the table, when the movement became too obstreperous. Can't ye be decent when white folks comes to see ye? Stop dat ar, now, will ye? Better mind yourselves, or I'll take ye down a button-hole lower, when Mas'r George is gone!" What meaning was couched under this terrible threat, it is difficult to say; but certain it is that its awful indistinctness seemed to produce very little impression on the young sinners addressed. * "Well, now, I hopes you're done," said Aunt Chloe, who had been busy in pulling out a rude box of a trundle-bed; "and now, you Mose and you Pete, get into thar; for we's goin' to have the meetin"." 46 O mother, we don't wanter. We wants to sit up to meetin',-meetin's is so curis. We likes 'em." "La, Aunt Chloe, shove it under, and let 'em sit up," said Master George, decisively, giving a push to the rude machine. Aunt Chloe, having thus saved appearances, seemed highly delighted to push the thing under, saying, as she did so, Well, mebbe 'twill do 'em some good." The house now resolved itself into a committee of the whole to consider the accommodations and arrangements for the meeting. "What we's to do for cheers now, I declare I don't know," said Aunt Chloe. As the meeting had been held at Uncle Tom's weekly, for an indefinite length of time, without any more "cheers," there seemed some encouragement to hope that a way would be discovered at present. "Old Uncle Peter sung both the legs out of dat oldest cheer, last week," suggested Mose. "You go long! I'll boun' you pulled 'em out; some o' your shines," said Aunt Chloe. Well, it'll stand, if it only keeps jam up agin de wall!" said Mose. "Den Uncle Peter mus'n't sit in it, cause he al'ays hitches when he gets a singing. He hitched pretty nigh across de room t'other night," said Pete. Good Lor! get him in it then," said Mose," and den he'd begin, Come saints and sinners, hear me tell,' and den down he'd go,"-and Mose imitated precisely the nasal tones of the old man, tumbling on the floor, to illustrate the supposed catastrophe. "Come now, be decent, can't ye?" said Aunt Chloe; "an't yer shamed?" Master George, however, joined the offender in the laugh, and declared decidedly that Mose was a 'buster." So the maternal admonition seemed rather to fail of effect. 66 'Well, ole man," said Aunt Chloe, "you'll have to tote in them ar bar'ls." "Mother's bar'ls is like dat ar widder's, Mas'r George was reading 'bout in de good book,-dey never fails," said Mose, aside to Pete. I'm sure one on 'em caved in last week," said Pete, "and let 'em all down in de middle of de singin'; dat ar was failin', warnt it?" During this aside between Mose and Pete, two empty casks had been rolled into the cabin, and being secured from rolling by stones on each side boards were laid across them, which arrangement, together with the turning down of certain tubs and pails, and the disposing of the rickety chairs, at last completed the preparation. "Mas'r George is such a beautiful reader, now, I know he'll stay to read for us," said Aunt Chloe; "'pears like 'twill be so much more interestin'." George very readily consented, for your boy is always ready for anything that makes him of importance. The room was soon filled with a motley assemblage, from the old gray-headed patriarch of eighty to the young girl and lad of fifteen. A little barmless gossip ensued on various themes, such as where old Aunt Sally got her new red head-kerchief, and how "Missis was a going to give Lizzy that spotted muslin gown, when she'd got her new berage made up;" and how Mas'r Shelby was thinking of buying a new sorrel colt, that was going to prove an addi tion to the glories of the place. A few of the wor shippers belonged to families hard by, who had got permission to attend, and who brought in various choice scraps of information, about the sayings and doings at the house and on the place, which circulated as freely as the same sort of small change does in bigher circles. After a while the singing commenced to the evident delight of all present. Not even all the disad vantage of nasal intonation could prevent the effect of the naturally fine voices, in airs at once wild and spirited. The words were sometimes the well-known and common hymns sung in the churches about, and sometimes of a wilder, more indefinite character, picked up at camp-meetings. The chorus of one of them, which ran as follows, was sung with great energy and unction:Die on the field of battle, Die on the field of battle, Glory in my soul. Another special favorite had oft repeated the words O, I'm going to glory,-wont you come along with me! Don't you see the angels beck'ning, and a calling me away? Don't you see the golden city and the everlasting day? There were others, which made incessant mention of "Jordan's banks," and "Canaan's fields," and the New Jerusalem;" for the negro mind, impassioned and imaginative, always attaches itself to hymns and expressions of a vivid and pictorial nature; and, as they sung, some laughed, and some cried, and some clapped hands, or shook hands rejoicingly with each other, as if they had fairly gained the other side of the river. Various exhortations or relations of experience followed, and