decorated with chaste image, and shadowed with pensive sentiment, like the hand of manhood laid gently upon the billowing head of a child. The character of a translator's own genius may be gathered with considerable accuracy from his selection of pieces to translate. In general, the graceful bends to the graceful ear of his heart hears their soft footsteps, and their voices so low and sweet. Have all of us not at times such angel visits! Are we not at this moment summoned to look up, and see and hear them? Ah! we know that strong, deep-furrowed face, that lofty brow, those locks sprinkled with gray, that eye, restless with the fire of intelligence, and with the light of paternal affection. We the pensive sighs back to the pensive, and know too, too well, that young form, that the strong shadows the strong. Longfellow step light as the roe's upon the mountains, has not dared any lofty heights, or sounded that clear blue eye, tha brown curling head, any dark hollows, of foreign poetry. The that forehead so high, that face so pale and exquisite patriarchal simplicities of the Swebeautiful, over which, ere her ten winters dish ballad have attracted his kindred spirit. had passed, death had spread a ghastlier It is not "deep calling unto deep." It is paleness—it is our Agnes, at once sister and one corn-field responding to another, across child! And we crythe hedge, under one soft westerly breeze.Need we do more than allude to "The Children of the Lord's Supper," which, both in verse and spirit, is the model of "Evangeline." Thus he characterizes himself as a "O God! if it be thus, and thou Longfellow's writings are in general prophetic of, and preparatory for, the grand reconciliation of man, both as regards man the individual, and man the species. In his “Arsenal,” and his “Occultation of Orion," he shadows forth the "coming of the milder day," when there is "Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals, The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies! translator:-"The translation is literal, perhaps to a fault. In no instance have I done the author a wrong, by introducing into his work any supposed improvements or embellishments of my own. I have preserved even the measure, that inexorable hexameter in which, it must be confessed, the motions of the English muse are not unlike those of a prisoner dancing to the music of his chairs; and perhaps, as Dr. Johnson said of the dancing dog, the wonder is not that she should do it so well, but that she should do it at all.'" And both in "Hyperion" and "Evangeline," the agency of sorrow, in purging the eye, subduing the senses, watering all the strong- We close our paper with feelings of gratier plants in the soul's garden, is abundantly tude and respect for our transatlantic author. recognized. Perhaps still another "Pilgrim's It is pleasant, in this melancholy world, to Progress," cut out through rougher ways, darkened by deeper shadows, and exhibiting more the teaching of error than either "Hyperion" or "Sartor," is still desiderated by the age. We cannot linger much longer with this delightful writer, He has scattered many other delicious drops of song along his course. Such are "Rain in Sutomer," "To a Child," "To the Driving Cloud," and "The Old Clock on the Stairs." These are all amiable carols, inspirited with poetic life, Vol. 6, No. 2-5. "light upon such certain places," where beautiful dreams, and lofty, generous aspirations, lift us up, on a ladder, into ideal regions, which are yet to become real; for every such aspiration is a distinct step upwards to meet our expected New Jerusalem of man, "coming down as a bride adorned for her husband." Every volume of genuine poetry, besides, constitutes a cool grotto of retreat, with the altar of a bloodless sacrifice standing in the midst. We love, too, even bette than the poetry of this volume, its sunny, more estimate the value of a man's intellec tual acquirements by the number of volumes he has read, than we can the amount of his wealth by the number of his days of toil.True, a reading man should be a man of in genial, human, and hopeful spirit. Perhaps ally, and still be an ignoramus. We can no there are more depth and power, certainly there are more peculiarity and strangeness, in Emerson's volume, but over many parts of it is suspended a dry rainless cloud of gloom, which chills and withers you. You become, it may be, a wiser, but certainly a telligence-should be as noted for his wissadder man. Longfellow sheds a chequered dom, for his knowledge of men and things, autumnal light, under which your soul, like as for his attention to books. But every a river, flows forward, serene, glad, strong, day's observation and experience convince and singing as it flowsus that such is not the fact. "Bookish and foolish" are epithets that may not unfrequently be applied with equal justice to the same individual. "Let us then be up and doing, For the Miscellany. THOUGHTS ON READING. BY DE WITT C. LEACH." It becomes, then, an important inquiry-why are these things so? Why so much reading, and so little wisdom as the result? Why are not great readers always well informed? Now it is usually much easier to ask questions than satisfactorily to answer them; yet I apprehend, that, in this case, there are many obvious reasons why so little good results from so much reading-to a few of which, I invite the reader's attention.— Among them are reading too much-reading carelessly, without aim or method-and reading improper works. The people of the United States are a nation of readers. Men, women, and children, of all ranks, and of all grades of intelligence, devour books, pamphlets, periodicals, and newspapers, with an avidity that would seem to indicate that health and happiness, if not life itself, depend upon the amount of their reading. At home and abroad, in the railcar and in the packet, in the stage-coach and on board the steamboat--wherever there is a moment's leisure from the demands of business, reading is resorted to, either with a de-in, finally destroys the energy and vigor of sire to inform and cultivate the intellect, or to while pleasantly away time which would otherwise hang heavily on our hands. That an individual may read too much, is very evident. The mind, as well as the stomach, may be overloaded; and as overloading the latter deranges, and, if persisted the physical system, so overloading the former deranges the mental faculties, and, if carried too far, sometimes dethrones reason itself, and then the dome of thought, the palace of the soul," becomes the abode of wild fancies, if not of ungovernable furies. The truth is as a people, we cannot bear idleness. We may despise labor-we may resort to every expedient to escape toil-yet idleness is equally insupportable, and, as a Not only may an individual read too consequence, we read, if for no other or much, but he may read carelessly, without higher purpose, merely to "kill time." Now aim or method, and