WOULD that my home were in the far wild West!
There, what God fashioned, man hath never marred,
And earth seems young, as when, by foot unpressed,
'Neath the first sunbeam smiled her tender sward;
Enamelled slopes, and thickets blossom-starred,
Nestle the rude acclivities between;

And streams, whose fountains are far heavenward, Leap shouting down, enamoured of the scene, To dance with softer song, through groves of living green.

Within those vales, what glorious creatures bide! Birds, Iris-plumed, dart out from every tree, And graceful shapes sport on the mountain side, Tossing their antlered frontlets as they flce; Insects, whose gay wings flash resplendently, Winnow the sunshine; and a murmuring sound, As if the flowers were breathing melody, From minstrel bees, that wheel the blossoms round, Comes with the clover's breath, up from the dewy ground.

And when the wind howls through the giant pines,
That far aloft the sheltering mountains gird,
The pendant tendrils shake not on the vines,
In those calm valleys; not a leaf is stirred;
Scarce is the surging of the tempest heard:
But by the drops the black clouds weep the while,
On flower and tree new beauty is conferred;

And when the sun looks forth, the green defile

Hath won from Heaven's dark frown a brighter, holier smile!

And then the prairies! Lovely, when the spring
Hangs o'er their wastes of green her hazy veil;
Sublime, when heaving with an ocean swing,
Rolls the tall grass before the autumn gale,
Tossing, like foam, the withered flowerets pale.
Behold a grander scene! Some hand hath thrown
A fire-brand mid the herbage! Words would fail
To paint the kindled desert, red and lone,

When the flame reaps by night the harvest God hath sown!

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With vernal days, up from the blackened wild,
O'er circling leagues, the tufted grass shall spring,
And Beauty, Desolation's blooming child,
Shall far and wide her floral garlands fling;
The azalia to the ruined oak shall cling,

And round each charred trunk lace a leafy vest;
The prairie fowl shall fold her dusky wing
Above her lowly, clover-scented nest;

Would that my home, like hers, were in the far wild West!



WHEN I engaged, Mr. Editor, to recall to mind the familiar features of certain portions of the old world, in which the days of my youth made double haste to join the past, it appeared, when viewed from afar, a pleasing office. Those scenes will ever recur with the changing seasons; and whether the latter bring joy or sadness, the former still hang the brightest ornaments in the long picture-gallery of memory. But, Sir, to trace these half-effaced outlines, and reproduce the emotions of other years; to transfer, as in a crayon sketch, the characteristics of the past, and to do justice to the charm and beauty of the originals, is, I fear, more than Memory may venture to essay. Here the revivifying finger of Art becomes requisite, and to this I have hardly an amateur's pretension. I have nevertheless long meditated some such an undertaking; and, conscious that many of the graces and beauties, and much of the freshness, withal, of halcyon impressions, have long since escaped me, I hasten to sketch the shadowy objects of remembrance; the flitting forms which reappear to the closed eye, and which, like phantoms, dissolve by day, and seem to dwell in their own Elysium.

GERMANY, that word synonymous with barbarism, not long since, is now so potent a spell, that it may not be uttered without conjuring up a thousand varied and vivid emotions of admiration and curiosity. It enlists the love or the hate, the knowledge or the ignorance, the exultation or the regret, the prejudice or the prepossession, of all. He who abhors the philosophy of the German, because, perhaps, he comprehends it not, will not refuse the meed his erudition calls for; while they who profess contempt for the misnamed sentimentalist, accord unqualified praise to the genius and power of the poet. From this favored land have issued streams which have invigorated the spirit of Europe, and infused new and quickening principles into the veins of humanity. The reformation, gunpowder, and printing; liberty, peace, and letters; these discoveries render mankind ever tributary to the inventive genius and generous spirit of the Teuton. Above all, and in truth among the greatest miracles of human intelligence, towers the glory of having created and inspired with life and wondrous beauty, a literature, of which modern times cannot equal the splendor or the originality. That Columbus should have discovered a new world in an untried region of the globe; that to Herschel's unwearying gaze another planet should have been revealed in the blue waste of heaven; these do not astound us, when we reflect on their simplicity. From like causes, similar effects might have readily been apprehended; nor does this detract from their magnificence. But that in the heart of Europe, among a great and historical nation of erudites, and much within a century, there should have been found a new intellectual world, already arched by a brightly-constellated firmament of intelligence; this is, indeed, most marvellous, and more significant than any other datum in universal psychology.

