er Seele_, of which a translation under the title of _Only a Girl_ has
been widely circulated in America, established her claim to a high place
among the writers of her class. Her third work, _Aus eigener Kraft (By
his own Might)_, met with equal success, securing for its author a large
circle of readers on both sides of the Atlantic ready to welcome the
future productions of her pen. The qualities which distinguish her
writings are vigor of conception, sharpness of characterization, a moral
earnestness pervading the judgments and reflections, and an ardor,
sometimes too exuberant, which gives intensity to the delineation even
while exciting doubts of its fidelity. Similar qualities had
characterized her acting, and they spring from a nature which a close
observer has described as clear in perception yet swayed by fantasy;
strong of will yet impulsive as quicksilver; finding enjoyment now in
animated discussion, now in impetuous riding, now in absolute repose;
full of maternal tenderness, yet fond of splendor and the excitements of
society; a nature, in short, abounding in contrasts, but substantially
that of a true, noble and lovable woman.

HIS NAME?

(_An incident of the Boston fire_.)

I.

--Oh the billows of fire!
With maelstrom-like swirl,
Their surges they hurl
Over roof--over spire,
Mad--masterless--higher,--
Till with rumble--crack--crash,
Down boom with a flash,
Whole columns of granite and marble;--see! see!
Sucked in as a weed on the ocean might be,
Or engulfed as a sail
In the hurricane riot and wreak of the gale!

II.

Ha! yonder they rush where the death-dealing stream,
Over-pent, waits their gleam,
To shiver the city with earthquake!--Who, _who_
Will adventure, mid-flame, and unfasten the screw,--
Set the fiend loose, and save us so?--Fireman, you,
_You_ willing?--Would God you might hazard it!--
Nay,
The red tongues are licking the faucets now: Stay!
--Too late,--'tis too late!
If ruin comes, wait
Its coming: To go, is to perish:--Hold! Hold!
You are young,--I am old,--
You've a wife, too--and children?--O God! he is gone
Straight into destruction! The pipes, men! On, on,
Play the wa