intermingled with the singing. One old gray-headed woman, long past work, but much revered as a sort of chronicle of the past, rose, and leaning on her staff, said "Well, chil'en! Well, I'm mighty glad to hear ye all and see ye all once more, 'cause I don't know when I'll be gone to glory; but I've done got ready, chil'en; 'pears like I'd got my little bundle all tied up, and my bonnet on, , jest a waitin' for the stage to come along and take me home; sometimes, in the night, I think I hear the wheels a rattlin', and I'm lookin' out all the time; now, you jest be ready too, for I tell ye all, chil'en," she said, striking her staff hard on the floor, "dat ar glory is a mighty thing! It's a mighty thing, chil'en,-you don'no nothing about it,-it's wonderful." And the old creature sat down, with streaming tears, as wholly overcome, while the whole circle struck up O Canaan, bright Canaan, I'm bound for the land of Canaan. Master George, by request, read the last chapters of Revelation, often interrupted by such exclamations as "The sakes now!" "Only hear that!" "Jest think on't!" "Is all that a comin' sure enough?" George, who was a bright boy, and well trained in religious things by his mother, finding himself an object of general admiration, threw in expositions of his own, from time to time, with a commendable seriousness and gravity, for which he was admired by the young and blessed by the old; and it was agreed, on all hands, that "a minister couldn't lay it off better than he did;" that "'twas reely 'mazin'!" Uncle Tom was a sort of patriarch in religious matters in the neighborhood. Having naturally an organization in which the morale was strongly predominant, together with a greater breadth and cultivation of mind than obtained among his companions, he was looked up to with great respect, as a sort of minister among them; and the simple, hearty, sincere style of his exhortatious might have edified even better educated persons. But it was in prayer that he especially excelled. Nothing could exceed the touching simplicity, the child-like earnestness of his prayer, enriched with the language of Scripture, which seemed so entirely to have wrought itself into his being, as to have become a part of himself, and to drop from his lips unconsciously; in the language of a pious old negro, he "prayed right up." And so much did his prayer always work on the devotional feelings of his audiences, that there seemed often a danger that it would be lost altogether in the abundance of the responses which broke out everywhere around him. HARRIET FARLEY, THE editor of "The Lowell or New England Offering," in an autobiographic sketch published in Mrs. Hale's "Woman's Record," gives the following characteristic account of her career: My father is a Congregational clergyman, and at the time of my birth was settled in the beautiful town of Claremont, in the state of New Hampshire. Though I left this place when six years of age, I still remember its natural beauties, which even then impressed me deeply. The Asheutney Mountain, Sugar River, with its foaming falls, the distant hills of Vermont, all are in my memory. My mother was descende from the Moodys, somewhat famous in New England history. One of them was the eccentric and influential Father Moody. Another was Handkerchief Moody, the one who wore, so many years, the minister's veil.' One was the well known Trustee Moody, of Dumwell Academy, who educated my grandmother. She was a very talented and estimable lady. My father was of the genuine New Hampshire stock-from a family of pious, industrious, agricultural people; his brothers being deacons, and soine of his sisters married to deacons. I have not learned that any of them ever committed a disgraceful act. His grandmother was eminent for her medical knowledge and skill, and had as much practice as is usually given to a country doctor. His mother was a woman of fine character, who exerted herself, and sacrificed much, to secure his liberal education. His sisters were energetic in their cooperation with their husbands, to secure and improve homes among the White aud the Green Mountains, and Wisconsin. So much for progenitors. "I was the sixth of ten children, and, until fourteen, had not that health which promises continued life. I was asthmatic, and often thought to be in a consumption. I am fortunate now in the possession of excellent health, which may be attributed to a country rearing, and an obedience to physical laws, so far as I understand them. At fourteen years of age I commenced exertions to assist in my own maintenance, and have at different times followed the different avocations of New England girls. I have plaited palm-leaf and straw, bound shoes, taught school, and worked at tailoring; besides my labors as a weaver in the factory, which suited me better than any other. "After my father's removal to the little town of VOL. II.