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On that pleasant morn of the early fll, 'Shoot, if you must, this old gray bead, Wheu Lee marched over the mountain But spare your couutry's flag,' she said.

wall, Over the mountains winding down. A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, Horse and fuot, into Frederick town, Over the face of the leader came;

The noble nature withiu him stirred Forty flags with their silver stars, To life, at that woiran's deed and word. Forty tlugs with their silver bars, Flapped in the moruiny wind: the sun • Who touches a hair of yon gray head, Of noon looked down and saw not one. Dies like a dog. March on !' he said,

All dayl og throuş'ı Frederick street Up rose old Barbara Fritchie then, Sounded the tread of marching feet; Bowed with her fourscore years and ten, Bravest of all in Frederick town,

All day long the free flag tossed She took up the flag the men hauled down; Over the heads of the rebel host;

Ever its toru folds : ose and fell In her attic window the staff she set, On the loyal winds, that loved it well; To show that ove heart was loval yet. Up the street came the rebil tread, And through the hill-gaps runset light Stonewall Jackson riding aheud;

Shone over it with a warm good-night.

Barbara Fritchie's work is o'er, Under his slouched hat left and right, And the rebel rides on his raid no more. He glapced; the old fag met his siyht. • Halt!'-the dust-brown ranks stood fast; Honour to her! and let a tear • Fire!'-out blazed the rifle blast. Fall, for her suke, on Stonewall's bier!

Over Barbara Fritchie's grave,
It shivered the window, pane and sash; Flag of Freedom, and Union, wave!
It rent the banner with seain and gash.
Quick, as it fell from the broken staff, Peace, and order, and beauty draw
Dume Barbaru suatched the silken scurf; Round thy symbol of light and law;

And ever the stars above look down She leaned far out on the window sill, On thy stars below, in Frederick town! Aud sbook it fortb with a royal will,

ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. ARTHUR Hugh CLOUGH (1819-1861) was the son of a merchant in Liverpool. He was one of the pupils of Dr. Arnold of Rugby, to whom he was strongly attached ; and having won the Balliol scholarship in 1836, he went to Oxford. The Tractarian movement was then agitating the university, and Clough was for a time under its influence. He ultimately abandoned the Romanising party ; but his opinions were unsettled, and he never regained the full assurance of his early faith. In 1813 he was appointed tutor as well as Fellow of Oriel College, and laboured successfully for about five years, usually spending the long vacation among the Welsh mountains, the Cumberland lakes, or the Scotch Highlands His most important poem, • The Bothie of Tober-na-Vuolich' (1818), which he terms a long-vacation pastoral,' commemorates one of these holiday tours in the Highlands by the Oxford tutor and his pupils. It was written in hexameter verse, of which Southey had given a specimen in his • Vision of Judgment,' and contains a faitliful picture of Highland scenes and character. Clough grafts a love-story on his descriptive sketch, and makes one of the reading-party marry a Highland maiden and migrate to New Zealand. In 1848, from conscientious motives, the poet resigned his tutorship, and also gave up his fellow. ship. Next year he accepted the appointment of Principal of University Hall, London, but held it only for two years, at the end of which he went to America, and settled (October 1852) at Cambridge, Massachusetts. He was drawn thence in less than a twelvemonth by the offer of an examinership in the Education Office, which he accepted; and to this was added, in 1856, the post of Secretary to a Commission for examining the scientific military schools on the continent. He took a warm interest in the philanthropic labours of Miss Nightingale ; and thus his life, though uneventful, was, as his biographer remarks, ‘full of work.' Ill health, however, compelled him to go abroad, and he died at Florence, November 13, 1861. Besides the Highland pastoral of 'The Bothie,' Clough produced a second long poem, 'Amours de Voyage,' the result of a holiday of travel in Italy, and of the impressions made upon him in Rome. His third long poem of 'Dipsychus' was written in Venice in 1850, and is much superior to the • Amours.' Another work. “Mari Magno,' consists of a series of tales on love and marriage, supposed to be related to each other by a party of companions on a sca-voyage.

The tales are as homely in style and incident as those of Crabbe, but are less interesting and less poetical. A number of small occasional pieces, “poems of the inner life,' were thrown off from time to time by the poet; and

selection from his papers, with letters and a memoir, edited by his widow, was published in two volumes in 1869.

