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You thought you had only a cargo to run,
What more passed of fear and awe,
For was bid "make himself scarce" at once,
But three weeks had gone over, and then came the wind,
And dismissed up the stairs with a slight kick be- Which perhaps, you'll remember, we left far be
Three weeks had passed and the wind was fair,
Or pierce a deaf man's drowsy ear,
Ask, "Pray what was the stranger like?"
All that that sweet voice asks to tell.
His limbs were lithe, his face was dark,
The pushed-up mouth was ever screwed
The wiry limbs sprang quick and light,
Yet, be what he might, or do what he would,
Sure never were seen in the "Goed Vrouw" be
For all the long preface that here I've been spinning,
Has only just carried us to the beginning,
CANTO THE SECOND.
There are folks in this world, who, when fortune is busily
Doing her worst, will take every thing easily;
Above the whole clan, they are really divided
Let a man see his nearest relation a dying,
And take the news smoothly as if it were honey, And crying, "all's right,"-benignantly quarter Himself for his life on son, brother, or daughter; And let this same man have a presence commanding,
A choice of good words, and a shrewd understanding,
And a good deal of what the enlightened call gammon ;"
A dump to a guinea, a sprat to a salmon, That the world takes his part, and said world would be cross, if her
Protegé were not called an uncommon philosopher. But just change the person, and fancy the sinner, With no care for to-night, if to-day has a dinner; And eyes like a fish's, set round in their sockets; With a little squat figure, his hands in his pockets, A pipe in his mouth, from whence seldom he
But asks for another as soon as he breaks it;
And all this, as it seemed that there was not a ques-And
At the dark little stranger's infernal suggestion.
Then Didrick Van Ranslear was docked of his
A sadly sprung mast,
the sailors with broken heads, plentier than
And a little strange imp, here and there, every where,
Setting all by the ears,
And fomenting their fears,
And driving the crew to a state of despair.
For swearing that "Poland was somewhere in Cra-Yet fancy our worthy still smoking as coolly,
Surely if the wise world could but then overhaul | Would dare at that moment with aught to present him,
"Fool," "dotard," and "booby," 'twould certainly call him ;
Although the same principle's brought into use
And whate'er he was doing they could not prevent
Fast, fast, fast on the tottering mast
When the gale first arose he just broached these To belong to a man with so slender an arm;
"It would not be much,
"It was only a touch,"
And retreated again to his lower dominions,
A fresh pipe from the steward,
His case-bottle of rum,
He grasped by the neck; though the action was dumb,
Twas highly expressive of what he intended-
No matter what messages came from above,
Quoth he, "Jan, I believe you can read,-there's the chart."
Then to tell him "the mainmast was sprung;”— he groaned "humph;"
Then, the water had gained in the hold;"-he whiffed "pump".
And when Jan appeared in his presence once more,
The only reply that he got was a snore.
The billows run
Now hiding the disc of the setting sun;
Of some "Goed Vrouw" of Amsterdam!
And his little fat crew
Know not what they must do,
For they see that the thing is no longer a joke;
An eldritch shriek and a fearful bound,
All but Peter Van Schriegel, who drops "like shot,"
And when the yards on deck are dashed,
And, looking of cheerful contentment the image,
For no other man
And when his behavior was after dissected,
With sparks showered thickly, and glowed like hot iron;
But be this as it may, the first danger was past, And the vessel relieved staggered onward unknowClean over the side went spars, rigging, and mast, ing,
Either what she was doing, or where she was going.
But cool as a cucumber, calm as a monk,
The stranger once more bids Jan "bring him his trunk,"
'Tis drawn from the place where it first was deposited
That eve that the captain and stranger were closeted,
And being heaved up to the deck, which was bared
So whilst a deep reverie he seemed to be wrapt in, They stole to the cabin to waken the captain.
Surely he sleeps a charmed sleep!