-39 Atkinson, New Hampshire, he combined the labors of preceptor of one of the two oldest Academies in the state, with his parochial duties; and here, among a simple but intelligent people, I spent those years which give the tone to female character. At times there was a preceptress to the Academy; but it was in the summer, when I was debilitated, and my lessons were often studied on my bed. I learned something of French, drawing, ornamental needlework, and the usual accomplishments-for it was the design of my friends to make me a teacher-a profession for which I had an instinctive dislike. But my own feelings were not consulted. Indeed, perhaps it was not thought how much these were outraged; but their efforts were to suppress the imaginative and cultivate the practical. This was, undoubtedly, wholesome discipline; but it was carried to a degree that was painful, and drove me from my home. I came to Lowell, determined that if I had my own living to obtain, I would get it in my own way; that I would read, think, and write, when I could, without restraint; that if I did well I would have the credit of it; if ill, my friends should be relieved from the blame, if not from the stigma. I endeavored to reconcile them to my lot, by a devotion of all my spare earnings to them and their interests. I made good wages; I dressed economically; I assisted in the liberal education of one brother, and endeavored to be the guardian angel of a lovely sister, who, after many years of feebleness, is now perhaps a guardian angel to me in heaven. Twice before this had I left 'the mill,' to watch around the death-beds of loved ones-my elder sister, and a beautiful and promising brother. Two others had previously died; two have left their native state for a Texan home. So you will see that my feelings must have been severely tried. But all this has, doubtless, been beneficial to me. "It was something so new to me to be praised and encouraged to write, that I was at first overwhelmed by it, and withdrew as far as possible from the attentions that some of my first contributions to the 'Offering' directed towards me. It was with great reluctance that I consented to edit, and was quite as unwilling at first to assist in publishing. But circumstances seem to have compelled me forward as a business woman, and I have endeavored to do my duty. "I am now the proprietor of 'The New England Offering.' I do all the publishing, editing, canvassing, and, as it is bound in my office, I can in a hurry help fold, cut covers, stitch, &c. I have a little girl to assist me in the folding, stitching, &c.; the rest, after it comes from the printer's hand, is all my own work. I employ no agents, and depend upon no one for assistance. My edition is four thousand." The Lowell Offering was commenced in 1841. In 1848 Miss Farley published a volume chiefly made up of her contributions to that periodical, entitled Shells from the Strand of the Sea of Genius. Another volume from the various writers in the same publication was collected by Charles Knight, in London, and published in one of his popular libraries in 1849-Mind among the Spindles. ELIZABETH F. ELLET. MRS. ELIZABETH FRIES ELLET was born at Sodus Point, on Lake Ontario, New York, in October, 1818. Her maiden name was Lummis. Her father was a physician, Dr. William Nixon Lummis, the pupil and the friend of Rush, whom he strongly resembled in person. He was of a New Jersey family, and became one of the pioneers of Western New York, expending a fortune in improvements in the country adjoining Sodus bay, of which others reaped the advantage. He was a man of talent and religious character, and admired for his social qualities. His second wife, the mother of our author, was Sarah, the daughter of Captain John Maxwell, an officer in the American army during the Revolutionary war, and the niece of General William Maxwell in the same service. Mrs. Ellet was educated in English and French at the female seminary, under the care of Susan Marriott, an accomplished English Quaker lady, at Aurora, Cayuga county, New York. She was early married to Dr. William II. Ellet, who has occupied the professorship of chemistry at Columbia College, New York, and in the South Carolina College at Columbia. In 1849 they came to reside permanently in New York. EF Ellet. The poetical talent was marked in Mrs. Ellet at a very early age. She wrote good verses at fifteen, and in 1835 published a volume of poems. At the same period appeared a tragedy from her pen entitled Teresa Contarini, founded on a Venetian historic incident, which was performed on the stage. In 1841 a volume in prose appeared from her pen, The Characters of Schiller, a critical essay on the genius of that author, and analysis of his characters. Scenes in the Life of Joanna of Sicily, partly historical and partly fanciful; and a small volume for children, Rambles about the Country, appeared about the same time. Mrs. Ellet also, at this period, contributed articles to the American Quarterly Review, the North American and the New York Reviews, on Italian and French dramatic and lyric poetry, and wrote tales and poems for monthly magazines in New York, Philadelphia, and Charleston. In 1848 she published her work, The Women of the American Revolution, in two volumes, to which a third was subsequently added. It was an undertaking requiring not only a special sympathy (which Mrs. Ellet possessed through her family associations) and literary skill, but much labor and