Autumn in the flighlands.
It was on Saturday eve, in the gorgeous bright October,
Then when brackens are changed and heather-blooms are faded,
And amid russet of heather and fern, green trees are bonnie;
Alders are green, and oaks; the rowan scarlet and yellow;
One great glory of broad gold pieces appears the aspen,
And the jewels of gold that were hung in the hair of the birch-tree,
Pendulous, here and there, her coront. necklace. and ear-rings,
Cover her now o'er and o'er ; she is weary, and scatters them from ber.
There upon Saturday eve, in the gorgeous bright October,
Under the alders kuitting, gave Elspie ber troth to Philip,
For as they talked anon she said: "It is well Mr. Philip;
Yes, it is well : I have spoken and learned a deal with the teacher.
At the last I told him all; I could not help it ;
And it came easier with him than could have been with my father;
And he calmly approved as one that had fully considered.
Yes, it is well : I have hoped, though qnite too great and sudden;
I am so fearful, I think it ought not to be for years yet;
I am afraid, but believe in yon; and I trust to the teacher;
You have done all things gruvely and temperate, not as in passion ;
And the teacher is prudent and surely can tell what is likely.
What my father will sny. I know not ; we will obey him:
But for myself, I could dare to believe all well, and venture.
O Mr. Philip, may it never bereafter seem to be different!'
And she bid her face-oh, where, but iv Philip's bosom.

Morning in the City.
As the light of day enters sone populons city.
Shaming away. ere it come. hy the chilly day-streak signal,
High and low, the misnsers of night, shaming out the gas-lamps-
All the great empty streets ar: floodud with broadening clearness,

Which, withal, by inscrutable simultaneous access
Permeates far and pierces to the very cellars lying in
Narrow high back-lane, and court, and alley of alieys.
He that goes forth to his walks, while speeding to the suburb,
Sees sights only peaceful and pure: as labourers settling
Slowly to work, in their limbs the lingering sweetness of slumber;
Humble market-carte, coming in, bringing in, vot only
Flower, fruit, farm-store, but sounds and sights of the country
Dwelling yet on the sense of the dreamy drivers ; soon after,
Half-awake servant-maids unfastening drowsy shutters
Up at the windows, or down, letting in the air by the doorway;
School-boys, school-girls soon, with slate, portfolio, satchel,
Hampered as they haste, those running, these others maidenly tripping;
Early clerk anon turning out to stroll, or it may be
Meet his sweetheart-waiting behind the garden gate there;
Merchant on his grass-plat haply bare-headed ; and now by this time
Little child bringing breakfast to 'father,' that sits on the timber
There by the scaffolding ; see, she waits for the can beside him;
Meantime above purer air untarnished of new-lit fires;
So that the whole great wicked artificial civilised fabric-
All its unfinished houses, lots for sale, and railway outworks-
Seems reaccepted, resumed to primal nature and beauty,
Such-in me, and to me, aud ou me-the love of Elspie!

In a Gondola on the Grand Canal, Venice.
Afloat; we move-delicious! Ah, With no more motion than should bear]
What else is like the gondola ?

A freshness to the languid air ; This level foor of liquid glass

With no more effort than expressed Begins beneath us swift to pass.

The need and naturalness of rest, It goes as though it went alone

Which we beneath a grateful shade By some impulsion of its own.

Should take on peaceful pillows laid ! (How light it moves, how softly! Ah, (How light we move, how softly! Ah, Were all things like the gondolà !) Were life but as the gondola !) How light it moveg, how softly! Ah, In one unbroken passage borne Could life as does our gondola,

To closing night from opening morn, Unvexed with quarrels, aims, and cares, Uplift at whiles slow eyes to mark And moral duties and affairs,

Some palace frout, some passing bark; Unswaying, noiseless, swift, and strong, Through windows catch the varying shore, For ever thus-thus glide along !

And hear the soft turns of the oar! (How light we move, how softy! Ah, (How light we move, how softly! Ah, Were life but as the gondola !)

Were life but as the gondola I)

WILLIAM WETMORE STORY, The distinguished American sculptor, MR. W. STORY, whose *Cleopatra' was the object of much interest and admiration in the Exhibition of 1862, has been a considerable contributor to our imaginative literature. His Ginevra da Siena,' a long poem published in Blackwood's Magazine' for June 1866 ; his ‘Primitive Christian in Rome,' published in the Fortnightly Review' for December 1866 ; and his ‘Graffiti d'Italia,' 1868, are productions of genuine worth and interest. In 1870 Mr. Story published a singular narrative poem in blank verse on Judas's betrayal of Christ. The poet assumes that Judas was really devoted to his Master, was of an enthusiastic temperament, and believed that, if he delivered up Jesus, a glorious manifestation of the Godhead would take place, confounding the Saviour's enemies, and prostrating them in adors


tion ; but when he saw Christ bound with cords and taken prisoner, he was overwhelmed with grief and borror, and flinging down the money he had received, went and hanged himself! The following is Mr. Storý's conception of the appearance of the Saviour on earth:

Tall, slender, not erect, a little bent;
Brows arched and dark; a high-ridged lofty head;
Thin temples, veined and delicate ; large eyes,
Sad, very serious, seeming as it were
To look beyond you, and wbene'er he spoke
Illumined by an inner lamping light-
At times, too, gleaming with a strange wild fire
When taunted by the rabble in the streets ;
A Jewish face, complexion pale but dark;
Thin, high-art nostrils, quivering constantly;
Long nose, full lips, bands tapering, full of veins;
His movements nervous : as he walked he seemed
Scarcely to heed the pereous whom he passed,

And for the most part gazed upon the ground. Besides the above poems and others scattered through periodical works, Mr. Story is author of two interesting volumes in prose. *Roba di Roma, or Walks about Rome,' 1862. He has also published several legal works, and “The Life and Letters of Justico Story,' his father (1779–1845), a great legal authority in America. The artist himself is a native of Salem, Massachusetts, and was born in 1819.

