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HEROES AND THEIR LIKENESSES.

wiser views in time. Do our readers suppose of the war at his own sole expense. Mr. it must be Mr. Chase or Mr. Memminger, Slidell and Mr. Mason, too, look quite as disbig with financial caution? No; but Mr. agreeable as one could wish. Mr. Slidell is James Gordon Bennett, the editor of the most the ideal of a man who would think it a privdiscreditable paper in the world, and who is ilege to get into a scrape himself if he could commonly said to have compensated himself only involve his host and patron too; Mr. once for a severe chastisement, by telegraph- Mason, more of the bull-dog, ready to fasten ing to his own journal a frank "sensation on friends and foes alike. And, finally, there heading" as to the stripes he had received, is a great inward peace of mind in making which sold the edition. Then there is an acquaintance with that officer whose bulging amiable, weak, confused, woolly-headed-look- forehead is exactly equal in height to the rest ing military bust, with fat cheeks and head of his countenance, the eyebrows bisecting narrowing towards the top, eminently a" wor- the head. It is the kind of forchead one thy" young officer not likely to distinguish conceives a morbid desire to break in, in himself. It is "Stonewall " Jackson. Here, consequence of a moral certainty, seeking, again, is a grave, square, open countenance, however, physical verification, that the forespeaking a frank heart, an earnest devotion to head is cavernous, and not solid. If really freedom, and the compressed resolve to main-solid, it is clear that the figure belonging to tain it at the sacrifice of life. This, surely, it would be in stable equilibrium only on the must belong to a Northerner of the squarest head, and in unstable on the feet, like the Republican type. It is the face of John C. spherical-footed dolls children play with, if Breckinridge, the last Southern candidate for the sphere constituted the head itself instead the Presidency. Certainly, in none of these of a globe round the feet of the tumbler. cases does the picture of the countenance and Otherwise, it is a good, confused, magnanibearing suggest any addition of value to one's mous face, that expresses the fullest confiknowledge, though it may, perhaps, break dence in its own fuzziness, and belongs to the only officer who always maintained, with much justice that he was not fit for his post.

the chain of former associations.

its ease,

On the other hand, there are some heads, On the whole, we gather from looking at generally either the most powerful or the reverse, which it is a permanent satisfaction to the likenesses of public men that there are have identified in one's mind with the career two classes of human faces and frames-those which has expressed it. Here is the head which properly express their inhabitants, and of Mr. Jefferson Davis, with an imperial eye those which only by time and association get that seems to see the future and control it, certain moral associations with them which and a mouth_strong, thin, compressed, half- friends, by experience, learn to interpret, but ascetic, like Father Newman's, speaking of which are by no means a result of "pre-esvast power of self-denial for distant ends, but tablished harmony." Many men's countewith a shadow of cynicism and intrigue just nances are strictly opaque fortifications, from hanging about it, that tells a nature not in- behind the veil of which their characters capable of breaking faith. Here is Mr. Lin- stolidly survey the world, and are never discoln, honest above all things, not keen, but tinctly seen; and even by their friends are shrewd, logical as a Scot, anxious as a Yan- known, in spite of their features, the interkee, with a sad humor, and a strong touch pretation of which is as much a gradually ac of coarseness, not a fine face, not a face at quired skill as any part of the social tact of but trustworthy in the highest de- life. Others, again, have the art or the misgree, and, for the rest, something between a fortune to mould their bodies into real orThe farmer's and an artisan's (too shrewd for the gans of their character, so that the merest one, too safe for the other) after he has cleaned stranger can identify them at once. himself on Sunday morning. Again, there highest class of power of any sort generally is a satisfaction in connecting this clear-eyed, impresses itself somehow upon the face, and courtly Vandyck-face with General Lee; this the lowest sort of imbecility or iniquity inevivery industrious, painstaking face, which sud- tably does so; but between the two there is a denly falls away to nothing, with the Con- large field of an apparently accidental kind, federate General Johnstone, who has always-only some of the occupants of which manbeen going to relieve every place of importance, and has never relieved any; in learning that this sweet and poetical profile belongs to the Federal Lieutenant Mulligan, whose noble defence of Lexington, in Missouri, against overwhelming Southern forces, was one of the greatest exploits of the war; in knowing that refined and manly head to be Governor Sprague's, of Rhode Island, who fitted out a regiment at the commencement

age to write their qualities in their face. Some there are, of little note, who inscribe their good humor in jovial eyes, their clumsiness on unmanageable masses of flesh, their sincerity in an open gaze and firm candid mouth. On the other hand, there are quite as many of the second and lower orders of ability and goodness whose faces are not blanks, but yet nothing particular, nothing capable of any interpretation-faces, in short,

