e hat, and the checked shirt, and
the black riband round his neck--he is quite irresistible among the
fairer portion of the creation. Or in a stormy night, with his pilot
coat on, at the lonely helm, and his northwester pulled close over his
ears, and his steady, unflinching eye, and his warm, lion-like heart
within--the true sailor is one of the noblest specimens of man. He that
is fierce as a bull, and yet tender-hearted like a young child--the
greatest blasphemer on earth, and yet the most religious, or even the
most superstitious, of men--he is not to be tied down by the rules of
aesthetics, like a land-crab. His home is on the sea, as somebody has
said or sung; he has nobody there to see him but himself, (if we may be
excused the bull.) What does he care for dress? Only look at him
standing by his gun, when broadside after broadside is pouring into the
timbers of some sanguinary Yankee or blustering Frenchman. What is his
uniform then? Let them declare who have seen that most awful of human
sights, a great battle at sea; but let them not whisper it in ears
feminine or polite.

To the officers, we will only add a word--let them eschew all hats and
short coats, and keep to their caps and frocks. This is their proper
dress. Let them keep themselves warm, comfortable, and ever ready for
service. Never let them face their coats with red again. The old blue
and white against all the world, say we! And let the soldiers take a
leaf out of the sailors' books, and remember that utility, though
accompanied by plainness, is far more consonant to the laws of aesthetics
than unmeaning ornament or erroneous form.

GOETHE TO HIS ROMAN LOVE.

ATTEMPTED IN THE ORIGINAL METRE.

Lass dich, Geliebte, nicht reu'n dass du mich so schnell dich ergeben!
Glaub'es, ich denke nicht frech, denke nicht niedrig von dir.
Vielfach wirkten die Pfeile des Amor; einige ritzen,
Und vom schleichenden Gift kranket auf Jahre des Herz,
Aber machtig befiedert, mit frisch geschliffener Scharfe,
Dringen die andern ins Mark, zunden behende das Blut.
In der Heroischen Zeit, da Gotten und Gottinnen liebten,
Folgte Begierde dem Blick, folgte Genuss der Begier.
Glau'bst du er habe sich lange die Gottiun der Liebe besonnen,
Als in Idaeischen Hain einst ihr Anchises befiel?
Hatte Luna gesaeumt den schonen Schlaefer zu kuessen,--
O, so hatt' ihm geschwind, neidend, Aurora geweckt!
Hero erb