David Barker. AMERICAN. Barker (1816-1874) was a native of Exeter, Me. When seven years old he lost his father, and thus carly learned the lesson of self-dependence. He was educated at the Foxcroft Academy, and became himself a teacher; then tried the trade of a blacksmith, but finally qualified himself as a lawyer, and was admitted to the Bar. Sympathy for the distressed was one of his prominent traits. While he repudiated dogmas, he had a firm faith in immortality and a divine Providence. Upright and charitable, he faithfully practised the good he preached in his unpretending verses. A collection of his poems, edited by his brother, was published in Bangor, Me., in 1876. I know that the world-that the great big world- To see which dog may be in the fault, But for me I never shall pause to ask Perchance what I've said I had better not said, Or, 'twere better I had said it incog., But with heart and with glass filled chock to the brim, Here is luck to the bottom dog! THE COVERED BRIDGE. Tell the fainting soul in the weary form, There's a world of the purest bliss, That is linked as that soul and form are linked, By a covered bridge with this. Yet to reach that realm on the other shore, We must pass through a transient gloom, And must walk unseen, unhelped, and alone, Through that covered bridge-the tomb. But we all pass over on equal terms, Is the outer garb, which the hand of God Though the eye is dim, and the bridge is dark, And the river it spans is wide, Yet Faith points through to a shining mount That looms on the other side. To enable our feet, in the next day's march, To climb up that golden ridge, We must all lie down for a one night's rest Inside of the covered bridge. The Bronté Family. Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Bronté were daughters of the Rev. Patrick Bronté, a native of Ireland, who in 1820 moved, with his wife and ten children, to the vil lage of Haworth, four miles from Keighley, England. His income was one hundred and seventy pounds a year. The three daughters showed remarkable literary abili ties. Charlotte (1816-1855) wrote the celebrated novel of "Jane Eyre" (1847), and became famous. Emily (1818-1848) wrote "Wuthering Heights" (1847), a novel; and Anne (1820-1849) wrote "The Tenant of Wildfell Hall," also published in 1847. The three sisters had published in 1846 "Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell "pseudonymes representing Charlotte, Emily, and Anne respectively. Of these Emily seems to have shown the most decided talent for poetry. Charlotte married (1854) her father's curate, Mr. Nicholls, but died the next year. An interesting memoir of her by Mrs. Gaskell appeared in 1857. The other two sisters died young and unmarried. "The bringing out our book of poems," writes Charlotte, "was hard work. As was to be expected, neither we nor our poems were at all wanted." THE UNDER DOG IN THE FIGHT. I know that the world-that the great big world— Has a different tale from the tale I tell, But for me, and I care not a single fig If they say I am wrong or am right,I shall always go in for the weaker dog, For the under dog in the fight. LIFE. CHARLOTTE BRONTÉ. Life, believe, is not a dream, Oft a little morning rain Foretells a pleasant day: Sometimes there are clouds of gloom, But these are transient all; If the shower will make the roses bloom, Oh, why lament its fall? Rapidly, merrily, Life's sunny hours flit by, Gratefully, cheerily, Enjoy them as they fly. Then his eyes began to weary, Weighed beneath a mortal sleep; And their orbs grew strangely dreary, Clouded, even as they would weep. But they wept not, but they changed not, Never moved, and never closed; Troubled still, and still they ranged notWandered not, nor yet reposed! So I knew that he was dyingStooped and raised his languid head; Felt no breath, and heard no sighing,ན་ So I knew that he was dead! William Ellery Channing. AMERICAN. A nephew of the eminent American preacher (17801842) of the same name, Channing, the son of Dr. Walter Channing, a well-known physician, was born in Boston, 1817. He has published: "Poems, First Series" (1843), "Second Series " (1847); "Youth of the Poet and Painter, Psychological Essays" (1844); "Conversations in Rome, between an Artist, a Catholic, and a Critic" (1847); "The Woodman, and other Poems" (1849). His productions are suggestive of reserved power. Emerson once characterized them as "poetry for poets." IF THIS BE ALL. O God! if this indeed be all No freshening dew from Thee ;- And wake to weary woe;— While I go wandering on,— With constant care and frequent pain, The outward torrent's swell: The feelings I would share, And turned to wormwood there;- The glories of the Sun, And I must suffer Winter's blight If Life must be so full of care, Then call me soon to Thee! Or give me strength enough to bear 1 The poems of Anne, like those of her sisters, have a marked personal bearing. TO MY COMPANIONS. Ye heavy-hearted mariners Who sail this shore! Ye patient, ye who labor Sitting at the sweeping oar, And see afar the flashing sea-gulls play From out your dreariness, Nay, nay, I know not, mariners! That high uplift their smooth dark fronts, I do imagine that the free clouds play And hath secure dominion A POET'S HOPE. Lady, there is a hope that all men have, I seek it not, I ask no rest forever, My path is onward to the farthest shores,Upbear me in your arms, unceasing river! That from the soul's clear fountain swiftly pours, Motionless