190 LETTER FROM HON. JOSIAH QUINCY TO MR. LINCOLN.

of which the expressiveness does not lie in the views on that subject, not only of such feature and marked lines, but in characteris- men as Hamilton. King, Jay, and Pickering, tic habits of management, with which you but also of distinguished slaveholders-of must be familiar before you can pretend to both the Pinckneys, of William Smith of understand them. But so much does the South Carolina, and of many others. With imagination love distinctness in petty detail, the first of these I had personal intercourse that even in this case it enjoys possessing the and acquaintance. I can truly say that I evidence that a hero's face is not characteris-never knew the individual, slaveholder or tic, and might have belonged to unheroic

common sense.

non-slaveholder, who did not express a detestation of it, and the desire and disposition to get rid of it. The only difficulty, in case of emancipation, was, what shall we do for

LETTER FROM HON. JOSIAH QUINCCY TO the master, and what shall we do with the

MR. LINCOLN.

WE copy below a letter from the venerable Josiah Quincy of this city to President Lincoln, which appears in the New York Post with the following explanatory preface:"This letter, a copy of which, in the firm and clear handwriting of its author, we have seen, was not intended for the public eye, and it has been acknowledged, as we are told, by Mr. Lincoln in terms of the most frank and

slave? A satisfactory answer to both these questions has been, until now, beyond the reach and the grasp of human wisdom and power.

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Through the direct influence of a good and gracious God, the people of the United States have been invested with the power of answering satisfactorily both these questions, dent to both, of which, if they fail to avail and also of providing for the difficulties incithemselves, thoroughly and conclusively, they will entail shame on themselves and sorrow and misery on many generations.

"It is impossible for me to regard the power thus granted to this people otherwise of a superintending Providence, who ever than as proceeding from the direct influence makes those mad whom he intends to destroy.

"The only possible way in which slavery, after it had grown to such height, could have been abolished, is that which Heaven has adopted.

cordial nature. We believe that we violate no rule of propriety in laying it before the public, which we have done after consultation with some of Mr. Quincy's friends. There is nothing in it which is otherwise than highly honorable to both him and the eminent personage to whom it is addressed, and the subject is of such universal interest, and is treated in such a manner, that few will dissent from the judgment which we have formed, that the public have a right to read it now, instead of waiting for its future appearance in "Your instrumentality in the work is to historic form. One of its remarkable char- you a subject of special glory, favor, and felicacteristics is the hopeful and confident tone ity. The madness of secession and its ineviin which it speaks of the eventual victory of the cause of the United States Government. Age is ordinarily timid and desponding, but the age of Mr. Quincy has all the cheerful courage of a vigorous manhood.

"Hon. Abraham Lincoln: Sir: Old age has its privileges, which I hope this letter will not exceed. But I cannot refrain from expressing to you my gratification and my gratitude for your letter to the Illinois Convention; happy, timely, conclusive, and effective. What you say concerning emancipation, your proclamation and your course of proceeding in relation to it, was due to truth your own character-shamefully assailed as it has been. The development is an imperishable monument of wisdom and virtue.

and

"Negro slavery and the possibility of emancipation have been subjects of my thought for more than seventy years; being first introduced to it by the debates in the convention of Massachusetts for adopting the constitution, in 1788, which I attended. I had subsequently opportunities of knowing

table consequence, civil war, will, in their result, give the right and the power of uniUnited States do not understand and fully apversal emancipation sooner or later. If the preciate the boon thus bestowed on them, and fail to improve it to the utmost extent of the power granted, they will prove recreant to themselves and posterity.

"I write under the impression that the victory of the United States in this war is inevitable.

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Compromise is impossible. Peace on any other basis would be the establishment of two nations, each hating the other, both military, both necessarily hostile, their territories interlocked, with a tendency to never-ceasing hostility. Can we leave to posterity a more cruel inheritance, or one more hopeless of happiness and prosperity?

"Pardon the liberty I have taken in this letter, and do not feel obliged in any way to take notice of it; and believe me "Ever your grateful and obliged servant, "JOSIAH QUINCY. Quincy, September 7, 1863."

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BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Up from the meadows rich with corn,
Clear in the cool September morn,
The clustered spires of Frederick stand
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.
Round about them orchards sweep,
Apple and peach tree fruited deep.
Fair as a garden of the Lord

To the eyes of the famished rebel horde,
On that pleasant morn of the early fall
When Lee marched over the mountain-wall-
Over the mountains winding down,
Horse and foot, into Frederick town.
Forty flags with their silver stars,
Forty flags with their crimson bars,
Flapped in the morning wind: the sun
Of noon looked down, and saw not one.
Up rose old Barbara Freitchie then,
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten ;
Bravest of all in Frederick town,

She took up the flag the men hauled down;
In her attic-window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet.
Up the street came the rebel tread,
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.
Under his slouched hat left and right
He glanced the old flag met his sight.
"Halt!"-the dust-brown ranks stood fast.
"Fire!"-out-blazed the rifle-blast.

