Feeling that a smash, If it came, would surely Send her eggs to pot Rather prematurely! Singing through the forests, Kattling over ridges, Shooting under arches, Rumbling over bridges, Whizzing through the mountains, Buzzing o'er the vale; Bless me! this is pleasant, Riding on the rail! SONNET TO A CLAM. Dum tacent clamant. Inglorious friend! most confident I am Though thou art tender, yet thy humble bard MY BOYHOOD. Ah me! those joyous days are gone! How fleeting were the hours! And Santaclaus, rejoice! When heaven was pictured to my thought, (In spite of all my mother taught Of happiness serene) A theatre of boyish plays-- Without a school between! Ah me! these joyous days are gone; I little dreamt till they were flown, How fleeting were the hours! For, lest he break the pleasing spell, Time bears for youth a muffled bell, And hides his face in flowers! JESSE AMES SPENCER Was born June 17, 1816, at Hyde Park, Dutchess county, New York. His father's family, originally from England, came over with the colony which founded Saybrook, Connecticut. On his mother's side (her name was Ames) he claims distant connexion with Fisher Ames, the orator and patriot. Having removed to New York city in the year 1825, he received a good English education, and for several years was an assistant to his father as city surveyor. He chose at first to learn a trade, and acquired a competent knowledge of the printing business with Sleight & Robinson at the age of 17. He then determined to engage in preparation for the sacred ministry. He entered Columbia College in 1834, and was graduated with high classical honors in 1837. He then pursued the course at the General Theological Seminary of the Protestant Episcopal Church, and was ordained deacon July, 1840. He accepted the rectorship of St. James's church, Goshen, New York, directly after. Health having failed him in 1842, by advice of his physicians, he spent the winter of 1842-3 at Nice, Sardinia. Returning to New York in 1843, he devoted himself to teaching, in schools and privately, to editing a juvenile magazine, The Young Churchman's Miscellany, and other literary labors. Early in the year 1848 he had a severe illness; was again sent abroad; travelled through England, Scotland, etc., during the summer in company with Mr. George W. Pratt. With the same gentleman he arrived in Alexandria in December, 1848; ascended the Nile, spent some months in Egypt, crossed the desert in March, 1849, travelled through the Holy Land, and in May of the same year left for Europe. He reached New York in August, 1849. The following year he accepted the professorship of Latin and Oriental languages in Burlington College, New Jersey. He was afterwards nominated for professor of ecclesiastical history in the General Theological Seminary, and failed of the appointment by only one vote. He was chosen editor and secretary of the General Protestant Episcopal Sunday School Union and Church Book Society, November, 1851, which office he still holds. Dr. Spencer's writings are, a volume of Discourses, in 1843; a History of the English Reformation, 18mo., 1846; an edition of the New Testament in Greek, with Notes on the Historical Books, 12mo., 1847; Cæsar's Commentaries, with copious Notes, Lexicon, etc., 12mo., 1848; and a volume of foreign travel, Egypt and the Holy Land, the first edition of which appeared in 1849. Dr. Spencer has edited a valuable series of classical books by the late T. K. Arnold, and has contributed largely to the current literature of the time. FREDERICK WILLIAM SHELTON WAS born at Jamaica, Queens County, Long Island, where his father, Dr. Nathan Shelton, a graduate of Yale, lived, much respected as a physician. The son was graduated at the College of New Jersey in 1834. He subsequently employed much of his time in literature at his home on Long Island, writing frequently for the Knickerbocker Magazine, to which he contributed a series of local humorous sketches, commencing with The Kushow Property, a tale of Crowhill in 1848, and followed by The Tinnecum Papers, and other miscellaneous articles, including several refined criticisms of Vincent Bourne, Charles Lamb, and other select authors. In 1837, Mr. Shelton published anonymously his first volume, The Trollopiad; or Travelling Gentlemen in America, a satire, by Nil Admirari, Esq., dedicated to Mrs. Trollope. It is in rhyming pentameter, shrewdly sarcastic, and liberally garnished with notes preservative of the memory of the series of gentlemen, whose hurried tours in America and flippant descriptions were formerly so provocative of the ire of native writers. As a clever squib, and a curious record of a past state of