網頁圖片
PDF
ePub 版

Latin quantity. But this I have been forced to omit, from its too great length. - H. W.]

the reader.

ment. .

We con

From the Universal Littery Universe. Full of passages which rivet the attention of Under a rustic garb, sentiments are conveyed which should be committed to the memory and engraven on the heart of every moral and social being.. sider this a unique performance. We hope to see it soon introduced into our common schools. Mr. Wilbur has performed his duties as editor with excellent taste and judgThis is a vein which we hope to see successfully prosecuted. We hail the appearance of this work as a long stride toward the formation of a purely aboriginal, indigenous, native, and American literature. We rejoice to meet with an author national enough to break away from the slavish deference, too common among us, to English grammar and orthography. Where all is so good, we are at a loss how to make extracts. On the whole, we may call it a volume which no library, pretending to entire completeness, should fail to place upon its shelves.

From the Dekay Bulwark.

We should be wanting in our duty as the conductor of that tremendous engine, a public press, as an American, and as a man, did we allow such an opportunity as is presented to us by "The Biglow Papers" to pass by without entering our earnest protest against such attempts (now, alas! too common) at demoralizUnder a wretched ing the public sentiment. mask of stupid drollery, slavery, war, the social glass, and, in short, all the valuable and time-honored institutions justly dear to our common humanity and especially to republicans, are made the butt of coarse and senseless ribaldry by this low-minded scribbler. It is time that the respectable and religious portion of our community should be aroused to the alarming inroads of foreign Jacobinism, sansculottism, and infidelity. It is a fearful proof of the wide-spread nature of this contagion, that these secret stabs at religion and virtue are given from under the cloak (credite, posteri!) of a clergyman. It is a mournful spectacle indeed to the patriot and Christian to see liberality and new ideas (falsely so called, — they are as old as Eden) invading the sacred precincts of the pulpit. . On the whole, we consider this volume as one of the first shocking results which we predicted would spring out of the late French Revolution" (!).

[ocr errors]

From the Higginbottomopolis Snapping-turtle.

A collection of the merest balderdash and doggerel that it was ever our bad fortune to lay eyes on. The author is a vulgar buffoon, and the editor a talkative, tedious old fool. We use strong language, but should any of our readers peruse the book, (from which calamity Heaven preserve them!) they will find reasons for it thick as the leaves of Vallumbrozer, or, to use a still more expressive comparison, as the combined heads of author and editor. The work is wretchedly got up. We should like to know how much British gold was pocketed by this libeller of our country and her purest patriots.

From the Oldfogrumville Mentor.

In

We have not had time to do more than glance through this handsomely printed volume, but the name of its respectable editor, the Rev. Mr. Wilbur, of Jaalam, will afford a sufficient guaranty for the worth of its contents...... The paper is white, the type clear, and the volume of a convenient and attractive size. reading this elegantly executed work, it has seemed to us that a passage or two might have been retrenched with advantage, and that the general style of diction was susceptible of a higher polish.. On the whole, we may safely leave the ungrateful task of criticism to the reader. We will barely suggest, that in volumes intended, as this is, for the illustration of a provincial dialect and turns of expression, a dash of humor or satire might be thrown in with advantage. The work is admirably got up.... . This work will form an appropriate ornament to the centre-table. It is beautifully printed, on paper of an excellent quality

Full

From the Bungtown Copper and Comprehensive Tocsin (a try-weakly family journal). Altogether an admirable work. of humor, boisterous, but delicate, of wit withering and scorching, yet combined with a pathos cool as morning dew,-of satire ponderous as the mace of Richard, yet keen as the scymitar of Saladin. . A work full of "mountain-mirth," mischievous as Puck, and lightsome as Ariel.. We know not whether to admire most the genial, fresh, and discursive concinnity of the author, or his playful fancy, weird imagination, and compass of style, at once both objective and subjective. .

We

might indulge in some criticisms, but, were the author other than he is, he would be a different being. As it is, he has a wonderful pose, which flits from flower to flower, and bears the reader irresistibly along on its eagle pinions (like Ganymede) to the "highest heaven of invention.” We love a book so purely objective. . . . Many of his pictures of natural scenery have an extraordinary subjective clearness and fidelity.

In fine, we consider this as one of the most extraordinary volumes of this or any age. We know of no English author who could have written it. It is a work to which the proud genius of our country, standing with one foot on the Aroostook and the other on the Rio Grande, and holding up the star-spangled banner amid the wreck of matter and the crush of worlds, may point with bewildering scorn of the punier efforts of enslaved Europe. We hope soon to encounter our author among those higher walks of literature in which he is evidently capable of achieving enduring fame. Already we should be inclined to assign him a high position in the bright galaxy of our Amer ican bards.