One of the antagonist principles which a wise Providence seems to have raised against the materializing influences of material progress, the German tongue, with its infinite richness, and its plastic adaptation to every intellectual pursuit, is now indeed in literature, in philosophy, in all truth, and in all victorious speculation, the spiritual locomotive of the day; and the masters who wield and direct it, in imitation of their unrivalled predecessors, are still the championminds of humanity. Why should I mention Goëthe, Schiller, Herder, Klopstock, Wieland, Leping, and Jean Paul, save that they form inseparable links in the great chain which binds Leibnitz and Luther to Blumenbach, Gauss, and Humboldt? — and because the varied branches of mental culture, poetry, science, and philosophy, with their infinite ramifications, seem to constitute so many faculties of the great human soul, in even a greater degree than do a thousand industries, arts, and manufactures, form the bones and sinews of the universal body?

If German learning, German genius, and German education, deserve respect, admiration, and imitation, there are in the German land, its soil, culture, and products, and in German institutions, social and political, as well as in the many beautiful external features of German nature, inexhaustible sources of delight and instruction. On the visages of the people you see contentment upshooting its smiling grass-blade among the furrows of labor and care. A strong nationality, an inheritance of old feudal days, cemented by the tie of resistance to foreign aggression, lends to the general tone of feeling, so often affected by clime and local peculiarity, a patriotic dominante. At the cry of country, the clans are marshalled, and from cottage and city the Landwehr rush forth, asking no other signal. There is, too, one other chord which vibrates in unison, from the Alps to the Baltic; which pervades the masses, affecting all bosoms alike; lulling the laborer to cheerful repose, or arousing the soldiers' whole courage; and this is the musical string. The sentiment of harmony dwells in the German ear, and the national voice is full of melody. The divine strains of Weber, of Mozart, nay, of the great Beethoven, are allied to the verse of Körner, of Schiller, and of Goethe; and song and entimen sound with sense, music through numbers, are transfused through the living, and with the reed and lyre handed down to posterity.

Innumerable local traditions, preserved with veneration in the primitive ballad, and recalled to mind by the ruined tower, or mouldering column, serve to entertain the fondness of the people for a father-land so old and so hallowed by association. Dwelling among the scenes of the past, yet alive to the present, and interested in the future, they combine, more than any other nation, action with reflection, reason with enthusiasm; and are, less than any other, moved by the glitter which, in the pursuit of his mutable destiny, misleads the spirit of man. With the great men and deeds of antiquity, they have been early made familiar, by the perusal, in their Roman and Grecian idiom, of the world-poets and historians. They are taught to consider the hero and the philosopher as among their own ancestry; and this feeling enkindles the noblest emulation. To their intellectual dominions, all manner of nations and of tongues are tri

butary. Wherever truth has assumed a new garb of beauty, and the earth or the inhabitant reveal novel and illustrative features; where the plant, the stone, or the brute creation; where languages, traditions, or customs of men, have not yet been registered in the catalogues and repositories of science and of art; thither hastens the German, and wearies not until he return, his bark laden with spoils, with which he forthwith decks the shrine of Minerva. The Andes, the Caucassus, and the African glen; the varied literatures and modes of being of the East, have they not been minutely revealed to his native land, and to the world, by the German voyager and the German erudite? And who would not be proud to claim the Humboldts, the Schlegels, the Van Hammers, as countrymen?

I trust, Sir, you will look with indulgence upon these preliminary remarks. When striving to characterize so broad a field as the great land in which we are about to wander, it became needful that I should retrace many an inscription, and dwell upon the general aspect of nature and of men, before I could be convinced my foot was again to cross the Rhine. Thus, after reaching the point de vue, whence we are desirous of marking some interesting yet distant objects, many others are embraced in the field of vision, and serve to assign its position to the prominent one. The illusion is now complete. It is as if one had gazed upon the rich landscape to be seen from the summit of the cathedral of Strasburg. At your feet, the Rhine divides Baden from Alsace, Germany from France; the land of learning from the land of wit; enthusiasm from heartlessness; religion from impiety; Martin Luther from Francois Marie Arouet de Voltaire.

