hardly refrain from joining with Mr. Sumner; | all. Before we close these hastily written though even in America peace societies have, but not less deliberately considered opinions we know not why, something of a bustling, on the expediency, the necessity of peace, to officious, and somewhat ridiculous air. We the development of American wealth, hap⚫ should hail the more legitimate denuncia- piness, virtue; on the majestic position which tions of war as unchristian by her Channings the United States may take in the history of and Deweys; as American patriots and man, by showing herself superior to the folly, Christians we should never cease to cry the intoxication, the madness of war-of war Peace! Peace! That which is utterly, hope- which cannot be necessary as self-defense, lessly, as seems at present, impossible in Eu- and therefore must be wanton and wicked; rope, seems, by a wonderful combination of we would look on one other peril, which apcircumstances, of easy practicability in Amer- pears to us, if more remotely, to threaten her ica. This vast continent may, if it will, exinternal peace. Her growth must be in hibit to the wondering annals of mankind wealth-and wealth, even under the most centuries barren of warlike glory, safe from levelling institutions, will accumulate in the miseries of war. The United States may masses. There will be individuals, there will at length relieve republican governments be classes high above the rest in opulence, from that heavy charge registered against in luxury. This will be, of course, more them by all history-and too much counte- manifest in the great cities, which, as they nanced by their own proceedings in Texas grow in size, will become more unmanageable; and in Mexico-that democracies are as am- and notwithstanding the constant vent in the bitious and aggressive as the most absolute backwoods for turbulent and violent spirits, monarchies. What has America to gain will leave a still larger class of those who feel that they have a right to be as rich as others, and are not. There must be an aristocracy, and that aristocracy an object of hatred and jealousy to some; by whatever title it may be held up to scorn or animosity; "a whitegloved aristocracy," &c. &c.; such class there must be, where capital, commercial industry, enterprise, even fortune, are left to their free course. It is to be seen whether the Republic, or Republics, will have strength, courage, and determination to defend property, as the basis of human freedom and happiness. what may it not lose by war? 66 Sir C. Lyell was in the midst of the fierce discussions about Oregon: fiery news-writers were brandishing their pens-wild backwoodsmen poising their rifles; they would have had the country at once adopt the language of that not very imitable personage in Milton-"My sentence is for open war.' What can happen?-these were among the amiable anticipations-"England may bombard and burn a few of the cities on the east coast; but then she will add hundreds of millions to her debt; she will break down Thus far that spirit has not been wanting; and be forever ruined under her intolerable the sovereign people, on more occasions than burthen." There is one result from all this we are aware of here, has not scrupled to which Brother Jonathan, even in his wildest use the Old World arms against "the mob." mood, we doubt not, would be acute enough At Providence, the soldiers were ordered, to apprehend-Brother John bankrupt, he some short time ago, to fire on the people, has lost his best customer. Sir C. Lyell, and did fire to put down a riot which rose with his calm good sense, at the very outset out of the destruction of houses of ill-fame; of his volume, doubts the wisdom of the com- they did the same at Philadelphia, during memoration of "Independence Day" all the attack on the Roman Catholics; and now this recital (of the doings of the mother at New York, in the disgraceful disturbances country before the war) "may have been ex- around the theatre.* Thus far, too, the pedient when the great struggle for liberty public voice has been strongly and unequivoand national independence was still pending; cally in favor of public order. There has but what effect can it have now but to keep been no maudlin sympathy for lawless riotalive bad feelings?" We are happy in be- ers; the press has been, almost with one lieving that all "rumors of wars" with Eng- voice, on the side of authority; the attempt land have passed away; but any other great to get up a popular demonstration was an war, we conceive, might arrest for centuries utter failure. It has been seen that the the progress of transatlantic civilization-only true mercy is to stop a riot at once—if might split up the Union into the chronic condition of the Old World, that of separate, and, before long, hostile States-might raise up in one a military despotism, formidable to VOL. XVIIL