conclusive to you,—all I ask is that you would becomingly arranged, and holding in his hand a give my views weight enough to make you re- large bouquet, intended to express quite as many examine your opinion of Augustus Vernon, to tender and pretty sentiments as twenty love sonavoid above all things any entanglement with nets could do. The whole expression of his him until something more can be ascertained as countenance changed from the air of bewitching to his real character, and to withdraw yourself tenderuess he had assumed to one of blank disawhile from his influence until your mind be- appointment when he perceived the unsenticomes less dazzled, less bewildered."

mental Margaret enter, instead of the fair Vir

A deep sigh and fast flowing tears were Virginia. ginia's only replies for some minutes; at length she said; "you are unreasonable, Margaret, and abuse your power over me."

He regretted Virginia's indisposition, and would have sent her many pretty messages, accompanying the bouquet, which he desired Margaret to

"I have no power, dear Virginia, but what af- give her sister, but there was a sort of dryness fection and reason can give."

Virginia perceived by Margaret's look and tone that she was hurt and grieved at what she herself had said, and with a sudden reaction of feeling she threw her arms around her sister's neck. "Forgive me, Margaret," she said, "have pity on me and for my sake at least try to do him justice."

"I do try, I will try every thing that I can for your happiness, for God knows it is dearer to me than my own, but try to compose yourself and tell me, I entreat you, whether you have committed yourself in any way to Augustus Vernon, whether you think he understands the nature of your feelings towards him?”

"Oh no, I hope not, I think not, surely you do not think I would permit him to discover them, unless he had made a declaration of love in words, indeed I hope he does not know all that you do."

"I trust not: then our care must be to prevent his making the discovery."

Just as Margaret had uttered these words she heard Augustus Vernon's voice in the parlor, enquiring of one of the servants if the young ladies were at home. Struck with dismay and vexation Margaret looked at Virginia as if to consider what had best be done.

"I will go and receive Mr. Vernon and tell him you are indisposed, Virginia, which I am sure will be no falsehood."

Virginia was bathing her eyes to efface all traces of the tears she had just been shedding, as Margaret said this, and she replied with hesitation and embarrassment,

"But will it not appear strange? he will suspect something."

and coldness about her manner, though she was perfectly polite, which froze the sentiments on his lips before he could utter them, and they were both equally relieved from a burthensome tete-a-tete by the entrance of the party who had gone out on a fishing expedition in the morning, F....

A Lament on a Brother Deceased.

BY WILLIAM PEMBROKE MULCHINOCK.
I move by the heaving deep,

Alone,

When the winds awake from sleep,
To moan.

I gaze on its bosom blue

Afar,
Where mirror'd below I view
Each star.
From mine eye the heavy tears
I dry,
As I think on the happy years
Gone by.

For him of the fair young brow
I weep,
Who takes in the church-yard now
His sleep;

For he was the star above

Sun-bright,
That tinged with the light of love
My night.

Sadly I now must roam,

And sigh
For him, who has found a home
On high.

My tongue in the halls of mirth
Is mute,
And sad are thy notes on earth,
My lute.

A fiend o'er my bosom steals
Through air,
And his voice all wildly wails-
"Despair."

OF STYLE IN WRITING.

much pains in the unravelling often turns out to have deserved none.

