EARLY WESTERN ELOQUENCE. It is pretty impossible,' said an eloquent native orator, on one occasion, 'to communicate to others those ideas whereof we ourselves are not possessed of; for in so doing, a person is pretty apt to imbibe those errors from which he finds it extremely difficult for him to eradicate himself there from.' We have had in our mind this lucid exposition of a mental 'fix,' in perusing a Fourth-of-July oration, delivered several years since at Dayton, Ohio. We are assured by the obliging correspondent from whom we receive it, that 'it is a genuine, veritable production,' and was actually delivered as printed. The author (ambitious of the law we infer, from his occasional indulgence in the use of legal Latin terms) is a leading and distinguished Ohio politician!' After remarking that the Fourth-of-July ́ is apt to be used by the federal and ingathering States as a day of unusual festivity,' the orator proceeds:

THOUGH the practice by some has been denounced with a bitter disapprobation, in consequence of the moral turpitude of venerating man, however proper, or otherwise, this practice may be, is left for you to decide. But palsied be the tongue to proscribe, and withered the arm to prevent the practice of celebrating the birth-day of this nation, of commemorating the first jubilee of our independence; of commemorating those imperishable principles of equality that are so naturally implanted on the breast-bone of human nature, as it is in the least creeping insect that crawls on the earth, as well as the mightiest animal that stalks in the forest. Is it a privilege then to celebrate this annual peacecoming day? It is; and may GOD grant it may be perdurable as the livid stream of time! Roll back the tide of time to the infancy of this government, to the period of its impotency and oppression, and now behold its rise! Behold the potency of its almighty power; behold her principles as the best digested political fabric known to the civilized kingdoms of the inhabitable earth. To give hearty cheers of jubilation to these occurrences in her history is highly commendable.'

The author here indulges in some rambling reminiscences, touching the period methodized and distinguished as the time of discoveries;' and he brings his hearers down to the era when the pioneers attempted to 'set their seal down amid the wild grass of a foresthowl,' and in defiance of the untamed savage.' England looked upon us as a pigmy,' and treated us after a fashion that elicited one round and universal burst of fulmination from every son of the continent;' she sucked the very arter of our political respectability as dry as the inner walls of a pyramid :'

'YES, the protectress of the pigmy proved the betrayer of the same; for would it be a fair inference to say, that because England was auxiliary troop to the Americans during the French war, that the Americans should ever remain a tributary power, and subject to English political and municipal regulations however unnatural to reasou and universal justice? It would not. Yet the assumed right was enforced. It was this that galded the pigmy, and made it cry aloud, as the heated embers were rolling in volcanic combustion from the edicts of the Judas parent! The provincial called for equal rights and free principles. A voice heard the necessitous call of the chill worn inhabitants of the new world, and transmitted unto them the translucent garb of equality; independent of these trials, they met with other catastrophes, which are beyond my reach to decipher. The Indians who formerly inhabited this, and primitively the old States, have receded by cartel or otherwise, to other almost impenetrable forest, where they may still exercise the immunity of making a barbecue of each joint of the distrained animal; leaving no vestige here of their tenantship at will, save the tumuli that are so prominently interspersed over their foriner habitations: they are gone, going, and are still to go, it is to be lamented, as the migratory subjects of power, to the place stipulated in the compact, which sayeth not the volition was a legal one, or that the eviction defyeth continual claim. And it is equally to be feared that the inherent indolence of their nature forbid a hope of their ever being introduced into the folio of civilization; however they seem happy in their lambent pathway of attenuation. They invoke their Areouski, whiff the halumet of peace, and on de novo ouster, they mingle their dithyrambrick requiem with the bland breeze that sifts itself through the rush and suple-jack of the woods! And, as an expiation of an inheritance abated, the sanctity of the lawn has gone forth in its purification, to withdraw from their eyes the humid curtain of anguish, by urging the sun-worship. pers to humiliation under the vine and fig tree of promise, as the future safeguard to become joint heirs of an inheritance under a sure and invariable law-dispenser.'