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. The successor of Mr. Longfellow in Harvard College has well sustained the honours of the professorial chair. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL, born at Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1819, appeared as an author in 1841, when he published a volume of poems entitled 'A Year's Life.' In 1844 he produced a second series of Poems;' in 1845, 'Conversations on some of the Old Poets;' in 1848 a third series of •Poems,' and The Biglow Papers,' a poetical satire on the invasion of Mexico by the United States, the slavery question, &c. In this last work Mr. Lowell seems to have struck into the true vein of his genius. His humour is rich and original, and his use of the Yankee dialect was a novelty in literature. "In his serious and sentimental verse the poet has several equals and some superiors in his own country ; but as a humourist he is unrivalled. In January 1855 Mr. Lowell succeeded Longfellow as Professor of Modern Languages and Belles lettres in Harvard College. In 1864 appeared a second series of “The Biglow Papers;' in 1869, . Under the Willows, and other Poems,' and The Cathedral,' an epic poem ; in 1870, a volume of prose essays entitled ' Among my Books;' and in 1871, ‘My Study Windows,' a second collection of essays, most of which had previously appeared in periodicals, and all of which are remarkable for critical taste and acumen. Mr. Lowell bas been connected editorially and as a contributor with many American reviews and magazines : he bas edited the poems of Marvell, Donne, Keats, Wordsworth and

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Shelley, and also delivered lectures on the British Poets. This popular author belongs to a family distinguished for literary attainments. His grandfather, Judge Lowell, and his father, Dr. Charles Lowell, pastor of the West Church, Boston, were both highly accomplished men, and several other relations were men of culture and eminence in society. His wife, nee Maria White (1821-1823), was a poetess of more than ordinary merit, and the subject of Longfellow's tine poem, • The two Angels.

On Popular Applause.

I thank ye, my friens, for the warmth o' your greetin';
Ther's few airthly blessins but wut 's vain an' fleetin';
But ef ther' is one thet bain't 110 cracks an' flaws,
An' is wuth goin' in for, it's pop'lar applause;
It sends up the sperits ez lively ez rockets,
An' I feel it-wal, down to the eend o'my pockets.
Jes' lovin' the people is Canaan in view,
But it's Canaan paid quarterly t' hev 'em love you;
It's a blessin' thet 's breakin' out ollus in fresh spots:
It 's &-follerin' Moses 'thout losin' the flesh-pots.
An' folks like you 'n me, thet ain't ept iu be sold,
Git somehow or 'nother left out in the cold.

I expected 'fore this, 'thout no gret of a row.
Jeff D. world ha' hen where A. Lincoln is now,
With Taney to say ' wuz all legle av'fair,
An' a jury o Deemocrats ready to swear
Thet the ingin o' State gut throwed into the ditch
By the fault o' the North in misplacin'the switch
Things wuz ripenin' fust-rate with Buchanan to pusg 'em;
But the people they wouldu't be Mexicans, cuss 'em !
Ain't the safeguards o' freedom upsot, 'z yon may say,
Ef the right o rev'lution is took clean away?
An' doosn't the right priiny-fashy include
The bein' entitled to nut be subdued ?
The fact is, we'd gone for the union so strong,
When uniou meant South ollus right an' North wrong,
Thet the people gut fooled into thinkin' it might
Worry on middlin' wal with the North in the right.

Hints to Statesmen.
A ginooipe statesman should he on his guard.
Ef he must hev beliefs, nut to b'lieve 'em tu hard;
For. ez eure ez he does, he'll be blartin' 'em out
"Thont regardin' the natur o' man more'n a spont,
Nor it don't ask much gumption to pick out å flaw
In a party whose leaders are loose in the jaw:
An' so in our own case I ventur' to hint
Thet we'd better nut air onr perceedins in print,
Nor pags resserlootions ez long ez your arm,
Thet may, ez things heppen to tur, do ng harm:
For when you've done a'l vour real meanin' to smothe,
The darned things 'll np and mean runthin' or 'nother.
No. never say nothin' vithont yon're compelled tu,
An' then don't say nothin' that you can he held ta,
Nor don't leave no friction-idees lavin' loose
Yor the ign'ant to put to incend'ary use.

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