It shivered the window, pane, and sash;
It rent the banner with seam and gash.
Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff
Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf;
She leaned far out on the window-sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will.

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Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag," she said. A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, Over the face of the leader came; The nobler nature within him stirred To life at that woman's deed and word: "Who touches a hair of yon gray head Dies like a dog! March on!" he said. All day long through Frederick street Sounded the tread of marching feet; All day long that free flag tossed Over the heads of the rebel host. Ever its torn folds rose and fell On the loyal winds that loved it well; And through the hill-gaps sunset light Shone over it with a warm good-night. Barbara Freitchie's work is o'er,

And the Rebel rides on his raids no more.

Honor to her! and let a tear
Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier
Over Barbara Frietchie's grave
Flag of Freedom and Union, wave!
Peace and order and beauty draw
Round thy symbol of light and law;

And ever the stars above look down
On thy stars below in Frederick town!
-Atlantic Monthly.

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X.

For in the Presence vast and good, That bends o'er all our livelihood With humankind in heavenly cure, We all are like: we all are poor.

XI.

And, sure, God's poor shall never want
For service meet or seemly chant,
And for the gospel's joyful sound
A fitting place shall still be found;

XII.

Whether the organ's solemn tones
Thrill through the dust of warriors' bones,

Or voices of the village choir
From swallow-haunted eaves aspire

XIII.

Or, sped with healing on its wings,
The Word solicit ears of kings,
Or stir the souls, in moorland glen;
Of kingless covenanted men

XIV.

Enough for thee, indulgent Lord
The willing ear to hear thy word
And, time and place to match, the tale
For willing cars shall never fail.
Dublin, June, 1863.

S. F.
-Blackwood's Magazines

You shall be queen of all that's there,
Love me true!

A gray old harper sung to me,
The waves roll so gayly O,
Beware of the damsel of the sea!
Love me true!

In hall he harpeth many a year,
The waves roll so gayly (,
And we will sit his song to hear,
Love me true!

I love thee deep, I love thee true,
The waves roll so gayly O,
But ah! I know not how to woo,
Love me true!

Down dashed the cup, with a sudden shock,
The waves roll so gayly O,

The wine like blood ran over the rock,
Love me true!

She said no word, but shrieked aloud,
The waves roll so gayly 0,

And vanished away from where she stood,
Love me true!

I locked and barred my castle door,
The waves roll so gayly O,
Three summer days I grievèd sore,
Love me true!

For myself a day and night,
The waves roll so gayly O,
And two to moan that lady bright,
Love me true!

ST. MARGARET'S EVE

BY WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.

I BUILT my castle upon the seaside,
The waves roll so gayly O,
Half on the land and half in the tide,
Love me true!

Within was silk, without was stone,

The waves roll so gayly O,
It lacks a queen, and that alone,
Love me true!

The gray old harper sung to me,
The waves roll so gayly O,
Beware of the damsel of the sea!
Love me true!

Saint Margaret's Eve it did befall,
The waves roll so gayly O,
The tide came creeping up the wall,
Love me true!

I opened my gate; who there should stand,
The waves roll so gayly 0,

But a fair lady, with a cup in her hand,
Love me true!

The cup was gold, and full of wine,
The waves roll so gayly O,

Drink, said the lady, and I will be thine,
Love me true!

Enter my castle, lady fair,

The waves roll so gayly O,

EQUINOCTIAL.

BY MRS. A. D. T. WHITNEY.

THE Sun of Life has crossed the line,
The summer-shine of lengthened light
Faded and failed-till, where I stand,
"Tis equal Day and equal Night.

One after one, as dwindling hours,
Youth's glowing hopes have dropped away,
And soon may barely leave the gleam
That coldly scores a winter's day.

I am not young, I am not old;
The flush of morn, the sunset calm,
Paling and deepening, each to each,
Meet midway with a solemn charm
One side I see the summer fields

Not yet disrobed of all their green;
While westerly, along the hills,

Flame the first tints of frosty sheen.
Ah, middle point, where cloud and storm
Make battle-ground of this my life!
Where, even-matched, the Night and Day
Wage round me their September strife!
I bow me to the threatening gale:
I know, when that is overpast,
Among the peaceful harvest-days,
An Indian summer comes at last!

-Atlantic Monthly.

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SHORT ARTICLES.-In the Twinkling of an Eye, 198. The Bible, 198. Literary Intelligence, 214, 217, 230, 235, 238, 239. New England Scenery, 214

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