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1. Adventures in South Africa. A Review of Gordon Cumming's recent work: The Nimrod of the age-Extensive preparations made by Mr. Cumming for his Expedition-Hottentot jargon : The Springbok-other varieties of the Antelope-Affair with a lion; the Nwana tree; Races of South Africa-"Seeing the elephant" and eating him-Characteristics of the author, &c.......199 2. Thomas Campbell. By H. T. Tuckerman. The "awkward squad" in literature-public and private life of men of letters-The poet as a manCorrespondence between the poet's character and his writings-Sketch of Campbell's career, &c......

3. Count Koningsmark. A Historical Reminis

cence

Whole Number, CXCVI.

ORIGINAL PROSE ARTICLES (CONTINUED.)

PAGE.

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...212

.220

..218

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17. Song of the Deaf and Dumb. By Sidney Dyer..241 18. To

and

EDITOR'S TABLE.

Parodi-A beautiful Poem-New York Theatricals" Mose" in the French language-The Virginia Convention-Our friend, Hubard, the Artist--Tennyson and the Macready Dinner-Circular to the Former Students of the University of Virginia-Daguerreotype of Poe-Steel Engraving-Lawyers in the United States..... 250-253 NOTICES OF NEW WORKS

D'Avignon's Gallery of Illustrious Americans—
Nile Notes-Twice Told Tales-The City of the
.254-256
Silent-Foreign Reviews....

AGENTS.

MACFARLANE & FERGUSSON, Richmond, Va.
DEWITT & DAVENPORT, New York.
JOSEPH ROBINSON. Baltimore, Md.
C. C. CLEAVES, Memphis, Tenn.
JOHN P. WRIGHT, Lynchburg, Virginia.
J. H. COGHILL, San Francisco, California.

THIS WORK IS PUBLISHED IN MONTHLY NUMBERS AVERAGING SIXTY-FOUR PAGES EACH, AT FIVE

DOLLARS, PER ANNUM, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.

RICHMOND, VA.

MACFARLANE & FERGUSSON.

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PUBLISHED MONTHLY AT FIVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM―JNO. R. THOMPSON, EDITOR AND PROPrietor.

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ROBERT WARREN, his kinsman and enemy.

Warren.

Nay, wait 'till I am gone,

Then use your best severity. She needs itHas no sufficient notion of her duty,

And

Mrs. J.
Warren.

Mrs. J.

No, indeed!

NO. 4.

But you must make her wiser. I will!

I've treated her too tenderly.

Warren.

But show her

Some little glimpse of the danger in her path,Shame and starvation

Mrs. J.

She deserves them both. Warren. And keep my worthy cousin from her pres

ence.

Mrs. J. He darks these doors no more! The girl already

Has orders to deny him.

Warren.

You've done wisely.

A little time, but keep them separate,

And we shall conquer her;--ay, conquer him too,

RICHARD OSBORNE, an attorney and creature of Warren. For I've a little snare, within whose meshes,

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Be ignorant of the mischief 'till it's over,
And we enjoy its fruits! Meanwhile, be busy,-
Pursue the plan you purpose, and to-morrow,
We shall know farther. I shall use the moments
'Twixt this and then, in labors which must profit,
Or fortune grows perverse. See you to her,
While I take care of him.

Mrs. J.
Oh! never fear me-
I'll summon her the moment you are gone,
And she shall know-
Warren.

That you may summon her,

SCENE, first-in Philadelphia: afterwards in Mis- For we must lose no time,-I take my leave.

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But you shall never!

I am your guardian, in the place of mother,
And I will turn you naked from these doors
If you but dare-

Clarice. Ah! that were guardianship,
Becoming the dear sister of a mother,

Who, when she left her hapless child to earth,
Ne'er dream'd of such remembrance, in the future,
Of what beseem'd the past. I've anger'd you,
But cannot chide myself because my nature
Does not revolt at homage of a being
In whom no virtue starves. Suppose him poor!
Wealth makes no certain happiness to hope,
Nor poverty its loss. In Norman Maurice

I see a nobleness that still conceals
The lowly fortunes that offend your pride.
None richer lives in rarest qualities

More precious to the soul, that feeds on worth,
Than in your city glitter. Do you think
To win me from a feast of such delights
To the poor fare on common things that make

The wealth of Robert Warren? Madam-my aunt,-
I thank you for the bounty you have shown me!
It had been precious o'er most earthly things,
But that it has its price at perilous cost,
To things more precious still. Your charity,
That found a shelter for this humble person,
Were all too costly, if it claims in turn
This poor heart's sacrifice. I cannot make it!
I will not wed this Warren,-for I know him-
And, if it be that I shall ever wed,

Will wed with Norman Maurice-as a man,
Whom most it glads me that I also know.

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Mrs. J. Never shall you wed with him, while I have When all that's precious to his stake of life

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Mrs. J.

Ungrateful girl! And this is the return for all my bounty? But you shall not achieve your own destruction, If I can help it. This Maurice never darkens My dwelling with his shadow. He has made you Perverse and disobedient-but he shall not Thrive by your ruin. See that you prepare To marry Robert Warren.

