"Wy, into Bellers's we notched the votes down on three sticks,

"Twuz Budofredum one, Cass aught, an' Taylor twenty-six.

An' bein' the on'y canderdate thet wuz upon the ground,

They said 'twas no more'n right thet I should pay the drinks all round;

Ef I'd expected sech a trick, I wouldn't cut my foot

By goin' an' votin' fer myself like a consumed coot;

It didn't make no diff'rence though; I wish I may be cust,

Ef Bellers wasn't slim enough to say he wouldn't trust!"

Mr. Wilbur has contributed to the papers, in his capacity as editor, an ingenious and really valuable essay on the Yankee dialect, which those to whom the subject is new would do well to peruse. The niceties of the pronunciation are minutely followed; as, "cal'late" for calculate," nimepunce" for ninepence. He has also furnished a Glossary and an Index, which constitute not the least amusing part of the work. His notes are furnished wherever there is a chance, and, in fact, he has omitted nothing which the most diligent editor could do.

The first edition of the book appeared with copious burlesque "Notices of an Independent Press," which are admirable specimens of the comments to which new books are subjected at the hands of the newspapers. From the Bungtown Copper -'Altogether an admirable work. Full of humor, boisterous but delicate,'" etc. "From the Salt River Flag of FreedomA volume in bad grammar and worse taste. The Reverend Homer Wilbur is a disgrace to his cloth."" The best of all is from "The World-Harmonic-ÆolianAttachment;" but to quote from it would lead us too far.

We have said nothing derogatory to "The Biglow Papers," because we have nothing to say. The design was a happy one, and it has been completely carried out. There is nothing in it we could wish to see omitted, which is more than we have been able to say of any other one of his volumes. As Parson Wilbur might say, O, si sic omnia!

In this way we have noticed the several styles of Mr. Lowell's composition in the volumes which he has from time to time issued. This we have done with reference to our notion of his course of life and study, and the progress of his ideas. But we should fail to satisfy ourselves without going back to glean from his writings some passages which could not be introduced before consistently with our plan. Otherwise the reader would not gather from what has been said an adequate idea of his merits. Foremost among those we wish to notice, stands "The Vision of Sir Launfal." A knight in quest of the Holy

Grail furnishes the slight groundwork of the story. From this is evolved a beautiful moral, beautifully told. But it is not for its moral only, but for the exquisite passages scattered through it, that it is to be read. The imagery is taken directly from nature, and the summer and winter scenes are not surpassed in their way for minuteness and delicacy of description. The introduction, together with the glorious description of organ music in "The Legend of Brittany" which we have quoted, shows a decided penchant in our poet for that magnificent instrument—no unfit accompaniment for some of his loftier strains, and at least indicating the ambition of their author.

"Over his keys the musing organist,

Beginning doubtfully and far away, First lets his fingers wander as they list, And builds a bridge from Dreamland for his lay: Then, as the touch of his loved instrument

Gives hope and fervor, nearer draws his theme, First guessed by faint auroral flushes sent

Along the wavering vista of his dream." Mr. Lowell seems to have taken no images from natural objects, except those which he has seen and with which he is familiar. As a proof that he goes to Nature herself, we observe that no nightingale is introduced, that stranger to New-England which he probably never heard-and no daisies, for which our white weed is so poor a substitute-instead of them we have bobolinks and dandelions

"Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold." This is a negative merit, to be sure; but an important one. Mr. Longfellow gives us a slave in a rice field whose "matted hair

Was buried in the sand.

Buried in the mud, would be nearer the truth; but it wouldn't rhyme with "hand" and "land." Again, in "Kavanagh," he gives us a dove pursued by a kingfisher. But in Mr. Lowell's poetry, we are satisfied of the genuineness of all the illustrations from nature which he sees fit to introduce. We might refer the reader of Sir Launfal to the description of the day in June, in the first part, or the delicate ice work of the winter brook in the second, or the Christmas fire

"Through the deep gulf of the chimney wide
Wallows the Yule-log's roaring tide,'

In illustration of the bare simplicity of Mr. Lowell's language, and its effectiveness in the expression of a beautiful and natural thought, we extract two verses from the allegory of "The Shepherd of King Admetus," vindicating the dignity and usefulness of the poet :

"They knew not how he learned at all,
For, long hour after hour,

He sat and watched the dead leaves fall,
Or mused upon a common flower.

