AN OASIS IN THE WILDERNESS.

TH

HE sublimity connected with vastness is familiar to every eye. The most abstruse, the most far-reaching-perhaps the most chastened of the poet's thoughts crowd on the imagination as he gazes into the depths of the illimitable void. The expanse of the ocean is seldom seen by the novice with indifference, and the mind, even in the obscurity of night, finds a parallel to that grandeur which seems inseparable from images that the senses cannot compass. With feelings akin to this admiration and awe-the offspring of sublimity were the different characters gazing on the scene before them. Four persons in all-two of each sex-had managed to ascend a pile of trees that had been uptorn by a tempest, to catch a view of the objects that surrounded them. It is still the practice of the country to call these spots "windrows." By By letting in the light of heaven upon the dark and damp recesses of the wood, they form a sort of oases in the solemn obscurity of the virgin forests of America. The particular windrow of which we are writing lay on the brow of a gentle acclivity, and, though small, it had opened the way for an extensive view to those who might occupy its upper margin -a rare occurrence to the traveller in the woods. As usual, the spot was small, but owing to the circumstance of its lying on the low acclivity mentioned, and that of the opening's extending downward, it of fered more than common advantages to the eye. Philosophy has not yet determined the nature of the power that so often lays desolate spots of this description, some ascribing it to the whirlwinds that produce waterspouts on the ocean, while others, again, impute it to sudden

and violent passages of streams of the electric fluid; but the effects in the woods are familiar to all. On the upper margin of the opening to which there is allusion the viewless influence had piled tree on tree in such a manner as had not only enabled the two males of the party to ascend to an elevation of some thirty feet above the level of the earth, but, with a little care and encouragement, to induce their more timid companions to accompany them. The vast trunks that had been broken and driven by the force of the gust lay blended like jackstraws, while their branches, still exhaling the fragrance of wilted leaves, were interlaced in a manner to afford sufficient support to the hands. One tree had been completely uprooted, and its lower end, filled with earth, had been cast uppermost in a way to supply a sort of staging for the four adventurers when they had gained the desired distance from the ground.

The reader is to anticipate none of the appliances of people of condition in the description of the personal appearances of the group in question. They were all wayfarers in the wilderness, and, had they not been, neither their previous habits nor their actual social positions would have accustomed them to many of the luxuries of rank. Two of the party, indeed-a male and female-belonged to the native owners of the soil, being Indians of the well-known tribe of the Tuscaroras, while their companions were a man who bore about him the peculiarities of one who had passed his days on the ocean, and is, too, in a station little, if any, above that of a common mariner; while his female associate was a maid

en of a class in no great degree superior to his own, though her youth, sweetness of countenance and a modest but spirited mien lent that character of intellect and refinement which adds so much to the charm of beauty in the sex. On the present occasion her full blue eye reflected the feeling of sublimity that the scene excited, and her pleasant face was beaming with the pensive expression with which all deep emotions, even though they bring the most grateful pleasure, shadow the countenances of the ingenuous and thoughtful.

And, truly, the scene was of a nature deeply to impress the imagination of the beholder. Toward the west, in which direction the faces of the party were turned, and in which alone could much be seen, the eye ranged over an ocean of leaves glorious and rich in the varied but lively verdure of a generous vegetation and shaded by the luxuriant tints that belong to the fortysecond degree of latitude. The elm with its graceful and weeping top, the rich varieties of the maple, most of the noble oaks of the American forest, with the broad-leafed linden, known in the parlance of the country as the basswood, mingled their uppermost branches, forming one broad and seemingly interminable carpet of foliage that stretched away toward the setting sun until it bounded the horizon by blending with the clouds as the waves and the sky meet at the base of the vault of heaven. Here and there, by some accident of the tempests or by a caprice of Nature, a trifling opening among these giant members of the forest permitted an inferior tree to struggle upward toward the light, and to lift its modest head nearly to a level with the surrounding surface of verdure. Of this

class were the birch-a tree of some account in regions less favored-the quivering aspen, various generous nut-woods, and divers others that resemble the ignoble and vulgar thrown by circumstances into the presence of the stately and great. Here and there, too, the tall, straight trunk of the pine pierced the vast field, rising high above it like some grand monument reared by art on a plain of leaves.