literature, the Trollopiad is worthy a place in the libraries of the curious. In 1847, Mr. Shelton was ordained a minister of the Protestant Episcopal Church; and in the discharge of the duties of this vocation, has occupied country parishes at Huntington, Long Island, and the old village of Fishkill, Dutchess county, New York. In 1854 he became rector of a church at Montpelier, Vermont, where he is at present established. Several of his writings have grown out of his experiences as a rural clergyman, and are among the happiest sketches of the fertile topic afforded in that field under the voluntary system in America which have yet appeared. He is a genial, kindly humorist, and his pictures of this class in The Rector of St. Bardolph's, or Superannuated, published in 1852, and Peeps from a Belfry, or the Parish Sketch Book, in 1855, while truthfully presenting all that is due to satire, are so tempered by pathos and simplicity that they would have won the heart of the Vicar of Wakefield himself. In another more purely moral vein Mr. Shelton has published two apologues, marked by poetical refinement, and a delicate, fanciful invention: Salander and the Dragon (in 1850), and Crystalline, or the Heiress of Fall Downe Castle. These are fairy tales designed to exhibit the evils in the world of suspicion and detraction. In yet another line Mr. Shelton has published a volume, Up the River, composed of a series of rural sketches, dating from his parish in Dutchess county, on the Hudson. It is an exceedingly pleasant book in its tasteful, truthful observations of nature and animal life, and the incidents of the country, interspersed with occasional criticism of favorite books, and invigorated throughout by the individual humors of the narrator. Mr. Shelton has also published two lectures on The Gold Mania, and The Use and Abuse of Reason, delivered before the Huntington (Long Island) Library Association in 1850. A BURIAL AMONG THE MOUNTAINS FROM PEEPS FROM A BELFRY. Several times has the summer come and goneseveral times have the sear and crisped leaves of autumn fallen to the ground, since it was my privilege to a minister for a single winter to a small parish în the wilderness. I call it the wilderness only in contradistinction to the gay and splendid metropolis from which I went. For how great the contrast from the din of commerce, from noisy streets, attractive sights, and people of all nations, to a village among the mountains, where the attention is even arrested by a falling leaf. It was among the most magnificent scenes of actre, whose massive outlines have imprinted themseives on my recollection with a distinctness which can never be effaced. I account it a privilege to have spent a winter în Vermont. The gorgeous character of the scenery, the intelligence and education of its inhabitants, the excellence yet simplicity of living, its health and hospitality, rendered the stay both profitable and agreeable. Well do I remember those Sunday mornings, when, with the little, Winooski river on the right hand, wriggling through the ice, and with a snow-clad spur of the mountains on the left, I wended my solitary way through the cutting wind to the somewhat remote and somewhat thinly-attended little church. But the warmth, intelligence, refinement, and respectful attention of that small band of worshippers fully compensated for the atmosphere without, which often ranged below zero. It is true that a majority of the inhabitants had been educated to attend the Congregational (usually denominated the Brick Church), where a young man of fine talents, who was my friend, administered to the large flock committed to his charge. How oft with him I've ranged the snow-clad hill, And axe re-echoed to the woodman's stroke, He tracked the thoughts of Calvin or of Kant, Relight the fire, and trim the student's lamp. Ordinary occurrences impress themselves more deeply, associated with scenes whose features are so grand. A conversation with a friend will be remembered with greater accuracy if it be made upon the mountain or in the storm; and not with less devotion does the heart respond to the worship of God, if his holy temple be builded among scenes of beauty, if it have no pillars but the uncarved rocks, no rafters but the sunbeams, and no dome but the skies. Thus, while residing on the mountains, I kept on the tablets of memory an unwritten diary, from which it is pleasant to draw forth an occasional leaf. It was in the month of January, when the boreal breath is so keen, after such a walk with my friend to the summit of the mountain, that I returned at nightfall to my chamber, with my camlet cloak and hat completely covered