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“How can we make bricks without straw?” | this logic, we do not really expect the reader Fas the despairing question of the captive Is will be so unfortunate as to find a great deal in raelites to their exacting masters. Questions this magazine that is worthless. On the consomething like this many a hapless editor has trary, we trust it will be far otherwise. Much desperately put, in view of the labor of cater- industry, and no small amount of talent are ing for the tastes of the literary public, when each month expended on its pages. We say turning to his weary brain for material. In this without the fear of incurring the charge of deed, we find it no easy task to furnish each inordinate vanity, because we refer you to the month an acceptable “ Bill of Fare,” to the favorite pens of the assistant editors, and the numerous and dainty guests who we flatter many able contributore whose thoughts enrich ourselves sit down to the “ Table” of the Re- our columns, and which would be an honor to pository. We know how monotony palls on any magazine. Many a number has been isthe taste; yet perpetual variety — variety spicy, sued of which we have been proud, while selrich, racy, and so arranged as to gratify all dom has one seen the light of which we felt reatastes — is not at all times possible to be impro- son to be ashamed. With this frank avowal, vised. Insipidity may mark one dish, and we turn to our new volume. a too pungent sharpness another, while the With the present number the reader is aware whole outset may seem but an unsavory hash, commences the thirty-third volume of the Re“Alat, stale, and unprofitable” to a third. This pository. One third of a century has passed reflection is not an inspiring one to writer or into eternity since this magazine first saw the reader, all must confess. Rare would be the light- since its indefatigable founder and pubdelight of always being able to please, and en- lisher, a young and generous man, put his hand viable the favored mortal who, in laying down to the work and gave it to our then young and for his monthly journal, could say, “ Among so from numerous denomination. Through many much rubbish I have found one gem !” Intel- a reverse, and overleaping many an obstacle, lectual gems are as rare as the “ gold of the surrounded by difficulties and sometimes disasmountains or gems of the mine.” The miner ter, he steadily, courageously pushed it on, toils long for the modicum of fine dust whose gradually winning for it success and a stability golden particles, washed out from the immense well attested by its long life and ever-growing mass of worthless soil, shall barely repay him popularity. Many a kindred work, starting for his exhausting labor. And he is satisfied. under far more flattering auspices, has, since It is only one in the thousand who chances its commencement, grown to sudden greatness, upon the “ nugget” of pure gold. It is only flourished like Jonah's gourd for a few years, one in the million whose loftiest aspirations are and died; while this has gone steadily on until, answered, whose proud ambition finds the rewith we think only one or two exceptions, it is wards of its long and ceaseless toil in the attain now the oldest magazine in the country. But ment of an exalted position, and the adoring he, its founder and proprietor, with his shoulpraises of his fellow-men. Why, then, should der ever at the wheel, always unwearied in his the reader of the new book of poems, or the efforts to promote the prosperity of the denom
Under the pressure of these calamitous times, it may well be supposed that the hands of the
Among the many ancient ballads revived in present publishers will need bolding up. The modern times, one which seems least known, increase in the expense of issuing the work has which is included in few if any of the colleobeen enormous, while the subscription price re- tions, and which I have met only once, is one mains the same as before the war. You would entitled none of you hear with complacency that it
KING LEIR AND HIS THREE DAUGHTERS. must be given up,- discontinued. To many of you it would be the loss of an old, old friend,
It is a matter of uncertainty whether this balfor if we are not misinformed, there are some
lad was written before or after Shakspeare's subscribers who have taken it from its first tragedy of Lear, that most pathetic and touchcommencement, while to many it has been a
ing of all the tragedies of the great dramatio household friend for twenty years. To make poet. The incidents of the ballad, it will be it at all remunerative to the publishers a large seen by the few stanzas we copy, are closely subscription list is indispensable. This will analogous to those of the play. The date of the make their work safe and encouraging to them. ballad is lost, and whether the “Sweet Swan of It would seem that it would not be a heavy task
Avon was the “plunderer or the plundered to double their present list. “ Many hands must forever remain in doubt. Critics have make light work !” runs the old proverb; and not been slow to express their opinion that the with a little effort by every reader, a great work great bard availed himself of " helps” in many in this field may be done. Miss Chick’s general instances; but whether in this none can tell. rule, that " it is always every one's duty to King Leir once ruled in this land make an effort,” is particularly applicable here. With princely power and peace; Each one of you, dear readers, now a sub- And had all things with heart's content scriber to the Repository, by an energetic ap- That might his joys increase. plication of the said “ effort” could procure Amongst those things that nature gave, one more; and by consulting the circular en. Three daughters fair had he; closed in the present number, you will learn So princely seeming beautiful how much for your interest it may become to As fairer could not be. try, and try at once. For the sake of the publishers, then, for your own sake, and for the “ So on a time it pleased the king credit of the denomination, will you not do so ? A question thus to move, – We leave the matter in your hands, sure that
Which of his daughters to his grace our confidence will not be misplaced.
