accepted the offer of a home with Mrs. Sawyer, an aged widow of the neighborhood, who promised him the reversion of her cottage on her death. There, in a frugal mode of living, he passed the remainder of his days, cultivating his gentle tastes-for he was without vices -and penning numerous occasional poems addressed to his friends, or dedicated to his religious emotions. He died at Rowley, November 20, 1849, leaving his venerable friend in the cottage, his survivor, at the age of ninety-five. A memorial of this simple life has been lately published with the title, "Thorn Cottage, or the Poet's Home."* It contains numerous anecdotes of the simple-minded, sensitive man, who only lacked energy to have borne a more prominent part in the world, with many pleasing specimens of his poetical powers. One of these is a description of the furniture of the humble cottage. Four windows-two in front to face the sun, A cherry dish—a kind of cottage shop, Another is a touching expression of the religious feeling which cheered his broken fortunes. FAITH. Have faith-and thou shalt know its use; Have faith and breaking from thy bound, And find thy cottage on the ground A castle in the skies. Have faith-and thou shalt hear the tread That's waiting for thee there. *Thorn Cottage, or the Poet's Home, a Memorial of Frederick Knight, Esq., of Rowley, Mass. Boston: Press of Crocker and Brewster. 1855. 12mo. pp. 108. Have faith-the earth will bloom beneath, The air with odors round thee breathe, Thou'lt overcome the world. Have faith-though threading lone and far Have faith-around let thunders roar, Thy breast and brow shall be serene- The shaft rebounding from thy shield, HEW AINSLIE. HEW AINSLIE was born on the fifth day of April, 1792, at Baugeny Mains, in the parish of Daily, Carrick District, Ayrshire, Scotland, on the estate of Sir Hew Dalrymple Hamilton, in whose service his father, George Ainslie, had been employed for many years. Hew received a good education, commenced under the care of a private tutor, who was supported by three or four families in the neighborhood, and continued at schools at Ballantrae and Ayr, until the age of twelve, when, in consequence of fears being entertained respecting his health, he was sent back to his native hills to recruit. Here he found Sir Hew, the landlord, engaged in an extensive plan for the improvement of his estate, under the direction of the celebrated landscape gardener White, and a number of young men from the South as assistants. Hew joined this company, and as the planters were all respectably educated, and, like the mechanicals of Athens, sometimes" enacted plays," this new association aided him in the cultivation of literature as well as of mother earth. In his seventeenth year, Ainslie was sent to Glasgow to study law in the office of a relation of his mother, but the pursuit proved uncongenial, and he soon rejoined his family, who had, in the meantime, removed to Roslin. He afterwards obtained a situation in the Register House, Edinburgh, which he retained until 1822, a portion of the time being passed at Kinniel House, as the amanuensis of Dugald Stewart, whose last work he copied for the press. Ainslie married in 1812, and after his father's death in 1817, determined to remove to America, but was not able to put his plan in execution until 1822, when he crossed the ocean, landed at New York on the twenty-sixth of July, and purchased a small farm in Hoosick, Rensselaer County, New York. In 1825 he removed to the West, tried Owen's settlement at New Harmony for a year, found it a failure, and settled down for a time as a brewer at Shippingport, Kentucky. In 1829, he built a brewery in Louisville, which was ruined by an inundation of the Ohio in 1832. He constructed a similar establishment the same year in New Albany, Indiana, which was destroyed by fire in 1834. Satisfied with these experiments, he has since employed himself in superintending the erection of breweries, mills, and distilleries, throughout the West, on account of others. He is at present a resident of Jersey City. On the eve of his departure from Scotland, Ainslie published A Pilgrimage to the Land of Burns, a volume of notes interspersed with numerous songs and ballads, suggested by a visit to his early home in Ayrshire. He has recently collected these with his other Songs, Ballads, and Poems, published originally in various magazines, in a volume.* Several of Ainslie's songs will be found in "Whistle-Binkie" and other collections of the lyric poetry of Scotland, and well deserve the popular reputation they have secured. THE ABSENT FATHER. The friendly greeting of our kind, May charm the restless spirit still, But ah! the soul it cannot fill, Or keep the heart from straying. O, how the fancy, when unbound, Where loves and friends are dwelling! My lonely and my widowed wife, How oft to thee I wander! Scottish Songs, Ballads, and Poems. By Hew Ainslie. Redfield, New York. 1855. VOL. II.