Yet after he was dead and gone,

And e'en his memory dim,

Earth seemed more sweet to live upon, More full of love, because of him.'

Or these rugged lines in "An Incident in a Railroad Car," describing a reading of Burns:

"And when he read they forward leaned,

Drinking with thirsty hearts and ears,
His brook-like songs whom glory never weaned
From humble smiles and tears."

The poems entitled "Rosaline," "The Forlorn," and "She came and went," are especially worthy of notice, and more highly finished than most of the poems. Of his odes we may remark that there is no style of poetical composition more uninviting than a longlined Ode. The freedom allowed in the metre offers great opportunities for prolixity and diffuseness, which are our author's besetting sins. To our thinking the best of them are the Odes, "To the Past" and "To the Future."

The poem entitled "Extreme Unction," is quite remarkable. It gives us a deathbed attended with no unusual outward circumstances of horror; which is yet invested with a fearful solemnity beyond the reach of ordinary genius.

"Go! leave me, Priest; my soul would be
Alone with the consoler, Death;

Far sadder eyes than thine will see
This crumbling clay yield up its breath;
These shrivelled hands have deeper stains
Than holy oil can cleanse away.-

Hands that have plucked the world's coarse gains
As erst they plucked the flowers of May.

*

*

"Men think it is an awful sight

To see a soul jnst set adrift

On that drear voyage from whose night
The ominous shadows never lift;
But 't is more awful to behold

A helpless infant newly born,
Whose little hands unconscious hold

The keys of darkness and of morn ;

"Mine held them once; I flung away

Those keys that might have open set The golden sluices of the day,

But clutch the keys of darkness yet." The last verse is equally impressive, but we refrain from quoting it.

Lowell is a truly American poet. Those patriotic sticklers for an ultra national literature, who show their nationality by constant allusions to the Alleghanies and the Mississippi, may not find in him what they desire. Here is a man who is willing to recognize the existence of other natural objects, yet infuses into his writings the spirit of our times and our institutions, so unmistakably, that no one could be deceived as to his birth-place. An American must have written them. He is distinguished among our poets for his originality (a somewhat indefinite word by the way). It is true that the extent and intimacy of his acquaintance with the old poets is traceable in his poems -but less now than formerly. Hence

his early fondness for the obsolete terminations of the verbs in "eth" and "ed" accented-hence his use of such words as gossamere," ""marinere." But this affectation he has happily got rid of. Hence, also, his transferring in some cases, we fear, both the words and the ideas of his old favorites. We have detected one good thing of Tennyson's, an old acquaintance, doing duty in his poem, "The Falconer: "

"No bee nestles deeper in the flower

Than he in the bursting rose of dawn." This is a fine picture of the exultant joy of a falcon in his distant morning flight -but in Tennyson's "Vision of Sin we read the same striking image more than once repeated:

"

"And on the glimmering limit far withdrawn

God made Himself an awful rose of dawn." We have no idea of impeaching Mr. Lowell's originality however, and it is certainly true that he has enlarged and made more appropriate the image he has taken.

Mr. Lowell is also distinguished among American poets for his strength. This is shown by the utterance of great thoughts in language simple and majestic. It is true that he sometimes mistakes ruggedness for strength, and has written some rough lines which jolt the reader as he goes over them. But he is straightforward, and does not fear to call things by their right names. He does not avoid a good, homely, Saxon word by a useless circumlocution; and he disdains those finical elegancies which might secure to any one the applause of the readers of those "Gems of Poesy" which lie so gracefully on the centre-table.

