Original. ANTHROPON. BY THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH. 1 would have loved the world. Within my soul Gushed forth, at birth, a fount of tenderness, Whose waters flowed beyond a due control Ah! would to God, the current had been less! My childhood swelled the stream. The forest trees, The buds, the blossoms and the balmy breeze, The birds, who shook rare beauty from their wings, Brutes even, and the meanest of creeping things, All urged to loving thought—and love I did, Until the sympathies within me hid Leaped forth to find their fellows. Then I found, Suspicion, wrong and wo within the world abound. Men would not let me so regard them. They Resolved to seek man's friendship never more. My dog and bird were poisoned, since for me, And never know, as I, one bitter pang. I met one being pure; then beamed with light my way. I loved-oh! what a glorious passion is In which the joy of her we' love is sought To tinge the gloomy earth with thoughts of heaven; To chains whereof the links be maiden's eyes; Which, calling love, we taste, yet know not what it be. I loved and she loved me as well. What mad, I thought impiety to Heaven, who gave Alas! the passion of the human mind Which makes or mars its destiny is doomed To yield to cold constraints-to lie confined Until by pent-up flame, the heart consumed Crumbles to ashes; so it was with me. For eyes looked on that I would like to see, But looked not with a kindly glance; they thought I was not worthy of the maid I sought, And listening to the words of slander, strove To crush the full-blown blossom of my love, Thus wronging me and her, and thus my store Of warm affection wounding but themselves the more. I asked-shall they succeed in this thing; shall They bury me beneath the weight of grief; Shall I endure this pang perpetual, And make no sudden effort for relief? Perhaps and yet it may not be, for I Have grown to that estate when men defy Their foemen, partly from a perfect sense Of suffered wrong and conscious innocence, And partly from despair which nerves the soul To do as well as suffer, and control The circumstance which else controls the man: Man always would do this and often too he can. But better thoughts arose-my good awoke— I thought of her I loved and those to whom She owed existence; then I calmly spoke: I will not shroud their hearts in gloom. They think their action right alone, and though They wrong me much, I shall not strike a blow; 'Twere better I should suffer sadly stillArise, Good Sense! and Passion, chain thy will! God guard my love, and be her life one joy; No cares to harass, trifles to annoy, May she forget the one who loved so well, That for her sake he bids both her and hope farewell. Time travels like the lightning if with gladness There is no power which may retard his speed; Time travels like the tortoise if with sadness, And stops him still when human feelings bleed. In this short space I have exhausted years, Of which the record has been penned in tears. I am the same except my heart within, Having now no hope to cheer, no goal to win, Lies down inactive. Earth moves not for me, Sank are the winds and quiet is the sea; A preternatural calmness marks all things, And even visions stop and fold their filmy wings. EDITOR'S TABLE. stratagem of some wily merchant or fraudulent tradesman. Perhaps the female character might sustain a loss of purity and grace by more free admission into society so constituted— the Chinaman probably exercises a sound discretion in excluding the fair sex from a vicious atmosphere. In addition to the silent satisfaction derived from the motion of their gaudy barges on the tranquil surface of the See-Hoo, the pleasures of the table are immoderately indulged in; smoking lends its aid, and the opium stimulates those who are too stolid by nature to share in the charms and the vices of the LAKE SEE-HOO.—In the selections of“ our Chinese subjects," we have endeavored to the utmost of our ability, to illustrate those scenes which have created the most interest among Americans. In accomplishing that desire, our sole object has been to place before our people a faithful character of the country of China. If, in so doing, we have faithfully succeeded, the proprietors of the Ladies' Companion are satisfied, and arrogate to themselves the praise of enlightening the nation upon the situation of a country, which have, for cen-gaming-table. turies, been a mystery; and why may be asked by many? Because, superstition has so universally predominated in the "Celestial Empire," and thus debarring the privilege of an investigation, or even entrance to a country, possessing the most unrivalled artists that have ever existed. The arts there are of a nature so exalted, that ingenuity of the rarest intricacies are required to perfect their accomplishment. The world is indebted to China for the knowledge, which it possesses in regard to the same which no other country could have solved. To say the Chinese do not possess the faculties to enlarge upon the arts, and give additional strength to those inventions, which