Or why such even pulses keep,
When even the dead might well awake,
Aroused by their fears to a strange animation,
As they see that already the cabin is filling:
A snort and a groan, and he opens his eyes,
I gave up the command to Mynheer What's-his
And if he can't keep you and save you from evil,
(I never believed the Goed Vrouw' such a rocker!)
And don't spare the spirits, for even if you do,
Swift from his presence forth they past-
For 'twas his longest and his last!
What followed! a scene of such noise and confu
Its memory must seem like a fiendish delusion;
But hardly two stories agree with each other:
In a manner indecent, profane, and illegal,
On a very hard rock,
At half after twelve, on a night of December.
Morning hath come with her welcome light,
That her sweet light revives and warms,
Of the "Goed Vrouw," they miss but two,
The stranger and captain, of course, I except,
High and dry,
On the beach they lie,
And lo! a vision is passing by
They must be deceived
It can scarce be believed
It might, but 'tis only a modest suggestion,
Or some eloquent speech on "our foreign condi-
All, and every of which, if the truth could be sifted,
But still, I've no reason to give why it yielded,
In fact, these are riddles, and so insurmountable,
But touching the motto to which I alluded,
DEATH OF MDLLE. LENORMAND.-One of the most celebrated public characters of France during the last half-century-Malle. Lenormand, the fortune-teller-died in that city on Monday last, at the age of 72 years, leaving a fortune of 500,000f. She reckoned, it is said, among her clinetelle all the celebrated characters of the age-all the soldiers, gamblers, and other adventurers of both sexes, from the Emperors Napoleon and Alexander down
Even where a strange tale is most warmly received, to the cuntinière and kitchen-maid—all of whom
That the "Goed Vrouw
Is passing now,
Perfect and whole from helm to prow!
Close to the shore,
On her course she bore,
And all her form they may explore,
And her bulwarks are whole, and her deck no more
And more than all (at the sight they shrunk!)
professed their surprise at the profundity of her knowledge of events, past and future.
TEA AS A NUTRIMENT.-M. Peligot read a paper He states on the chemical combinations of tea that tea contains essential principles of nutrition, far exceeding in importance its stimulating properties, and shows that, as a stimulant, tea is in every One of respect a desirable article of habitual use.
his experiments on the nutritive qualities of tea as compared with those of soup, was by no means in favor of the latter. The most remarkable products
Though the captain sits silent and drooping his of tea are-1st, the tannin, or astringent property;
And his hands are prest
But that white, white face can be but of the dead!
2nd, an essential oil to which it owes its aroma, and which has a great influence on its price in commerce; and 3rd, a substance rich in azote and crystallizable, called theine, which is also met with in coffee, and is frequently called cafeine. Independently of these three substances, there are eleven others of less importance, which enter more or less into the composition of tea of all the kinds imported into Europe. What was most essential, as regards the chemical and hygienic character of the plant, was to ascertain the exact proportion of the azoted principles which it contains. M. Peligot began by determining the total amount of azote in tea, and finished by finding that it was from 20 to per cent greater than in any other kind of vegetable. M. Peligot states that by reason of this quantity of azote, and the existence of caseine in the tea-leaf, it is a true aliment.-Athenæum.
EARLY RECOLLECTIONS OF SOUTHEY
From the Christian Observer.
could not refuse myself the gratification of seeing the name of that man amongst my poems without whose kindness they would probably have remained unpublished, and to whom I know myself greatly and variously obliged, as a poet, a man, and a Christian." We have thought this statement fair to "poor old gossipping Cottle;" whose "gossipping" cost him dear, not only in the chastisement administered to him by some of the reviewers for his disclosures respecting Coleridge; but in the harassing, and it is said £2000 law expenses and damages, inflicted upon him at the suit of Hannah More's discarded coachman, whom he had alluded to in his account of that lady's escape from Barley Wood.
