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tified, while they blasted, her heart; and as decline overtook her, and death drew near, she poured forth, like the swan, ere it dies, such gushes of surpassing melody, in soultouching verse, as will move the hearts, and soothe the affections, of thousands yet unborn.

We are obliged to content ourselves with the following fragment from these Poems, (several of which have appeared at different times in this Magazine;) and we need only remark, that though brief, it may serve as a fair specimen of the beautiful morality which pervades the whole:

4 From mountains at the dawn of day

That wide and far their shadows send,
Beneath tho sun's more perfect ray

Brief anil more brief the shades extend,
Till, risen the god to noontide height,
They 're bathed in living, gorgeous light.

''Tis thus the soul, through early taint,
Though first its shrouded glories shine,
Spurns at the gloom, each hour more faint,
And purer drinks the beam divine;
Till wrapt in rays from shadow free,

The noon-tide of eternity.'

Norle Deeds Of Woman. In two volumes. Philadelphia: Carey, Lea And Blanchard.

Here is an abbreviation, indeed! The noble acts of woman curtailed into two common volumes! Good though they are, they do not contain one fourth part of the noble deeds of the sex they would glorify. If any author wishes to comprehend all the great services of woman, let him write an Alexandrian Library, and he will find matter for every tome. The work in question certainly merits praise, because it is very good, so far as it goes; but then how limited is its scope! We could, with no extraordinary employment of historic recollection, fill two volumes, as large as these, with a history of remarkable women in our own country. As for the nobleness of women, it is exhibited every where; and the idea of compressing its characteristic effects within the space of a few hundred pages, is, in our view, like the highly useful art of writing the Lord's Prayer and Creed in the circuit of a sixpence.

Horse-shoe Rorinson. A Novel. In two volumes. Second edition. Philadelphia; Carey, Lea And Blanchard.

The popularity of this excellent work may be inferred from its arrival at a second edition. The author has reason to be proud of its reception by the public; and we trust that past success will embolden him to further effort. He is no longer an aspirant, of doubtful powers, without the general voice to cheer him onward; but he is an established favorite. Let him not add his own case to those of other favorites in literature, who, reposing on their sometime laurels, grow careless, tame, and indolent. In truth, we have no fears of this sort with respect to Mr. Kennedy. There is too much vigor in what he has already written, to permit the belief that he can very soon degenerate, from any cause.


A Night At The Fire. — The horrors of a shipwreck, of a volcanic eruption, and of an earthquake, are said to be utterly indescribable. The same remark will apply to the late tremendous conflagration, by which the richest and busiest portions of our city were laid in ruins. The scene burst upon the eyes of the community, like the Day of Doom. Through the frosty atmosphere, the tongues of a hundred bells tolled their alarum j and it seemed to us, as we hastened to the spot, that some sudden frenzy had been spread by contagion among the people. What a view was that presented to the tens of thousands who thronged the scene of conflagration! Clouds of smoke, like dark mountains suddenly rising into the air, were succeeded by long banners of flame, rushing to the zenith, and roaring as for their prey. Street after street caught the terrible torrent, until, over a vast area, there was rolling and booming an ocean of flame. Costly silks, teinted in colors of the rainbow, were spread to the gale, blazing in folds of light; windows, fastened with bands and shutters of iron, were reddening by scores; then the pent up rage of the element, disdaining their restraints, burst forth, carrying with it, as if by the action of steam, trains of unrolling laces, consuming as they flew. The rattling of innumerable carriages, and vehicles of every description; the confused Babel of tumult which the firemen awakened; the distant ships, moving like craft of fire, along the river; the awful glare of the flames on adjacent waters j the resounding thunder of the powderblown edifices, that went onward from the scene of fire, echoing through town and country; the dome of the Exchange, sending to heaven its wide shaft of flame; the shrieks of women and children, mingled with the laugh of some disordered reveler, bending beneath stolen goods, and elated with stolen wine, — these were sights and sounds never to be forgotten. The pillars of the cupola, as they gave way beneath the falling dome and gilded vane, presented an aspect grand and sublime. It was as if some feudal castle, stormed by beleaguering foes, was sinking to destruction. The falling walls; the hurrying to and fro of firemen, with their ice-crowned hats and coats gleaming like helmets and coats of mail; the wide-spread view of churches, towers, domes, high walls, and long-extended streets, wrapt in one glaring and hungry element, all were indeed beyond the power of language to depict. The country was illuminated as by the sun; woods, waters, fields, and cottages, were touched with the solemn, unwonted light.