Our journals have sometimes taken in great dudgeon the reports by English travellers among us, of the specimens of public speaking which they encountered in certain portions of the country; but we should be glad to know if any of our readers have ever met with any English caricature of American oratory that would bear a moment's comparison with the foregoing extract? Scarcely less brilliant is the speaker's eulogium upon WASHINGTON, whose character is unsparingly embosomed in the affections of living millions,' and a 'true description' of whom 'must excite many to climb by example the same virtuous steeple of interminable glory!' "Twas he who was stable in the hour and article of death.

He colluded with no party, but collated fate with liberty. Morphesus' embrace never complained of his lethargy, or the camp tent of his indolence. His furtive vigilance watched the haze of distress, whilst the morning star shone upon his emblazoned armor in unretrenched delight. He stood in the gates of Thermopoly for eighty years, and no one dare stain his name with a foible.' When he left New-York, 'the unbroken accents of mingled veneration rended the air, and dissolved in tears.' His career was as unspotted as the vestal gleam that glitters from the sun, and dances upon the horizon; his name glides along the walls of the political assemblies of these republics; the redolent breeze wafts his pennants on the surface of all waters,' and so forth. Speaking of Baron DE KALB, the orator tells us that he withstood a long while Cornwallian skill and device; and after the strange veteran had received eleven wounds, he breathed the death-vapor of an immolated martyr for our rights.' 'Can you,' exclaims the speaker, behold the glowing texture of departed glory, and not sigh at the blood-rivulets that meandered from such as died for our liberty?' In allusion to the prediction of the elder ADAMS, he observes: The rays of light and glory, as predicted by the old venerable ex-president are verified; they are beaming refulgently, and he has lived to see the end, and the end of his seeing is apt to be under the administration of his own son. The discrimination, firmness and soundness of diction, in all the arts of our land, are not less exalted to those of any other country.' We have no space for the debt and burst of gratitude' paid to the heroes of the revolution, and 'the almighty siege-worn arms' of Grecian patriots; nor for the tribute awarded to the 'ladies, who fill a very important character in the human family;' who 'calms the agitated seas of man's troubles, when stale melancholy is looped upon his brow,' and 'things of that sort.'

GOSSIP WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. - Ladies and gentlemen, All Fools'-Day to ye, and many returns of the same!' And as apropos to the occasion, suppose you follow us while we follow a wag who many years ago recorded his experiences of Aprilfooling in a very pleasant, and we may add, instructive manner, since he proves to us that tricks conveying discomfort and annoyance to others sometimes return to plague the inventors. We condense a few of his tomfooleries. He rose on the first of April morn by the chime;' went to the table-drawer, slily pocketed three little lumps of alabaster, then returned and took his seat at the breakfast-table as if nothing had happened: 'Put the alabaster at the top of the sugar-bowl, and to my great delight saw KITTY put one into each of the children's cups. Children hammered and pushed, and wondered sugar would not melt. Thought I should have died; three of my best silver tea-spoons, though, bent as crooked as ram's-horns.' After breakfast: Took pen, ink and paper, and wrote a letter as if from DOBBS the druggist to lawyer LYNX, telling him to arrest SHUFFLE the shoemaker for twenty-three pounds ten shillings, goods sold and delivered.' In the afternoon : 'Called at BLUEFIST's, the broker; asked for pen, ink and paper; wrote a letter from JOLTER inviting SCRAGGS to dine off a fine hare and sweet sauce: ditto vice versâ, SCRAGGS to JOLTER, to dine off real turtle. Gave waiter a shilling to take both letters, and be sure not to tell.' Coming home: Halted on London bridge. Tide running up. Looked through balustrades, clasped my hands in agony, and exclaimed, 'They 'll every one of them be drowned!' and ran across to look through balustrades on the opposite side. Mob in a frenzy; all traffic suspended; hundreds of necks craned out to peep at the suf ferers.' The cry of April fool!' brings the mob upon the hoaxer, who escapes with sundry bruises, and covered with mud. But his troubles have only commenced. Arrived at home, he finds a polite note from lawyer LYNX, informing him that hoaxing an attorney is felony at common law, and that he means to indict him at the next sessions, unless he pays the costs in DOBBS v. SHUFFLE, according to enclosed account: Attending plaintiff by appointment, when he asked me how I did, six-and-eight-pence; attending, answering 47