research. These memoirs, which shed so important a light on the history of the Revolution, were chiefly compiled from original materials, manuscripts of the times, or personal recollections of the surviv. ing friends of the heroines. A companion volume, The Domestic History of the Revolution, is a connected narrative exhibiting the life of the period. Another collection of memoirs is The Pioneer Women of the West, written from original materials. Summer Rambles in the West describes a tour through several of the western states, with a full description of parts of Minnesota Territory. She is also the author of a pleasant volume. Evenings at Woodlawn, a collection of European legends and traditions; of Novellettes of the Mu sicians, a series of tales, original and selected from the German, founded on incidents in the personal history of artists, and illustrative of their character and the style of their works. Her Watching Spirits, an illustrated volume, is an essay on the presence and agency of spirits in this world, as described in the Holy Scriptures. LINES TO Thou in faithfulness hast afflicted me.-Ps. cxix. 75. Smitten of Heaven-and murmuring 'neath the rodWhose days are heavy with their freight of gloom: Drooping and faint, with eyes Not yet by Faith unclosed Art thou repining that thou stand'st apart, No sympathy can heal No time can e'er assuage. This life to thee is but a sea of woe, Whose deep unto its deep of sorrow calls: Of flowers, and smiles, and joys! Look up-thou lone and sorely stricken one! Than they-the proudly gay! For them earth yields her all of bliss ;-for thee Kind Heaven doth violence to its heart of love; And Mercy holds thee fast, Fast in her iron bonds And wounds thee lest thou 'scape her jealous care, Where fruits and flowers abound. To keep thee safe for heaven. JEDIDIAH V. HUNTINGTON. MR. HUNTINGTON was born in 1814, and educated as a physician. After practising his profession for several years, he became, in December, 1839, a candidate for orders in the Protestant Episcopal Church, and a professor in St. Paul's College, Flushing. After his ordination he was for a short time rector of a church in Middlebury, Vermont. He then visited Europe, and remained for several years in Italy. On his return he be came a Roman Catholic, but did not enter the priesthood of that communion. After a residence of a few years in New York, he removed to Baltimore, where he edited a monthly magazine. In 1855 he again removed to St. Louis, and edited a weekly journal," The Leader," a literary, political, and family newspaper. In 1843 he published a volume of Poems, mostly of a religious and reflective character, including several translations from the hymns of the Breviary. His next publication, Alice, or the New Una, appeared in London, in 1849, during his residence abroad. It is a singular compound of the art, the religious and the fashionable novel, and contained many scenes whose warmth of description laid the work open to censure. Its beauty of language, and picturesque descriptions of natural scenery, attracted much attention. It was reprinted during the same year in the United States, and, in 1852, appeared in a revised edition with many judicious alterations. Mr. Huntington's second novel, The Forest, was published in 1852. It is a continuation of Lady Alice, the leading characters being transferred from Europe to the Adirondack Mountains. The fine scenery of the region is depicted with beauty, but the fiction is, like its predecessor, deficient in the vigorous delineation of character. THE SONG OF THE OLD YEAR. December 81st, 1838. Of brethren we six thousand be, Nor one e'er saw another; When we have spent the life she lent, Its boundless gloom becomes a tomb In the hour of my birth, there was joy and mirth; But directly after each burst of laugh -The groans of the dying, the bitter crying The regular bent of dancing feet But on the air the voice of prayer Its accents sweet did still entreat As thus began my twelve-months' span Through the infinite extended; So ever hath run on my path, "Twixt joy and grief suspended; But chiefly measured by things most treasured, In death with burdens blended. The bell aye tolls for departing souls Of those whom I have slain; The ceaseless knell to me doth tell Their bodies left of life bereft, Would cumber hill and plain. But I have made, with my restless spade, With constant toil upturning the soil, To find a bed for my countless dead In the secret ocean-caves. By fond hopes blighted, of true vows plighted Showing the little worth; By affections wasted: by joys scarce tasted, I have proved to many, there is not any And prophetic power upon the hour For endless harvest waits. And lo, as I pass with that running glass The soul of young hope must harrow; RUFUS WILMOT GRISWOLD 66 Was born in Rutland county, Vermont, Feb. 15, 1815, of an old New England family which contributed some of the earliest settlers to the country. Much of his early life, as we learn from a biographical article which originally appeared in the Knickerbocker Magazine, was spent in voyaging about the world; before he was twenty years of age, he had seen the most interesting portions of his own