Of style Milton says: "For me readers although I cannot say I am utterly unrestrained in Fine artificial writers love to stuff their pages those rules which best rhetoricians have written with high-flown figures of speech and gaudy in any learned language, yet true eloquence I flowers of rhetoric. They still carry on the tin- find to be none but the serious and hearty love of sel manufacture in all its branches, they delight truth: and that whose mind soever is fully posin the superlative and hyperbolical and ever af-sessed with a fervent desire to know things and fect the 'Ercles vein." They cannot describe with the dearest charity to infuse the knowledge an ordinary incident, a simple affair, without a of them into others—when such a man would flourish of trumpets. It might amuse a man of speak, his words, by what I can express, like so wit, such as Dean Swift,-to strip some of many nimble and airy servitors trip about him at these flowery productions of their superfluous command, and in well-ordered files, as he would ornaments; to sift this bushel of chaff and find wish, and all aptly into their own places." Dr. how many grains of wheat it contains; to trim Johnson advises him that would acquire a style and razee the redundant, the epithetical, the tur-elegant and smooth to give his days and his nights gid, and to expunge whatever seems only to to the reading of Addison. The advice is good weaken the sense. To make the thing the more and quite disinterested, for his own style is the palpable, the original and the corrected copy very reverse of Addison's. Dr. Franklin in immight be arranged vis-a-vis in parallel columns. proving his style found it a good exercise to read Cervantes brings in the curate, the barber and a number of the Spectator, shut the book and the house-keeper, tossing Don Quixote's libra- try how nearly he could imitate the original. ry-musty old tomes of enchantment and knight | Longinus suggests to a writer, when about to aterrantry, out at an upper window down into the tempt a lofty flight, to conceive within himself court-yard, and making a bonfire of them. If how Homer, or some one of the master-spirits of all the books extant were collected, how many of the world would have expressed himself on such them might deserve to share the same fate? And an occasion. So in the present day a writer even of those that might escape with their lives,might ask himself what would Milton or Pascal how many, if they were made to pass through have said in this case. The difficulty is that in the ordeal of a just criticism, would emerge de- order to conceive what Homer or Milton would pleted, shrunken, emaciated skeletons, disem- have said, it is necessary to have Homer or Milbowelled ghosts, "lean anatomies," "remnants ton's grasp of mind. of themselves?" The Brobdignaggian folio would dwindle into a thin octavo, the corpulent quarto would awake in the form of a Lilliputian duodecimo. How many horse-cart loads of poems, histories, voyages and travels, romances, dramas, memoirs and novels, encyclopædias, pamphlets, abridgments and epitomes, short and easy ways, vade-mecums—what vast piles of newspapers and magazines and reviews would expire in this expurgatorial brush-heap?

66

John Foster, in his inimitable essays, remarks: False eloquence is like a false alarm of thunder, where a sober man that is not apt to startle at sounds looks out to see if it be not the rumbling of a cart." And again: "Eloquence resides in the thought and no words can make that eloquent which will not be so in the plainest that could possibly express the sense." The Latinized pedantry of style is well taken off by the licentious wit, Rabelais, where he makes the Fine writers sacrifice simplicity to artifice and Paris student give an account of his religion: “I affectation, and endeavor to set off poverty of revere the olympicals; I latrially revere the suthought by a showy dress. Fond of hyperbole pernal astripotent; I dilige and redame my proxand disdaining the temperate zone, they must ims; I observe the decalogical precepts; and either congeal amid the snows of eternal winter according to the facultatule of my vires I do not or melt in the blaze of an equatorial sun. This discede from them one breadth of an unquicule : extravagance defeats itself; the mind rejects such nevertheless it is veriform that because Mamincessant draughts upon its credulity. Some mona doth not supergurgitate any thing in my writers affect a mystified style, counting plain locules, I am somewhat rare and lent to supererEnglish quite too vulgar for the sublimity of their rogate the elemosynes to those egents that ostiethereal spirits they manufacture a sort of Mo-ally queritate their stipe." Pantagruel to cure saic dialect of their own only to be understood him of his Latin style caught him by the throat by the initiated and envelope themselves in a and so throttled him that he soon began to beg hazy veil of transcendental smoke. Their wri- for mercy in his own tongue naturally. Rabetings are apt to be like Egyptian hieroglyphics lais adds that Octavian Augustus advises "to which need to be decyphered, and what has cost shun all strange words with as much care as

VOL. XV-91

CITY AND SALON..

BY IK MARVEL.

