POETRY.

Song of the Soil.

By J. H. R. Bayly

I start the bulb of the beautiful flower,
And feed the bloom of the wild-wood bower;
I rear the blade of the tender herb,
And the trunk of the stalwart oak I curb;
I force the sap of the mountain pine,
And curl the tendrils of the vine;
I robe the forest and clothe the plain
With the ripest of fruit and the richest of grain.

The cheek of the peasant I flush with health,
And yield the sturdy yeoman wealth;
I give the spirit of commerce wings,
And prop the tottering thrones of kings:
The gorgeous palace and humble cot
Owe every atom to me they've got;

And the prince at his banquet, and hind at his board,

Alike must depend on the fare I afford..

Man may boast of his creature might,

His talents in peace, and his prowess in fight, And lord it over beast and bird

By the charm of his touch and the spell of his word;

But I am the sole and mighty source
Whence flows the tide of his boasted force:
Whatever his right and whoever he be,
His pomp and dominion must come from me!

I am the giver of all that's good,

And have been since the world hath stood: Where's there wealth on ocean, or beauty on land,

But sprung from the warmth of my fostering

hand?

Or where the object, fair and free,
That claims a being, but's traced to me?
Cherish then cherish, ye sons of toil,
The wonderful might of the fruitful roil!

For the American Penny Magazine.
To My Friends.

"As thy days, thy strength shall be."
DEUT, ch. xxxiii., v. 25,*

Ah, my soul! why sink, dismayed?
Think what the Lord has done for thee!
When faint, despairing, He has said,
That, as thy days, thy strength shall be,

Yes, I have felt, in sorrow's hour,

When deeply wounded in my heart, And clouds of deep despair did lower, Thy pity kind to strength impart.

My friends, with fortune's frowns oppressed, No prospect of relief who see;

Still on His declaration rest-

That, as your days, your strength snall be.

Autumnal foliage gay, arrayed

With brilliant tints; soon changes sear: Thus earthly expectations fade;

For there is naught that's lasting here.

Though want oppress, do not despair-
For patience may dispel the gloom.
Of labor man is doomed the heir;
Nor let him on his wealth presume.

Despair not; but on Him rely,

Who ne'er the righteous does forsakeWhose love parental hovers nigh:

His promise lle doth never break.

Have you not seen, when clouds of night,
Impervious, dark, the sky o'erspread,

A little star, with trembling light,

Break forth, when soon the darkness filed?

Though thickest gloom your prospects shroud,
And not a ray of hope doth gleam,

Yet, as the star bursts from the cloud,
With radiance mild it still may beam.

For He, who never hides his face
From those who bend in humble prayer,
Apportions still to them the grace,
The burthen of their days to bear.

Rely upon His promised aid,

Though not a twinkling ray you see;
Take comfort-He to thee has said,
That, as thy days, thy strength shall be.
M. A.

* Our correspondent, who has favored us with these lines, writes that they were written at a time when the author sympathized deeply with a family of friends, who were in very afflicting and trying circumstances; and afterwards a copy was sent to another friend, in a similar situation, with a happy effect. She often composed herself to sleep, after a laborious day of humiliation and suffering, by repeating the verses. With the recollection that such cases are never wanting, and with the hope that they may administer comfort to some of the sons or daughters of sorrow, our correspondent offers them for a place in our magazine.

We will only add, that it is not the least of the pleasures which an editor's profession sometimes affords him, that he is able thus to open a channel of communication between hearts which need consolation, and those which krow so well how to confer it -ED.

THE AMERICAN PENNY MAGAZINE AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER, Is published weekly, at the office of the New York Express, No. 112 Broadway, at 3 cents a number, ( 16 pages large octavo,) or, to subscribers receiving it by man, and paying in advance, $1 a year. The postage is one cent a number for all parts of the State, or within 100 miles of the city, and one and a half cents for greater distances. Persons forwarding the money for five copies, will receive a sixth gratis. Editors known to have published this advertisement, with an editorial notice of the work, will be supplied with it for one year. By the quantity, $2 a hundred. The work will form a volume of 832 pages annually.