It

The variety of the works which we have gone over shows the versatility of Mr. Lowell's genius. His Yankee humor is genuine, and does not depend for its success upon mere slang and misspelling, which is all that there is to recommend the works of some adventurers in this department. It is at times broad, almost farcical-and again delicate and penetrating, and in either case irresistible. indicates in its author unbounded frankness, heartiness and geniality, and cannot fail to win those who can appreciate such qualities. It would be worth while to inquire whether the perfection of the poetical faculty does not necessarily include wit and humor. One manifestation of that faculty, is a bringing together of ideas apparently unconnected; and humor is at least useful to the poet in restraining him from falling from the sublime to the ridiculous, and pushing his fancies to extravagance. What we have found it necessary to say of Mr. Lowell's reformatory

poetry, applies to it only as poetry, and we are not prevented from acknowledging the generosity of the man as displayed in his works, and his kindly feelings and liberal sympathies.

When the meaning of the words "imagination and "fancy" shall have been distinctly settled, it will be easier for us to determine the amount of each which he possesses. As it is, we should say that his imagination was vigorous and of great compass, though somewhat untutored, and his fancy fertile and lively to an unusual degree. He can sustain a lofty flight without falling, and he has a wonderful opulence of imagery. He lacks only care and judgment in its direction and disposal. The school to which he belongs is so modern and in many respects

so peculiar that it may be some time before he attains a general popularity. But we think that, on the whole, his influence will increase with time, and that he may look forward to a permanent and entire success. We feel sure that he is greater than any of his books.

As it is nearly two years since Mr. Lowell's last publication appeared, it may seem that, during his retirement, no notice was called for even of a poet so prominent; if an apology be necessary, we have only to say that, more than a year ago, the "Nooning" was announced as "nearly ready." Since then we have been hungrily waiting for the repast to be announced; and being entirely ready ourselves we have not deemed it necessary to wait any longer.

A

FEW years ago a visit to the Sandwich Islands was regarded as something so unusual, that the adventurous traveller who could talk to you about the bread-fruit, and describe the place where Captain Cook was killed, was looked up to and esteemed a person "not to be trifled with." Now, alas, it has become so ordinary, so commonplace an affair, that a trip to Newport scarcely excites more attention.

Every body goes to California, and one Californian in fifty visits "the Islands" either for business or pleasure, or for both. The run from San Francisco to Oahu is but a pleasant sail of some thirteen or fourteen days, scarcely enough to afford an actual taste of the sea to the merchant seeking relaxation, the gentle Pacific being more easily wooed than her unruly sister. We, however, sailed there legitimately, in the good old way deemed essential, from time immemorial, to the gravity and decorum of a man of war. No steaming it or "clipping" it, as if six months more or less were of any material consequence. We crept lazily round to the Pacific, now being baked under the Equator, then rolled and tumbled about off bluff Cape Horn. We surfeited ourselves with oranges at Rio Janeiro, stared at the "Sama-Crûca" in Valparaiso, flirted in Lima, and polka'd into a collapse our well starched shirt-collars in Guayaquil. San Francisco had chilled us, and Acapulco scorched us up (or rather

melted us down), when the welcome announcement was made, gladdening many a heart aboard, that we were "bound to the Islands."

Did I contemplate a sea story I would of course say something of the "gallant ship," &c.; indeed, that term had been applied to our corvette more than once by fair South Americans, though I must admit that unnecessary emphasis was laid upon the last syllable of the adjective.

We visited Hawaii with its waterfalls and never-to-be-forgotten naiads; we paid our respects to Kirauea, the monster crater, the mightiest volcano in the world, and at last proceeded to our station for the next six months, Honolulu, the capital of the Island Kingdom; a spot beloved by adventurous "down-Easters," where the rich harvests of bone and oil are garnered from the Arctic Seas, and carefully stowed in their huge floating store-houses, for the long weary voyage home.

Any one who imagines, from what he remembers of the geography at school, that he will here find some obscure Indian village, is most agreeably disappointed. Honolulu is a large, thriving, and handsome American town, with wealthy merchants, spacious streets, creditable hotels, pleasant society, and any amount of scandal. Whether or not the Islanders proper have been benefited by the introduction of civilization, is a question which has been so warmly discussed by many

recent writers, that I am content to "hear each man's judgment and reserve my censure."

And now for "the reminiscence: "-.