-11 Where will I find a breast like thine O, I've had wants and wishes too, This world have checked and chilled; But bless me but again with you, And half my prayer's fulfilled. THE INGLE SIDE. It's rare to see the morning bleeze, The lip o' the flowery lea; JOHN NEAL. JOHN NEAL, as we learn from his own account of himself in Blackwood's Magazine,* is a native of Portland, Maine. He was born about 1794, and was of a Quaker family, but does not appear to have inherited any Quaker placidity of mind. In his boyhood he was "read out" of the drab fraternity for "knocking a man, who insulted him, head over heels; for paying a militia fine; for making a tragedy, and for desiring to be turned out, whether or no." He was brought up as a shop-boy, and when he became a man, became also a wholesale dry-goods dealer, in partnership with Pierpont, afterwards the poet. The concern failed, and Neal commenced the study of law, and with it the profession of literature, by an article on the poetry of Lord Byron, who had then just published the third canto of Childe Harold. Neal read through, and reviewed everything the poet had thus far written, in four days, producing an article long enough to make a small book, which appeared from month to month, until completed, in the Portico, a magazine published in Baltimore. He continued to write for this periodical "from the second up to the end of the fifth volume, being a large part of the whole, until he knocked it on the head, it is thought, by an article on Free Agency,"- -no bad material, it must be admitted, for a literary slung-shot. Next came Keep Cool, his first novel. "It was written chiefly for the discouragement of No. xvii. p. 190, Feb. 1825. duelling about which, as I was eternally in hot water, I began to entertain certain very tender, seasonable, talkative scruples of conscience. The hero is insulted, he fights under what anybody would call a justification-kills the insulter-and Ishepeal is never happy for an hour afterwards." The book was published in 1817. In Feb. 1825 it is thus summarily disposed of in the article from which our extracts have been taken. "Keep Cool is forgotten; or where it is known at all is looked upon as a disgrace to her literature." The Bottle of Niagara, with other Poems, by Jehu O Cataract, was published in 1818. This portentous nom de plume was a nickname given the author in a club to which he belonged, and intended to characterize his impetuosity. He had the good sense to drop it in a second edition of the poems, which appeared in 1819. Otho, a five act tragedy, was written about the same time. "Works," says Mr. Neal, "abounding throughout in absurdity, intemperance, affectation, extravagance-with continual but involuntary imitation: yet, nevertheless, containing altogether more sincere poetry, more exalted, original, pure poetry, than all the works of all the other authors that have ever appeared in America." These poems possess vigor, spirit, and ease in versification. They consist of the "Battle of Niagara," which contains some fine passages of description of the scenes and conflict which supply its title; "Goldau, or the Maniac Harper," a narrative poem, suggested in part by the celebrated slide of the Rossberg, Switzerland, in 1806; an Ode delivered before the Delphians, a literary society of Baltimore, and a few brief miscellaneous pieces. By way of a change of occupation after the composition of these poems, and probably as a somewhat safer means of gaining a little cash, he prepared an Index for Niles to his Register, which Niles was so much pleased with that, mirabile dictu for a publisher, or for anybody else, he gave nearly three times as much as he had promised for it. He also wrote about a quarter of a History of the American Revolution, "by Paul Allen," who was a veritable flesh and blood man, but so inordinately lazy, that after announcing and receiving subscriptions for the work, it finally appeared from the pen of his friends Neal and Watkins, the preface only being by the nominal author. Four novels followed these works in quick succession. Their chronology is thus given by their author: "LOGAN-begun ended November 17, 1821. "RANDOLPH-begun 26th November, 1821; 1st vol. finished 21st December, 1821; second, 8th January, 1822, with the interval of about a week between the two, when I wrote nothingfour English volumes in thirty-six days. "ERRATA-begun (time uncertain) after the 8th of January, 1822; finished 16th February, 1822, four English volumes in less than thirty-nine days. "SEVENTY-SIX-begun after February 16, 1822; finished 19th March, 1822, (with 4 days off, during which I did not see the MS.)—three English volumes in twenty-seven days!"" Meanwhile the author had studied law; been admitted, and was practising as energetically as he was writing. "LOGAN," he goes on to say, "is a piece of declamation; SEVENTY-SIX, of narrative; RANDOLPH, epistolary; ERRATA, colloquial." Logan is a picture of Indian life, vigorous, picturesque, and in some of the set speeches at least, as the author confesses, declamatory. Seventy-Six has the spirit and movement of the revolutionary era, when the youth of the country hurried to the field with the sufficient protection of the household musket and the paternal benediction. It is a lively presentation of the era. In Randolph, a story of its own date, Neal introduces personal and critical sketches of the leading authors and public men of the day, including, as usual in his enumerations of this kind, himself. The remarks on William Pinckney excited the anger of his son, who challenged Neal as the presumed author, and on his refusal to fight posted him as a "craven." A history of the affair, in which just ground is taken on the subject of critical comment and the practice of duelling, appears in a letter signed by Neal, as a "postscript" to his next publication, Errata. In Errata, also a story of modern times, his object was to show "that deformity of person does not of necessity imply deformity of heart; and that a dwarf in stature may be a giant in blood;" and to delineate the female character more in conformity with human nature than with the usual conventional type of the novelist. He has carried out this design in a tale of high dramatic interest. The preface to this work is in the author's happiest manner. I have written this tale for the purpose of showing how people talk, when they are not talking for display; when they are telling a story of themselves familiarly; seated about their own fireside; with a plenty of apples and cider, in the depth of winter, with all their family, and one or two pleasant strangers lolling about, and the great house-dog with his nose in the ashes; or out under the green trees on a fine summer night, with all the faces that they love, coming and going like shadows, under the beautiful dim trees, and the red sky shining through them. Reader-have you ever stood, with your hat in your hand, to look at a little dreamy light made by the moonshine, where it fell through the green leaves, and " 'fermented" in the wet turf?