invisible in indissoluble matrimony. This magnificent dowry, the outward world, was bestowed for all time and all people, and it becomes the noble heart, the gifted pencil and the eloquent tongue to recommend and illustrate its manifold and benignant uses.

We are aware that we have stepped upon ground that does not legitimately belong to us; but anglers are accustomed to exercise the largest liberty and to throw their fly with peculiar zest into waters the most unfrequented. We have frequently advocated the propriety of appropriating certain portions of the year to healthful pastimes and manly sports, deeming their indulgence highly conducive to our temporal well-being. Neither pennies nor dollars may be saved thereby, but there will be great gain realized in a series of years, visible in an improved animal frame, a mind freer and more forcible, an imagination readier to receive and transmit, a fancy more vivid and truthful, and a heart enlarged to the full circle of human cares and caresses.

To one not regardless of the physical aspect of the rising generation it is evident that there is much defective training, or a culpable omission of any. If the Human were as well nurtured and watched as the State Constitution, we should have more sound minds in sound bodies. There are few more sorry sights, and they occur at every turn, than the attenuated form and dropping-away aspect of the ambitious scholar, who, abjuring all manly exercises, hovers like a miller over the midnight lamp, and, like that insect, heedlessly and prematurely perishes in its blaze. As he would wear no armor, Fate was sure to hit him.

The Olympic games were instituted to help both soul and body; the American, to distract the one and weaken the other. Those who can do a world of good, thinking and writing on a small physical capital, are few and far between. Children of our day are either pampered or pinched; the larger part we believe are permitted to select their own schools and teachers, and inclined to frown on any thing that looks like subjection; the idea of being consigned to any specific system of training, either physical or mental, is as unwelcome as the sting of a wasp. The gentler sex, especially of the rich, too often bear about them the marks of premature decay. Survey the clustering groups at any of our summer resorts, and those of a sound body and healthful air peer up and are as unmistakeably prominent as a fresh-descended Juno would be.

This disregard to physical training is almost exclusively a parental affair. The delinquencies of parents in this respect stand out in monstrously bold and killing relief; daughters especially find out before long that their constitutions are broken and their life-inheritance jeopardized; and most of them inclined to do little else than consult doctors, nourish a passion for fine furniture, rich personal adornings and eyecatching jewels, repose nowhere to their mind but on satin embossed chairs, or sleep-inspiring couches, tolerate no books less exciting than French novels, and even find fault with the breath of heaven if it is not charged with cologne. If such are to be the future mothers of our race, the race may ere long call in vain for fathers.

There are few more sublime spectacles on this earth than the matron

who, amidst the dust and din, the asperities and impertinences, the cares and caresses that more or less centre in every home, exhibits an activity neither forced nor unnatural, a composure neither assumed nor insulting, and a dignity so easy and unconstrained that she seems like a living gospel of charity and peace; but we fear that the customs and habits of our times are peculiarly unfriendly to their increase.

- Society, as now constructed, with its captivating, consuming refinements, hardly permits a young lady to survive the period of blossoming:

'A VIOLET in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent; sweet, not lasting,
The perfume and suppliance of a minute.'

If the probationary period allotted to man is three score years and ten, why is it that the monuments of the 'early dead' in our cemeteries form so large a majority? This fact is invested with a double significance by commemorating what death has done, and what parental ignorance or neglect has unconsciously aided in doing. The times require a great physical reformer; one combining in his person the captivating qualities of an Apollo, and in his heart the ardor and eloquence of a Paul.

Muscle must be more considered and developed in connexion with mind, else the latter, which is a sharp, sensitive blade, may eat through its scabbard, and be turned on itself.

Our sensibilities and our censures are sadly taxed in daily viewing the conflicts and struggles of the aspiring mind with the young but enfeebled body:

'CUT is the branch that might have grown full straight,

And burned is APOLLO's laurel bough.'

It is somewhat surprising how few are the professional gentlemen that have crossed our piscatorial path. Among the clergy only two stand out on memory's record possessing the needful courage to make the wilderness a place of mirthful joy, and at the same time exhibiting a Peter-like zeal in the cause of conversion, and a martyr's devotion to the line of duty, run where it may. We have occasionally met lawyers who had temporarily relinquished the brief for Walton's breviary, bestowing gracefully their patronage on cold-water sports; but for the most part they instinctively incline to intimacies with those who live near and in hot water. They are a decidedly domestic biped, and mainly anxious for good fees and fat feed. Among the doctors we can recall but two who appeared to have taken the pledge,' and both possessing a just appreciation of the claims of Nature and of man. It is, after all, the merchant who pulls a plum out of every thing, and redeems the time, being literally minister, lawyer and doctor, and who does more by his unpatronizing, incidental communings with the hardworking, uncomplaining or complaining inmates of the log-house, in communicating intelligence and inculcating contentment, than a regiment of missionaries, specially armed and equipped to teach and reprove!

Statesmen sometimes bend to the rod, but more frequently under it. We apprehend that they are more inclined to court the ocean shore than the inland lake; a fitter emblem perhaps of the surge-like life to

which they are ordained. We confess no peculiar partiality for saltwater sports, for our suspicions never slumber or cease to torment with 'fear of coming change; but he who is fond of a long pull, and a strong pull, and unmindful of skinless fingers, may find excitement enough and to spare in taking the yanking, hauling, jumping blue fish.'

Even that illustrious man, the 'Great Expounder,' marvelled when he saw how those sea Satans were wooed and won by our tempting 'spoon victuals.'