SHORTLY after the death of the late S. T. Coleridge, Mr. Cottle, formerly a book seller at Bristol, and the publisher and proprietor of some of Coleridge's early works, as well as of those of Southey and Words worth, gave to the world two volumes of recollections of those eminent men, at that eventful period of their lives, when, in the exuberance of youth, talent, and spirits, they were planning vast designs, and laying the foundation of their future literary fame. Mr. Cottle's book gave much offence to the friends of Mr. Coleridge, who had seen fit, in his biographical account of himself, to omit all distinct reference to BrisThe volumes were, however, chiefly detol, the cradle of his literature, and for voted to rellections of Coleridge. Of many years his favorite abode, and to whose Sonthey, who was living when they were inhabitants he said, as late as 1814, "You published, less is said-and not any thing, took me up in younger life, and I could we presume, which the poet wished to supwish to live and die amongst you." The press even during his life-time, except as chief cause of the offence was Mr. Cottle's it might be too trifling for record; for Mr. fearful exposition of the melancholy con- Cottle speaks of Southey's having spent a sequences of Coleridge's indulgence in the few days on a visit with him not long beuse of opium; but as Coleridge had long fore the book was published, and of their broken himself of the destructive habit, uninterrupted friendship, so that we can and had expressly directed that his melan- hardly suppose he put in print what he choly case should be made public after his knew would give his friend offence. Howdeath, as a warning to others, there was not ever there is nothing that entails reproach any thing to reproach Mr. Cottle with in upon Southey's memory; for though, in his making known the facts, except as they early days, he and Coleridge were led astray were painful to surviving friends or rela- by the phantoms with which the French tives. There were, however, many allu- revolutionary school had dazzled Europe, sions in his book to unpleasant scenes, and romantically proposed founding what foolish schemes, early struggles, and friv- they called a "Pantisocracy" in America; olous circumstances, which the friends of yet both of them came to a better mind; Mr. Coleridge might think best forgotten; and their example and recantation in afterbesides which, the patronizing air with life are the more valuable because they which the worthy bibliopolist speaks of were not the result of early prejudices, but his private intercourse and commercial ar- of mature deliberation. If Southey wrote rangements with men who lived to com- Joan of Arc, let it not be overlooked that he mand the golden market of literature, as afterwards repudiated it, and endeavored lewell as merely to revel in its barren honors, gally to suppress it. If Coleridge was once a might not be gratifying to the parties con- Socinian lecturer, let it not be forgotten that cerned. His opinions and criticisms, and he became not only orthodox, but a lay his "Mr. Southey and I," "Mr. Coleridge" preacher of righteousness." Who can and myself," &c., have an air of self-com- have forgotten his dying letter to his godplacency as between a provincial bookseller child, in which he says— and men who arrived at such pre-eminent fame; but fifty years ago they were all young together; and Cottle was often use ful to them with his literary advice, as well as his purse; and he was himself also the author of several volumes of poetry, which his highly gifted friends spoke of with warm approbation. Coleridge, in the sec ond edition of his poems, addressed to Cot tle, a flattering copy of verses, adding: "I
"And I thus, on the brink of the grave, solemnly bear witness to you, that the Almighty Redemer, most gracious in his promises to them that truly seek him, is faithful to perform what he has promised; and has reserved, under all pains and infirmities, the peace that passeth all understanding, with the supporting assurance of a reconciled God, who will not withdrew his Spirit from me in the conflict, and in his own time will deliver me from the evil one. O, my
dear godchild! eminently blessed are they who begin early to seek, fear, and love their God, trusting wholly in the righteousness and mediation of their Lord, Redeemer, Saviour, and everlasting High Priest, Jesus Christ."
Of Mr. Wordsworth there are a few curious literary notices in Mr. Cottle's recol lections, which we will copy; the personal allusions blended with them being to the honor, not disparagement, of that venerable man. The lovers of literary reminiscences may think the passages worth glancing over, though they are not intrinsically im
and omit utterly near one half of the present volume-a sacrifice to pitch black oblivion.