-or the starlight and water bubbles dancing together, under the willow trees? If you have, then you may form some notion of what I mean, by my love of Nature. Men go by her blossoming places, every hour, and never see them; her singing places, while there is a wedding in the grass, and trample upon them, without one thought of their beauty; and just so with the delicate beauties of conversation. They see nothing, hear nothing, until their attention be called to it. But they go out, where it is the fashion to be sentimental, and persuade themselves that their arti ficial rapture is the natural offspring of a warm heart and a pure taste. Pshaw -people that do not love fine conversation and fine reading, beyond fine speaking and fine singing, have neither understanding nor taste. The favorable reception of a portion of these novels in England, on their republication, induced their author to try his literary fortunes in that country. With his characteristic promptitude he closed up his business affairs, transferred his clients to a professional brother, borrowed cash, and was off in three weeks. He arrived in England in January, 1824, and remained three years, writing for Blackwood (where in 1824 and 1825 he published a series of articles on American writers, not forgetting, as we have already seen, himself) and other periodicals. He became acquainted with Jeremy Bentham, who asked him to dinner, and liked him so well, that he next invited him to reside in his house. He accepted the invitation, and passed the remainder of his time in London there, "with a glorious library at my elbow, a fine large comfortable study warmed by a steam-engine, exercise under ground, society, and retirement, all within my reach."* In 1827, after a short tour in France, Neal returned to Portland, and commenced a weekly newspaper, The Yankee. It was åfter published at Boston, but change of air not improving its vitality, at the end of a year it was merged in "The New England Galaxy," and its late editor returned to Portland. In 1828 he published Rachel Dyer, a story, in a single volume, the subject of which is "Salem Witchcraft." It is much more subdued in style than his earlier novels, and is a carefully prepared and historically correct picture of the period it presents. It was originally written for Blackwood's Magazine, as the first of a series of North American stories. It was accepted, paid for, and in type, when a misunderstanding occurring between the author and publisher, the former paid back the sum he had received, and withdrew the story, which he subsequently enlarged to its present form. This was followed in 1830 by Authorship, by a New Englander over the Sea. It is a rambling narrative, whose interest is dependent on the mystery in which the reader is kept until near its close, respecting the character of the chief personages. The Down Easters and Ruth Elder, which have since appeared, close the series of Mr. Neal's novels. There is a great deal of merit in the works we have mentioned; they are full of dramatic power and incident; but these virtues are well nigh overbalanced by their extravagance, and the jerking, out-of-breath style in which they are often written. "I do not pretend," he says, in the "unpublished preface to the North American Stories," prefixed to "Rachel Dyer," "to write English; that is, I do not pretend to write what the English themselves call English-I do not, and I hope to God-I say this reverently, although one of their reviewers may be again puzzled to determine whether I am swearing or praying,' when I say so that I never shall write what is now worship Passage from the biography prefixed to the translation of the Principles of Legislation, from the French of Dumont. ped under the name of classical English. It is no natural language-it never was-it never will be spoken alive on this earth, and therefore ought never to be written. We have dead languages enough now, but the deadest language I ever met with or heard of, was that in use among the writers of Queen Anne's day." The vigor of the man, however, pervades everything he has produced. He sees and thinks as well as writes, after his own fashion, and neither fears nor follows criticism. It is to be regretted that he has not more fully elaborated his prose productions, as that process would probably have given them a firmer hold on public favor than they appear to have secured. There is much strong vigorous sense, independence in speaking of men and things; good, close thought; analysis of character, and clear description, which the public should not lose, in these pages. Mr. Neal has written much for the periodicals, and some of his finest poems have appeared in this manner since the publication of his early volume. He announced, a few years since, that he was engaged upon a History of American Literature. A WAR SONG OF THE REVOLUTION. Men of the North! look up! Great shadows