Fancy for a moment the gladdening effect of the angler's return to his home. Joyful notes herald his approach, and ready arms cradle and embrace him at the threshold; young eyes look up to him as a nut to be cracked; faces radiant as the sun thicken about him, wishing that time would move with redoubled speed evening-ward, when the gates of his memory are to be unlocked, and the narrative to gush forth, fertilizing the fancies of the young and regaling the declining senses of the old! And while the dear delighted ones are hanging with enraptured ear on what comes fresh and spontaneous from the heart, he escapes for a while from the otherwise broad but now too-confining path of prose, and with a sweet compelling eloquence challenges afresh their admiration by rehearsing from some favorite poet 'thoughts that breathe and words that burn:'

CALM-BOUND is the form of the water-bird there,
And the spear of the rush stands erect in the air,
And the dragon-fly roams in the lily bud gay,
Where walk the bold pike in the sun-smitten bay.

"O waken, winds! waken wherever asleep,
In the cloud, in the mountain, or down in the deep;
For the angler is watching beside the green springs
For the low welcome sound of your wandering wings.'

O waken, winds, waken! the waters are still,
And in silence the sun-light reclines on the hill,
While the angler is watching beside the green springs
For the low welcome sound of your wandering wings.

"His rod lies beside him, his tackle unfreed,
And his withe-covered pannier is flung on the mead,
As he looks on the lake through the fane of green trees,
And sighs for the curl of the soft southern breeze.'

Those who are sick of doing, acting, or even hoping, and those too of bruised hopes and stained lives, may discover, if they choose, that Nature distils the most precious remedies; and those who partake most largely of them will be soonest cured or relieved.

To all who are competing for the world's honors, and overlaid with accomplishments, and conceits to match, we would urge them to climb the everlasting mountains and witness the dawn of a single day, on which so many eyes will open and close for the first and last time; reäscend them at set of sun, and suppress, if ye can, the mingled emotions which the scene inspires! Here you seem to stand above and beyond the life you have lived, and with perceptions clarified and enlarged, the map of your past existence becomes vivid and luminous, errors stand revealed in forms not to be mistaken, and good works loom up as light-houses against the sky.

If from such a spot, where the feeling of your own insignificance im

parts power, you are not inclined now and forever to repudiate and abandon whatever is unjust, unkind, morose or of ill report, then you have sought this Pisgah in vain, and your salvation must be wrought out where your thraldom commenced.

Land of the mountain, and the lake that only mirrors the sun in his meridian language was not made where ye dwell, and words must give place to feeling; but we cannot forbear to repeat our conviction that both our moral and physical natures were intended to be quickened, improved and embellished by a familiarity with thy eloquent and immutable presence!

Our remarks have reached an undue length, and, as we premised at starting, are equally conspicuous for their want of order, arrangement and grace. But if they should assist to charm any of that innumerable company of over-workers from their sphere of voluntary bondage, and incline them to seek our land of promise, where the bodily and spiritual functions do equally glory in each other, then we may not have written

in vain.

Should any deem our logic too bold, or our style too declamatory, we can only recommend to such a freer acquaintance with the rod and reel; and should the advocates of unceasing and unremitting toil, or the penny-splitting denizen, assail us or our motives, we shall repair to the Walton Oak, whose two centuries of growth now describes an area equally fitting and secure to shelter his sincere disciples as that over which the Angelo dome was reared for the convenience of her Catholic votaries.

October, 1849.

D. E. N.

'T was at midnight, in the Desert, where we rested on the ground;
There my Beddaweens were sleeping, and their steeds were stretched around;
In the farness lay the moonlight on the Mountains of the Nile,
And the camel-bones that strewed the sands for many an arid mile.

With my saddle for a pillow did I prop my weary head,

And my kaftan-cloth unfolded, o'er my limbs was lightly spread,
While beside me, as the Kapitaun and watchman of my band,
Lay my Bazra sword and pistols twain a-shimmering on the sand.

And the stillness was unbroken, save at moments by a cry
From some stray belated vulture sailing blackly down the sky,
Or the snortings of a sleeping steed at waters fancy-seen,
Or the hurried warlike mutterings of some dreaming Beddaween.

When, behold! a sudden sandquake; and atween the earth and moon
Rose a mighty Host of Shadows, as from out some dim lagoon:
Then our coursers gasped with terror, and a thrill shook every man,
And the cry was, ‘Alla Akbar! 't is the Spectre-Caravan !'

On they came, their hueless faces toward Mecca evermore;

On they came, long files of camels, and of women whom they bore,
Guides and merchants, youthful maidens, bearing pitchers in their hands,
And behind them troops of horsemen following, sumless as the sands!

More and more! the phantom-pageant overshadowed all the plains,
Yea, the ghastly camel-bones arose, and grew to camel-trains:
And the whirling column-clouds of sand to forms in dusky garbs,
Here, afoot as HADJEE pilgrims; there, as warriors on their barbs!

Whence we knew the Night was come when all whom Death had sought and found
Long ago amid the sands whereon their bones yet bleach around,
Rise by legions from the darkness of their prisons low and lone,
And in dim procession march to kiss the KAABA's Holy Stone.

And yet more and more for ever!-still they swept in pomp along,
Till I asked me, Can the Desert hold so vast a muster-throng?
Lo! the Dead are here in myriads; the whole world of Hades waits,
As with eager wish to press beyond the Babelmandel Straits!

Then I spake, 'Our steeds are frantic: To your saddles every one!
Never quail before these Shadows! You are children of the Sun!
If their garments rustle past you, if their glances reach you here,
Cry Bismillah! and that mighty name shall banish every fear.

'Courage, comrades! Even now the moon is waning far a-west, Soon the welcome Dawn will mount the skies in gold and crimson vest, And in thinnest air will melt away those phantom shapes forlorn, When again upon your brows you feel the odor-winds of Morn!" •German Anthology?

JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN.