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APRIL, 1851.

VOL. XVII., No. 4.



1. Adventures in South Africa. A Review of Gor-
don Cumming's recent work: The Nimrod of
the age-Extensive preparations made by Mr.
Camming for his Expedition-Hottentot jargon :
The Springbok-other varieties of the Ante-
lope-Affair with a lion; the Nwana tree; Races
of South Africa-"Seeing the elephant" and eat-
ing him-Characteristics of the author, &c.......199
2. Thomas Campbell. By H. T. Tuckerman. The
"awkward squad" in literature-public and pri-
vate life of men of letters-The poet as a man-
Correspondence between the poet's character
and his writings-Sketch of Campbell's ca-
reer, &c....


3. Count Koningsmark. A Historical Reminis



4. Recollections of Sully. His Sojourn in the Shenandoah Valley-Sully from his Mountain Lodge Looking from the Blue Ridge-A Country Gentleman-The Huguenot GravesThe Froissart of the Valley-The Angler-His Lodge-The old generation and the new-Sunset-Kate lost in the woods-Frank's LibraryAn old-fashioned thinker-Old Powel-Greenway Court-The Angler's Violin-DepartureReturn-The Angler's Philosophy-FannySully lays down his pen.......

5. The Seldens of Sherwood. Chapter XLVII....233

6. Gold. From the French..

7. Industrial Exhibition of 1851....

8. Some Notes of a Southern Excursion. CHARLESTON-King Street-St. Michael's Church-The Market and its tutelary deity-Magnolia Cemetery-Calhoun's Statue-Literary Club-Charleston Hotel-The Battery. SAVANNAH:-The





KEITH & WOODS, St. Louis, Mo.
J. C. MORGAN, New Orleans,
GAINES & RICHES, Petersburg, Va.
COURTENAY & WIENGES, Charleston, S. C.
F. HAGAN & Co., Nashville, Tenn.


Whole Number, CXCVI.

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.220 232

Parodi-A beautiful Poem-New York Theatri-
cals-"Mose" in the French language-The Vir-
ginia Convention-Our friend, Hubard, the Ar-
tist--Tennyson and the Macready Dinner-Cir-
cular to the Former Students of the University
of Virginia-Daguerreotype of Poe-Steel En-
graving-Lawyers in the United States..... 250-253


D'Avignon's Gallery of Illustrious Americans-
Nile Notes-Twice Told Tales-The City of the
Silent-Foreign Reviews....


C. C. CLEAVES, Memphis, Tenn.
JOHN P. WRIGHT, Lynchburg, Virginia.
J. H. COGHILL, San Francisco, California.




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Politicians of opposite party.

MRS. JERVAS, a widow in Philadelphia.
CLARICE DELANCY, her niece-wife to M.
WIDOW PRESSLEY, a client of Maurice.
KATE PRESSLEY, her granddaughter.
BIDDY, a servant girl.


Mrs. J. He darks these doors no more! The girl already

Has orders to deny him.

You've done wisely.
A little time, but keep them separate,-


And we shall conquer her;-ay, conquer him too,

What snare?

BEN FERGUSON, a leading politician.

ROBERT WARREN, his kinsman and enemy.
RICHARD OSBORNE, an attorney and creature of Warren. For I've a little snare, within whose meshes,
HARRY MATTHEWS, a friend of Warren.
His feet are sure to fall.
COL. BLASINGHAME, a fire eater.
Mrs. J.
No matter!
Be ignorant of the mischief 'till it's over,
And we enjoy its fruits! Meanwhile, be busy,-
Pursue the plan you purpose, and to-morrow,
We shall know farther. I shall use the moments
'Twixt this and then, in labors which must profit,
Or fortune grows perverse. See you to her,
While I take care of him.


MAJOR SAVAGE, friend of Blasinghame.
CAPT. CATESBY, U. S. A., friend of Maurice.
Citizens, Lawyers, &c.

Warren. Nay, wait 'till I am gone,
Then use your best severity. She needs it-
Has no sufficient notion of her duty,


A parlor in the house of Mrs. Jervas, in Walnut street, Philadelphia. Mrs. Jervas and Robert Warren discovered the latter entering hastily and with discompo


Mrs. J.
Mrs. J.

I've treated her too tenderly.

Mrs. Jervas, [eagerly.]
Warren. It is not well! "Tis ill! She has refused
Mrs. J.
Has she then dared?
Warren. Ay, has she! Something farther-
She does not scruple to avow her passion
For my most worthy cousin, Norman Maurice.
Mrs. J. She shall repent it—she shall disavow it,
Or she shall know!-I'll teach her!—


She's a pupil
With will enough of her own to vex a master!

Mrs. J. I have a will too which will master her!
Is she not mine?-my sister's child?-a beggar
That breathes but by my charity! I'll teach her,
And she shall learn the lesson set for her,
Or I will turn her naked into the streets
As penniless as she came. But wait and see,-
You shall behold-


No, indeed!