Clarice. With the grave first,— Its cold and silence, and its crawling things, Loathsome, that make us shudder but to think on, Sooner than he!-a base, unworthy creature, Who steals between his kinsman and the friend, That gave him highest trust, and held him faithful, To rob him of the treasure he most values. The reptile that keeps empire in the grave Sooner than he, shall glide into this bosom, And make it all his own.

Mrs. J.

Before I madden with your insolence,

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Maurice. Ay, madam, the most precious to the mortal!
Rights of the heart, which make the heart immortal
In those affections which still show to earth,
The only glimpses we have left of Eden.

Behold in her, [pointing to Clarice,] my best apology-
One, whom to gaze on silences complaint,
And justifies the audacity that proves

Its manhood in its error. Clarice, my love,
Is there in any corner of your heart
An echo to the will that says to Maurice,
Your presence here is hateful.

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[Takes her hand.]

Enough!

Too much, I say. Let go her hand, And leave this dwelling, sir! I'm mistress here. And shall take measures for security Against this lawless insolence.

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Silence, I say!-You are the mistress here;-I will obey you ;—
Will leave your presence, madam, never more

To trouble you with mine. You now deny me
The privilege that never act of mine

Hath properly made forfeit. You behold me
The suitor to your niece. You hear her language,-
How different from your own!-that with her bounty
Makes rich my heart with all the gifts in hers!
Sternly, you wrest authority from judgment,
To exercise a will that puts to scorn

Her hopes no less than mine! I would have pleaded
Your calm return to judgment;-would entreat you
To thoughts of better favor that might sanction,
With the sweet blessing of maternal love,
The mutual passion living in our hearts,

But that I know how profitless the pleading,
That in the ear of prejudice would soften
The incorrigible wax that deafens pride.

I plead not for indulgence-will not argue
The cruelty that finds in charity
Commission for that matchless tyranny

That claims the right to break the orphan's heart
Because it finds her bread.

Clarice, [aside to Maurice.]

Maurice, [aside to Clarice.]

wherefore need I spare,

Spare her, Norman.
Oh! Will I not!

When, if the Holy Law be not a mock,
The justice which must break this heart of stone,
Will send her howling through eternity.
"Twere mercy that in season speaks the truth,
That in the foretaste of sure penalties,
May terrify the offender from his path,
And send him to his knees.

Clarice, [aside to Maurice,]

Yet

For my sake, Norman.

Maurice, [to Mrs. J.] Yet, madam, in this freest use
of pow'r,

Which drives me hence, be merciful awhile,
And if this heart, so dearly linked with mine,
Through love and faith unperishing, must turn
Its fountains from that precious overflow

That kept my flow'rs in bloom; yet, ere the word,
That leaves me sterile ever thence, be said,
Suffer us, apart, awhile, to speak of parting?
Words of such import still ask fewest ears,
And words of grief and hopelessness like ours,
Must needs have utterance in such lowly tones,
As best declare the condition of the heart,
That's muffled for despair. But a few moments
We'll walk apart together.

Mrs. J.

What needs

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If that there be no courage in our hearts
To shape the fates to favor by our will.
Clarice.

Maurice.

Norman ?

What mean you,
What should Norman mean,
But if he can, to grapple with his fortune,
And like a sturdy wrestler in the ring,
Throw heart and hope into the perilous struggle?
What should I mean but happiness, for thee,—
Thou willing, as myself? Who strives with fate
Must still like him, the mighty Macedonian,
Seize the coy priestess by the wrist, and lead her
Where still she would not go! Suppose me faithful
To the sweet passion I have proffer'd you,
And what remains in this necessity,
But that, made resolute by grim denial,
I challenge from your love sufficient courage,
To take the risks of mine!

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Maurice.

It hath-it hath!
If that the love be there, as I believe it,
That love will bring, to nourish needful strength,
A virtue that makes love a thing of soul,

And arms its will with wings. Oh! read you not,
My meaning-

Mrs. J., [approaching.] Your moment is a long one, sir.
Maurice.
Ah, Madam!

It is useless! Who chides the executioner when he suffers
The victim his last words-though still he lingers

Maurice. What need of sorrow ever? Could earth Ere he would reach the last? But a few moments,

speak,

Prescribing laws to that Divinity,

That still smites rock to water, we should hear,

The universal voice of that one plea,

That claims for man immunity from troubles

And I have spoken all that my full heart

Might not contain with safety.

Mrs. J., [retiring up the stage.]

Be it so, sir.

Maurice. You hear, my Clarice. We've another

moment:

That make proud eyes o'erflow. Who should persuade But one, it seems, unless your resolution

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That flings him down the abyss, still hoards each minute Would wed thee to that subtle Robert Warren

That niggard fate allows. That single minute
Still shrines a hope;-if not a hope, a feeling,

That finds a something precious even in pain,

Clarice.
Maurice.
No need of perishing
When I can bring thee to security.

I'd perish first!

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