Yet a little while, and the phoenix will rise from her ashes, and no mark be seen of this unexpected calamity. The energies of New-York are irrepressible; and the enterprise and spirit of her citizens —unparalleled by those of any community of the same numbers on the globe — will speedily disenthral her from the gloom which even now has well-nigh disappeared. Yet a few months, and the waste now black and desolate, will be enlivened by the busy hum of 'multitudes commercing;'—and the visitor, as he marks the life and prosperity every where manifest around him, will seek in vain to believe, that but so lately as he read the news of The Cheat Fihe, the scene was one of darkness, despondency, and apparent ruin. Thinking upon this great self-supporting power of a small portion only of the country at large, we cannot but feel how great and mighty is the nation to which it belongs. Who that sees how no prostration can keep us down, and how soon we can rise from a heavy misfortune, but beholds therein a feeble type of this magnificent republic? Who, in looking forward to the destiny of our states, and towns, and cities, and of the land they comprise, can know

'The date of her deep-founded strength, or tell
How huppy in her lap the sons of men shall dwell V

The annexed lines, from the pen of a valued contributor, will convey to the reader a vivid and not over-wrought picture of this wide-spread calamity:


'Hark! as the smouldering piles in ruin fall.1Campbell.

'twas Night! and Commerce, with her busy brood.

Hod left her noblest haunts in sojiinde;

Her lordly sons, who reaped from many a breeze

The golden spoils of freighted argosies,

Joined the gay revel, or partook the mirth

Whose heart-born smiles illumed tho household hearth.

Without, the keen wind, which by day had slept,

Through the chilled streets in icy gushes swept;

Close muffled forms, half quailing to the blast,

'Neath the pale lamps glanced silently and fust,—

And on the frozen ground, liko steel with steel,

Rang the steed's hoof, and crashed the whirling wheel;

While through the frost that fell in sparkling spars,

Glcumed the cold radiance of the quivering stars.

Such was the scene, when o'er the city's hum
There rose a cry, which, ere the morn was come,
Swelled to a roar that struck her proudest dumb!
From lip to lip, from street to street, it flew, —
Thousands to thousands gathered, as it grew;
Peal wakened peal, till tower, and dome, and spiro
Shook with the tecsin of the demon Fire!
Whose beacon glow, rc-signal'd from tho sky,
Flashed floods of light on Fear's dilated eye.
Tho fearless hearts, still prompt, at Terror's call,
To form in Danger's front a breathing wall,
Flocked to the scene. For once, their subtle foe
Defied their art, and mocked them with its glow.
Think not before the fiery wreck they quailed —
'Twas not their courage, but their means, that failed;
The quenching stream grew stagnant, ere its tide
To the red surge their aching hands could guide;
And the fierce tyrant they so oft had quelled
Powerless to smite, a conqueror they beheld!

Fast from their homes distracted merchants fled
Toward the vast torch their blazing fortunes fed;
They saw, in utter, impotent despair,
Their garnered millions melting into air;
While meagre Rapine round the ruin glared,
And clutched each remnant by Destruction spared!

Yet were there crowds, whose God-like actions claim

A bright exemption from the list of shame;

Who toiled untired, who risked their lives unfeed,

Winning from grateful hearts their hallowed meed.

And one, (1 would I knew his honest name,

'T would peer tin- noblest on the scroll of Fame,)

A son of ocean, whom the wind and foam

Had nerved and hardened, in his floating home,

But left the heart that storm-chafed breast concealed

Soft as an infant's 'neath its rugged shield,

Heard, as he strolled among the gazing throng,

A woman's Bhriek—convulsive, wild, and long;

'T was the heart's wild, uncounterfeited tone;

A thousand echoes answered in his own,

As, with an oath, which, if translated true,

Would read a blessing, to the spot he flew.

