J. R. Lowell. James Russel Lowell, author of the Indian Summer Reverie, Rosaline, and the Biglow Papers, is often classed among the American humorists and satirists, but it would be doing him scanty justice to treat him as nothing more. Besides the above-mentioned productions he published, in 1868, Under the Willows and other Poems; in 1870 Essays on Dryden, Shakespeare, Lessing, Rousseau, etc.; besides an interesting work on witchcraft in New-England, two centuries ago. Of his vigorous and pregnant style the following verses will give some idea: THE RICH MAN'S SON AND THE POOR MAN'S SON. The rich man's son inherits lands, And piles of brick, and stone, and gold; The rich man's son inherits cares; A heritage, it seems to me, One would not care to hold in fee. What does the poor man's son inherit? Stout muscles and a sinewy heart; A hardy frame, a hardier spirit; A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee. What does the poor man's son inherit? What does the poor man's son inherit? To make the outcast bless his door: A king might wish to hold in fee. Oh, rich man's son, there is a toil 1 Oh! poor man's son, scorn not thy state; Both heirs to some six feet of sod, Are equal in the earth at last; Both children of the same dear God; Well worth a life to hold in fee. The Biglow Papers consist of a series of humorous pieces in the American dialect and in rhyme, directed against the Mexican policy of the then existing Administration. Mr. Lowell is a native of Cambridge, Massachusetts, and was born in 1819. In 1879 he was appointed American Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary in London. Mrs. Maria Lowell (Miss White) born at Watertown, Massachusetts, married Mr. Lowell in 1844. She has published several translations, besides some original poems, among which the Morning Glory and the Maiden's Harvest have found many admirers. Mrs. Lowell died Feb. 19, 1885. Mrs. Sigourney. Miss Lydia Huntley, born in 1791 at Norwich, Connecticut, gave early proofs of genius, for she began to write verses, when only eight years of age. In 1819 she married Mr. Sigourney, a merchant in Hartford, Connecticut, and for that time forward devoted all her leisure hours to literary pursuits, in which she was encouraged by her husband. After producing several small works, in the summer of 1840 she visited England and Scotland, and passed the winter in Paris. While in London she published a volume of poems, and soon after her return to America in 1841, the most elaborate of her longer poems, Pocahontas, appeared in New York. In 1842 she gave, under the title: Pleasant Memories in Pleasant Lands, an account in prose and verse of her wanderings abroad. This was succeeded by Myrtis in 1846; and in 1848 appeared a volume of her poems, with beautiful illustrations. She died in 1865. Of Mrs. Sigourney's simpler style, the following may serve as a specimen: THE THRIVING FAMILY. Our father lives in Washington, No lordling need deride us; Hail, brothers, hail! Let nought on earth divide us. Some of us dare the sharp north-east, To send a loaf their babes to cheer Hail, brothers, hail! Let nought on earth divide us. Some faults we have, we can't deny, But other households have the same, "Twill do no good to fume and frown, And what a shame 'twould be to part "Tis but a waste of time to fret, And closer cling through every blast, Let nought on earth divide us. Of course, the "Family" here means the American people; and the "full thirty well-grown sons" are the 38 states of the American Union. The subjoined verses contain much beauty and sublimity: NIAGARA. Flow on for ever, in thy glorious robe Ah! who can dare Every leaf, That lifts itself within thy wide domain, Thy glorious features with our pencil's point, Thou dost make the soul A wondering witness of thy majesty; But as it presses with delirious joy To pierce thy vestibule, dost chain its step, And tame its rapture with the humbling view Of its own nothingness; bidding it stand In the dread presence of the Invisible, As if to answer to its God through thee. In the verses, Indian Names, Mrs. Sigourney reveals her sympathy with a too often wronged and defamed race: INDIAN NAMES. Ye say that all have passed away, That their light canoes have vanished |