with snow. The flakes were large, starry, and disposed themselves in the shape of crystals. After much stamping of the feet, shaking the cloak, and thumping with a drum-like sound upon the hat, I began to stuff into the box-stove (for nothing but Russian stoves will keep you warm in Vermont) a plenty of maple-wood which abounds in those regions, and which, after hickory, makes the most delightful fire in the world. Then, having dried my damp feet, looked reflectingly into the coals, answered the tea-bell, and, as a mere matter of course, drank a cup of the weed called tea, I returned to my solitary apartment, snuffed the candles, laid out a due quantity of ruled “Sermon paper," wiped the rusty steel pens, and began to reflect, What theme will be most appropriate for the season? Let me examine the Lessons-let me see if I can find some sentiment in the Epistle or Gospel for the day, on which it will be proper to enlarge. Such search in the Prayer Book is never in vain. The course is marked out-the path clear. For not more equally is the natural year distinguished by day and night, cold and heat, storm and sunlight, winter and spring, summer and autumn, than is the "Year of our Lord" by times and seasons, which are the events in His lifetime, and which are the very periods by which to direct our course. If in this work-day world the daily service of the sanctuary cannot be attended, let the devout Christian, let the earnest Churchman, at least read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest, those daily lessons which the Church, through Holy Writ, teaches. Scarce had I disposed myself for an evening's work, when I was called on with a request to perform fu neral services on the next day, over the body of a poor Irish laborer, killed suddenly on the line of the railroad by the blasting of rocks. The priest was absent; for although there was a numerous body, perhaps several hundred Irish Catholics in that vicinity, he came only once in six weeks. During the interval those poor people were left without shepherd; and as they had a regard for the decencies of Christian burial, they sometimes, as on this occasion, requested the church clergyman to be at hand. I willingly consented to do what appeared a necessary charity, although I apprehended, and afterwards learned, that the more rigid and disciplined of the faith were indignant, and kept away from the funeral rites, which they almost considered profane. Nor could I disrespect their scruples, considering the principles whence they grew. The snow fell all night to the depth of several feet, and when the morrow dawned, the wind blew a hurricane, filling the air with fine particles of snow, and making the cold intense. Muttling myself as well as possible, I proceeded two miles to the Irish shanty where the deceased lay, which was filled to its utmost capacity with a company of respectful friends and sincere mourners. It was, indeed, a comfortless abode; but for the poor man who reposed there in his pine coffin, it was as good a tenement as the most sumptuous palace ever reared. When I see the dead going from an abode like this, the thought comes up that perhaps they have lost little, and are gaining much; that the grave over which the grass grows, and the trees wave, and the winds murmur, is, after all, a peaceful haven and a place of rest. But when they go from marble halls and splendid mansions, the last trappings appear a mockery, and I think only of what they have left behind. Standing in one corner of that small cabin among the sobbing relatives, while the winds of winter howled without their requiem of the departed year, I began to read the Church's solemn office for the dead: "I am the Resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in Me shall never die." Having completed the reading of those choral words, which form the opening part of the order for burial, and the magnificent and inspiring words of St. Paul, the procession was formed at the door of the hovel and we proceeded on foot. The wind-storm raged violently, so that you could scarce see, by reason of the snowy pillar, while the drifts were sometimes up to your knees. The walk was most dreary. On either hand the mountains lifted their heads loftily, covered to the summit with snows; the pine trees and evergreens which skirted the highway, presented the spectacle of small pyramids; every weed which the foot struck was glazed over; and the bushes, in the faint beams of the struggling light, sparkled with gems. In a wild, Titanic defile, gigantic icies hung from the oozing rocks; and as we passed a mill stream, we had the sight of a frozen water-fall, arrested in its descent, and