venturous crew who peril the same, and greater dangers, that the same great ends may be attained.*

and

To me there is no class of men more interesting than seamen, none more worthy of sympathies. The sailor leads a peculiar life; but it is a life of enterprise-an enterprise that stiffens all the ambitious energies of man into a sturdy form. Inuring him to self-denial, to toil, to patient endurance; making him indifferent to danger, and mindful only of duty, it develops manhood to an extent which no other circumstances can. Roving everywhere, brought into contact with all mankind, battling with all the extremes of Nature, dealing with the very symbols of Omnipotence, and ever hanging, as it were by a thread, over Eternity, he necessarily possesses feelings and impulses which no other men have, and becomes, in all that belongs to our common humanity, "the manliest of men." There is nothing tame in such a character. An air of heroism, of noble generosity, gathers about it ;a something attractive, borrowed from the mysterious depths of the ocean-a something which landsmen know nothing of.

We had a short run from the Banks up to the Azores. And leaving these beautiful islands-in whose shadows we slumbered, becalmed, for several days-we bore up for Gibraltar with a spanking breeze, that gave a rare opportunity to our bonnie bark to show her fleet qualities.

It was at the close of a lovely day-the second from the islandswhile the brig was bowling along gloriously to the Eastward, under every rag of canvas which she could carry, that, as we were seated at the supper table, the officer of the deck announced something adrift off the weather bow. All hands were instantly up and eager to ascertain what it was, that was about to vary the monotony of our voy-age. The object was at some distance to windward, and, by the glass, appeared to be a wreck.

"In with your stun' sails!"- "Ease off the weather braces !". "Luff!"—and the brig, close-hauled on the starboard tack, made rapid approach to the object, which, as it arose and fell in the surging of the sea, proved to be a vessel bottom up! As we ranged alongside, the rays of the setting sun gleamed cheerfully upon her bright coppered bottom, and the idle waves tumbled playfully against her oaken sides; but where were the brave hearts that once peopled her decks! Who survived to tell the mysterious story of the disaster that swept into Eternity an unfortunate crew,

"When the nights were long and the seas ran high,

And the moon hid her face in the depths of the sky;
And the mast was strained, and the canvas rent,
By some demon, on angry message sent!"

* Capt. Wilkes, of the American Navy, says, as the result of his extensive observation, "that if a tenth part of the labor, means and prayers, which are bestowed upon the missions, were given to the seamen themselves, the benefit of the cause of missions would be far greater in every missionary station than it now is."

Ideas and Observations.

I.

I never was satisfied with studying a single feature in the character of great men. I wish to make myself thoroughly acquainted with the great and good of all ages, to regard them as friends, and to derive from their lives lessons of wisdom and profit. It gives me pleasure to be inducted into the mysteries of the inner life of poets and philosophers to understand how they regarded mooted questions of politics and morals-to know the associates of their leisure hours-to enter into their sympathies and prejudices-to love the objects of their love, and to tremble at whatever inspired them with dread. The knowledge of the private excellencies of those who have won the admiration of mankind, throws the halo of affection around them; and if they had faults, the reflection that such favored beings were not infallible, reconciles me to the foibles of my less gifted friends. Genius in its might is a glorious object of contemplation. I love to look upon the man of ample mental endowments, making life a reality, finding in his daily observations occupation for his mind; and while moderate in prosperity, strong in buffeting the waves of adversity. Such an example gives one satisfaction in attending to the ordinary duties which too often seem mere drudgery. Genius in its weakness impresses a warning upon the ardent expectant of wealth and fame. I never think of Burns or Byron, of Edgar A. Poe, or any favorite of genius, who has destroyed his body, and mind, and soul, by dissipation, without a firmer conviction that the proudest mental endowments are worse than worthless without a heart filled with holy affection, and a life governed by the plain but sterling code of strict moral principle.

It is especially a favorite idea with me, that in order to enter fully into the spirit of a poem, we must know the springs of the author's thought and action. Poetical productions are essentially different from the works of mechanism, or the ordinary fruits of mental labor. A poet's mind is not like a smithy, in which, by dint of blowing and hammering and filing, a finished work can be fashioned. Beneath the labors of the artist, enrobed in the vestment of words, is that which forever connects the poem with the poet. The soul of all poetry The printed

leads us back to the hearts and souls of its authors. words are but a part of the productions of any true son of poesy. His life is a component part of his works; introductory and explanatory to the published verses. In this we find a glossary, a commentary, from which we readily grasp his meaning in its depth and extent. For this reason I take especial delight in every thing that serves to elucidate the character and circumstances of my favorite authors.

In the perusal of poems relating to human life particularly, it seems to me eminently desirable to be informed of the disposition and condition of the writers. The "King's Quair" illustrates my meaning.

James the First, of Scotland, nearly cotemporary with Chaucer, composed a poem descriptive of his own imprisonment and release. It is touching in itself; but how infinitely is its tenderness and beauty increased even by the slight knowledge furnished by Washington Irving's sketch of the royal poet! Every incident connected with the king's confinement, the first appearance of Lady Jane Somerset to him, his restoration to his country and his throne partially through her influence, and her devotion to her royal husband when he was beset by assassins, throw a charm of truthfulness and reality about the " Quair” which it does not otherwise possess. Almost all poems appear to me but the figures of a painting; generally the most important and most striking feature. But the back-ground, the accompaniments, are indispensable to a full appreciation of the work. This relief to the principal figures, the life of the author affords.

