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cts immediately connected with it, such as slavery, truckling of Northerners to the south, &c. The theme is treated in various ways with uniform bitterness. Now he sketches a 'Pious Editors Creed,' almost too daring in its Scriptural allusions, but terribly severe upon the venal fraternity. At another time he sets one of Calhoun's pro-slavery speeches to music. The remarks of the great Nullifier form the air of the song, and the incidental remarks of honorable senators on the same side make up a rich chorus, their names supplying happy tags to the rhymes. But best of all are the letters of his friend the returned volunteer, Mr. Birdofredom Sawin, who draws a sad picture of the private soldier's life in Mexico. He had gone out with hopes of making his fortune. But he was sadly disappointed and equally so in his expectations of glory, which 'never got so low down as the privates.' "But it is time to bring this notice to a close not, however, that we have by any means exhausted the subject. For have we not already stated that there are, at the lowest calculation, ninety American poets, spreading all over the alphabet, from Allston, who is unfortunately dead, to Willis, who is fortunately living, and writing _Court Journals_ for the 'Upper Ten Thousand,' as he has named the quasi-aristocracy of New York? And the lady-poets--the poetesses, what shall we say of them? Truly it would be ungallant to say anything ill of them, and invidious to single out a few among so many; therefore, it will be best for us to say--nothing at all about any of them." * * * * * ORIGINAL POETRY. A RETROSPECT. BY HERMANN. On this rustic footbridge sitting, I have passed delightful eyes, Moonbeams round about me flitting Through the overhanging leaves. With me often came another, When the west wore hues of gold, And 'twas neither sister--brother-- One the heart may dearer hold. She was fair and lightly moulded, Azure eyed and full of grace; Gentler form was never folded In a lover's warm embrace. Oh those hours of sacred converse, Their communion now is o'er And our straying feet shall traverse Those remembered paths no more. Hours they were of love and gladness, Fraught with holy vows of truth: Not a single thought of sadness Shadowing o'er the hopes of youth. I am sitting sad and lonely Where she often sat wi
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