The men of the Ateliers Nationaur, gleeful with their easy-earned wages, are sauntering at their work in the Parc Monceau, or along the quays; and cry-long life to the Government that supplies us with home and bread!

pilots of ships avoid the rocks of the sea." An artificial style is proof of the absence of feeling. A man who feels warmly has no time or inclination to cast about for fine words; the proper Reports come in night after night from the words come spontaneously. Children use a nat- Provinces. The Government discusses, with feural style and a fish-woman in a passion may ex-verish anxiety, the political complexion of each hibit a specimen of eloquence from which the new Representative. The quidnuncs talk with cast-iron rhetorician might learn a lesson. Elo- ardor; the Cafés are alive with conversationists. quence is but the voice of nature. To write New names are bruited from mouth to mouth; well, one must be full of his subject and feel what and lineage, education, and political bias, are ferhe writes and write what he feels. The best reted out with all the aids of registers and ProEnglish writers are fonder of using their own vincial Journals. The Presse sends out its extras, mother-tongue, the Anglo-Saxon, than the Ro- bringing down intelligence to the latest moment. man. Dr. Gregory says: "In one of my early interviews with Mr. Hall [Robert Hall] I used the word 'felicity' three or four times in rather quick succession. He asked, "Why do you say felicity,' sir? 'Happiness' is a better word, more musical and genuine English coming from the But meantime commerce is sadly falling off; Saxon." "Not more musical, I think sir." "Yes, no strangers are now loitering about those elemore musical; and so are words derived from gant shops of Rue de la Paix for trinkets and the Saxon generally. Listen sir; My heart is bijoux; manufactories are closed; the railways, smitten and withered like grass;' there's plaintive unable to complete their engagements for conmusic. Listen again sir; Under the shadow of tinuance of their lines, are taken in hand by the thy wings will I rejoice;' there's cheerful music." Government, whose resources between fête-giv“Yes, but 'rejoice' is French." "True, but all ing, and labor payments, and equipment of Garde the rest is Saxon; and 'rejoice' is almost out of Mobile, are fast failing. tune with the other words .Listen again, Thou hast delivered my eyes from tears, my soul from death, and my feet from falling;' all Saxon, sir, except 'delivered.' I could think of the word 'tear,' sir, till I wept. Then again for another noble specimen and almost all good old Saxon English: Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.'"

The projected plans of completing the Tuilleries, and extending the markets, loom over the heads of Exchequer men more and more gigantic. Railway shares are sadly down, and fluctuate hour by hour. The rich man of yesterday is poor to-day; and rich again to-morrow. The holders of houses are refusing payment of rents; and untenanted buildings can find neither lessees, nor buyers.

Richard Sharp, in one of his letters, says, "I ---A young man of easy fortune, in Paris world, am convinced that in the gravest age! and in has purchased, a week before the Revolution, at the sublimest passages the simple terms and the the date of his marriage, a Hotel, for which is to idioms of our language often add a grace beyond be paid the sum of 600,000 francs. Of this, one the reach of scholarship, increasing rather than half remains secured upon the property. His diminishing the elegance as well as the spirit of creditor, straitened by the exigencies of the time, the diction. Utinam et verba in usu quotidiano is compelled to foreclose the mortgage: the Hotel posita minùs timeremus.'” realizes, a week after the Revolution, 200,000

"He that would write well," says Roger As-francs only, leaving the former rich possessor cham, “must follow the advice of Aristotle, to worse than bankrupt. Judge, if such worsted speak as the common people speak and to think Bourgeois would fling up his cap for the Republic! as the wise think." In support of this opinion Wealthy families of St. Germain, finding their many of the examples often cited are amusing incomes reducing by a third, are curtailing exas well as convincing. The following from a penses. Horses and carriages are sold at ruingreat author may be added—“Is there a God to ous rates. Old diners at the Café de Paris now swear by and is there none to believe in, none to order humble meals of private restaurateurs. trust to?" What becomes of the for ceand sim-The Theatre, that sweetest of luxuries to a Paplicity of this short sentence when turned into risian, is abjured. The employées of the Opera the clumsy English which schoolmasters indite are deserting. Except upon free nights-another and which little boys can construe? "Is there a drain upon the failing treasury—the benches are God by whom to swear, is there none in whom never full. to believe, none to whom to pray?"

C. C.

*From an unpublished work, "The Battle Summer," now in Press.

