try.' SEATSFIELD smiled at this, and acknowledged, in a laughing way, an occasional intimation of manure. 'Graffenburg,' I observed, 'is remarkably free from all strong odors; it is a very clean village.'

SEATSFIELD: 'That, Sir, is owing to the water: depend upon it, wherever water prevails neatness will ensue. Temperance and cleanliness go hand in hand. The ancients were a filthy race, and they were great wine-bibbers. What a condition of personal and mental nastiness is divulged by HORACE in his 'Iter ad Brundusium;' yet HORACE was a choice specimen of a Roman gentleman.'

'Have you had any poets among you here? or is the hydropathic system too repugnant to their art ??

SEATSFIELD: 'Our countryman, LONGFELLOW, was here not long since. I sat at table with him frequently; but I never introduced myself to him.'

'Do you think highly of his powers?'

SEATSFIELD: As a prolific generator of novel life-images, no; but as a vivid delineator of the inner-thought principle, as an artistical displayer of the higher subjective mood, he is of the very first class. I honor LONGFELLOW.'

'He is perhaps our smoothest versifier, next to HALLECK.'

SEATSFIELD: Nay, he is the only one among us who can combine extreme polish and the utmost facility of flow with deep-seated reflection.' SEATSFIELD then quoted, with a sublime energy, from the celebrated 'Psalm of Life :'

"NoT enjoyment and not sorrow
Is our destined end or way,
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of life,

Be not like dumb driven cattle,
Be a hero in the strife.

'Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant,
Let the dead Past, bury its dead;
Act, act in the glorious Present,
Heart within and GOD o'er head."

"You give the poet a great advantage,' I said, 'in quoting his very finest production, and picking out the choicest stanzas. Beside, his theme here is one of so general a nature, and so familiar to philosophy, that it would be hard for any one to moralize upon it in verse without accidentally hitting upon some sublimity. The commonest intellect has lofty and awful thoughts whenever it gives way to serious meditation upon our mortality.'

SEATSFIELD: That is partly true; but LONGFELLOW is not only great upon that ground. His realm is very extensive. No man has the power (had he only the will) of depicting the simplicity of every-day life and objects with more grace or comprehensiveness. There are some touches in his 'Village Blacksmith' inexpressibly beautiful, and worthy of BURNS' Cotter's Saturday Night :'

And then again:

His hair is crisp and black and long,

His face is like the tan;

His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can,' etc.

'He goes on Sunday to the Church,
And sits among the boys;

He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice

Singing in the gallery,

And it makes his heart rejoice.'

SEATSFIELD repeated these verses with much emotion; and I observed that a tear stood upon his lids. I therefore turned the conversation upon hydropathy, and introduced a quotation from PINDAR: αρὶστον μὲν ὕδωρ, etc.

SEATSFIELD: 'PINDAR, Sir, has expressed a great truth; but I think that PIERPONT has expressed it better. In his exquisite Ode on the Opening of the Marlborough Temperance-House' how beautifully he says, after speaking in regard to the virtues of cold water:

OH! had EVE's hair
Been dressed in gin,
Would she have been
Reflected fair?'

'And then, after describing the beauty of Eden, with its rills and pellucid brooks bubbling through the fresh meads, he goes on:

'Are not pure springs

And chrystal wells
The very things

For our Hotels?'

"That, Sir, is excellent, and the somewhat homely imagery only enhances in my mind the truth of the sentiment. PIERPONT, Sir, is a very great man.'

'As great as LONGFELLOW?'

SEATSFIELD: 'No, Sir, perhaps not; there is a considerable difference of calibre between them. I should say now that LONGFELLOW was a first-rate artist with a second-rate imagination, and that PIERPONT was only a second-rate artist with a first-rate fancy. There is no mistake in PIERPONT.'

I smiled at SEATSFIELD'S affectation of Americanisms, as if out of compliment to myself, or in honor of the day; and I rejoined: "There may be no mistake in PIERPONT, but there is one or two in LONGFELLOW.'