On the afternoon of a day only known to a Hawaiian winter or an American autumn, I found myself engaged in an animated discussion with "a friend I had and his adoption tried" (whom I shall call Lieut. B.), as to the origin of some of the festivals and ceremonies of the Chinese; the subject being suggested by the great number of Celestials, who had recently settled themselves in Honolulu. An engagement to a "cocked-hat" dinner (i. e. full dress), carried B. away in the heat of the argument, leaving me to my quiet chop at a restaurant, with the glorious gallop afterwards to the cocoa-nut grove, which becomes, as a matter of duty, the evening exercise of all at Oahu. My rooms had been, for some time past, a rendezvous for shipmates as well as citizen acquaintances of Honolulu; but, though expecting to find, upon my return, some goodly company there, I was scarcely prepared for the vast gathering that welcomed me. Having returned and passed the usual how-d'ye-do's, I discovered that the choice spirits of the place had, with one consent, selected that evening for a visit, bringing with them a piquant sprinkling of Californians, very nice but very "fast" young men. It appeared that all were somewhat at a loss what to do, to get through the evening agreeably to themselves and in keeping with their rapid character. Cards had been tabooed; parties that night there were none; the theatre was voted a bore, and mere carousing, of course, too low to be thought of.

Many of the voices present being really fine and skilfully managed, a serenade was proposed, and as a Californian remarked, "when the chorus came we'd all be around," the idea was received with favor; but then the proposed affair lost its spiciness to many, in the quiet and order which it was insisted upon, must accompany such a performance. Oahu, though in the tropics, possesses a climate often so bracing and invigorating, that to the young and healthy, it is difficult, at times, to repress a feeling of almost boyish exhilaration. This feeling seemed to inspire the assembled multitude that night. Riding, the usual resource of the Islanders, was, from the lateness of the hour, out of the question: a dozen things were proposed and rejected, when a happy thought at last occurred to me.

Recollecting my controversy with Lt. B., and unwilling to abandon the idea of the serenade (as it appeared the least preposterous of the many pranks suggest

ed), I modestly stated that a large invoice of Chinese lanterns had that day been offered for sale, and that by purchasing and lighting them, I thought we could give a very effective serenade, the illumination investing it with all the whimsicality which seemed to be needed. In five words we'd have "a Feast of the Lanterns." This brilliant idea was received with universal acclamation: one party was at once dispatched for the gaudily painted paper globes, another was deputed to purchase the proper stock of sperm candles, whilst the remainder of the company proceeded to array themselves in every kind of grotesque attire at hand, from a Peruvian poncho to an Island calabash. By eleven o'clock all the preparations were completed, and I shall never forget the really beautiful effect of the almost interminable line of lights, as this procession started on its hopeful expedition.

Many private houses were visited by us, and their sleeping inmates awakened by very creditable music, the only difficulty, at first, being in keeping silent the host of chattering Kanakas, who, attracted by the unusual glare, gathered from every quarter of Honolulu. The hospitable but injudicious custom of inviting the serenaders in-doors at the conclusion of the vocal offering, was, in almost every instance, carefully observed, and as most of our party accepted the too often proffered "cold without," I was not a little amused (being in this respect but a looker on), to observe the occasional huskiness and discord which accompanied the seventh or eighth performance. A stray lantern or two began now to be seen in the distance. dancing about in the unsteady hands of its bearer like some Will-o'-the-wisp, which had made up its mind not to go home till morning. At two o'clock I quietly extinguished mine, so as to insure a retreat. should the fun, as it threatened, eventually become too boisterous, and shortly after went in search of my friend Lt. B., leaving the party preparing to give the serenade, which it was originally intended should be the grand feature of the evening. viz., at the residence of the American Consul. I had urged that this might be the first performance, but had been overruled, whether with wisdom or not will be seen. Many of the warblers here seemed intent upon carefully "holding up" the pillars of the Consul's portico; others, mistaking their lanterns for garden seats, attempted to sit down upon them, and extinguished the lamps and themselves together. One gentleman, with expressions of the most intense misery, buried his head in his lantern, became light