Notwithstanding, Parisian Salons are not quiet | erty, or damaged commerce, or a little night-fear, nor dull. The new scenes, the approaching as- against this new nobleness of excitation-this sembly, the clubs, the Briarian Journalism, the God-like effort for something better, purer, highdepth and interest of the questions at stake keep er-by which intellect shall be quickened, new the public mind strung to its utmost tensity. Nor faculties developed, new sympathies awakened, in the discussion of such topics does society lose and every old nation of Europe suddenly started that happy grace and ease without which Paris into consciousness of those active, and present society would be no longer itself. A certain in- faculties, with which heaven has blessed them,一 describable bonhommie and careless freedom yet not for sloth, and unrest, but the most extended, throw their charms over the most serious of Salon possible development? talk.

-Qu'il est bien, cet homme!-murmurs the young man.

-It is the worst to say of him-continues

-You see-says Madame-glancing round at --Madame P― has disposed of her equipage; her humble entresol, with what sympathy my she has even changed her quarters from the pre-friends console me. But allons, courage! You mier to the entresol; but she wears the same old must not, my dear Colonel, bear so hardly on our air of cheerfulness; she disposes such jewels as poet Lamartine. remain with double effect; she pities her friend who, from fear or economy, is obliged to quit Paris-la belle Ville-even in its worst estate. You enter her little salon of an evening;-an Madame, that he is unused to power. But what elegant little salon-though scarce ten feet above the street :—she is half-reclining upon a luxurious brocade-covered chair;-her dress is disposed with the same artless care that always belongs to a French lady's toilette; her white hand, set off with a lace ruffle, and ornamented by a single brilliant, lies carelessly upon the richly carved arm of fauteuil. She receives you, half rising, with a cheerful smile;—beckons you by a wave of the hand to a seat, and resumes, with the most unaffected good-humor and flow of wit, her previous talk.

better prestige than this for a people with whom power is new? You cannot surely doubt his humanity, nor his generosity, nor his devotion; and for philosophy, what is better than that which springs out of the hour (a true French sentiment) tempered by adversity, and lighted with poetic ardor?

The topic changes as easily as words flow from a French-woman's lips.

-And you have seen the play of Geo. Sand,Le Roi attend; and Mademoiselle is she not gracieuse? but ma foi, what audience! Poor She stops-she remembers that you, as a stran- Madame Dudevant! they say she is utterly disger, would be glad to know on what topic the consolate at Tours;-no wonder-so inspired by conversation is drifting in these troublous times. the change;—a Lelia, at last found a pure, and She runs over in an instant the salient points of loving Stenio! But I forget, you have not been the discussion; by a half dozen effective, short to the spectacle, since the unfortunate night of sentences, full of color, of verve, and action, she that terrible, chanting crowd,-quelle horreur ! throws the whole burden into your hands, and -Yet how patiently, how earnestly they lispuzzles you for an expression of opinion while tened even to Corneille ? you are only admiring her address.

-And who would not, with such interpreter

A tall, thin-faced Colonel is of the company - as Rachel ?-noble in Elvira, but how like a a Royalist in feeling, but serving now in Repub-ghost of the bloody past, in her white robe chantlican army. He has been educated to respect ing that fearful Marseillaise!

old-fashioned politicians; he has no faith in Arago or Cremieux; he sneers at Lamartine, and berates unmercifully the cowardly, truckling measures of the Provisional Power.

-God save us-says an old lady in the corner-from those terrible Canaille!

Thus much, to give an idea of the tone, and change of the salon talk. Another is a young employée in an important Madame P- is a quick, Parisian lady,-of bureau of state;-quick, penetrating, overflow-more years by a dozen than you would credit ing with humor, he defends with the good nature, her—whose judgment lies in her faucy; she is a and warm abandon of youth, a system which is true philosopher--meaning only life philosophywaking all the youthful blood in France. He because her philosophy consoles, and forgets. would accept the Republic even with all its pos- The Colonel is a stiff, austere reader of the sible excesses, rather than be the slave of that | Débats newspaper : he is of highest Bourgeois ; system which by force of bribery, and corrup- his friends among the bankers, and old noblesse. tion, and the dogmas of feudal habit and tradi- The young man is of some school of St. Cyr, tion,-denied to all talent its prestige, and to with cleverness and life;-some accident may youthful France, its best and dearest hopes. give him position that will make him great; or What-says he-will you weigh lost prop-| kill him on some June barricade.

legem.