VOL. XXV.

him 'Pretty middling,' six-and-eight-pence, etc.; total, 'five pound eighteen!' Damned all pettifoggers, and gave bearer a check for the amount.' Hardly had the lawyer's clerk departed, when: Visit from bowing, bobbing waiter from the City of London Tavern: 'Beg pardon, Sir, but here's the bill, Sir.' What bill?' Mr. JOLTER, Sir, and Mr. SCRAGGS, Sir, them as you April-fooled this morning; met and compared notes, Sir; knew your hand; went to master's tavern together, City of London, Sir; ordered your own din. ner, Sir; turtle and roast hare for two, Sir; and told me to bring you the bill, Sir.' Swore I would n't pay it; but looked out of the window, and saw JOLTER and SCRAGGS walking up and down the pavé, flourishing a brace of horse-whips. Set it down for no joke, and paid waiter his money.' The joker's day's work ended with: 'Candles for bed: one made by me, consisting of a round pole of cut turnip, tipped with charcoal, unluckily selected by my wife. Much poking with snuffers before trick was detected. Glance of vengeance: exit wife up stairs, husband following: listened to curtain lecture fifty-nine minutes, and then fell asleep.' And if you are not asleep, reader, we will pass on. ・ ・ ・ A THOUSAND times, sitting in musing mood of an evening in our silent sanctum, having paused for a few moments from grateful labors to gaze into the fire—a thousand times have we experienced the feeling in relation to our readers, which a distant yet cordial friend expresses below, concerning the EDITOR hereof. And to-night, having just passed another of the landmarks that stand between us and the grave, we have had the longing strong upon us to take every one of our readers by the hand. What a multitude that no man can number' are they, from the beginning hitherto! And how widely scattered over the length and breadth of our own fair heritage, and in distant countries beyond the main! It is a sad thing to reflect, that unseen friends, with whom we may have laughed and wept; who may sometimes have stretched out invisible hands toward us, as we to them; may never meet upon the shores of time. But let us not keep our readers from the most kind note of our esteemed correspondent: Alas! for me, that I shall never know the good DEIDRICH KNICKERBOCKER; that I shall never be any thing to him, beyond a tolerably punctual subscriber; that, although year after year he has been so warmly welcomed by my quiet fireside, I shall never be able to take him by the hand, with a kindly God bless you!' feeling that at last I may cherish something more than the pleasant vision of a far-off friend. Do you know, Mr. EDITOR, that many a time these regrets have saddened my enjoyment of something touching or beautiful in your admirable Magazine; and as often I have been tempted to write, and frankly own the pleasure it would give me to acknowledge how greatly I am indebted to you for many a pleasant fancy that has whiled away a lonely evening; for many a merry laugh, many a good resolve; for very many beautiful things, which have brought tears to my eyes, and I trust, their 'saving moisture' to my heart. But it is only since I have learned a still deeper gratitude, that I have allowed myself to yield to the wayward impulse. It is but a few days since the recovery of a tenderly-beloved infant from a lingering and dangerous illness. Through the long nights of sorrowful watching, I recalled the many beautiful poems for the bereaved which every now and then you have given us in the pages of your Gossip;' and ever with a blessing upon you, as upon the writer. I had thought them beautiful exceedingly' in their mournful tenderness, but never till then had I known the consolation they bring to a sorrow-stricken heart. Sometimes I found myself, almost unconsciously, murmuring snatches of song; and especially from that most exquisite of all;

'Yes! with the quiet dead,
Baby! thy rest shall be!' etc.