NO. L 4 ters, and cannot refrain from repeating, to surpass It was impossible, as we hear from all quarthe coolness, self-command, gentlemanly, we might add Christian, bearing of Mr. Macready. not, as with us on a recent occasion, by the civil force at all events to stop it. There are dangers which must be imminent under the broadest republican forms. Only free and popular institutions like our own and those of the United States, and the spirit they inspire into the citizens, can prevent them from becoming calamities. But these slight outbreaks from insignificant causes, we must acknowledge, cast somewhat dark shadows before them; if more deeply-rooted causes of discontent should spring up--if with the spreading cities there should be quarters inhabited perhaps by multitudes of a particular race or class, and so bonded together by common passions-quarters into which education does not equably penetrate -which there is no strong police to overawe-our only trust is that there will be an instantaneous tact and sympathy among those to whom order is life, which will combine them into a more commanding league. We trust that not neglecting measures of pre caution in improving, as far as they may, the condition of their more abject fellow-citizens, they will never be wanting in resolution to confront and crush these insurrections of communism, (for such even in free America may be their form,) and not scruple to hazard their lives for what is dearer than life. There must be moreover no self-gratulation in more remote towns, that it is but one city which has thus become a city of desolation. The rapid communication of revolutionary wild-fire, more swift and terrible than the conflagration over leagues of prairie landthis fearful rapidity is an essential part of its nature; one city a prey to its ravages, who will insure the rest? If the waters of the Hudson reflect its red light, how long will it be before it glares on the Mississippi or the Ohio? May Heaven avert the omen-may one human community grow up as a great peace society, peace external and internal, peace with all its blessings! HEART-TREASURES. A MAIDEN sat plying her needle In a cottage remote from the crowd; All was still as the slip of a beetle, Save the wind hoarse with raging so loud. All without appeared chill and unseemly, All within, too, was silent and lone, Save the fire that illumined the hearth-stone, And the clock with its shrill, hurried tone. Yet within that full heart there was music Though pensive that brow, and half-shaded Fair Fancy had laid out the Future To the dictates of Hope and of Love, And it seemed, as it gleamed in blest beauty, That the model had dropped from above. As I gazed on the face of that maiden, I thought of the millions that roam In quest of the honey called pleasure, Far away from themselves and from home; But 'tis not in the air we find treasures Of jewels, of gems, and of gold; 1849.] CHRISTOPHER UNDER CANVASS. From Blackwood's Magazine. DIES BOREALES.-NO. II. CHRISTOPHER ENCAMPMENT AT CLADICH. TIME-11, A. BULLER. I know there is nothing you dislike so much as personal observationsNORTH. On myself to myself-not at on others. UNDER CANVASS. ard should not have interrupted me--'twas but the first impression and soon wore offthose Edinboro' people have much to answer for-unmercifully wearing you out at their ceaseless soirées-but since you came to Cladich, sir, CHRISTOPHER'S HIMSELF AGAIN all-pardon my familiarity-nor can I now, after the minutest inspection, and severest scrutiny, detect one single additional wrinkle on face or forehead--nay, not a wrinkle at all--not one-so fresh of color, too, sir, that the irradiation is at times ruddy--and without losing an atom of expression, the countenance absolutely-plump. Yes, sir, plump's the word-plump, plump, plump. BULLER. Yet I cannot help telling you to your face, sir, that you are one of the finest looking old men— sir. NORTH. Elderly gentlemen, if you please, BULLER. In Britain, in Europe, in the You World. I am perfectly serious, sir. NORTH. Were you shocked, Seward? with SEWARD. Buller has such a blunt him that he often makes me blush. I was not shocked, my dear sir, but I was affected. BULLER. Turning to me, he said, in a whis"What a wreck!" per, NORTH. I saw little alteration on you, Mr. Seward; but as to Buller, it was with the utmost difficulty I could be brought, by his reiterated asseverations, into a sort of quasibelief in his personal identity; and even now, it is far from amounting to anything like a settled conviction. Why, his face is twice the breadth it used to be-and so red! It used to be narrow and pale. Then, what a bushy head-now, cocker it as he will, bald. In figure was he not slim? Now, stout's the word. Stout-stout-yes, Buller, you have grown stout, and will grow stouter-your doom is to be fat-I prophesy paunch NORTH. Now you speak sensibly, and like yourself, my