It was the vastness of the view, the nearly unbroken surface of verdure, that contained the principle of grandeur. The beauty was to be traced in the delicate tints relieved by gradations of light and shadow, while the solemn repose induced the feeling allied to awe.

IVA

JAMES FENIMORE COOPER.

KHEMNITZER.

VAN IVANOVICH KHEMNITZER was born of German parents at Petersburg in the year 1744. His father was of Saxon origin, and was attached as physician to the country hospital of the Russian capital. From parents of distinguished excellence our poet received the elements of a careful education. It was his father's wish that his son should succeed him in his profession, but the unconquerable aversion of the latter to the study of anatomy could never be subdued. He was enrolled, in consequence, when thirteen years old, in the regiment of guards as sub-officer, and made two campaigns against the Prussians and the Turks. This, however, as he was wont to say, was "out of the rain into the river "-from the theatre of anatomy to the martyr-chamber of surgery. He became in consequence an engineer in the Berg cadet

corps, having obtained the rank of lieutenant in the Russian service. He won the love and the confidence of all his superiors by his activity and uprightness. In the year 1776 he accompanied one of his superior officers through Germany, Holland and France, and after his return to his country applied himself ardently to his literary labors. In 1778 he published the first volume of his fables, and on its reaching a second edition, about three years afterward, he added to it another volume. One of his particular friends and protectors quitting the service at this period, he determined to do the same. He had no means of living independently of his salary, and, being compelled to look round him for another engagement, he soon obtained the consul-generalship of Smyrna. The emol uments attached to this office led him to hope that in the progress of a few years he should be enabled to retire comfortably from active life, and this hope induced him to accept an office which banished him from his country. That country he abandoned with a heavy heart, and on separating from his friends, whom he loved with indescribable affection, he seemed to sink under the thought that he was bidding them a final farewell. In the autumn of 1782 he reached Smyrna indisposition greeted him on his arrival. The climate was perhaps unfriendly, but his mind was more keenly affected by his exile from that society in which he had so long breathed and lived, and which had become a necessary element of his existence. He struggled long against his illness; it subdued him in the spring of 1784. This is a short outline of the serene and unpretending career of an excellent man and an admirable poet whose manners were as

ingenuous and unpretending as his life. In many respects he may be compared to La Fontaine, his pattern and forerunner. The same goodness of heart, the same blind confidence in his friends, the same carelessness and inoffensiveness and the same absence of mind which formed the prominent features of La Fontaine's character were developed with singular fidelity in that of Khemnitzer. Of the last trait we will give an example or two. When in Paris, he once went to see the representation of Tancred. On Le Cain's appearance he was so struck with the noble and majestic presence of that renowned actor that he rose from his seat and bowed with lowly reverence. A universal roar of laughter brought him back to himself. One morning a friend for whom he had the highest regard related to him an interesting piece of news. Khemnitzer dined with him afterward, and as a piece of remarkable intelligence narrated to his host that which his host had before communicated to him. His friend reminded him of his forgetfulness. Khemnitzer was greatly distressed, and in his perplexity, instead of his handkerchief, he put his host's napkin into his pocket. On rising from table Khemnitzer endeavored to slip away unobserved; his friend saw him, followed him and tried to detain him. Khemnitzer reproached him for unveiling his weaknesses, and would not listen to any entreaties. "Leave my napkin, then, at least, which you pocketed at table," said the other. Khemnitzer drew it forth, and stood like a statue. The loud laugh of the company recovered him from his trance, and with the utmost good nature he joined in the general mirth.