have been the wonder of all civilized nations, would be absurd. While their faculties remain undimmed by the vicious habits of this extraordinary people, these voyagers in search of pleasure enjoy one of the richest prospects in Southern China. The banks that rise with such gentle acclivity, are decked all round with flowering water-lilies, the purple poppy enriches the lowest margin of the land, beyond which rise in gradual dignity the camphor, the tallow-tree, and the arbor-vitæ. These are the fairest among the indigenous productions of this locality :-the changeable and Syrian roses, the common lilac, the paper mulberry, juniper, cotton-plant, balsame in great variety, amaranthus, and aquatic-lilies: the fruits known in Europe also abound, many of which, however, are of an inferior quality. These specimens of the vegetable kingdom adorn the contrast they form with the forest-trees around, give additional value to their properties-the bright green foliage of the camphor harmonizes happily with the purple of the tallow, while the deep sombre verdure of the tree-of-life waves in melancholy grandeur over both. Numerous tributary streams descend from the mountains, and end their noisy career in the bosom of the calm See-Hoo; and, the visitation of the wooded glens through which they roll their rapid waters, constitutes a favorite amusement of the various boating-parties from the city. The close sylvan scenery here is much enhanced by the introduction of a multitude of bridges, that span the cataracts in the most precipitous places: and the construction of these useful works forms a constant object of Chinese industry, although these people have yet to learn that their labors in this sort are perfectly peurile, and infinitely below those monuments which the engineers of Europe have raised to architectural science in England and in France. Amidst the continuous range of temples, monasteries of the Ho-Shaung, or priests of Fo, mansions, villas, groves, gardens, bridges, and tombs, that encircle this fairy lake, the ruins of an imperial palace may still be traced. Originally ten miles in circumference, and enclosed with lofty brick walls, it was separated into three great courts, all looking out upon the lake. It was in the outer court that the emperor Foo-tsung frequently entertained ten thousand guests at a banquet, which lasted ten successive days; the second court was surrounded by the imperial apartments; and the third division included those of the ladies of the palace, besides gardens, fish-ponds, preserves for game, and other appendages to a residence of such state and magnitude. This sumptuous palace ceased to be the residence of the imperial house in the year 1275, when the empress mother, and the emperor Kung-tsung, a minor, having surrendered themselves to the Mongool Tartars, were delivered to Kublai-Khan, by whom they were banished to his hereditary kingdom. There the ex-emperor died the following year, and with him the Sung dynasty in China. At a brief distance west from the great city of Hang-chow-deep fertile vales that run up between the mountains; and the foo, once the capital of Southern China, there is a lake celebrated for its extent, the clearness of its waters, and romantic character of the surrounding scenery. Its picturesque shores present a length of about twenty miles, broken at one time by a projecting promontory, at another by a retiring bay, while its ever-tranquil and transparent surface is adorned by two wooded islets, that float with gracefulness upon its smooth bright bosom. The little harbor of Lake See-Hoo, the ancient Ming-Shing, is connected with Hang-Chow by a broad and well-paved causeway, yet insufficient, occasionally, for the accommodation of the numerous votaries of pleasure, that basten to while away many an hour of their existence amidst the fascinating scenery of these elysian regions. The shores in general are fertile, and the attractions of the place having drawn hither the wealthy mandarins from the city, every spot of land, from the water's edge to the foot of the bold mountains that form a noble amphitheatre around, is occupied by light ærial buildings, villas, palaces, temples, pleasure-grounds, and gardens, or in some other way appropriated to the ministration of luzury, or service of leisure. Like the Laguna of Venice, the face of these waters is crowded day and night with pleasure-boats of every grade; the most sumptuous yachts are generally followed by a floating kitchen in which the banquet is prepared, one always including those delicious silver eels, with which the clear waters of the See-Hoo abound; and, to Chinese society, from which all interchange of intellectual conversation is wholly rejected, the accompaniment of the floating cuisine is indispensably requisite. Females are excluded from all participation in these enjoyments, their appearance in such expeditions being deemed derogatory to the privacy and separativeness of the sexes in Chinaa circumstance that sufficiently demonstrates the degraded condition of society in the Celestial empire. How