with all its volume, spray, and mist, as if by the hand of some enchanter changed suddenly into stone. All these objects, in my walks through the mountains, had impressed their lessons of the magnificence and glory of God. But what new ideas did the same scenes suggest, associated as they were with this wintry funeral. At last we arrived at the place of graves. It was an acclivity of the mountain; a small field surrounded by a rude fence, in one corner of which were erected many wooden crosses; and a pile of sand, or rather of sandy frozen clods, dug out with a pickaxe, and cast upon the surrounding snows, indicated the spot of this new sepulture. There was not a single marble erected, not a monument of brown stone, or epitaph; but the emblem of the cross alone denoted that it was the resting-place of the lowliest of the lowly-of the poor sons of Erin, the hewers of wood and drawers of water, who had from time to time, in these distant regions, given up their lives to toil, to suffering, or to crime. But the mountain in which they were buried was itself a monument which, without any distinction, in a spot where all were equal, was erected equally for all. There is no memorial, even of the greatest, so good as the place in which they repose; and when I looked at the Sinai-like peak which rose before us, I thought that these poor people had, in their depth of poverty, resorted to the very God of nature to memorize their dead. But I must not forget to notice, by way of memorial, the history of that poor man. He was one of those who lived by the sweat of the brow. By digging and delving in the earth; by bearing heavy burdens, and performing dangerous work, he obtained a living by hard labor, "betwixt the daylight and dark;" and while the famine was raging in his own land, like many of his race who exhibit the same noble generosity and devotion (what an example to those of loftier rank!) he had carefully saved his earnings and transmitted them to his relatives. They arrived too late. His father and mother had already died of starvation; but his only sister had scarce reached the doors of this poor man's hovel, after so long a journey, when, as she awaited anxiously his return that evening, from his daily work, the litter which contained his body arrived at the door! I reflected upon this little history, as we approached the grave upon the mountain side, and, melancholy as the scene was, with the snows drifting upon our uncovered heads, I would not have exchanged the good which it did my soul, for the warmest and best-lighted chamber where revelry abounds; and as I repeated those most touching words, "O Lord, God most holy, O Lord, most mighty, O holy and most merciful Saviour, deliver us not into the bitter pains of eternal death," I thought that the surrounding gloom was itself suggestive of hope to the Christian soul. In a few with verdure, and the little hills would rejoice on months more, the mountains would again be clothed every side. As the winds died away into vernal gales, as the icicles fell from the rocks, as the snows vanished, they would be succeeded by the voice of the blooming and beautiful earth, with all its forest choirs, prolonging the chant of thanksgiving. How much more should the body of him, which now lay cold in its grave, with the clods and the snows of the mountains piled upon it, awake to a sure, and, it was to be hoped, a joyous resurrection. With such cheering thoughts we hurried away from the spot, when the service was ended, humbly praying that a portion of consolation might be conveyed to the heart of her, who, in a strange land, mourned the loss of an only brother. In pace requiescat. JOHN O. SARGENT-EPES SARGENT. John Osborne Sargent was born in Gloucester, Massachusetts, and passed his childhood there and in the town of Hingham. He was sent to the Latin school in Boston, the prize annals of which, and the record of a Latin ode, and a translation from the Elegy of Tyrtæus, of his compositions, show his early proficiency in classical education. He passed to Harvard and was graduated in 1830. While there he established the clever periodical of which we have already spoken in the notice of one of its contributors, Dr. O. W. Holmes,* The Collegian. He was further assisted in it by the late William H. Simmons, the accomplished elocutionist and essayist; Robert Habersham, jr., of Boston, Frederick W. Brune of Baltimore, and by his brother, Epes Sargent. Mr. On leaving college Mr. Sargent studied law in the office of the Hon. William Sullivan of Boston, and commenced its practice in that city. This was at the period of political agitation attending the financial measures of