hurrying by. Your strength-where is it now? Men of the North! awake! A stir in every tree; A shout from every wave; A challenging on every side; A moan from every grave: A battle in the sky; Ships thundering through the air— Jehovah on the march Men of the North, to prayer! Now, now-in all your strength; There's that before your way, Above, about you, and below," Like armies in array. Lift up your eyes, and see The changes overhead; The sea-fog driving in, Solemnly and swift, The moon afraid-stars dropping outThe very skies adrift: The Everlasting God: Our Father-Lord of LoveWith cherubim and seraphim All gathering above. Brimful of water and light; A profusion of hair Flashing out on the air, And a forehead alarmingly bright: 'Twas the head of a poet! He grew As the sweet strange flowers of the wilderness grow, In the dropping of natural dew, Unheeded-alone Till his heart had blown As the sweet strange flowers of the wilder- Till every thought wore a changeable stain, With a haughty look and a haughty tread, With wonderful eyes Full of woe and surprise, Like the eyes of them that can see the dead. Looking about, For a moment or two he stood On the shore of the mighty wood; Then ventured out, With a bounding step and a joyful shout, The brave sky bending o'er him! The broad sea all before him! ORVILLE DEWEY. THE Rev. Orville Dewey is the son of a farmer, of Sheffield, Berkshire, Massachusetts where he was born in the year 1794. He took his degree with distinction at Williams College in 1814, and afterwards passed some months in teaching school in his native village, and as a clerk in a dry-goods store in New York. In 1816 he entered Andover Theological Seminary. He completed his course of study in 1819, was ordained, and preached with success as a Presbyterian clergyman, but within a year connected himself with the Unitarian denomination. During the absence of Dr. Channing in Europe, Mr. Dewey was invited to supply his place. He was afterwards settled at New Bedford for ten years. He then in consequence of ill health went to Europe, remaining abroad for two years. On his return, in 1835, he published a volume of Discourses on Various Subjects, and about the same time became the pastor of the Unitarian Church of the Messiah in the city of New York. In 1836, he published The Old World and the New; a Journal of Observations and Reflections made on a visit to Europe in 1833 and 1834. Dr. Dewey speedily became widely known as a pulpit orator, for his eloquent discussion of moral themes, and his adaptation of the religious essay to the pastoral wants and pursuits of the public. His church in Mercer-street having been destroyed by fire, was replaced by an edifice in Broadway of far greater value and architectural merit. In 1838, Dr. Dewey followed out the spirit of a great portion of his professional labors by the publication of Moral Views of Commerce, Society, and Politics, in twelve Discourses. These were followed in 1841 by Discourses on Human Life, and in 1846 by Discourses and Reviews on Questions relating to Controversial Theology and Practical Religion. He has also published, separately, a number of sermons and addresses. In 1844, all of the author's works which had then appeared were issued in London, in a closely printed octavo volume of about nine hundred pages. In 1849, Dr. Dewey resigned his charge of the Church of the Messiah on account of ill health, and after a period of some months of relaxation, passed mostly in travel, accepted a call to Washington City. He has of late resided at his farm in Sheffield, in his native Berkshire. As a preacher Dr. Dewey is grave and weighty; his manner conveying the idea of the man of thought, who draws his reflections from the depths of his own nature. He is ingenious and speculative, and impresses his audience as a philosophic teacher, whether from the pulpit or in the lecture hall. STUDY-FROM A PHI BETA KAPPA ADDRESS AT CAMBRIDGE IN 1880. The favorite idea of a genius among us, is of one who never studies, or who studies, nobody can tell when-at midnight, or at odd times and intervalsand now and then strikes out, at a heat, as the phrase is, some wonderful production. This is a character that has figured largely in the history of our literature, in the person of our Fieldings, our Savages, and our Steeles-" loose fellows about town," or loungers in the country, who slept in alehouses and wrote in bar-rooms, who took up the pen as a magician's wand to supply their wants, and when the pressure of necessity was relieved, resorted again to their carousals. Your real genius is an idle, irregular, vagabond sort of personage, who muses in the fields or dreams by the fire-side; whose strong impulses-that is the cant of it-must needs hurry him into wild irregularities or foolish eccentricity; who abhors order, and can bear no restraint, and eschews all labor: such an one, for instance, as Newton or Milton! What! they must have been irregular, else they were no geniuses. The young man," it is often said, "has genius enough, if he would only study." Now the truth is, as I shall take the liberty to state it, that genius will study, it is that in the mind which does study; that is the very nature of it. I care not to say that it will always use books. All study is not reading, . any more than all reading is study. By study I mean-but let one of the noblest geniuses and hardest students of any age define it for me. 'Studium," says Cicero, "est animi assidua et vehemens ad aliquam rem applicata magnâ cum voluntate occupatio, ut philosophiæ, poëticæ, geome triæ, literarum.” * Such study, such intense mental * De Inventione, Lib. i. c. 25. |