miserable and insipid that social state, where intellectual intercourse between the sexes is prohibited! What a censure is cast by man upon himself, by this prejudgment of wickedness or weakness in every created being! Here, then, the sublimest sentiments, the noblest feelings, the play of softer passions, are total strangers, and reason and philosophy comparatively fallen. In countries where the mental faculties have received that cultivation of which they are susceptible, whenever years shall have weakened the desire of joining the gay and glittering circle of female youth and beauty, or inclination have led to the severe exercises of the intellectual powers, numerous resources are still in reserve, and a relish for society will still he retained by those who value "the feast of reason and the flow of soul." No such class, however, exists in China; there But in the midst of life we are in death; for, while sonnda the tenor of conversation is mean, coarse, and grovelling, of mirth re-echo round the shores, and pleasure seems to have touching local grievances—the injustice of the mandarins-the" here secured an undisturbed and everlasting reign, the dark On the shore adjacent to each usual pier or landing-place, covered carriages, furnished with silk curtains, richly embroidered cushions, and other costly decorations, are in attendance, to convey the visitors to public gardens, and places of amusement at a little distance from the water. On the islands also near the centre of the lake, spacious buildings are erected, containing splendid apartments and gorgeous open pavilions. There marriages are celebrated, and the most sumptuous entertainments given on those and other occasions of joyous ness. cypress flings its lengthened shadows on the water, suggesting to its navigators of to-day something reflective of to-morrow. Full in the view of the light bark, in pursuit o f lighter hopes and pleasures, opens the sad "Vale of Tombs," consecrated to those who once joined in "That chase of idle hopes and fears, Begun in folly, closed in tears," us that gratification. We will, in the October number, however, revert to the publications at present upon our table, as well as those which may be heralded forth before that auspicious period arrives. It may seem to many of our readers, that the "apology" is a lame one, especially to those uninitiated in the art of catering for persons who enjoy the delight of the perusal of a magazine at their leisure; but, if for a moment participating in all the gratifications and the vanities of beauty they would call to mind, the many lonesome bours, whiled and of youth. Rude in many customs and habits, the Chinese are too refined and sentimental in the reverence they pay the dead. "It is a matter of doubt whether the Chinese do not carry their veneration of the dead to the point of adoration." Embosomed in trees, and on the brow of a hill that descends with undulations to the water, monuments, tombs, and fantastic sepulchral honors, of infinite variety in design, materials, and workmanship, extend over an area of some miles in circumference. Along the numerous vistas formed by the tall cypress, occur at intervals, little buildings of square form, painted blue, and raised on white colonnades. These are the melancholy resting-places of many generations, the upper chambers of so many monuments. Mandarins and persons of rank and power are distinguished, even in death, from their fellow-men, by mousoleums raised on semilunar terraces, having panels of black marble in front, as a ground for the better display of posthumous praises written on them in letters of gold. Sarcophagi, altar-tombs, slabs, pillars, pyramids, obelisks, towers, every species of form that taste can suggest, or experience execute, is found in the Vale of Tombs, and raised by feelings little understood in any other country of our globe. Where means have been wanting to supply more costly materials, affectionate zeal has substituted memorials of either earth or wood, but in no instance is the offering of some recording testimony neglected by the survivors. Besides the tree long consecrated to the home of the dead, there are others in this romantic cemetery that seem to mourn over the grave of departed worth, and shelter its melancholy grandeur from the idler's gaze These are the weeping willow and the lignumvitæ, whose slender pendent branches, agitated by the breeze, brush away the mouldering fragments from the surface of each tablet, and present the inscription fair and fresh-looking for ever. Oft times, and at night, numbers of torches are perceived passing and repassing along the chief avenues of the Vale of Tombs, but they do not excite amongst the inhabitants of the vicinity any unusual apprehension. They are borne by visitants to the graves of friends, relations, parents; on these occasions, particularly at the seasons of spring and autumn, the sepulchres are swept and garnished with tinsel-paper, slips of silk, flowers, and various other ornaments; while a supper of rice, fowls, or roasted pigs, is offered to the shades of