SEATSFIELD: 'Grammatical or prosodiacal?'

'Neither; but in the beginning of his 'Psalm of Life,' he says:

'TELL me not in mournful numbers

Life is but an empty dream;
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.'

'Here he evidently meant things are what they seem; for in the next stanza he goes on to say:

'LIFE is real, life is earnest,

And the grave is not its goal;
'Dust thou art, to dust returnest,'
Was not written of the soul.'

Consequently, if life is real and earnest, and the soul is incapable of mortality, things must be what they seem, and the soul cannot be dead that slumbers. And if the soul is dead that slumbers, and things are not really what they seem to be, life is indeed an empty dream.' SEATSFIFLD looked puzzled at this.

SEATSFIELD: 'You are somewhat hypercritical. Great thoughts must not be trimmed to the exact dialect of business-men. LONGFELLOW reveals important truths; he utters what is pent within him from the impulse of utterance: he tells us that Art is long and Time is fleeting;' now some arts are not long, and time often drags heavily. It will not do to be too precise in poetry.'

But is that sentiment original? Does not one of the ancients say, 'Ars longa, vita brevis?' and does not that come pretty near to LONGFELLOW's idea?'

SEATSFIELD: 'Yes, Sir, but that is a little criticism which picks out words. LONGFELLow, or yourself, or any other man, would have arrived at the same conclusion, even had the ancient author never written it.'

'We were here interrupted by a call to luncheon; and I take advantage of the break in my journal, to bring this article to a close. More of the SEATSFIELDIANA I reserve for another number, provided the public are not already glutted.'

MAGAZINE WRITING, WE know not how we can better evince our appreciation of the kind and flattering comments of a Southern correspondent, who will at once recognize our allusion, than by citing the somewhat kindred remarks of an old and favorite contributor, now passed away from earth. It was a pleasing matter, he said, to sit down with the proper afflatus stirring within him, to write an article for a Magazine. If the work has a general prevalence; if its fame is rife on good men's tongues, the inspiration is the stronger. One says to himself, how many friends of mine will overlook these very lucubrations, perceive my initials, and recognize my name? How many pleasing associations will thus be awakened, and peradventure commendatory remarks expressed, concerning my powers? What a quid pro quo for wakeful nights, emendations of phrases, the choosing of words, and toilsome revision! The other day,' he continues, while reading the proof-sheet of my article in the last KNICKERBOCKER, I fell into a train of reflection upon the large amount of care and labor which must be entailed upon the publisher and editor of an original Magazine. Some one has observed, that when we listen to an exquisite opera, or any elaborate and intricate piece of music, we think not how vast were the pains and attention bestowed upon every note and cadence; what efforts for perfection in a solo, what panting for a warble, what travail for a trill! Taken separately, and at rehearsals, in disjointed fragments of sound, how different are they from that volume of sweet concords which is produced when they are all breathed forth in order, to the accompaniment of flutes and recorders, in one full gush of melody! This is just like a Magazine. How many minds does it engage! Cherished thoughts and cherished feelings, polished or sublimated, there find utterance, and demand that honor and deference to which they are entitled. In his beautiful Introduction to the Harleian Miscellany, JOHNSON sets forth the necessity and benefit of similar writings, with reasons as conclusive as the language in which they are expressed is chaste and strong. In a country like ours, where the vast population move by common impulse; think promptly, are enlightened with ease, and turn to the best account that knowledge which is received with the greatest facility; are inspired with sacred and patriotic feelings from the bar, the senate, the pulpit, and the press; it is important and just that the readiest methods and means of instructive moral amusement should be the most esteemed and the best supported. I confess I never look into a Magazine, that I do not liken it to a large and pure reservoir of refreshing waters; derived from many streams, and prankt around its borders with the flowers and garniture of poesy; possessing qualities agreeable to every taste the grave, the solid, the scientific, the light, the gay. It is a map of the higher moods of life. It conveys a sustenance with the relish of pleasure. All who favor it with their productions have different tastes and faculties of mind. Each one endeavors to do the best with his theme. He ornaments it in diction, or tasks his fancy, or explores the secrets of science, or illustrates the events and scenes of his country: he excites broad-mouthed laughter, by salutary jest and pun; he expatiates in pathetic sentences, or murmurs in the mellow cadence of song; or arouses interest by the embellishments wherewith history is refined, and which shed a light over the dim annals of the past, making them to smile,

'even as the radiant glow,

Kindling rich woods, whereon the etherial bow
Sleeps lovingly awhile.'