not, until the end is won, Which now I feel hath scarcely felt the sun! To feel, to know, to soar unlimited, 'Mid throngs of light-winged angels, sweeping far, And pore upon the realms unvisited, That tesselate the unseen, unthought star, To be the thing that now I feebly dream Flashing within my faintest, deepest gleam! Ah! caverns of my soul! how thick your shade, Golden-eyed demons of my ancestry! O Time! O Death! I clasp you in my arms, And that wild snow-pile which we call to-morrow; I am not earth-born, though I here delay; Henry David Thoreau. AMERICAN. Thoreau (1817-1862) was a native of Boston, Mass., and was graduated at Harvard College in 1837. His father was a maker of lead - pencils at Concord. Henry supported himself by surveying, teaching school, carpentering, and other work. But the burdens and restrictions of society were intolerable to his free, unconventional nature. He remained single; he never attended church, never voted, and never paid a tax. The town-constable once attempted to collect a poll-tax of him, and took him to jail; but after a short imprisonment he was set at liberty. In 1845 he built for himself a wooden house, or hut, on the shore of Walden Pond, near Concord, and lived there several years. He gives this account of his expenses for a year: The house cost him $28 121; his crop of vegetables was valued at $23 44, and the outgoes were $14 72%. The cost of groceries for eight months was $8 74, and for clothing $8 40. Total expenses for the year, $61 994. Thoreau published "A Week on Concord and Merrimac Rivers" (1849); "Walden, or Life in the Woods" (1854); "Excursions" (1863); "Maine Woods, Cape Cod, A Yankee in Canada, Letters to various Persons" (1865). His poetry is for the most part scattered through his prose writings. Some of it was contributed to The Dial. The thought in it is often too subtle and recondite to be traced without an effort. In a letter which Hawthorne wrote us, under date of Concord, October 21st, 1842, we find this pertinent passage: "There is a gentleman in this town by the name of Thoreau, a graduate of Cambridge, and a fine scholar, especially in old English literature-but withal a wild, irregular, Indian-like sort of fellow, who can find no occupation in life that suits him. He writes, and sometimes-often, for aught I know-very well indeed. He is somewhat tinctured with transcendentalism; but *** is a genuine and exquisite observer of nature-a character almost as rare as that of a true poet. He writes poetry also-for instance, 'To the Maiden in the East,' 'The Summer Rain,' and other pieces in The Dial for October, which seem to be very careless and imperfect, but as true as bird - notes. The man has stuff to make a reputation of, and I wish you would find it consistent with your interest to aid him in attaining that object." SMOKE IN WINTER. The sluggish smoke curls up from some deep dell, It has gone down the glen with the light wind, UPON THE BEACH. My life is like a stroll upon the beach, My sole employment 'tis, and scrupulous care, To set my gains beyond the reach of tides,— Each smoother pebble, and each shell more rare, Which ocean kindly to my hand confides. I have but few companions on the shore,- The middle sea contains no crimson dulse, Its deeper waves cast up no pearls to view; Along the shore my hand is on its pulse, And I converse with many a shipwrecked crew. Eliza Cook. Born in Southwark, London, in 1817, the daughter of a tradesman, Miss Cook published in 1840 a volume enti tled "Melaia, and other Poems." She contributed a great variety of short poems to periodical works, and in 1849 established a weekly-Eliza Cook's Journal—which had a fair success from 1849 to 1853, when failing health compelled her to give it up. She seems to have had that "fatal facility" in rhyming which is a bar to excellence; but many of her poems are spirited and pleasing. In 1864 she received a literary pension of one hundred pounds a year. In 1874 an edition of her complete poetical works was published. The "Old Arm-chair" was set to music, and became quite a popular song. Horace Binney Wallace. AMERICAN. Wallace (1817-1852) was a native of Philadelphia, a nephew of the eminent jurist, Horace Binney, and a cousin of Horace Binney Sargent. He graduated at Princeton in the class of 1835; studied both medicine and law, but practised neither. He travelled in Europe between 1849 and 1852, and died in Paris. He had been intimate with the celebrated Comte, much of whose philosophy, however, he rejected. His first publication was "Stanley," a novel written at the age of twenty. After his death appeared "Art and Scenery in Europe,' 996 Literary Criticism, and other Papers." Daniel Webster said of him: "I doubt whether history displays a loftier nature, or one more usefully or profoundly cultivated, at thirty years of age." ODE ON THE RHINE'S RETURNING INTO GERMANY FROM FRANCE. Oh sweet is thy current by town and by tower, The green sunny vale and the dark linden bower; Thy waves as they dimple smile back on the plain, And Rhine, ancient river, thou'rt German again! The roses are sweeter, the air is more free, The land is at peace and breaks forth into song, Thy daughters, sweet river, thy daughters so fair, THE OLD ARM-CHAIR. I love it, I love it, and who shall dare 'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart; In childhood's hour I lingered near I sat and watched her many a day, 'Tis past! 'tis past! but I gaze on it now |