dear Buller. I wear well. BULLER. Your enemies circulated a report NORTH. I did not think I had an enemy in the world. BULLER. Your friends, sir, had heard a rumor-that you had mounted a wig. NORTH. And was there, among them all, one so weak-minded as to believe it? But, to be sure, there are no bounds to the credulity of mankind. BULLER. That you that, like Sampson had lost your hair-and NORTH. And by what Delilah had my locks been shorn? SEWARD. It all originated, I verily believe, sir, in the moved imagination of the Pensive Public: "Res est soliciti plena timoris Amor." NORTH. Buller, I see little, if any-no change whatever-on you, since the days of Deeside-nor on you, Seward. Yes, I do. Not now, when by yourselves; but when your boys are in Tent, ah! then I do indeed--a pleasant, a happy, a blessed change Bright boys they are delightful lads-noble youths and so are my Two-emphasis on BULLER. Spare me spare me, sir. Sew-my SEWARD and BULLER. Yes, all emphasis, and may the Four be friends for life. NORTH. In presence of us old folks, composed and respectful-in manly modesty attentive to every word we say--at times, no doubt, wearisome enough! Yet each ready, at a look or pause, to join in when we are at our gravest—and the solemn may be getting dull-enlivening the sleepy flow of our conversation as with rivulets issuing from pure sources in the hills of the morning all! SEWARD. Aye-aye; heaven bless them not thinking of his mother. But somewhat too much of this. I hereby authorize the Boys of this Empire to have what tempers they choose-with one sole exception-THE SULKY. BULLER. The Edict is promulged. NORTH. Once, and once only, during one of the longest and best-spent lives on record, was I in the mood proscribed-and it endured most part of a whole day. The Anniversary of that day I observe, in severest solitude, with a salutary horror. And it is my Birthday. Ask me not, my friends, to NORTH. Why, there is more than sense- reveal the Cause. Aloof from confession more than talent--there is genius among before man--we must keep to ourselves—as them in their eyes and on their tongues-John Foster says a corner of our own souls. though they have no suspicion of it-and that is the charm. Then, how they rally one another! Witty fellows all Four. And the right sort of raillery. Gentlemen by birth and breeding, to whom, in their wildest sallies, vulgarity is impossible-to whom, on the giddy brink-the perilous edge-still adheres a native decorum superior to that of all the Schools. SEWARD. They have their faults, sirNORTH. So have we. And 'tis well for us. Without faults we should be unloveable. A black corner it is--and enter it with or without a light-you see, here and there, something dismal--hideous-shapeless nameless-each lying in its own place on the floor. There lies the CAUSE. It was the morning of my Ninth Year. As I kept sitting high up stairs by myself-one familiar face after another kept ever and anon looking in upon me-all with one expression! And one familiar voice after another-all with one tone-kept muttering at me—“ He's still in the Sulks! How I hated them with an intenser hatred-and chief them I before had loved best-at each opening and each shutting of that door! How I hated myself, as my blubbered face felt hotter and hotter-and I knew how ugly I must be, with my fixed, fiery eyes. It was painful to sit on such a chair for hours in one posture, and to have so chained a child would have been great cruelty-but I was resolved to die, rather than change it; and had I been told by any one under an angel to get up and go to play, I would have spat in his face. It was a lonesome attic, and I had the fear of ghosts. But not then-my superstitious fancy was quelled by my troubled heart. Had I not NORTH. Original-or acquired? deserved to be allowed to go? Did they BULLER. Naturally sweet-blooded-assur- not all know that all my happiness in this edly by the mother's side-but in her good-life depended on my being allowed to go? ness she did all she could to spoil him. Some excuse-We have but Marmy. SEWARD. In affection I spake. NORTH. I know you did. There is no such hateful sight on earth as a perfect character. He is one mass of corruption-for he is a hypocrite-intus et in cute-by the necessity of nature. The moment a perfect character enters a room-I leave it. SEWARD. What if you happened to live in the neighborhood of the nuisance? NORTH. Emigrate. Or remain here-encamped for life-with imperfect characterstill the order should issue--Strike Tent. BULLER. My Boy has a temper of his own. NORTH. And his father, naturally not quite so sweet-blooded, does all he can to preserve him? Between the two, a pretty Pickle he is. Has thine a temper of his own, too, Seward? SEWARD. Hot. NORTH. Hereditary. NORTH. I confess I was at the moment Could any one of them give a reason for not allowing me to go? What right had they to