headed for a moment, then put himself out and was seen no more. As the tapers began to glimmer in the Consul's windows, I departed on my errand, enjoying, as I turned the corner, the full effect of the first concerted piece: time and harmony seemed entirely abandoned or forgotten, and never before had I heard, from human throats, such dismal howls, such melancholy and heart-rending wails, as now broke the stillness of night. The air selected (Rosa Lee), an Ethiopian melody, was in itself any thing but cheerful and enlivening, but now rendered an hundred fold more dismal and unendurable by the deep despondency and apparent wretchedness of some of the choristers. The "cold without" had begun to react upon them, and my very teeth were set on edge. I did not succeed in finding my friend, being told that he had shortly before left the house of his entertainer to go aboard his ship, and thinking it high time for prudent men to be in bed, I started for my domicil. I was compelled to pass the main street to reach it, and as the glare and laughter from an adjoining lane, announced the revellers near at hand, I could not resist the temptation of taking a parting glance at the mock Celestials. Never shall I forget the absurd scene that presented itself to me. Further serenading had apparently been abandoned as impossible, and whilst a number of the party were busily employed in illuminating an old white horse which they had confiscated, the remainder were dancing a solemn war dance round my poor friend B., (taken captive by them, while on his way to the boat), and who, bewildered by the lights and no doubt confused by the last bottle of peculiar old port, seemed utterly at a loss to comprehend the strange proceeding. "Yes," muttered he, gazing at them with sleepy eyes, "it is a dream;" and now "Ching," shrieked a voice from one end of the crowd; "Chang," roared another; "Chow," chorussed the multitude, as a sort of maniac ladies' chain terminated the dance. And now it was a delicious sight to behold him unwillingly mounted, with a lantern in each hand, upon the milk-white charger, the animal tastefully decorated with one light at his head, another at the tail, and some six or eight incidental lamps distributed all over his body. Vain and useless were B.'s protestations that "he was no mandarin ;" that "he had never before been in China, and felt himself altogether unworthy of the great honor proffered him." The crowd hearkened to him not, but leading the horse, moved gravely along in solemn procession, chanting a most unearthly chorus, in which each gentleman wisely

sang to please himself, without troubling his mind about the key or even the air selected by his neighbor. Arrived at the wharf where B. was to embark, another insane and frantic war dance was performed as a parting offering, when he, gravely raising himself to his feet, upon the back of the noble steed, and holding aloft his lanterns, gave vent to this beautiful and touching address.

"Fellow cit I mean, Celestials! brothers of the moon and sisters of the sun, I know you can't understand a word I say, but if this is not the proudest moment of my existence, shave my crown!" Here, thinking he had made use of a most happy and appropriate form of Eastern adjuration, he attempted a salaam, lost his footing, and disappeared. Exhausted with laughter, I sought my lodgings, passing on the way more than one lantern carefully stuck upon a gate-post, or quaintly ornamenting a barber's pole.

Eight bells found me on my way aboard to breakfast, the debris of the late festival being visible on every side. Wrecks of Chinese lanterns strewed the streets, more than one clearly indicating, from its crushed and flattened appearance, that it had been made to serve the purpose of a pillow to some wearied reveller. In rowing past the ship to which my friend was attached, I stopped on board for a moment to wish him good morrow. I found him still courting the drowsy god, but aroused by my salutation, he cheerfully welcomed me. Complaining of a slight headache (the consequence, he said, of that interminable dinner), he exclaimed, "Do you remember our argument of last evening? 'Tis strange how, even in sleep, the mind will sometimes dwell upon some recent trifling event, even as unimportant as that conversation. I had a dream last night, so vivid and distinct, that did I not know that I am now here and awake, I could swear that all my fancies had been real." "What was the nature of it?" I gravely asked. ""Twas most absurd," he answered, “for I dreamed I was the Emperor of China.”

I heard next day of pranks innumerable which had been perpetrated in the small hours, and of the terror and dismay of the good citizens, towards the winding up of that impromptu affair. Honolulu was all astonishment, and many were the rumors abroad of a well-disguised attempt at revolution by Californian filibusters, and the resident Chinese, and which had only been put down by the strong and energetic measures of the government. I wisely said nothing, except to agree with the ladies, that whatever it meant, or by whom suggested, it was certainly a most extraordinary, unprecedented, and ridicu