And at such times, it was almost as if angels were singing around me; till, in the dim chamber, where but a moment ago we had so dreaded the coming of the Angel of Death, 'the kingdom of heaven' did indeed' come nigh unto us;' and we were even more than reconciled that our little ROBIN should be taken away. But I am forgetting myself in thus idling away your time; yet I trust you will none the less accept my most sincere and

earnest thanks. MARY HOWITT has a free translation of one of HERDER'S ballads: I do not know whether it is included in the late edition of her poems or not; but I cannot help thinking it will please you, if you are not already familiar with it; and in the selfishness of my heart I trust you are not; so that you in turn may say Thank you' to the 'wee bit body' who has the assurance to call herself your friend." We give place with pleasure to the simple and touching poem alluded to by our fair correspondent:

THE BOY AND THE

AMONG green, pleasant meadows,
All in a grove so wild,
There sat a marble image

Of the VIRGIN and her CHILD.

There oft on summer evening
A lovely boy would rove,
To play beside the image

That sanctified the grove.

Oft sat his mother by him,

Among the shadows dim,
And told how the LORD JESUS
Was once a child, like him.

And now, from highest heaven,
He looketh down each day,
And sees whate'er thou doest,

And hears what thou dost say.'

Thus spoke his tender mother;

And on an evening bright,
When the broad round sun descended,
Mid clouds of rosy light:

Again the boy was playing,
And earnestly said he,
'Oh, beautiful child JESUS,

Come down and play with me!'

'I will find thee flowers the fairest,
And weave for thee a crown,

I will get thee ripe. red strawberries,
If thou wilt but come down.

Oh! holy, holy MOTHER,

Put him down from off thy knee,
For in these silent meadows

There are none to play with me.'

HOLY IMAGE.

Thus spake the boy so lovely,
The while his mother heard,
And on his prayer she pondered,

Though she spoke to him no word.

That self-same night she dreamed
A lovely dream of joy;
She thought she saw young JESUS
There, playing with her boy.

And for the fruits and flowers
Which thou hast brought to me,
Rich blessing shall be given,

A thousand fold, to thee!

For in the fields of Heaven

Thou shalt roam with me at will,
And of bright fruits celestial
Shall have, dear child! thy fill.'

Thus tenderly and kindly

The fair child JESUS spoke;
And, full of careful musing,
The anxious mother woke.

And thus it was accomplished:
In a short month and a day,
That lovely boy, so gentle,
Upon his death-bed lay.

And thus he spake, in dying,
'Oh! mother, dear, I see
The beautiful child JESUS
A-coming down to me!

And in his hand he beareth
Bright flowers as white as snow,
And red and juicy strawberries-
Dear mother, let me go!'

The boy died; but the fond mother restrained her grief. She knew that her child had been welcomed to an heavenly home; that He who on earth had beckoned little children to His arms, had taken him to Himself, and she asked him not again.' 'A MAN,' writes a pleasant and occasional correspondent, should never miss going at least once to a Ladies' Fair. Beside the gratification of having contributed a trifle toward some charitable object, for which these fairs are generally projected, the visiter, if he have one drop of the milk of human kindness in his bosom, cannot fail to be highly amused; and, if he have an observing eye also, he will see and hear many things worth remembering, and not a few worth telling. I stepped into one of these fairs on St. Valentine's Eve, rather by way of accident; and being a bachelor of timid and reserved habits, I wandered about quietly by myself, apparently absorbed in thought, although noting and inwardly enjoying the spirit of the company. While thus loitering along, stopping at times, now to purchase a knick-knack of some pretty amateur trades-woman, and now to listen to the music of a glee-club, I suddenly found myself abreast of the 'Post-Office.' I just glanced at the