"Whichever be the case, I will repay you the money you have paid for me, in money, and in a few weeks; or if you should prefer the latter proposal, (i. e. the not sending me to the for ten weeks,) I should insist on considerpress ing the additions, however large, as my payment to you for the omissions, which, indeed, would be but strict justice.
"I am requested by Wordsworth, to put to you the following questions. What could you conveniently and prudently, and what would you, give for-first, our two Tragedies, with small prefaces, containing an analysis of our principal characters? Exclusive of the prefaces, the Tragedies are, together, five thousand lines; which, in printing, from the dialogue form, and directions respecting actors and scenery, "MY DEAR COTTLE,-I am sojourning, for a are at least equal to six thousand. To be delifew days, at Racedown, Dorset, the mansion of vered to you within a week of the date of your our friend Wordsworth: who presents his kind-answer to this letter; and the money which you est respects to you. * * *
"Wordsworth admires my tragedy, which gives me great hopes. Wordsworth has written a tragedy himself. I speak with heart-felt sincerity, and, I think, unblinded judgment, when I tell you, that I feel myself a little man by his side, and yet I do not think myself a less man than I formerly thought myself. His drama is absolutely wonderful. You know I do not commonly speak in such abrupt and unmingled phrases, and therefore will the more readily believe me. There are in the piece, those profound touches of the human heart, which I find three or four times in the Robbers' of Schiller, and often in Shakspeare, but in Wordsworth there are no inequalities. God bless you, and eke, 'S. T. COLERIDGE.'"
"There is a peculiar pleasure in recording the favorable sentiments which one Poet entertains of another, I therefore state that Mr. Coleridge says, in a letter received from him, March 8th, 1793,The Giant Wordsworth-God love him! When I speak in the terms of admiration due to his intellect, I fear lest these terms should keep out of sight the amiableness of his manners. He has written near twelve hundred lines of blank verse, superior, I hesitate not to aver, to any thing in our language which any way
"MY DEAR COTTLE,-I regret that aught should have disturbed our tranquillity; respect ing Lloyd, I am willing to believe myself in part mistaken, and so let all things be as before. I have no wish respecting these poems, either for or against re-publication with mine. As to the third edition, if there be occasion for it imme. diately, it must be published with some altera tions, but no additions or omissions. But if there be no occasion for the volume to go to press for ten weeks, at the expiration of that time I would make it a volume worthy of me,
from the same date; none to be paid before, all offer, to be paid to us at the end of four months to be paid then.
"Second.-Wordsworth's 'Salisbury Plain,' and Tale of a Woman: which two poems, with a few others, which he will add, and the notes, will make a volume. This to be delivered to you within three weeks of the date of your answer, and the money to be paid as before, at the end of four months from the present
self about the imagined great merit of the com"Do not, my dearest Cottle! harass yourpositions, or be reluctant to offer what you can prudently offer, from an idea that the poems are worth more. But calculate what you can do, with reference simply to yourself, and answer as speedily as you can; and believe me your sincere, grateful, and affectionate 'Friend and Brother,
'S. T. COLERIDGE.' "I offered Mr. Coleridge and Mr. Wordsworth thirty guineas each, as proposed, for their two Tragedies; but which, after some hesitation, was declined, from the hope of introducing one, or both, on the stage. The volume of Poems was left for some future arrangement."
"A visit to Mr. Coleridge at Stowey, (near Bristol.) had been the means of my introduction to Mr. Wordsworth, who read me many of his Lyrical pieces, when I perceived in them a pelish them, expressing a belief that they would culiar, but decided merit. I advised him to pub. he well received. I further said that he should be at no risk; that I would give him the same sum which I had given Mr. Coleridge and Mr. Southey, and that it would be a gratifying circumstance to me, to usher into the world, by becoming the publisher of the first volumes of three such poets as Southey, Coleridge, and Wordsworth; a distinction that might never again occur to a Provincial bookseller.
"To the idea of publishing he expressed a strong objection; and after several interviews, I left him, with an earnest wish that he would reconsider his determination.
"Soon after, Mr. Wordsworth sent me the following letter.