country, and of southern and central Europe." He afterwards studied divinity and became a preacher of the Baptist denomination. He is chiefly known to the public, however, through his literary productions. He became early connected with the press; was associated in the editorship of the New Yorker, the Brother Jonathan, and New World newspapers, and other journals in Boston and Philadelphia. In 1842, he was the editor of Graham's Magazine, which he conducted with eminent success, drawing to the work the contributions of some of the best authors of the country who found liberal remuneration, then a novelty in American literature, from the generous policy of the publisher. send of New York. Like all of his undertakings of this character, it was liberally devoted to the notice and support of American authors, with whom Mr. Griswold has constantly maintained an extensive personal acquaintance. His most prominent relations of this kind, however, have been through his series of books, The Poets and Poetry of America, the first edition of which appeared in 1842; The Prose Writers of America, which was first published in 1846; and the Female Poets of America, in 1849. They were the first comprehensive illustrations of the literature of the country, and have exerted an important influence through their criticisms, and on the reputation of the numerous authors included, in their reception at home and abroad. Mr. Griswold is also the author of a volume, The Poets and Poetry of England in the Nineteenth Century, in similar style with the American series, and has edited an octavo volume, The Sacred Poets of England and America. In 1847, he was engaged in Philadelphia in the preparation of two series of biographies, Washington and the Generals of the American Revolution, and Napoleon and the Marshals of the Empire. Mr. Griswold, among other illustrations of American history and society, is the author of an interesting appendix to an edition of D'Israeli's Curiosities of Literature, entitled The Curiosities of American Literature. In 1842, he published in New York a volume on an excellent plan, worthy of having been continued, entitled The Biographical Annual. Among other productions of his pen should be mentioned an early volume of Poems in 1841; a volume of Sermons, and a Discourse in 1844, on The Present Condition of Philosophy. His latest publication is, The Republican Court, or American Society in the Days of Washington, a costly printed volume from the press of the Appletons, in 1854. On the thread of the domestic life of Washington, Mr. Griswold hangs a social history of the period, which he is thus enabled to sketch in its leading characteristics in the northern, middle, and southern states; the career of the great founder of the Republic, fortunately for the common sympathy of the whole, having been associated with all these elements of national life. The book is full of interesting matter from the numerous memoirs and biographies, is illustrated by a number of portraits of the more eminent ladies of the time, and has been well received by the public. Dr. Griswold is at present engaged on a revision of his larger works on American literature, which have passed through numerous editions with successive improvements. and was ordained Deacon in 1838, by his friend Bishop Doane of New Jersey, to whom he became assistant minister of St. Mary's Church, Burling ton. The brief remaining portion of his life was passed in this service. He died November 21, 1839. A genial memorial of his Sermons and Poetical Remains, in an octavo volume, was prepared by Bishop Doane, entitled The True Catholic Churchman, in his Life and in his Death. The sermons are earnest doctrinal compositions, writ ten with ease and elegance. The poems, many of which are devoted to sacred church associations, are all in a truthful and fervent vein, with a happy facility of execution, and on the score both of taste and piety are well worthy to be associated with the kindred compositions of the author's friends, Croswell and Doane. THOUGHTS FOR THE CITY. Out on the city's hum! My spirit would flee from the haunts of men These dull brick walls which span Oh! for those dear wild flowers, Which in their meadows so brightly grew, Where the honey-bee and blithe bird flew That gladdened boyhood's hours. Out on these chains of flesh! Binding the pilgrim who fain would roam, To where kind nature hath made her home, In bowers so green and fresh. But is not nature here? From these troubled scenes look up and view The orb of day, through the firmament blue, Pursue his bright career. Or, when the night-dews fall, Go watch the moon with her gentle glance Flitting over the clear expanse Her own broad star-lit hall. Mortal the earth may mar, Or quench a single star. And o'er the dusky town, The greater light that ruleth the day, So, 'mid the hollow mirth, Blest thought, so kindly given! T. B. THORPE T. B. THORPE was born at Westfield, Mass., March 1, 1815. His father Thomas Thorpe, a man of literary genius, was a clergyman, who ded in New York city at the early age of twenty-six. His son lived in New York till his transfer to the Wesleyan University at Middletown, Connecticut, |