Now what I thought beside, while looking over my proof, was this: that a 'circulating medium,' through which so many minds communicated their thoughts, produced and clothed with befitting language in solitary labor; smoothed, strengthened, or harmonized by revision, and rendered impressive by those helps and researches of which every readable writer must avail himself; such a medium, I say, merits the esteem and respect of all. It deserves not to be taken up for judgment, at a momentary glance, by the undiscerning eye of careless inquiry. It should be read impartially, and spoken of, in all worthy points, with praise; in faulty ones, with tenderness. Our literature, I take it, is not yet a suffi

ciently flowery pursuit, to enable any of its votaries to sow its walks with brambles. By its influence, the country is to be mentally illustrated; the clanking shackles of transatlantic humbug are to be thrown off; and the establishment of wholesome feelings, and reliance upon our own intellectual resources, firmly effected. I love to see the general press enga ged now and then in cheering onward the laborers in the more unfrequented and toilsome avenues of our literary vineyard. It sends a GoD-speed to the bosoms of those whose travails are more for their country than themselves; and who are content, in anonymous pride, to believe, that it heralds that bright day of mental refinement which will ere long, among the freest and noblest confederacy of nations on earth, irradiate the utmost borders of that holy circumference,

'Our Native Land!'

A THRUST WITH A TWO-EDGED WEAPON. We rather incline to the opinion that the 'complainant below' is infringing the law which forbids the use of concealed weapons; that are not the less to be guarded against, certainly, when as in the present case they cut both ways. But our readers shall judge: 'DEAR EDITOR: The country, strange as it may appear, has peculiar and permanent inhabitants; neither dressing in skins, nor wearing their own feathers, but habited after the glimpses of fashion which reach them through their trees. As we have never yet met with a man who was so fortunate as to have no relations, we take it for granted that all city-zens, yourself among the rest, have countrycousins. Think of the countless multitudes that turn their longing eyes in the direction of a metropolis like this, yearning for a visit, and sending off by frequent Opportunities, never by mail, those remarkable epistolary compounds of hopes and wants which no other race of beings can compose in perfection: Hope JOHN is well, and BETSEY will come and see us next summer; and want'-LAWSON and STEWART! what do they not want? Every thing; from twenty yards of silk down to a penny's-worth of tape. The letters run somewhat in this guise, though less poetically:

'COUSIN JOHN, please to send down to-morrow,
At eight, by the Scarborough mail,
'Claudine, or the Victim of Sorrow,'
Don Juan, two mops, and a pail;
Six ounces of Bohea from TWINING'S,
A peg-top, a Parmesan cheese,

Some rose-colored sarcenet, for linings,
A stew-pan, and STEVENSON'S Glees;
A song ending 'Hey-noni-noni,'

A chair with a cover of chintz,

A mummy dug up by BELZONI,

A skein of white worsted from FLINT'S.'

Half the things that are sent for, they might buy at their own doors. Again and again we have known them put in commission and procure from an oppressed relative the identical productions of a manufactory within a mile of them. A singular virtue seems to abide in all that comes from the sunny side of Broadway.