Could shew his dearest love;
. For to my age you bring content,' It is with sincere satisfaction that we are
Quoth he,' then let me hear able to assure you of the probability that our
Which of you three, in plighted troth, associates, Mrs. Soule and Miss Davis, will be
The kindest will appear." able once more to assume the active labor which a year since lent such attractions to the Repos
No assurances of love and devotion could be itory. From the latter we are happy to intro- stronger than those of the first and second duce the following note :
daughters to the credulous old father; but Cor DEAR READERS, – It is with some embarrass- delia (as in the play) offends the king by ber ment that I make my salutation to you, fearing calm, dispassionate assurance of unpretending that the little which I have been enabled to do | duty, and by the modesty of her expressions. · for the past year will be considered as a poor au
The simple-hearted old king, like many a gary for the future. I dare promise nothing, younger and wiser one, is deceived by the holbut should my health continue to improve, as low professions of the deceitful daughters, who I trust it will, I will do my best for the Repos- share the crown, while the gentle Cordelia is itory. Would I could more worthily maintain cast off to wander, friendless and forsaken, the honor I feel it to be in thus having my round the world, name associated with those of Mrs. Sawyer and “ Until at last in France Mrs. Soule. That they may be blessed with un- She gentler fortunes found; interrupted health, and that we unitedly may Though poor and bare, yet she was deemed succeed in making the Repository more accept- The tairest on the ground; able than ever before, is the sincere desire of Where, when the king her virtues heard,
And this tair lady seen,
M. 8. D.
With full consent of all his court,
Yet he, good kiog, in his old days,
Possessed his crown again.”
“ But when he heard Cordelia's death,
Who died indeed from love
Of her dear father, in whose cause
She did this battle move,
He swooning fell upon her breast,
From whence he never parted,
But on her bosom left his life
That was so truly-hearted.”
It will be seen that the final catastrophe dif-
sense of justice is, however, more fully satisfied exclaims,
king, while the death of Cordelia on the battle “ And am I then rewarded thus,
field seems less repulsive and terrible than the For giving all I have
murder in the prison by which Shakspeare terUnto my children, and to beg
minates her life. The fate of the sisters, who For what I lately gave?
are condemned and put to death by the nobles I'll go unto my Gonorell;
of the land, more nearly accords with our modMy second child, I know,
ern ideas of justice, and is less abhorrent than Will be more kid and pitiful,
their unnatural exit from lite depicted by the And will relieve my woe!”
great dramatist. The poem closes, like most of But alas, for the poor old father! The cock-the old English ballads, with a fine moral:strice Gonorell, worse even than her sister,
“ Thus have you seen the fall of pride gives him a seat in her kitchen and the food
And disobedient sin."
The consideration of this ancient ballad reders, a frenzied outcast. The scene is thus fine-calls a modern poem which has the true oldly portrayed :
ballad ring. It is by Bayard Taylor, and well “ Which made him rend his milk-white locks
worthy to follow the ballad whose fragments And tresses from his head,
are above quoted, and is besides sweetly and And all with blood bestain his cheeks
sadly suited to the events of the present day
and of our own country.
“'Give us a song ! the soldiers cried,
The outer trenches guarding,
When the heated guns of the camps allied
Grew weary of bombarding. to France, where, met and recognized by his injured but gentle-hearted Cordelia, he finds “ The dark Redan, in silent scoff, protection and gentleness with Cordelia's hus- Lay grim and threatening under: band, who,
And the tawny mound of the Malakoff, “ With noble mind,
No longer belched its thunder.
“ There was
pause! A guardsman said To fame and courage bent.
• We storm the forts to-murrow;
Sing while we may, another day “And so to England came with speed,
Will bring enough of sorrow.'
THE SONG OF THE CAMP.
