HOLMES breathes 'his last,' and we are thrilled with laughter! JOHN G. SAXE, E82. THE third, arrived from Heliconian journey, Attaches all by power of attorney. The youngest, too: we give his senior joy, Who dare cross swords with this Green Mountain Boy! No Gallic fashions mar his Saxon feet. But hold! he does mince; for he Folly minces, His speech is full of the old Saxon charm; SAXE vs. PETTICOATS. BUT the best light, by far, for painting him in, * ASTREA. But now, Or herons wading in some shallow near ANGELICA. BUT not alone as Fashion's ribboned queen, Hare-brained and rude, is smirking Folly seen: Gravely she comes to train the youthful mind, And sets the mode: blind leader of the blind! Lo, yon fond mother with a spindling son, HELEN. AND here another of a different mould, Neither is right; nor are they wholly wrong: THE MODERN HIPPOLYTE. 'A woman should be both a wife and mother: Were Folly dead, you'd think she had not died, A strapping beauty, with a flowing tongue, You may not call her old, you dare not-young! Who frequents parties made for the élite, And PETRARCH Tetrarch' calls, and thinks him 'sweet;' Hears Grecian scholars talking of old Passow, And gallops down with praises meant for Tasso ! She's always found at festivals and fairs, Where the beaux shun her, and she calls them 'bears;' EPILOGUE. ALAS! how long will my unbridled muse, Make way for PEGASUS to freely pass! Undo the girths and let him go While this you do, ere I dismount, I'll say I, like a cobbler, lose my little all. Sons of the SIGMA PHI, that second mother, And plume his pinions from the BETA's' dome; For you shall Fancy her light baton wave, Thus will THE MOTHER,' in her sons, live o'er, Long may you cull with her Life's choicest flowers, Ingleside, July, 1851. FINIS. HANS VON SPIEGEL. SEEKING DINNER UNDER DIFFICULTIES. BY FRANCIS COPCUTT. AURORA and I loved each other, and we also loved Mrs. Jones, for she had made us acquainted: beside, Mrs. Jones was chatty, kind and sensible; very sensible, for she never saw nor heard any thing that we did n't want her to see nor hear; so we often met in Mrs. Jones' back parlor, without the fear of Aurora's father before our eyes, who disliked me exceedingly on account of some false facts which had reached his ears, and he wished me at the no, not there, but any part of the world I happened to have a liking for, except his house. But, alas! for sublunary bliss, Mrs. Jones had an only son in Milwaukie, the son of a husband and first love, (wonderful conjunction;) and Mr. Jones, having made a 'pile' out west, had sent for his mother, offering her a home in his house for life, in addition to the one she already occupied in his heart. So our dear friend sent for Mr. Leeds, who a few days afterward hung his red* banner on the outer wall,' and 'Going, going, gone,' ringing out loudly and clearly from the loved abode, sounded in our ears as the sad knell of all our 'tête-à-têtes.' The following Friday Mrs. Jones was to leave town. So on Thursday Aurora told Ma that she would take an early walk in the morning, and breakfast at 'aunt's,' and possibly not come back until dinner time; and she did take an early walk, but she breakfasted on board the 'Alida,' and as to returning to dinner, we shall see. Well, the captain cried, All aboard,' 'All ashore,' and our morning accident, as one may call an American steamer, sprang out from the wharf into the stream, and between the river-banks, covered with their June draperies of fresh emerald green, we wended our way toward WestPoint, with the intention of saying good-bye to Mrs. Jones there, and returning in the afternoon. Passing Cullock-houk, the High Torn, and so on, (names unknown to gazetteers, but sacred to boyhood's memories of vacation weeks in the country,) grave and gay by turns, we kept our place on the promenade deck until the boat reached West-Point. Then came the hurried farewell, the tears from the weaker vessels, and the dash and foam and spray from the strong one. Handkerchiefs waved; Mrs. Jones' face grew less in the distance, and was soon lost to our sight for ever. As an hour and a half would elapse before the down boat from Albany would stop to take us back again, we wandered about that paradise of beautiful walks, listening to the birds that were carolling their songs of love in the sunshine, to the cannon which the cadets were firing at the target across the bay, and to the music of our beating hearts; and in this atmosphere of affection and cannon-smoke, our souls shut out the memory of the past, the anticipation of the future, and revelled in the dreamy bliss of the hour. 'Hark!' cried Aurora. Hark, indeed! It was the bell of the steamer as she approached the wharf, and we half a mile away. Putting spurs to our will, we indulged in the luxury of a hard run, and succeeded in reaching one end of the wharf as the plank was hauled in from the other, and the thing of life' dashed on her course quite as indifferently as if no 'Niobe all tears' had been standing fifty yards off, praying for a place on her receding deck. Alas! poor Aurora; she turned her flushed face and tearful eyes upon me with a look of utter, hopeless despair, worthy of a more important cause; but it was not an unimportant one, however. The link which bound me to her father's indulgence was weak enough in itself; and keeping his darling and only daughter away all night, as now seemed inevitable, I felt would break a dozen such links. I should be forbidden the house, that was clear; and as to Aurora, poor girl, her fate was dreadful, for would she ever be allowed to go to her aunt's again to breakfast? No, decidedly not. It was a moment of intense and feverish thought; but I had had such fevers too often during a strange and eventful life to be dismayed now. I remember a very acute attack some years ago that came near being cured with cold water. It was on Lake St. Peter, when two steamers ran into each other in the middle of the night and both sunk, and I thought I was being drowned: a mistake, by the way, and an unfortunate one too, perhaps, for Aurora; for, had I become a dinner for St. Peter's fishes, would she not have been home to her own in time? -row But now, clearly defined, yet leading to no mode of getting to NewYork, except in imagination, my head was crowded with all manner of race-horses, wagons, wings, rail-roads, balloons, steamers, row-boats boats? Oh, row-boat? It came paddling into my brain, and made fast to the long wharf of memory, and its freight was a dim twilight recollection of an old advertisement in the Sun newspaper. I went to the end of the wharf, and asked the gaping idlers who had been smiling at our 'fix,' 'Whose boats are those?' But they all belonged to Captain this and Lieutenant that, and could not be had. I felt angry and nonplussed, and looked toward New-York with 'infinite longings,' as the novels say, or as I have seen a child look through the glass of a confectioner's window, or a loafer through that of a Broadway broker's office; but "T will never do to give it up so,' I thought, and glancing from my wondering neigh |