those who sleep beneath, and a libation of wine at the same time. It is not unusual to see a widow, who has just concluded her prayer-offering beside the cold bed of her once loved-husband, before she has risen from the attitude of supplication, engaged most anxiously in throwing the "sticks of fate" on his gravestone. Predestination is an universal doctrine in China, and the ancient custom of choosing or rather throwing lots, is still preserved with the most persevering fidelity. On the altar of every temple stands a wooden cup, filled with a number of small sticks marked at the ends with certain characters. The consultant taking up the cup shakes it until one of the sticks falls out; then ascertaining its mark, in the page of the book of fate which is suspended from the altar, and to which the lot refers, reads his future fortune. Such, also, are the sticks of fate which the widows carry to their lost lords' tombs, and from which they endeavor to learn whether they are doomed to a social or a solitary life in future. It is a superstition of very early growth, that the possessor of a lucky lot has the power of reading his destiny aright. "OUR BOOK TABLE."-IT was our desire to have elaborately reviewed the many works, which have emanated from the press since our last issue, but they are so numerous and the overflow of contributions in our possession, have materially tended to debar away over the midnight lamp, the deep thought and the racking of the brain, so necessary to satisfy the understanding and the cravings of the secker after intellect, the poor editor would receive a little more compassion than he does from the readers of the periodical which he may, by chance, preside over. But, let us to our "condensed task." It is indeed, an ungrateful one, after dilating and deliberating upon topics and works for weeks to be compelled to curtail the notes made at the time of their occurrence. The first in order is the" Bible," which has arrived at its seventh number, from the prolific press of the Harpers. Next comes" Grandfather," an interesting novel by the late Ellen Pickering, a work really possessing incidents of merit, which will enchain the mind of every person conversant with nature and a capacity to appreciate it. Then follows the "Transactions of the Society of Literary and Scientific Chiffouniers." We have, likewise, the continuation of “Neal's History of the Puritans." To close the list of the works received from the Harpers, we must mention "Morse's Geography," illustrated with Maps of every country. The opening engraving is one of universal interest, as it gives the height of every mountain of the known world, as well as the length of rivers. It appears that the author's father, (the late Rev. Dr. Morse,) published the first Geography that was ever issued in America, in the year 1784, at New-Haven, Con. The arrangement of the work is such, that the map and the questions on the map, and the description of each country, are on the same page, or on the pages opposite, thereby enabling the pupil to refer without difficulty, from the one to the other, and not be subjected to the inconvenience of various books, or the necessity of examing every leaf or map. It is one of the most useful school works that we have encountered. It is, also, freed from those technicalities which have so often bewildered the student, without adding in the remotest degree to his benefit. "Morse's Geography," must and will become the only one recognized in seminaries generally. "Martin Chuzzlewit," from Lea and Blanchard, of Philadelphia, pursues its way quietly, increasing with each number in interest and merriment. The works of "Shakspeare" still issue from the publishing house of H. W. Hewitt & Gulian C. Verplanck, formerly member of Congress The illustrations are creditable and give promise that the work, when completed, will be an honor to the originators. "Mrs. Leicester's School," is an interesting little work, and an hour cannot he better devoted than to its perusal. It is published by H. M. Onderdonk, in John street. The most curious, and at the same time "my verse speak for me," is a work from the pen of Charles Louis Heyde, dedicated to the heart. The first line of the commencement of a "Tale to the Heart," is There is, certainly, something very melancholy in this sadness "My soul is sad; indeed, I scarce know why." and being ignorant of its cause-it is a deceitful world we live in. The volume embraces eighty-eight pages, neatly printed and handsomely bound. There are several poems independent of the "chief." The first line of one, "The Idiot Boy," how sublime it is : "Poor boy-how dark is all thy soul within ;" and again— "Hereafter sense infinite-but poor Idiot boy, As to the other poems in the well executed volume, we can only say that they are equal to the extracts which we have incorporated in this brief notice. All must acknowledge that genius is not a gift possessed by every individual, but there are cases when it will burst forth from those who are the least expected to give vent to the emanations of their brain. |