say that if I did go, I should never be able to find my way, by myself, back? What right bad they to say that Roundy was a blackguard, and that he would lead me to the gallows? Never before, in all the world, had a good boy been used so on his birthday. They pretend to be sorry when I am sick-and when I say my prayers, they say theirs too; but I am sicker now-and they are not sorry, but angry-there's no use in prayers-and I wont read one verse in the Bible this night, should my aunt go down on her knees. And in the midst of such unworded soliloquies did the young blasphemer fall asleep. BULLER. Young Christopher North! credible. In NORTH. I know not how long I slept; but on awaking, I saw an angel with a most beautiful face and most beautiful hair-a little young angel-about the same size as myself sitting on a stool by my feet. "Are you quite well now, Christopher? Let us go to the meadows and gather flowers." Shame, sorrow, remorse, contrition, came to me with those innocent words-we wept to gether, and I was comforted. "I have been sinful"-" but you are forgiven." Down all the stairs, hand in hand, we glided; and there was no longer anger in any eyes-the whole house was happy. All voices were kinder-if that were possible-than they had been when I rose in the morning—a Boy in his Ninth Year. Parental hands smoothed my hair-parental lips kissed it—and parental greetings, only a little more cheerful than prayers, restored me to the Love I had never lost, and which I felt now had animated that brief and just displeasure. I had never heard then of Elysian fields; but I had often heard, and often had dreamt happy, happy dreams, of fields of light in heaven. And such looked the fields to be, where fairest Mary Gordon and I gathered flowers, and spoke to the birds, and to one another, all day long-and again, when the day was gone, and the evening going, on till moontime, below and among the soft-burning stars. BULLER. And never has Christopher been in the Sulks since that day. NORTH. Under heaven, I owe it all to that child's eyes. Still, I sternly keep the Anniversary-for, beyond doubt, I was that day possessed with a Devil-and an angel it was, though human, that drove him out. SEWARD. Your first Love? NORTH. In a week she was in heaven. My friends-in childhood-our whole future life would sometimes seem to be at the mercy of such small events as these. Small call them not-for they are great for good or for evil -because of the unfathomable mysteries that lie shrouded in the growth, on earth, of an immortal soul. SEWARD. May I dare to ask you, sir-it is indeed a delicate-a more than delicate question-if the Anniversary-has been brought round with the revolving year since we encamped? NORTH. It has. SEWARD. Ah! Buller! we know now the reason of his absence that day from the Pavilion and Deeside-of his utter seclusion-he was doing penance in the Swiss Giantess-a severe sojourn. NORTH. A Good Temper, friends-not a good Conscience-is the Blessing of Life. BULLER. Shocked to hear you say so, sir. Unsay it, my dear Sir-unsay it-pernicious doctrine. It may get abroad. NORTH. THE SULKS!-the CELESTIALS. The Sulks are hell, sirs-the Celestials, by the very name, heaven. I take temper in its all-embracing sense of Physical, Mental and Moral Atmosphere. Pure and serenethen we respire God's gifts, and are happier than we desire! Is not that divine? Foul and disturbed-then we are stifled by God's gifts-and are wickeder than we fear! Is not that devilish? A good Conscience and a bad Temper! Talk not to me, Young Men, of pernicious doctrine—it is a soulsaving doctrine-" millions of spiritual creatures walk unseen" teaching it- men's Thoughts, communing with heaven, have been teaching it-surely not all in vain-since Cain slew Abel. SEWARD. The Sage! BULLER. Socrates. NORTH. Morose! Think for five minutes on what that word means-and on what that word contains--and you see the Man must be an Atheist. Sitting in the House of God morosely! Bright, bold, beautiful boys of ours, ye are not morose--heaven's air has free access through your open souls-a clear conscience carries the Friends in their pastimes up the Mountains. SEWARD. And their fathers before them. NORTH. And their great-grandfather-I mean their spiritual great-grandfather-myself-Christopher North. They are gathering up-even as we gathered up-images that will never die. Evanescent! Clouds-lights -shadows-glooms, the falling sound-the running murmur-and the swinging roar— as cataract, stream, and forest all alike seem wheeling by-these are not evanescent-for they will all keep coming and going-before their Imagination-all life-long at the bidding of the Will-or obedient to a Wish! Or by benign Law, whose might is a mystery, coming back from the far profound-remembered apparitions! SEWARD. Dear sir. NORTH. Even my Image will sometimes reappear-and the Tents of Cladich-the Camp on Lochawe-side. |