There, scarce restrained within the friendly grasp

Of twenty hands, and writhing in their clasp.

With starting eyes, her lips with horror white,

And arms outstretched toward the wreathing light

That round her home in spiral eddies coiled,

A mother raved: 'Oh give mc way! — my child!

Monsters! he perishes!' But help was nigh:

Tossing, with cheering shout, his hat on high.

The gallant seaman sprang, to save or die.

With a firm stop, the half-charred beams he trode,

He scaled the stair, that quivered as he strode.

For one wild instant, agonized suspense

Motionless held that concourse vast and dense:

The next burst forth from 'neath the nodding roof,

(Unscathed his form, by Heaven made danger-proof,)

The generous Tar ! — and on his arm upborno

A smiling infant, from the fire-tomb torn:

The sobbing mother clasped her rescued prize,

Unspoken blessings raining from her eyes;

And shouting hundreds — thus to nature true —

Lauded the iiced not one hnd dared to do.

But he whose pastime 't was to strive. Willi death,

Shrunk with a blush from Adulation's breath;

Aud ere those hearty plaudits died in air,

He whom they greeted was no longer there.

Meanwhile, the dread Destroyer, winged and nrged

Hy the strong blast, a howling ocean surged,

Whose waves were heaving names: beneath its shocks,

From their foundations reeled the rifted blocks;

Crash echoed crash, as in the fiery swell,

Engulfed, absorbed, each blackened giant fell;

The glowing wrecks, from the concussion hurled

Through the dun air, like hissing meteors whirled;

Destruction's heralds, bearing on his path

A sparkling symbol of his wilder wrath;

Swift through the smoke in radiant curves they sprung.

And, falling, kindled wheresoe'er they clung;

Till from a thousand roofs at once unrolled

Ruin's dread banners,— waved each streaming fold.

Blazoned with crimson, amethyst, aud gold.

Hark to that yell! — the Conqueror hath come

To smite proud Commerce in ncr own proud home!

A fiery storm yon solid roof o'crstrews,—

Sec, from its arch the curling vapors ooze:

Now bursts the flame, each cracking column shakes,

The shivered marble falls in glowing flukes:

The vaulted hall, where late rich merchants trod.

Transferring thousands with a careless nod,

Nought now could tread, save demons! Gleaming there,

Like some pale spirit, through the crimson glare,

The sculptured statesman stands; e'en as he stood

In breathing life, mid storms by faction brewed.

But sec ! — a smouldering mass, with awful din,

The strong-ribbed cupola, comes thundering iu!

Statue and column, all within its sweep,

Lio shivered, crushed beneath its blazing leap;

And naked walls, cleA by the earthquake-shock.

Alone remain, Magnificence to mock!

Through groves of gleaming masts the flashes play,

Bright roll the rivers to the blushing bay;

The Hudson headlands, towering, scathed, and bare,

Loom, like vast Titans, in the lurid air:

For circling leagues, on billow, rock, and pin in,

Rests, without shadow, the ensanguined stain;

While, darkening the stars, o'orarching all,

Heaves the huge smoke-cloud — Desolation's pall!

The morn breaks in at length, but dull and slow

Its gray light mingles with the dusky glow:

Lo! as Day climbs the sky, men view aghast,

The vacant waste on which its beams are cast.

Acres of ashes: — flecked with tongues of flame —

Piles of rich merchandize, and none to claim!

Skeleton forms of buildings half consumed,

Mid wrecks more total standing hulf-cxhumed;

Streets choked with fallen walls, and seared nnd seamed

By the red torrent that late through them streamed;

Volumes of smoke, like storm-clouds sweeping heaven,

In blinding gushes every moment driven,

And shivering wretches peeriug through the gloom.

To snatch some relit: from the reeking tomb.

Such was the scene returning Day beheld: At length the mighty scourge was stayed— was queU'd: And, on the fragments of hi* feast, enjoyed, Destruction slumbered, like a monster cloyed. ficv-York, Dec. 18, 1835.


Ecitobe' Dba Web. — The shallow drawer in our cscritoir, which was made vacant for the reader's edification, a few moons ago, is again overflowing. Essays, tales, rhymes — widely various in subject and quality— spring up from their long compression, whenever thwr sliding prison is withdrawn, and seem to rustle forth complaints that their trials are so long postponed, and their fates still undecided. Let us address ourselves to the task of their examination and discharge:

As a prominent 'feature,' we hasten to seize ' The Nose,' as a pleasant extravaganza is entitled, which has been for some time under advisement. The thing is odd and bizarre, which we greatly affect; it is well handled withal — though, as Madame de Stael once said of Shakspeare's Pistol, it is somewhat overcharged. Its publication entire, is open to objections. The writer wrings the topic dry—an unpardonable offence; and ever and anon his wit goes out like a fuzee, and leaves nothing on the memory. Portions of the essay, howbeit, are clever. Witness the following:

'Or all the features which grace the human countenance, there is not one whose continued services gain for it less commendation, than the nasal organ: and for the simple reason that a character must be great, which, universally assaulted, maintains its standing, do I esteem the nose most laudable. Bethink thee, reader, but for our noses, where at this time would many of us have been? In regular fisticuffs, what if thy nose opposed not his honest valor ' to ward away the battle-stroke V Bethink thee if, when stalking in darkness, some unrelenting post claims coarse familiarity with thy visage, what would become of thee, did not tliv nit-icaitr 'fend off with seaman-like dexterity? Hadst thou not a nose, howcoufdst thou contemptify thine enemy?— or what polar star follow through life's bewildering mazes? Yet hast thou ungratefully permitted thy proboscis to tingle under the shafts of satire, nor raised a hand in his defence. True, when that ruffian Boreas, by dint of most poignant addresses, hath rendered it cold toward thee. dost thou endeavor to restore the loti unity of feeling; but no sooner does returning warmth convince thee of forgiveness, than thou takest away thy glove, 'leaving the realm in most unpalmy stale!' No matter what his peril or alarm; if he runs, all his former good qualities are forgotten. He is rewarded with blows. If, irritated, he refuses to run at all, why then blows, thicker and faster, ensue. Extremes are usually resorted to, in his maladies. He is often put upon by his nearest neighbors. Mouth often closes, vice-like, against butcher's-meat, until his friend, 'as some great bull-dog nosing o'er his food,' assures him of its salubrity. How frequently do 'the Brothers Eyes/ (in business phrase,) scorn some modest flower, till its essence-ials appeal more successfully to the Sehneiderian tribunal! Yet, despite his known philanthropy, is he placed, like Uriah, in the very fore-front of danger, or more aptly, like Prometheus chained to his naked rock, exposed to every storm that darkens the face of nature.'

With this exordium, the methodical writer proceeds to classify the different orders of his subject. He treats at some length of the nose medical, and avers of noses of this type, that they are better taken care of than their kindred generally, being more frequently thrust into cases. We cannot follow him though his exposition of the diagnosis, and prognosis, nor yet afford him space to discourse of the genus bottle, musical, pastoral, and polemical. The latter is described as usually twisted, or askew, from suddenly turning logical corners, in order to k(cp the subject in view, in despite of sophistical underbrush; and the writer logically infers from the maxim of one of the Fathers, — 'Aosccre p'dchrum ext rcritateni quamrij in silras,' — that with this class the necessity of smelling out truth is properly appreciated. After illustrating these various orders, the elucidator adverts to his own nose. We give place to a passage in its early history, in the wearer's own words; from which it will at least be seen, that its education was not neglected:

'My nose is neither excessively small, nor undexterously ponderous. As Borne one has said of a piano-key, it 'is most apt for fingering.' It is about as long as two joints of my fore-finger. I have thus often measured it, in my contemplative moments, or when wishing to appear wise. Sages are often delineated with their fingers resting upon various portions of their visage. Sterne, according to phrenologists, has his upon the organ of wit. Franklin has his thumb always turned up under his left jaw, although we never heard him accused of garrulity. Bonaparte has his hands folded upon his breast — yet who ever thought it owing to the heart-ache? Byron laid his hand upon the 'ocean's mane,' — denoting an aqueous predilection, quite inconsistent with his potatory moods. But when my picture is taken, I will have my forr-fingcr

VOL. VII. 13

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