sign, and was passing on, when I heard some one calling, Mr. K-! Mr. K--!' I turned around, not that my name was K-, but because the voice was so musical. 'Mr. K-,' repeated the post-mistress, looking me full in the face; 'there's a letter in the office for you.' I was about putting my hand behind me, when a moment's thought checked the movement, and I answered: " My name is not K--, madam; it is J; George J——.' Ah! J-,' echoed the lady, turning to her assistant, who was writing at the desk; 'GEORGE J—; I believe there is a letter to that address also?' 'Yes; and here it is,' answered the ready assistant, handing to the fair official a letter, which she in turn passed over to me. I looked at the superscription, and true enough, there was my name as plain as could be! The hand-writing, however, was perfectly new to me; and what appeared not a little remarkable, the ink of it was as fresh as if but just written. Laying down a silver dollar on the counter, I broke open the letter and commenced reading; and soon was so absorbed in its contents, that I forgot to take the change, which I have no doubt the fair post-mistress duly counted out for me. Here is the letter:

'DEAR SIR: I hope you will excuse the boldness of these lines, in consideration of the motives of kindness that prompted them. Though I perhaps am totally unknown to you, you are not so to me; for long since, by observation as well as hearsay. I learned the sterling worth of your character; a character in which the gentler affections of our common nature seem so intimately blended with the sterner virtues of manhood, that it is hard for a casual observer to tell which of the two classes predominates and knowing this, I have often felt regret that so much of talent and goodness, so much of what gentle hearts admire and yearn after, should be suffered to waste its sweetness on the desert air;' in other words, that you, Sir, who are so well fitted to make one woman happy in her own eyes, and so exalted in the eyes of others, should feel contented to creep through the world, a solitary, useless being, with all the finer feelings and affections of your nature mouldering away in ignoble sloth, for the lack of some near and der object around which to cling and expand to their full growth. Remember, my dear Sir, the distant and antiquated tower, lovely as it may show in the setting sun, loses half its interest, if on approaching it we discover that its sides are rugged and bare, and destitute of that green and clinging verdure which truth as well as romance ever associates with it. Even so the solitary man, gifted as he may be in intellect and person, seems shorn of half his glory, if on a closer acquaintance we find him a stranger to those mutual affections which cluster and glow around the domestic altar-fire.

Now, my dear Sir, do think of these things, and do n't, I pray you, be a musty old bachelor any longer; and, above all things, don't plead in excuse, as you have heretofore done, the inaccessibility of our sex. There is many a solitary flower still blooming in nature's garden, waiting patiently its turn to be plucked; and I know of no man who would transplant one of these so easily and wear it so gracefully as yourself. No. Sir; your solitary position is all your own fault, I assure you; or at least, it will be so hereafter. Let me whisper a word in your ear. I KNOW A YOUNG LADY But no matter. If you take these lines as kindly as they are meant, you shall soon hear from me again. Till then, adieu! 'HELEN

' AND so,' thought I, as I closed this epistle, 'here's a dead-set at last! But who upon earth, or elsewhere,' is ‘HELEN;' HELEN, who has discovered so many good qualities in me, both personal and mental, of the existence of which I was myself so profoundly ignorant? I recalled the names of all my female acquaintances of former and later years, but that name was not among them. And then, above all things, who is the lady' whom HELEN 'knows?' After some hard cogitating, I began to perceive the uselessness of conjecture; and so, thrusting the letter into my pocket, I again commenced loitering through the crowded hall, in hopes that a smile, a glance of the eye, or some other gentle token, would reveal to me something farther in the matter. I was disappointed, however. All faces appeared alike to me; and, after a few moments more of fruitless search, I retired from the hall, and turned homeward. That night I dreamed of HELEN,' and of the lady whom Helenknows;' and so vivid was the impression of that dream, that on awaking in the morning I could have picked them both out from among a million. I have dreamed of them often, since; but I have never been able to see their faces among the living, although I have sought them every where. What is rather vexatious, too, HELEN seems to have forgotten entirely her promise that I should hear from her again. Perhaps she does not know what feelings her letter has given rise to; and, if paradventure she has seen me since, mistakes my constitutional timidity for indifference to the sex. It is partly in the hope that she may change her opinion, if such be her belief, and partly for the purpose of reminding her of the promise at the close of her letter, and to assure her that I am open to all honorable proposals on the part of her fair friend, that I lay the whole affair before the