'You perhaps may not know what an OPPORTUNITY is. In love affairs you have undoubt edly experienced that it is every thing; but in rural affairs it is more. It is the commoncarrier of a village. So soon as an inhabitant has expressed his intention of going to town, he becomes an Opportunity, and like a Chinese, liable to pains and penalties for leaving his native place. From every quarter pour in letters, bundles, and packages, which are to be carried with care and delivered with despatch. No thanks for his trouble, if they should reach their destination, and a general liability for the uncertain value of their contents if they should chance to be lost. So that an Opportunity's advent in town ought to be announced in this way: Arrived, HIRAM DOOLITTLE, from Connecticut, with m'dze to

LEGION AND COMPANY The Opportunity not only transports, but acts as General Agent. Commissions are given him for a return freight. Hats, coats, dresses, are much wanted, which he is expected to select with taste, and to purchase cheap. Even the labyrinth of houses does not protect him from the Argus eyes of his consignees. They seek him out and insist upon his turning himself into a United States' mail and a HARNDEN's express. It is not a week since we heard a consignee's friend's friend request an Opportunity to carry home a loaf of sugar to his country correspondent.

"Perhaps, Friend KNICK., we are wounding your feelings all this time, tender by reason of many cousins and commissions; but we can assure you that we have an infinite respect for all relationship, and are rather blessed than bored by the requisitions of our own rural branches. We trust, however, that your rustic kith and kin do not come upon your house in the spring, in shoals like the shad. Unhappy editor, if it be so; for until the day predicted by ALPHONSE KARR, when connexions shall be cooked and côtelettes d'oncle à la Béchamel and têtes de cousin en tortue shall smoke lovingly upon the table, there is nothing for you but to submit to your Fates, or to give up your house-keeping. But with country cozens, those provincials who are not bone of your bone, and who nevertheless at every visit to town call upon you with an eager look and covetous smile, as if to say, 'Ask us to dinner, we once invited you to tea,' there is but one method to pursue; the cut- the firm, unwavering, direct cut. Do not pretend not to see them, or to look fixedly in another direction, but give them the vacant, absent stare, as if you saw around them, and through them, and the image before you excited neither attention nor recollection. There are no terms to be kept with them. Their Shibboleth is not yours.

'In the 'Absentee,' a London fashionable lady, Mrs. DAZEVILLE, goes to Ireland, and is hospitably received by Lady CLONBRONY, stays a month at her country-house, and is as intimate with Lady CLONBRONY and her niece Miss NUGENT, as possible; and yet when Lady CLONBRONY comes to London, never takes the least notice of her. At length, meeting at the house of a common friend, Mrs. DAZEVILLE cannot avoid recognizing her, but does it in the least civil manner possible: Ah, Lady CLONBRONY! Did not know you were in England! How long shall you stay in town? Hope before you leave England you will give us a day.' Lady CLONBRONY is so astonished at this ingratitude, that she remains silent; but Miss NUGENT answers quite coolly, and with a smile: A day? certainly, to you who gave us a month.' Miss EDGEWORTH evidently considers this a capital story; and we have no doubt that many stupid people who have read it consider it an excellent hit; but we can assure them that they know nothing of the woods and fields. It is a great favor to make people in the country a visit. It relieves them from the tiresome monotony of their rose-bushes and chickens; and by the active exertions in planning breakfasts and dinners, and making the one ride through the valley last for three afternoons, infuses if possible a certain degree of mental activity into their lives, which must be far from disagreeable to them. A cit too is in a certain degree a lion. The oldest townjokes are as new in the country as last year's ribbons; and the neighbors gather together to view with delight a face that they have not seen every Sunday for the last fifty-two weeks, and are only too happy to engage the Novelty at a 'Tea.' But when they come to town, what can you do with them? Who the devil wants to see them? Your friends care little enough for you, still less for your agricultural acquaintances. You cannot bring yourself to go to PEALE's Museum, or to see the talking-machine; and tickets at the opera are dear, unless you stand up. As we said before, you must cut them, or

'If you are a little man,
Not big enough for that,'

you must try to have them arrested as soon as they arrive, as disturbers of domestic peace, and confined in the Tombs during the whole of their intended stay. If the Legislature sat in New-York instead of in a country city, they would pass some law similar to the South Carolina free-black law, confining all rural visitors, or at least making those liable to an indictment for false pretences, who claim acquaintance with the people of the whirlpool.'

VOL. XXIII.

76