But you must make her wiser.
I will!

Mrs. J.
Oh! never fear me-
I'll summon her the moment you are gone,
And she shall know-



That you may summon her, SCENE, first-in Philadelphia: afterwards in Mis- For we must lose no time,--I take my leave. [Ex. Warren. Mrs. J., [solus.] The pert and insolent baggage! But I'll teach her!

NO. 4.

But show her

Some little glimpse of the danger in her path,-
Shame and starvation-

Mrs. J.
She deserves them both.
Warren. And keep my worthy cousin from her pres-

I'll let her know from whose benevolent hand
She eats the bread of charity-whose mercy
It is, that clothes her nakedness with warmth.
[Rings. Enter Biddy.
[Ex. Biddy.

Go, Biddy!-send my niece to me.
A beggar,

That fain would be a chooser! So, Miss!

Enter Clarice.
Dear Aunt!


Mrs. J. Ay, you would dare me in another fashion,
But you have met your match, and now I tell you,
Clarice Delancy, 'tis in vain you struggle-
What have I done?

Mrs. J.
Ah! you are ignorant,
And meek and innocent as the babe unborn,

If tongue and face could speak for secret conscience,
That harbors what it should not. So, you dare
Avow a passion for that beggarly Maurice,
Whom I've forbid the house!

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To keep you from such folly. You're an infant,
That knows not what is needful for your safety,
Or precious for your heart. Be ruled by me,
Or forth you pack. I cut you off forever,
From fortune as from favor.

Clarice. Welcome death,

Sooner than bonds like these.

And lose the memory of that sainted sister
That left you in my trust.


Mrs. J.
Ungrateful girl!
And this is the return for all my bounty?
But you shall not achieve your own destruction,
If I can help it. This Maurice never darkens
My dwelling with his shadow. He has made you
Perverse and disobedient-but he shall not
Thrive by your ruin. See that you prepare
To marry Robert Warren.

With the grave first,—
Its cold and silence, and its crawling things,
Loathsome, that make us shudder but to think on,
Sooner than he!-a base, unworthy creature,
Who steals between his kinsman and the friend,
That gave him highest trust, and held him faithful,
To rob him of the treasure he most values.
The reptile that keeps empire in the grave
Sooner than he, shall glide into this bosom,
And make it all his own.

Mrs. J.

Before I madden with your insolence,

My poor, dear mother!
She never dream'd of this, in that dark hour
That lost me to her own!

Mrs. J.

I'm in her place,

To sway your foolish fancies with a prudence
You will not seek yourself. Once more I tell you,
You wed with Warren-Robert Warren, only!
This Maurice-

[noise without.]

Ha! That noise?

I must, my girl!

Maurice, [in the hall without.]
Clarice. 'Tis Maurice now.

Mrs. J. The Insolent! will he dare!

Biddy, [in the hall without.] Mrs. Jervas says, sir-
Maurice, [without.] Ay! ay she says!—
But when a lady means civilities,
'Tis still my custom to do justice to her,

By seeking them in person. There, my good girl,
You've done your duty as you should. Now, please you,

I will do mine. [Entering the room.]

Mrs. J.

Biddy, [entering.]

Mrs. J.

Was ever insolence-
Mr. Maurice would ma'am.
This conduct, sir-

Maurice. Would be without its plea at common


To the poor fare on common things that make
The wealth of Robert Warren? Madam-my aunt,-
I thank you for the bounty you have shown me!
It had been precious o'er most earthly things,
But that it has its price at perilous cost,
To things more precious still. Your charity,
That found a shelter for this humble person,
Were all too costly, if it claims in turn
This poor heart's sacrifice. I cannot make it!
I will not wed this Warren,-for I know him-
And, if it be that I shall ever wed,
Will wed with Norman Maurice-as a man,
Whom most it glads me that I also know.

Demand a hearing. There are rights of feeling,
That art can never stifle-griefs, affections,
That never hear the civil "Not at home!"
When home itself is perill'd by submission.
He's but a haggard that obeys the check,

Mrs. J. Never shall you wed with him, while I have When all that's precious to his stake of life
Is fastened on the string. Necessity


And he whose purpose was a morning visit,
The simply social object of the idler,
Who finds in his own time and company
The very worst offence,-could offer nothing,
To plead for his intrusion on that presence,
Which, so politely, shuts the door against him.
Well, sir?
But I am none of these.
What plea, sir ?—
Maurice. Some natures have their privilege-some

Mrs. J.
Mrs. J.

Makes bold to ope the door which fashion's portress

Would bolt and bar against him. 'Tis my fate,

which my nurture

That prompts me to a rudeness,
Would else have shrunk from. But that I have rights
Which move me to defiance of all custom,

I had not vex'd your presence.
Mrs. J.

Rights, sir-Rights?

Maurice. Ay, madam, the most precious to the mortal!
Rights of the heart, which make the heart immortal
In those affections which still show to earth,
The only glimpses we have left of Eden.
Behold in her, [pointing to Clarice,] my best apology-
One, whom to gaze on silences complaint,
And justifies the audacity that proves

Its manhood in its error. Clarice, my love,
Is there in any corner of your heart
An echo to the will that says to Maurice,
Your presence here is hateful. [Takes her hand.]
Can you ask?

Mrs. J.

Too much, I say. Let go her hand,
And leave this dwelling, sir! I'm mistress here.
And shall take measures for security
Against this lawless insolence.
Awhile! Awhile!
Silence, I say! You are the mistress here;-I will obey you ;-
Will leave your presence, madam, never more

To trouble you with mine. You now deny me
The privilege that never act of mine

Hath properly made forfeit. You behold me
The suitor to your niece. You hear her language,—
How different from your own!-that with her bounty
Makes rich my heart with all the gifts in hers!
Sternly, you wrest authority from judgment,
To exercise a will that puts to scorn

Her hopes no less than mine! I would have pleaded
Your calm return to judgment;-would entreat you
To thoughts of better favor that might sanction,
With the sweet blessing of maternal love,
The mutual passion living in our hearts,
But that I know how profitless the pleading,
That in the ear of prejudice would soften
The incorrigible wax that deafens pride.
I plead not for indulgence-will not argue
The cruelty that finds in charity
Commission for that matchless tyranny
That claims the right to break the orphan's heart
Because it finds her bread.

Clarice, [aside to Maurice.]
Maurice, [aside to Clarice.]
wherefore need I spare,
When, if the Holy Law be not a mock,
The justice which must break this heart of stone,
Will send her howling through eternity.
"Twere mercy that in season speaks the truth,
That in the foretaste of sure penalties,
May terrify the offender from his puth,
And send him to his knees.

Spare her, Norman.
Oh! Will I not! Yet

Clarice, [aside to Maurice,] For my sake, Norman.
Maurice, [to Mrs. J.] Yet, madam, in this freest use

of pow'r,

Which drives me hence, be merciful awhile,
And if this heart, so dearly linked with mine,
Through love and faith unperishing, must turn
Its fountains from that precious overflow
That kept my flow'rs in bloom; yet, ere the word,
That leaves me sterile ever thence, be said,
Suffer us, apart, awhile, to speak of parting?
Words of such import still ask fewest ears,
And words of grief and hopelessness like ours,
Must needs have utterance in such lowly tones,
As best declare the condition of the heart,
That's muffled for despair. But a few moments
We'll walk apart together.

Mrs. J.

What needs

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If that there be no courage in our hearts
To shape the fates to favor by our will.


What mean you, Norman?
What should Norman mean,
But if he can, to grapple with his fortune,
And like a sturdy wrestler in the ring,
Throw heart and hope into the perilous struggle?
What should I mean but happiness, for thee,-
Thou willing, as myself? Who strives with fate
Must still like him, the mighty Macedonian,
Seize the coy priestess by the wrist, and lead her
Where still she would not go! Suppose me faithful
To the sweet passion I have proffer'd you,
And what remains in this necessity,
But that, made resolute by grim denial,

I challenge from your love sufficient courage,
To take the risks of mine!

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Mrs. J., [approaching.] Your moment is a long one, sir.
Ah, Madam!
It is useless! Who chides the executioner when he suffers
The victim his last words-though still he lingers
Maurice. What need of sorrow ever? Could earth Ere he would reach the last? But a few moments,
And I have spoken all that my full heart
Might not contain with safety.

Mrs. J., [retiring up the stage.]
Maurice. You hear, my Clarice.

speak, Prescribing laws to that Divinity,

That still smites rock to water, we should hear,

The universal voice of that one plea,

That claims for man immunity from troubles


That make proud eyes o'erflow. Who should persuade But one, it seems, unless your resolution
His fellow to opinion of the uses

That follow from his tears? What school, or teacher,
Would seek to show that chemistry had art,
To fix and harden the dilating drops

Takes its complexion from the fate that threatens
And shows an equal will. If then, in truth,
You love me-


To brilliants as they fall,-such as no crown
In Europe might affect. One finds no succor,
Sovereign to break the chain about his wrist
From all the fountains that o'ersluice the heart;
Yet will he weep, though useless. He who stands,
Waiting upon the scaffold for the signal,
She would deny us,-
That flings him down the abyss, still hoards each minute Would wed thee to that subtle Robert Warren-
That niggard fate allows. That single minute
Still shrines a hope;-if not a hope, a feeling,
That finds a something precious even in pain,

And yet, dear Clarice, if indeed you love me,
The single moment that this woman gives us,
Becomes a life;-to me, of happiness,-
To thee, as full of happiness, as thou
Might hope to gain from me.

I'd perish first!

No need of perishing
When I can bring thee to security.

Be it so, sir.

We've another

Oh! look not thus !

I doubt not ;

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