[blocks in formation]

From the World-Harmonic-Eolian-Attachment.

vealed.

legeretous elderly gentleman, with infinite fac
ulty of sermonizing, muscularized by long prac-
tice, and excellent digestive apparatus, and, for
the rest, well-meaning enough, and with small
private illuminations (somewhat tallowy, it is
to be feared) of his own. To him, there, "Pastor
of the First Church in Jaalam," our Hosea pre-
sents himself as a quite inexplicable Sphinx-
riddle. A rich poverty of Latin and Greek,
so far is clear enough, even to eyes peering my-
opic through horn-lensed editorial spectacles,
-but naught farther? O purblind, well-mean-
ing, altogether fuscous Melesigenes-Wilbur,
there are things in him incommunicable by
stroke of birch! Did it ever enter that old be-
wildered head of thine that there was the Pos-
sibility of the Infinite in him? To thee, quite
wingless (and even featherless) biped, has not
so much even as a dream of wings ever come?
"Talented young parishioner"? Among the
Arts whereof thou art Magister, does that of
Magister! Somehow a Nemean lion, fulvous,
wildernesses of a sufficiently rare spirit-Libya
torrid-eyed, dry-nursed in broad-howling sand-
(it may be supposed) has got whelped among
the sheep. Already he stands wild-glaring, with
feet clutching the ground as with oak-roots,
gathering for a Remus-spring over the walls of
thy little fold. In Heaven's name, go not near
him with that flybite crook of thine!
In good
time, thou painful preacher, thou wilt go to the
appointed place of departed Artillery-Election
Sermons, Right-Hands of Fellowship, and Re-
fathers with much Latin of the Epitaphial sort;
sults of Councils, gathered to thy spiritual
thou, too, shalt have thy reward; but on him
the Eumenides have looked, not Xantippes of
radiantly calm as on antique gems; for him
the pit, snake-tressed, finger-threatening, but
paws impatient the winged courser of the gods,
the empyrean glooms, and far-flashing splen-
champing unwelcome bit; him the starry deeps,

dors await.

From the Onion Grove Phonix.

Speech is silver silence is golden. No utterance more Orphic than this. While, there-seeing happen to be one? Unhappy Artium fore, as highest author, we reverence him whose works continue heroically unwritten, we have also our hopeful word for those who with pen (from wing of goose loud-cackling, or seraph God-commissioned) record the thing that is reUnder mask of quaintest irony, we detect here the deep, storm-tost (nigh shipwracked) soul, thunder-scarred, semi-articulate, but ever climbing hopefully toward the peaceful summits of an Infinite Sorrow. Yes, thou poor, forlorn Hosea, with Hebrew fire-flaming soul in thee, for thee also this life of ours has not been without its aspects of heavenliest pity and laughingest mirth. Conceivable enough! Through coarse Thersitescloak, we have revelation of the heart, wildglowing, world-clasping, that is in him. Bravely he grapples with the life-problem as it presents itself to him, uncombed, shaggy, careless of the "nicer proprieties," inexpert of "elegant diction," yet with voice audible enough to whoso hath ears, up there on the gravelly sidehills, or down on the splashy, indiarubber-like salt-marshes of native Jaalam. To this soul also the Necessity of Creating somewhat has unveiled its awful front. If not Edipuses and Electras and Alcestises, then in God's name Birdofredum Sawins! These also shall get born into the world, and filch (if so need) a Zingali subsistence therein, these lank, omnivorous Yankees of his. He shall paint the Seen, since the Unseen will not sit to him. Yet in him also are Nibelungen-lays, and Iliads, and Ulysses-wanderings, and Divine Comedies, if only once he could come at them! Therein lies much, nay all; for what truly is this which we name All, but that which we do not possess? Glimpses also are given us of an old father Ezekiel, not without paternal pride, as is the wont of such. A brown, parchmenthided old man of the geoponic or bucolic species, gray-eyed, we fancy, queued perhaps, with much weather-cunning and plentiful September-gale memories, bidding fair in good time to become the Oldest Inhabitant. After such hasty apparition, he vanishes and is seen no Of "Rev. Homer Wilbur, A. M., Pastor of the First Church in Jaalam," we have small care to speak here. Spare touch in him of his Melesigenes namesake, save, haply, the -blindness! A tolerably caliginose, nephe

more...

A talented young townsman of ours, recently returned from a Continental tour, and who is already favorably known to our readers by his sprightly letters from abroad which have graced our columns, called at our office yesterday. We learn from him, that, having enjoyed the distinguished privilege, while in Germany, of an introduction to the celebrated Von Humbug, he took the opportunity to present that eminent man with a copy of the "Biglow Papers." The next morning he received the following note, which he has kindly furnished us for publication. We prefer to print it verbatim, knowing that our readers will readily forgive the few errors into which the illustrious writer has fallen, through ignorance of our language.