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"Two thousand years ago, these statues, like the tombs of the kings, were objects of great interest to strangers visiting Thebes. The geographer, Strabo, who flourished in the reign of the Emperor Augustus, has left us the following description of them as they existed when he visited Egypt. "On the opposite (or western) side of the Nile," he says, "is the Memnonium, where there are two monolith collossi near one another; one of the statues is entire, but the upper part of the other has fallen from its chair, owing to an earthquake, as they say. It is believed that once every day a sound, as of a moderate blow, proceeds from that part of the statue which remains on the seat and the pedestal. I happened to be on the spot with Elius Gallus, and many of his friends and soldiers about the first hour, when I heard the sound; but whether it came from the base or from the collossus, or was made by some one of those around the base, I cannot affirm. For the cause not being visible, one is inclined to believe anything rather than that the sound was emitted from the stone. Above the Memnonium are the tombs of the kings cut in the rock, forty in number, very wonderful in their construction, and well worth examining.'

"The statue here mentioned by Strabo as emitting sounds, was very celebrated during the dominion of the Romans in Egypt. Its legs are covered with inscriptions recording the visits of many persons, and their testimo ny to the fact of the sound being emitted. A piece of stone has been discerned in its lap, which, on being struck, gives out a sound like that of brass; and it is commonly supposed that the priests made use of this to impose on their visiters. In 1830, Mr. Wilkinson placed an Arab at the foot of the statue, and himself mounting into its lap, proceeded to strike the stone in question; the Arab at once called out, "You are striking brass."

FOREIGN TRAVELS. Greece in 1844; or, A Greek's Return to his Native Land-a narrative, edited by THEODORE DWIGHT, JR.

CHAPTER IV.

The Revolution of 1844, just past.-Its pacific, but decided character.-Its causes.The Greek national dress.-Its antiquity.Patriotic feelings connected with it.--The National Convention in session.-Their delibe

rations.-Members.

What is called the late revolution took place a few months before my visit to Athens. It was an event of an important character, inasmuch as it brought about a great improvement in the government, and raised the native influence above the foreign. The latter had before been predominant, to such a degree that men of other nations held a great part of the honarable, influential and lucrative offices, while the taxes necessary to support them excited discontent among the people. The long promised charter had never been

conferred, and seemed to be forgotten; and the friends of the country felt that they had nothing to secure them against further abuses and foreign encroachments. The national spirit was not fostered, but, on the contrary, thrown more and more into discredit-so that the very Greek costume was almost entirely laid aside, and had become an object of dislike, if not of ridicule.

In the month of September, 1643, O. S. (15th N. S.) the troops at Athens made their appearance before the palace, with crowds of citizens unarmed, without orders from the King, and, with shouts, demanded the promised charter. Otho made his appearance at a balcony, inquired the cause of the unexpected and extraordinary movement, and, in a conciliatory manner, informed the troops that he would take the subject into consideration, and give them an answer in a few days-declined-a few hours. This reply was received without disturbance, or any hostile expression. The troops remained under arms, but in a state of perfect order and tranquillity, until the decision of the king was made known. As it was exactly in cofrespondence with their demands and their wishes, it was received with shouts of appro bation; and no disturbance afterwards took place.

What would have happened if the king's course had been different, no one can certainly say. The soldiery and the people appear to have been very resolute in their demand; and probably the king and his advisers were convinced that the course they adopted was at least the best and wisest they could choose, if not the only one. It may be that it suited as well the feelings of the king as appearances seemed to say. Indeed, it is not at all im possible that, although a foreigner, he had already seen enough of the evils threatened to the country by a greater influx of foreigners. The inconveniences arising to his government were already numerous and great; and he probably had sagacity enough to foresee, what I believe all the Greeks felt, that the existing state of things could not last much longer without throwing the country into dangerous confusion. To a prince with out inordinate military ambition, and with no conceivable inducement to involve himself in the agitations and difficulties of public discontent and conflict, there was nothing in such a career to attach himself to them very strongly. Be his feelings, however, what they may, he certainly yielded to the demand of the army and the wishes of the people with a good grace; and, if not in his heart quite inclined to the change when he yielded assent, he must soon afterwards have found strong reasons to become reconciled to it. General satisfaction, joy and enthusiasm were spread on all sides among the people; and there was a sudden return to the national spirit strongly indicated in different ways, but most palpably in a sudden resuming of the ancient costume. Before the war, the Greeks, in many places,

