other was just passing that point in age where the law sets up a distinction between the man and the minor,— ardent, ambitious, active, and panting for a pecuniary independence that should correspond in some measure to the fearless moral and intellectual independence, which had, from the days of childhood, been an imposing and distinctive trait in his character. He had already, for several years, been co-editor of a daily newspaper, - an employment that is usually supposed to demand labor enough, of both mental and physical powers, to relax the assiduity of an ordinarily industrious individual; but for HIM something more was needed, and he sought this, -as a field for improvement in the pleasanter departments of literature, for the cultivation of a better taste, and for the development of faculties, that have no kindred. with the noise and bustle of trade and the turbulence of politics. Such was the origin of this Magazine. No promises were made, to win the favor of the public, except that it should be continued for one year, in order that none, who contracted to receive it for that period, should be disappointed. It has not failed to make its appearance on the first day of every month for two years; consequently no pledge was given that has not been amply redeemed.

"But HE, by whom and for whom the Magazine has existed, is no more. Brief as its term has been, it has yet outlived its parent. In consequence of his declining health, for more than a year the responsibility of conducting it has rested solely on the senior editor. It has met with all the favor that was expected,

it has escaped the perils of earliest infancy, and is

able to go alone. The surviving editor feels that natural affection, as well as duty to its generous friends, will not permit him to desert it now. therefore, be continued by him.

6

It will,

"To gratify the curiosity of some of the friends of the Magazine, it may be proper to mention, that the political essay under the title of United States,' in No. 1, the original papers, entitled 'Letter on Orthography,' in No. 2, The First Day of April,' in No. 10, and A New Chaper in Natural History,' in No. 12, together with most of the Literary Notices in the first eight numbers, were written by the deceased editor. In the same numbers, also, the matter arranged under Politics and Statistics, Universities and Colleges, Deaths, and Miscellanies was arranged and epitomized by him.

"But a brief record and a passing remark remain to be added. EDWIN BUCKINGHAM was born in Boston, June 26, 1810, and died on board the brig Mermaid, May 18, 1833. His funeral rites were performed by an American sailor, in the presence of an unlearned but kind-hearted crew of foreigners; and his remains were committed to the bosom of the Atlantic ocean, which must be his grave and his monument, till time shall be no longer. Of the character of a son it does not become a father to speak; but he would wrong a parent's feeling,-nay, he would be less than man,if he did not acknowledge, with deep respect, the sympathy of cotemporaries, old and young.

Could Honor's voice provoke the silent dust,

could the regrets of friends and the kind sensibilities

of less familiar acquaintance tempt the deep to surrender up its treasures,

Though Love itself had ceased to Heaven to pray,

And Grief had wept its fill, and Hope turned sick away,

then might the dead revive, and the living cease to lay it to his heart.

"But why should this be? The prison-wall of mortality is dissolved; he has tasted the wormwood and the gall; the bitterness of death is passed, and ages of happiness are bursting on the soul.' Why should bereaved survivers wish to fix again upon earth that eye, which has already caught the vision of God?' Who would turn back the footsteps of him, whose 'march of eternity is begun?"" J. T. B.

E. B.

Spare him one little week, Almighty Power!
Yield to his Father's house his dying hour;

Once more, once more let them, who held him dear,

But see his face, his faltering voice but hear;
We know, alas! that he is marked for death,
But let his Mother watch his parting breath;
O let him die at home!

It could not be :

At midnight, on a dark and stormy sea,
Far from his kindred and his native land,
His pangs unsoothed by tender Woman's hand,
The patient victim in his cabin lay,

And meekly breathed his blameless life away.

Wrapped in the raiment that it long must wear,
His body to the deck they slowly bear :

How eloquent, how awful in its power,

The silent lecture of Death's sabbath hour!
One voice that silence breaks - the prayer is said,
And the last rite man pays to man is paid:
The plashing waters mark his resting-place,
And fold him round in one long, cold embrace;
Bright bubbles for a moment sparkle o’er,
Then break, to be, like him, beheld no more;
Down, countless fathoms down, he sinks to sleep,
With all the nameless shapes that haunt the deep.

Rest, Loved One, rest, - beneath the billow's swell,
Where tongue ne'er spoke, where sunlight never fell;
Rest, till the God who gave thee to the deep,

Rouse thee, triumphant, from the long, long sleep.
And You, whose hearts are bleeding, who deplore
That ye must see the Wanderer's face no more,
Weep, he was worthy of the purest grief;
Weep, in such sorrow ye shall find relief;
While o'er his doom the bitter tear ye shed,
Memory shall trace the virtues of the dead;
These cannot die for you, for him they bloom,
And scatter fragrance round his ocean-tomb.

MY DEAR SIR,

CHARLES SPRAGUE.

Brinley Place, Roxbury, May 26, 1833.

It was with the deepest sorrow and grief, that I learned, last evening, of the irreparable loss you and your afflicted family had sustained, in the death of your estimable and excellent son. I wish it were in my power to pour in the balm of consolation, on an occasion so heart-rending and melancholy. But who can give comfort in an hour so afflictive? who can cheer up a fond parent's heart, when his darling child has been for ever removed from his sight?

But still you have the satisfaction of reflecting on his virtues, his amiable disposition, the high reputation he maintained for talent, intelligence, and all those endearing

qualities, which made him the beloved of your hearts, and the respected of his numerous friends.

I was strongly, ardently attached to him, and had looked forward with pleasure to his return, in health and prosperity, to run his promising career, in usefulness and honor; but "Man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards," and we repose on the belief that we shall all meet in climes beyond the skies, where there will be no more mourning or cause of sorrow. To all your family I offer and commingle the sympa-' thies of a sincere friend to your ever to be lamented Edwin. With assurances of esteem and the most friendly salutations, Your obedient servant,

Allow me to express to you my sincere and cordial sympathy in the sorrow you feel at the loss of your son, a sympathy in which my wife unites with me. He had deeply interested both of us, particularly as we witnessed the state of his health at Washington. I ever considered him a young man of uncommon powers, of estimable dispositions, and highly exemplary character, one, in short, calculated to be a comfort and pride to his parents and friends, and a model for other young men. His premature decline and death are truly painful, and furnish a very touching instance of the vanity of human hopes. It must be a great consolation to you that you gave him so many proofs of your affection, while he lived, and spared nothing that could promote his restoration. Let us ́hope that, though he has finished his last journey, — and with it the great journey of life, where he could not have the solace of your presence and parental assiduities, — he is gone to that happy region, from which even you cannot wish him to return.

I remain, dear Sir, with sincere friendship,
Faithfully yours,

J. T. BUCKINGHAM, Esq.

E. EVERETT.