"HIGH-WORTHY MISTER!

"I shall also now especially happy starve, because I have more or less a work one those aboriginal Red-Men seen in which have I so deaf an interest ever taken full-worthy on the self shelf with our Gottsched to be upset. "Pardon my in the English-speech un-practice! "VON HUMBUG."

He also sent with the above note a copy of his famous work on "Cosmetics," to be presented to Mr. Biglow; but this was taken from our friend by the English custom-house officers, probably through a petty national spite. No doubt, it has by this time found its way into the British Museum. We trust this outrage will be exposed in all our American papers. We shall do our best to bring it to the notice of the State Department. Our numerous readers will share in the pleasure we experience at seeing our young and vigorous national literature thus encouragingly patted on the head by this venerable and world-renowned German. We love to see these reciprocations of goodfeeling between the different branches of the great Anglo-Saxon race.

[The following genuine "notice" having met my eye, I gladly insert a portion of it here, the more especially as it contains one of Mr. Biglow's poems not elsewhere printed. - H. W.]

From the Jaalam Independent Blunderbuss.

As

But, while we lament to see our young townsman thus mingling in the heated contests of party politics, we think we detect in him the presence of talents which, if properly directed, might give an innocent pleasure to many. a proof that he is competent to the production of other kinds of poetry, we copy for our readers a short fragment of a pastoral by him, the manuscript of which was loaned us by a friend. The title of it is "The Courtin'.'

ZEKLE crep' up, quite unbeknown,
An' peeked in thru the winder,
An' there sot Huldy all alone,
'ith no one nigh to hender.

Agin' the chimbly crooknecks hung,
An' in amongst 'em rusted

The ole queen's-arm thet gran'ther Young
Fetched back frum Concord busted.

The wannut logs shot sparkles out Towards the pootiest, bless her!

An' leetle fires danced all about The chiny on the dresser.

The very room, coz she wuz in, Looked warm frum floor to ceilin', An' she looked full ez rosy agin

Ez th' apples she wuz peelin'.

She heerd a foot an' knowed it, tu, Araspin' on the scraper,

All ways to once her feelins flew
Like sparks in burnt-up paper.

He kin' o' l'itered on the mat,
Some doubtfle o' the seekle;
His heart kep' goin' pitypat,
But hern went pity Zekle.

An' yet she gin her cheer a jerk

Ez though she wished him furder An' on her apples kep' to work

Ez ef a wager spurred her.

"You want to see my Pa, I spose?" "Wal, no; I come designin'"To see my Ma? She's sprinklin' clo'es Agin to-morrow's i'nin'.'

He stood a spell on one foot fust
Then stood a spell on tother,
An' on which one he felt the wust
He could n't ha' told ye, nuther.

Sez he, "I'd better call agin";

Sez she, "Think likely, Mister" The last word pricked him like a pin, An'-wal, he up and kist her.

When Ma bimeby upon 'em slips,
Huldy sot pale ez ashes,

All kind o' smily round the lips
An' teary round the lashes.

Her blood riz quick, though, like the tide
Down to the Bay o' Fundy,
An' all I know is they wuz cried
In meetin', come nex Sunday.

SATIS multis sese emptores futuros libri professis, Georgius Nichols, Cantabrigiensis, opus emittet de parte gravi sed adhuc neglecta historiæ naturalis, cum titulo sequente, videlicet:

Conatus ad Delineationem naturalem nonnihil perfectiorem Scarabaei Bombilatoris, vulgo dicti HUMBUG, ab HOMERO WILBUR, Artium Magistro, Societatis historico-naturalis Jaalamensis Præside (Secretario, Socioque (eheu !) singulo), multarumque aliarum Societatum eruditarum (sive ineruditarum) tam domesticarum quam transmarinarum Socio-forsitan futuro.

PROEMIUM. LECTORI BENEVOLO S.

Toga scholastica nondum deposita, quum systemata varia entomologica, a viris ejus scientiæ cultoribus studiosissimis summa diligentia ædificata, penitus indagâssem, non fuit quin luctuose omnibus in iis, quamvis aliter laude dignissimis, hiatum magni momenti perciperem. Tunc, nescio quo motu superiore impulsus, aut qua captus dulcedine operis, ad eum implendum (Curtius alter) me solemniter devovi. Nec ab isto labore, dapovíws imposito, ab stinui antequam tractatulum sufficienter inconcinnum lingua vernacula perfeceram. Inde, juveniliter tumefactus, et barathro

[graphic][merged small]
« 上一頁繼續 »