wore a dress much resembling that of the Turks; though in the Peloponnesus and some islands, a few had preserved their more ancient garments, which soon, and very naturally, rose to more general favor. These consist of a short jacket, tight trousers, leggins sitting close to the leg, and buttoned down the inner side, with a very full white muslin petticoat, gathered round the loins, and hanging all round down nearly to the ancles. On the head is a large, cylindrical, red cap. This peculiar costume, so different at once from the European and Asiatic, is, on the whole, very graceful; and when formed, as it often is, of elegant and costly materials, is rich and imposing. It is regarded as a legitimate remnant of antiquity; and, as a Greek is compelled, in a manner, to associate the strongest feelings with ages long past, every patriot must of course be excused for regarding this dress with superior and decided respect. But, during the decline of native influence in Otho's government, the ancient costume had fallen by degrees quite into disrelish, so that, at length, foreign taste had scouted it from court, and if an individual ever ventured to appear in it at a royal levée, he had to encounter the sneers, or at least silent expressions of contempt, from those who had usurped the places and honors due to natives of the soil, and to patriots who had defended it in times of danger.

As the system of abuses complained of had removed the ancient costume, the revolution suddenly restored it; and I was informed that one of the most striking scenes which presented itself, on the morning of the peaceful revolt, was the general resumption of the national dress. After it had long been almost entirely banished from Athens, on that day it suddenly reappeared, by a secret but general concert. About five hundred of the principal citizens came out in the full ancient costume, and thronged the streets, congratulating their countrymen on the events of that auspicious day.

Í daily saw many persons thus arrayed, and regarded the dress with the greatest interest, after hearing these circumstances related. I could easily perceive a degree of resemblance, if not an identity, between some portions of it and that of our ancestors, as represented on some of the statues and relievos which I examined. Changes took place in costume from time to time, and different ones in different places. They are said, by a writer, to have generally gone with uncovered heads; and, in that particular, our present national dress cannot correspond with theirs; yet, some of the figures on the frieze of the Parthenon present us with a hat, though a different one from ours. Two or three youths, apparently of high rank, have light hats with brims of some light material like braided straw, fastened by a ribbon under the chin.

The national language, too, seems to be regarded with double interest. It may not be sufficient to be informed on a few general

points respecting the modern language of Greece. How far will they affect the tongue in a written book, a page, or in conversation? It is evident, it may be said, that certain features are retained-more than, perhaps, scholars generally are fully aware of; but, after all, is it not essentially a different thing from the ancient? To this we may undertake to present something like a reply, in several different ways.

It has been objected to the modern language, that Homer contains many words which are unintelligible to an uneducated modern Greek, which, in short, are not in the modern tongue; but there is another side to this matter: every word in the modern Greek is to be found in Homer. This reply was made by a learned man some years ago, since which important changes have been made in the language. These have grown out of circumstances in the national way, and have been brought about merely by a recurrence to the rules and principles of the tongue. New words have been in demand, because new ideas were received by the nation. The revolution began this change in the language, by beginning the change in the condition of the people. Ever since the people began to cry "Liberty or Death!" in the language of their ancestors, until they had gone through the processes of establishing independence, organizing a government, founding schools, publishing newspapers, introducing the arts and sciences of Europe, at every step in the long and complex process, they encountered some new object, act or thought, for which they had no name. In many instances, it is true, western civilization had anticipated them, and borrowed from the storehouse of their own dictionary elements and rules of combination, by which they fabricated terms. These were ready at their hand, and often adopted by them, with a feeling of obligation to their modern leaders and to their ancient grammarians. In many other instances, they had but to seek among the terms of past ages for the ancient names of things long strangers to their people. Grecian liberty had lived for ages only in Grecian books. With her had gone into exile a long list of words which slaves have no use for. Now they returned in her company; and I found them restored, and already familiar to the lips even of the common people, who would never have got them for books. I was much struck with this change. It was a novelty to me, but had long ceased to strike others in that manner. To them, too, this change in the language had come on slowly. To me it broke all at once, and it was one for which I was not prepared.

The Greek which I had known was that spoken in my native island before the revolution, and the first few years of its continuance. Since that period, I had but seldom found opportunity to use it, and then with a few of my countrymen, most of whom had been exiles from their country nearly or quite as long as

myself, and who were almost as much beyond the influence of those important changes.