President Jackson. Sargent became a political writer and speaker in the Whig cause, and was elected to the lower house of the Legislature of Massachusetts. For some three years he was almost a daily writer for the editorial columns of the Boston Atlas, and added largely by his articles to the reputation which the paper at that time enjoyed as an efficient, vigorous party journal. In 1838 Mr. Sargent removed to the city of New York, and was well known by his pen and oratory during the active political career which resulted in the election of General Harrison to the presidency. The Courier and Enquirer, for three or four years at this time, was enriched by leading political articles from his hand. At the close of the contest he re-engaged in the active pursuit of his profession. To this he devoted himself, with rigid seclusion from politics for eight years, with success. He was drawn, however, again into politics in the canvass which resulted in the election of General Taylor, upon whose elevation to the presidency he became associated with Mr. Alexander C. Bullitt of Kentucky, in the establishment of the Republic newspaper at Washington. Its success was immediate and unprecedented. In about six months it numbered more than thirty thousand staunch Whigs on its subscription list. Its course, however, was not acceptable to the members of the cabinet. A rupture was finally brought about in consequence of the attempt of Messrs. Bullitt and Sargent to separate General Taylor from the cabinet in the matter of the Galphin claim, and their determination to support Mr. Clay's measures of compromise against the known wishes of the administration. A withdrawal from the editorship of the paper was the result. After Mr. Fillmore's accession to the presidency by the death of Taylor, a change in the policy of the administration ensued, which enabled Mr. Sargent to return to the Republic, which he conducted with spirit and efficiency to the close of the presidential term. Mr. Sargent enjoyed the entire confidence of President Fillmore, and was tendered by him the mission to China. Since the advent of the Pierce cabinet Mr. Sargent has occupied himself exclusively with professional pursuits in the city of Washington, where he is engaged in an extensive legal practice. Mr. Sargent has published several anonymous * Ante, p. 511. pamphlets on political and legal subjects which have been largely circulated. His Lecture on the late Improvements in Steam Navigation and the Arts of Naval Warfare, which contains a biographical sketch of John Ericsson, has been several times republished in England, and translated into several of the continental languages. He is an accomplished scholar in the modern languages. Some of his poetical translations from the German enjoy a high reputation. EPES SARGENT, a brother of the preceding, was born at Gloucester, Massachusetts, but at a very early age removed with his family to Boston. He was subsequently at school at Hingham. At nine years of age he was placed at the public Latin school in Boston, where he continued five years, with the exception of a period of six months, during which he made a visit with his father to Russia. While in St. Petersburgh he was often at the palace, examining the fine collection of paintings at the "Hermitage," or wandering through the splendid apartments. While here also he was much noticed by Baron Stieglitz, the celebrated banker and millionaire, who offered to educate him with his son, and take him into his counting-room, under very favorable conditions. The proposition, however, was declined. Returning to school in Boston, young Sargent was one of half a dozen boys who started a small weekly paper called the Literary Journal. In it he published some account of his Russian experiences. Mr. Sargent was admitted a member of the freshman class of Harvard University, but did not remain at Cambridge. Some years afterwards he was called upon to deliver the poem before the Phi Beta Kappa Society of that institution. himself with Mr. S. G. Goodrich in the preparation of the "Peter Parley” books. His labors in book-making were various and numerous for a series of years. In 1836 he wrote for Miss Josephine Clifton a five-act play, entitled The Bride of Genoa, which was brought out at the Tremont Theatre with much success, and often repeated. It was subsequently acted by Miss Cushman at the Park Theatre on the occasion of her sister's début. It was published in the New World newspaper under the title of The Genoese, but the author has never thought it worthy of a permanent adoption. On the 20th of November, 1837, the tragedy of Velasco, written for Mi-s Ellen Tree, was