The old lady is nurtured in the faith of the ing over the volume, for Necessitas nullam habet old regime, perhaps was one of the suspecte of Robespierre; with her, a Republic is a nightmare, and all people-Canaille.

LINES.

This morn through many a pleasing scene
In sun and shade my course I held,
A weight of grief upon my heart,
Which could not be dispelled.

In vain I sought to catch the joy
Which seemed to move in leaf and flower,
The breeze" came to me" from the fields,
But with no soothing power.

Birds filled the air with noisy songs,

The squirrel leaped from bough to bough,
There was no cloud in Heaven to throw
That shadow on my brow.

What secret influence was there,

To guide my thoughts, dear Babe, to thee,
And give relief I could not find

In Nature's kindly glee.

The stream that wandered by, might well
An emblem of thy life impart,
But even its music failed to stir,
The fancy in my heart.

That there are sweet similitudes

I know, betwixt the flowers and thee,
Yet, while a thousand flowers were near,
Not one occurred to me.

I only know, that unannounced
Thy image glanced across my mind,
And like a transient sunbeam passed,
But left no gloom behind.

AGLAUS.

It is conceded that Sir William was a remarkable man. He was born in London in 1746, and died in Bengal, India, in 1794. His life was short, and his attainments were various and extraordinary, but so well known, that an allusion to them is scarcely necessary. Our remarks will not extend to his Life of Nadir Shah-his Persian Grammar, or Dictionary-his Sacontalaor his translation of the ordinances of Menu. We leave these to be investigated by others who possess larger means for purchasing costly works. Our design is simply to make a few remarks on the Poems of this distinguished jurist.

These Poems are for the most part versions of Eastern originals; but the translator states that he has taken considerable liberties with the authors themselves. He has filled up the outline, introduced new characters, and enlarged the plan on which the pieces were at first written. They are mere careless effusions, such as any man whose pursuits are grave and profound might produce in moments of relaxation from severe study, and were to the author what her leaves were to the Cumœan Sybil, as described by Virgil in the third book of the Æneid,

Nunquam deinde cavo volitantia prendere saxo Nec revocare situs—aut jungere carmina curat. The mind of Sir William Jones possessed wonderful power of apprehending what others had discovered. He could follow on any path which pioneers had opened. His attainments were out of all proportion to his original mental power, and they resulted probably from his acquiring some one language profoundly-the rest being mastered almost without exertion and as a necessary consequence. We have ceased to wonder at this great orientalist, since Professor Lee of Cambridge has rivalled him—or since Dr. Carey, at Serampore, conquered twenty-seven dialects-and Ross, in Scotland, who was a mere youth when he died, could write seventeen tongues

THE POEMS OF SIR WILLIAM JONES. when he died. After all, the admirable Crich

tons, we think, must doff their plumes before our

I now understood what a Poet was, namely one who Learned Blacksmith. An education in things is could sing what he saw and felt.-Hansen.

always more utilitarian than an education in words. We are not certain but that the acquirements of Sir William would have crushed the fine genius of Burns; nor could the swan of Avon have possibly borne their weight.

The library at Ringwood is so small, that the writer is obliged to depend a good deal on his neighbors for mental entertainment. On a rainy day a short time since, a fair daughter of Eve No friend of morals, however, can ever wanwas kind enough to send him a morceau in the tonly depreciate the Calcutta Judge, for he was Poems of Sir William Jones. His taste was a man of unblemished virtue. We cherish for never very oriental, for he has always liked a his memory the warmest veneration. His deprairie better than a jungle, and a stout oak bet-signs were magnificent, and his ardor in oriental ter than a banyan tree. But having nothing else studies was worthy of all praise. He was not to read he was reduced to the necessity of look- the first, however, who gave an Eastern direc