It was from this eminence, that I first contemplated the favored land. We had hastened from Paris to the capital of Alsatia, on our way to Heidelburg. In Strasburg we lingered two days. The first was consecrated to the cathedral, an inimitably beautiful Gothic monument. Its spire, three hundred and nineteen feet high, is more delicate and graceful than the needle of Cleopatra. The external edifice is embroidered, from top to bottom, with the richest sculpturings; and within, beside paintings and stained windows, you have the mausoleum of Marshal Saxe, which is as famous as the black tombs of the dukes of Lorraine at Nancy.

On the morrow, we made our pilgrimage to the Rhine. The sight of this noble and historic river awakens in the bosom of a stranger, emotions as powerful as those called up by the sacred streams of India. Conquest and invasion are, with vineyards and fertile plains, its mingled associations; and the gray castles which look down so gravely upon the passing steamer, seem scarcely to have recovered from their surprise at the audacious success of the grande armée—that resistless Colossus, of which Napoleon was the soul. The track of the conqueror is so broad and ineffaceable, in those portions of Germany contiguous to France, that the humble footprints of the voyager must pass unnoticed. Hasten we then, from a land and river of flowing romance, to regions of which the legends are less current, and the scenery less familiar. Toward the north, we shall find many a mountain pass and foaming brook; nature in a wilder garb; the Harz, the silver mine; and to reach these, the road 30


lies through GÖTTINGEN. We leave behind us a monument, standing like the tomb of Ajax, upon a plain broad as the Troad, reared to the memory of General Dessaix, by the Army of the Rhine.'


HEIDELBERG is the first pause of the tourist, unless Baden-Baden have captured him with its gay seductions. The castle and the university are, with the limpid Neckar and vine-clad mounts, high titles to admiration. To you, Sir, the names of LEONHARD, the mineralogist, and GMELIN, the chemical philosopher, are doubtless well known; and the university exhibits, in addition, a bright array of famous talent; PAULUS, in theology, MITTERMAYER, ZACHARIA, and THIBAUT, in different branches of jurisprudence, TIEDERMAN in anatomy; and JOSEPH MAXIMILIAN CHELIUS, in surgery; these enjoy a European reputation; and this old nursery of learning still maintains its unclouded fame. Should these etchings afford your readers pleasure, we may return to this interesting town. The mind is a pretty independent, because inexpensive, traveller. It relies not for its feuille de route upon the accuracy of a passport, nor do its motions depend, like the body's, upon the purse. It is unsurpassed in elegance by the chaise de poste, and without effort distances the locomotive.

Riding north from Frankfort, upon the road to Cassel, you enter, after a few hours, an undulating country, which, in the opening autumn, combines in rich proportion the highly cultivated with the highly picturesque. The fertile swales seem alive with the varied harvest hues, amid which play in the sunshine the enlivening colors worn by the busy peasantry. Many women are at work in the fields, which are not portioned off by fences; and the road from Heidelberg to Cassel, is shaded by a double row of noble forest trees.

We passed through GIESSEN, notorious for its university's negative excellence. Here diplomas may be readily obtained, on moderate terms. A story is told of two Englishmen, who, stopping to dine at the hostelry, sent up their servant with the requisite sum, and requested a diploma apiece. The valet speedily returned with the desired documents. In a spirit of fun, the travellers next despatched the domestic for diplomas for their horses. This was too much for the learned body, who coolly replied, that though asses were occasionally admitted to the privileges of the university, horses had been hitherto uniformly excluded!'

There is romantic beauty in the site of the town of MARBURG. Its houses are grouped, nest-like, upon the brow of a steep and apparently inaccessible hill. The university stands well among those of a second rank in Germany. From thence we hastened to CASSEL, impatient that a day should yet divide us from the first term of our journey, Göttingen. In Cassel there is much that is peculiar and interesting. The town, built upon the platform of a hill, boasts of a palace, a garrison, and displays symmetry of design and of architecture. The capital of Westphalia, it bears the imprint of Napoleon's finger. He placed Jerome upon the throne of the elector, but the reign was brief. The wonder of Cassel is the Wilhelm's Höe,' or William's Heights,' about three miles distant, where, upon a hill-side, and overlooking the city and surrounding territory, stands the elector's castle, around which are many striking objects. The gardens of the terrace; the magnificent imitation of a Roman aqueduct in ruins; the large swan


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