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