produced at the Tremont Theatre, Boston, with marked success. It was afterwards brought out at the Park Theatre, New York, and the principal theatres in the country. The play was published and dedicated to the author's personal friend, the Hon. William C. Preston of South Carolina, under whose auspices it was produced at Washington. Velasco was brought out in London in 185051, and played at the Marylebone Theatre for a number of nights. It was decidedly successful, though severely criticised by most of the papers. In 1837 Mr. Sargent became editorially connected with the Boston Atlas, and passed much of his time at Washington writing letters to that journal. About the year 1839-10 he removed to New York on the invitation of General Morris, and took charge for a short time of the Mirror. He now wrote a number of juvenile works for the Harpers, of which two, Wealth and Worth, and What's to be Done? had a large sale. He also wrote a comedy, Change makes Change, first produced at Niblo's, and afterwards by Burton in Philadelphia. Recently Mr. Burton applied to the author for a copy to produce at the Chambers street establishment, and it was found that none was in existence. In 1846 he commenced and edited for some time the Modern Standard Drama, an enterprise which he afterwards sold out, and which is now a lucrative property. A matrimonial alliance now drew him eastward again. He established himself at Roxbury within a short distance of Boston, and after editing the Transcript for a few years, withdrew from newspaper life, and engaged exclusively in literary pursuits. In 1852 he produced the Standard Speaker—a work of rare completeness in its department, which has already passed through thirteen large editions. A life of Benjamin Franklin, with a collection of his writings, followed: then lives of Campbell, Collins, Goldsmith, Gray, Hood, and Rogers, attached to fine editions of their poetical works, published by Phillips, Sampson & Co., Boston. Recently Mr. Sargent has put forth a series of five Readers for schools, the success of which is justly due to the minute care and elaboration bestowed upon them, and the good taste with which they are executed. In March, 1855, Mr. Sargent produced at the new Boston theatre, under the auspices of his old friend Mr. Barry, who had ushered into the world his two early dramatic productions, the five-act tragedy of The Priestess, which was played with decided success, Mrs. Hayne (born Julia Dean) performing the part of Norma, the heroine. The play is partially, in the latter acts, founded on the operatic story of Norma. In 1849 an edition of Mr. Sargent's poems, under the title of Songs of the Sea and other Poems, was published by Ticknor & Fields. It is composed chiefly of a number of spirited lyrics, several of which have been set to music. A series of sonnets is included: Shells and Sea-weeds, Records of a Summer Voyage to Cuba. The expression in these, as in all the poetical writings of the author, is clear and animated. In addition to these numerous engagements of a career of great literary activity, Mr. Sargent has been connected as a contributor and editor with various magazines and periodicals. As a lecturer he has been widely known before the Mercantile Library Association in Boston and similar associations in the Eastern and middle states. He was on terms of intimacy with Mr. Clay, and wrote a life of that distinguished statesman. In a preface to a recent edition of this life, Mr. Horace Greeley says: "I have reason to believe that Mr. Clay himself gave the preference, among all the narratives of his life which had fallen under his notice, to that of Epes Sargent, first issued in 1842, and republished with its author's revisions and additions in the summer of 1848." A LIFE ON THE OCEAN WAVE. A life on the ocean wave, On this dull, unchanging shore: Of my own swift-gliding craft: The land is no longer in view, The clouds have begun to frown; But with a stout vessel and crew, We'll say, Let the storm come down! And the song of our hearts shall be, While the winds and the waters rave, A home on the rolling sea! A life on the ocean wave! THE DEATH OF WARREN. When the war-cry of Liberty rang through the land, To arms sprang our fathers the foe to withstand; On old Bunker Hill their entrenchments they rear, When the army is joined by a young volunteer. "Tempt not death!" cried his friends; but he bade them good-by, Saying, "O! it is sweet for our country to die!" The tempest of battle now rages and swells, 'Mid the thunder of cannon, the pealing of bells; And a light, not of battle, illumes yonder spireScene of woe and destruction;-'tis Charlestown on fire! |