Some productions, indeed, are of such character that we forget the writer while we study them; but even in the case of these, we soon strive to become more intimate with one whose song has delighted us, and has inspired us with higher thoughts and loftier aspirations. Milton's great epic divests us for the time of the idea of an author, as much perhaps as any work can divest us. Wrapt in his sublime imaginings, we become oblivious of every thing but heaven and hell, and the fall of our first parents. Soon, however, the thought of the poet flashes upon the mind. We learn his character; we recognize him as a humble Puritan of the strictest sect, as a patriot of the most devoted class, and as one of the first scholars of any age; we sympathize with him in his blindness. Then, turning from the author, we take up again his grand conceptions, and enter more heartily into his spirit and meaning than ever before.

To me, at least, even Milton, prince of poets as he is, becomes greater by the consideration that he surrendered all the ease and happiness of literature to devote the whole force of his talents and industry to the defense of English liberty. I say nothing here of Milton's four treatises on Divorce. But his political writings add to the glory of even the author of "Paradise Lost." His position among poets is made more enviable, by his devotion to freedom, and by his refusal to receive the bribes of royalty. Among the first of poets, he is not too elevated to derive additional honor from the " Areopagitica," the "Eikonoclastes," "The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates," and "The Defenses of the English People." His conduct evinces a soul, great for deed, as well as for word; a soul inspired with the sublime poetry of life and liberty. Patriot-poet! eminently distinguished in each noble sphere, John Milton occupies a place in the heart of every friend of liberty who speaks the English language, and lives under English laws, to which it is difficult for any other mortal to attain. I take more intense delight in the poetry of Milton, when I contemplate him also as the ablest defender of the rights of the people against royal prerogatives; so also his poetic fame magnifies his public labors. His sonnet to Cyriac Skinner, on his blindness, keeps continually before me all his noble qualities. While this remains, the world ought never to forget Milton, either as a poet or a patriot :

"Cyriac, this three years' day, these eyes, though clear,
To outward view, of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot;
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear,
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man or woman. Yet I argue not

Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope; but still bear up, and steer

Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask?

The conscience, friend, to have lost them, overplied

In liberty's defense, my noble task,

Of which all Europe rings from side to side.

This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask,
Content, though blind, had I no other guide."

II.

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: * a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing."

ECCLESIASTES iii, 1, 5.

A strange interest appears to hang over all connected with the "art, science, and mystery" of courtship. Even to one, like myself, not inducted into the arcana of the Order of Cupid, observation and the confessions of my friends, furnish a degree of knowledge sufficient to make this stage of human development an occasional subject of reflection. Standing aloof from the Knights of the Blind God, I observe, unprejudiced, the tactics of the Order. I notice how soon two lovers embrace the idea that the world has been condensed into themselves; how soon they conceive that they only—a second Adam and a second Eve-possess the earth as a new Eden; and how completely they forget that any others than themselves have opinions and affections to be regarded. I perceive, too, how oblivious they are of the fact that nine-tenths of those who are older than themselves have had a like experience in the service of the son of Venus, and have only been released from his chains by making a confession of their weakness at Hymen's altar. It is quite remarkable, also, that every person smitten with another's charms, allows only this other individual to have a voice in determining questions of propriety in their intercourse. The disease seems to be characterized by an utter disregard for the rules of etiquette, and for the convenience and pleasure of any third person. Catullus, the best of amatory poets, in an ode which every lover can understand and appreciate, even if he knows nothing of Latin, and which every one who has the least knowledge of Latinity can read, if he knows nothing of love, thus cooes

"AD LESBIAM."

"Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus ;
Rumoresque senum severiorum

Omnes unius æstimemus assis.

Soles occidere et redire possunt:

Nobis, cum semel occidit brevis lux,

Perhaps it does not become one who is a bachelor in the present, and who looks forward to years of bachelorship, to find fault with any of those customs which lovers usually follow the Scriptures, too, declare there is "a time to embrace." Nor ought I, possibly, to question the validity of the rule suggested by the poet, to "care not a farthing for the remarks of too strict old people." My only privilege, I suppose, is to suffer every one to "do as seemeth good in his own eyes," and to continue my study of human nature, as exhibited in the manifestation of affection.

Public assemblies, concerts, and lectures, afford an excellent opportunity for observing the process of courtship. Without any breach of decorum, persons who make themselvs conspicuous by their attentions to each other, become the objects of general scrutiny. One can not fail to notice how the sound of external music seems to die away before the higher melody of sympathetic and throbbing hearts; nor is it less remarkable how the publicity of the place appears to be forgotten in the consciousness of a single presence. Such observations carry with them a strong conviction of the truth of the ancient myth that Love is a blind god, and that he is a god causing blindness. I would not utter a word, even in sport, against the holiness of affection and the propriety of manifesting it, on suitable occasions. But there is also "a time to refrain from embracing."

me.

Here, again, I shall not attempt to reason with such as differ from On the contrary, I shall seek grounds of justification for those who choose public halls as the scenes of their courtship. Indeed, it is not difficult to discover advantages in their mode of procedure. Besides affording opportunity to secure testimony in case of a suit for breach of promise, they present to others a means of learning how the "mystery" should be conducted: they act as fuglemen to the Order of Knights of the Blind God. Thus it may be possible for one to become quite an adept, without the usual routine of service. This public method allows, too, of a display of ability in conducting affairs of the heart, and conduces, perhaps, to general expertness in the art. In this age, when every thing is reduced to general principles and brought under general rules, one who delights in the prevalence of exact and comprehensive sciences, may be pardoned for suggesting, in addition, that the practice of public courtship affords a most favorable opportunity for discovering the principles and establishing the rules which shall reduce affairs of the heart to the certainty and definiteness of a fixed science.

E. H. R.