My readers, I think, will readily perceive how such causes as I have alluded to might have affected the language. I heard an anecdote, which, I doubt not, gives a fair example, from which many other cases may be judged of. I was told that several years after the establishment of independence, a Turk visited Athens, for the purpose of transacting some business of importance to himself, which brought him to the courts, and into contact with lawyers and forms of civil processes. On his return to his home, which was Smyrna, he fell in company with some of the Greek residents of that city. In the course of conversation with them, in Turkish, he used several terms which they did not understand, and the meaning of which they demanded. He explained them; when they found, with surprise, that he was only defining words of their own language, which necessity had compelled him to become familiarized to at Athens, and which they before had no need and no opportunity to become acquainted with. It is uncommon enough to find a Turk teaching a Greek anything like learning; but a case in which a Turk had learned definitions of ancient Greek terms of science was so wholly unprecedented, that the anecdote was repeated, to the wonder of every hearer. At the same time, only a moment's reflection was necessary to enable every one to perceive the reason and the natural occasion of the phenomenon.

An Incident in our Revolutionary History. From President Dwight's Travels

In the battle of Hoosac, erroneously called the battle of Bennington, the British lost 226 killed outright, and 36 officers and more than 700 privates made prisoners. Among the latter was Col. Baum, who soon after died of his wounds.

Among the prisoners taken by the Americans at this battle, was an inhabitant of Hancock, in the county of Berkshire (Mass.), a plain farmer, named Richard Jackson. This man had conscientiously taken the British side in the revolutionary contest, and felt himself bound to seize the earliest opportunity of employing himself in the service of his sovereign. Hearing that Col. Baum was advancing with a body of troops towards Bennington, he rose early, saddled his horse, and rode to Hoosac, intending to attach himself to this corps. Here he was taken, in such circumstances as proved his intention beyond every reasonable doubt. He was, besides, too honest to deny it. Accordingly, he was transmitted to Great Barrington, then the shire town of Berkshire, and placed in the hands of Gen. Fellows, high sheriff of the county, who immediately confined him in the county jail. This building was at that time so insecure that, without a guard, no prisoner could be kept in it who wished to make his escape.

To escape, however, was in no degree consonant with Richard's idea of right; and he thought no more seriously of making an attempt of this nature, than he would have done had he been in his own house. After he had lain quietly in jail a few days, he told the sheriff that he was losing his time and earning nothing, and wished that he would permit him to go out and work in the daytime, promising to return regularly at evening to his quarters in the prison. The sheriff had become acquainted with his character, and readily acceded to his proposal. Accordingly, Richard went out regularly during the remaining part of the autumn, and the following winter and spring until the beginning of May, and every night returned at the proper hour to the jail. In this manner he performed a day's work every day, without any exception beside the Sabbath, through the whole period.

In the month of May he was to be tried for high treason. The sheriff accordingly made preparations to conduct him to Springfield, where his trial was to be held; but he told the sheriff it was not worth his while to take the trouble, for he could just as well go alone, and it would save both the expense and inconvenience of the sheriff's journey. The sheriff, after a little reflection, assented to his proposal, and Richard commenced his journey-the only one, it is believed, which was ever undertaken in the same manner, for the same object.

In the woods of Tyringham he was overtaken by the Hon. F. Edwards, from whom I had this story:

"Whither are you going?" said Mr. Edwards.

"To Springfield, sir," answered Richard, to be tried for my life."

Accordingly, he proceeded directly to Springfield, surrendered himself to the sheriff of Hampshire, was tried, found guilty, and condemned to die.

The Council of Massachusetts was at this time the supreme executive of the state. Application was made to this board for a pardon. The facts were stated, the evidence on which they were supported, and the sentence grounded on them. The question was then put by the President: "Shall a pardon be granted to Richard Jackson ?" The gentleman who first spoke, observed that the case was perfectly clear: the act alleged against Jackson was unquestionably high treason, and the proof was complete. If a pardon should be granted in this case, he saw no reason why it should not be granted in every other. In the same manner answered those who followed him. When it came to the turn of Mr. Edwards, he told this story, with those little circumstances of particularity which, though they are easily lost from the memory, and have escaped mine, give light and shade a living reality, and a picturesque impression to every tale, which is fitted to enforce conviction or to touch the heart. At the same time,