“ They sang of love, and not of fame;
mingled of the thunder of cannon and the Forgot was Briton's glory;
shrieks and groans of the dying. But how Each heart recalled a different name,
true to the secret history of the human heart is But they all sang' Annie Laurie.'
the tale that
“ Each recalled a different name, “ Voice after voice caught up the song,
But they all sang Annie Laurie."
In the sacred silence of the breast, unspoken to
a comrade or friend, was the true name kept
hidden; while a tear, the last fond tribute, per“ Dear girl ! her name he dared not speak;
haps, to the loved one at home they should ever Yet as the song grew louder,
render, stained the battle-soiled cheek. Something upon the soldier's cheek
The song is altogether most sweet and true Washed off the stain of powder.
How many of our own brave soldiers, who “ Beyond the darkening ocean burned
sing some song of love and home tonight, may The bloody sunset's embers;
to-morrow lie“ dumb and gory" on the fatal While the Crimean valley learned
field ! How English love rememberg.
In another vein, but even more affecting and “ And once again a fire of hell
mournful, are the lines which, under the nom Rained on the Russian quarters,
de plume of “ Private Miles O'Reilly,”-a name With scream of shot and burst of shell which has won a high and sudden reputation And bellowing of the mortars.
for one whose brilliant pen had earned a name
before, - a poet and soldier has given to the pub“ And Irish Nora's eyes are dim
lic. For a singer dumb and gory;
It has run the gauntlet of the daily papers, And English Mary mourns for him
but our readers will be glad to peruse it in the Who sang of ' Annie Laurie.'
pages of the Repository, for the melancholy
and truthful interest infused into it by him of “ Ah, soldiers ! to your honored rest
the “ Lyre and Sword.” Your truth and valor bearing, The bravest are the tenderest,
APRIL 20, 1864. The loving are the daring."
BY PRIVATE MILES O'REILLY. Few songs are sweeter than this. Under the Three years ago to-day grim fortresses of the Redan, and the “ tawny” We raised our hands to Heaven, Malakoff, with knowledge that the dread works And on the rolls of muster are to be stormed to-morrow, the smoke still Our names were thirty-seven; rising from the heated guns whose thunders There were just a thousand bayonets, have all day bellowed their stormy salutations, And the swords were thirty-seven, lay the smoke-stained and weary soldiers. Their As we took the oath of service hearts have gone back to the scenes and the With our right hands raised to Heaven. songs of home, and they burst into an anthem of melody such as they had heard by the Sev. Oh! 'twas a gallant day, ern and the Clyde and the banks of the Shan
In memory still adored, non. But the theme was not of the war,
That day of our : un-bright nuptials They sang of love, and not of fame;
With the musket and the sword ! Forgot was Briton's glory;
Shrill rang the fifes, the bugles blared, Each heart recalled a different name,
And beneath a cloudless heaven But they all sang. Annie Laurie.'”
Twinkled a thousand bayonets,
And the swords were thirty-seven. How strangely sad and sweet must it have sounded as
Of the thousand stalwart bayonets “ Voice after voice caught up the strain," Two hundred march to-day; and the grim towers of the Redan and of the Hundreds lie in Virginia swamps, Malakoff echoed back the strain,-“The bat- And hundreds in Maryland clay; tle-eve confession." Alas! to-morrow they And other hundreds, less happy, drag were to answer to the noise of a different music,
Their shattered limbs around,
And envy the deep, long, blessed sleep
mourn—that the voice to which she owes so much Of the battle-field's holy ground,
is now silent, and the great and loving heart,
which, by some mysterious attraction, won all Por the swords-one night, a week ago, others to pulsate in unison with itself, is hushed The remnant, just eleven,
forever. But he has left a memory which will Gathered around a banqueting board
be always dear, while the State kept loyal by With seats for thirty-seven.
him will stand as his fitting monument while
our country has a name among the nations.
PATRIOTISM AND OTHER PAPERS.
This book, published by Tompkins & Co.,
comes to us with an introduction by the Rev.
Mr. Greenwood, and a brief and touching me-
morial sketch of the author, the avant courier,
no doubt, of a fuller and more elaborate memoir,
by his life-long friend, Hon. Richard Frothing-
of their friend that could not die, by thousands
of loving and mourning hearts, is what all must THE CHRISTIAN PATRIOT OF CALIFORNIA.
know. It seems but a work of supererogation to
recommend its purchase and perusal to those who