with no object in view, this habit of reading, if controlled by reason, save the passing away of the present hour. is one of the best traits in American charac-Such reading, if it becomes habitual, is unter-one which may be turned to profitable profitable in the highest degree. He who account, and the tendency of which to im- reads thus is none the wiser for his reading. prove the intellectual condition of our peo- He seeks nothing but amusement, and he is ple, is all-powerful. Yet it is a lamentable profitel nothing. No matter how pleasing fact, that a person may read almost continu- the style of his author, or how brilliant his imagination, how logical and profound his and, as a consequence, dreams of princely reasoning, or how interesting and important lovers, and romantic adventures, and midthe facts of which he treats-it all avails night elopements-what can she do with the nothing-it is carelessly read, makes no im- sober realities of every-day life? What pression, and is easily and quickly forgot-taste has she for articles possessing a high ten. order of literary merit? Can she, after, for Again-a person may read no more than a length of time, pursuing such a course, enthe mind can properly digest, and may read joy a treatise upon science? Will she dewith the utmost care and attention; yet, if light in history, or biography, or anything he is careless or injudicious in the selection but the silly love-tales to which she has haof his reading matter, not one-half the ben-bituated her mind? Certainly not. A conefit that might otherwise be derived from firmed novel-reader has no taste for a sound, careful reading, will be realized. And here, healthy literature. His mind is enfeebled I believe, is an evil of great magnitude, and and diseased, and turns with disgust from one for the correction of which every good whatever requires patient and laborious citizen should use his influence. Look at thought. The wonders of the world, and of the extent of the evil. Consider the great the myriads of worlds which sparkle in the number of fictitious and immoral publica- firmament above us, have no charms for such tions with which the land is flooded. Look a mind. Diversion is all it seeks. It craves This constitutes the mental food of the at the immense sales of the many publishing nothing but present amusement. The fuhouses engaged in the "light literature" bu-ture is forgotten; the whole being is absorbed siness-look at the publications themselves, in the present; and the whole present is and then say if nine-tenths of them are not bound up in two pieces of yellow paper, and entirely useless, and many-too many, alas! called a novel. And the novel, as a matter positively injurious. of course, treats of plighted lovers, and cruel Much-everything almost-in the forma-fathers, and gray-headed misers, and old castion and development of character, dependstles, and designing attorneys, and midnight upon a person's reading. Tell me what a elopements, and "affairs of honor," and broyoung man or a young woman reads, and I ken hearts, and ruined fortunes, and hidden will tell you the character of that person, and treasures, and a marriage. what he or she may expect in future life.Show ow me a young man that delights in nov-novel-reader. The ingredients above menel-rca ling--that will throw by the most inter sting treatises on the sciences, history, bigraphy, &c., for the purpose of devouring - reading-the last silly, sickly, shallow sing novel, and I will point you to one who will never prove an ornament to society, nor an honor to his country. Though Every one is aware that the perusal of his narral talents may be good, yet, if he such works requires no mental effort. They hes ontracted a habit of novel-reading-has afford no real pleasure to the higher intelbecome so attached to what is politely termed lectual powers, and produce no feeling of "Fight literature," as to prefer it to all other enjoyment, unless that can be called enjoyKals of reading--he need cherish no aspi-ment, which is caused by their ministering rations for the future; there is nothing in to those morbid sentiments and feelings ore for him, but disappointment, and re- which always exist in the mind of the conmare, and shame. And the young lady firmed novel-reader. that spends whole nights in novel-reading, and gas and weeps over imaginary heroes, tioned are compounded in various proportions in different novels, aud occasionally, for the sake of variety, a few additional items are added; but the real value of the material of which novels are composed, varies but little. There are but few, I am well aware, who wholly condemn the reading of novels. Many works of this class, it is said, are not merely harmless, but really useful. But, if this is really so—a fact which may well be questioned-it is yet a difficult matter to draw the line of separation between the evil and the good. Who shall point out to the young and inexperienced, what may and what may not be read? Who shall say read this, and abstain from that? And, if left to choose for themselves, much valuable time will be wasted; many useless, and probably injurious books read; and many false and erroneous views in regard to life, and the duties of life, interwoven with their principles. But why should there be so much reading of fiction? Certainly not because of the scarcity of books of facts; for, in our days, of making many books, there is no end;" and books of facts-true books-are annu of ally issued from the press, in numbers so great, that was any individual required to peruse them all, or even a hundredth part them, he would be forced to say, with the sacred writer, that "much study is a weariness to the flesh." joy its wonders. The mysterious phenomena which every changing season brings to view, pass away unheeded, and they are none the wiser for what has happened before their eyes. They saw, but did not understand; and do not seem to be aware that the money paid for the last two novels would have purchased an excellent treatise upon Science, in which all these phenomena are familiarly explained; nor that the time spent in perusing those novels would have enabled them to master this treatise, and thus prepare themselves to enjoy the remarkable phenomena that so frequently occur. In conclusion, let me say to all readers of fiction-you are losing half the enjoyment of life, The past and present are crowded with great events. Happiness consists in learning, in knowing, and in doing. world is in motion, and if you would have your influence felt you most arouse and bestir yourself. Do this, and all the great and good will respect, and love, and aid you; but shut yourself up in your closet, and spend the prime of your days in novel reading, and all the wise, and good, and truly great, will point at you the finger of scorn, and cry. —SHAME! We must learn-must know, what has been, what is, and what is to be. We must also learn to do, to act, to make our influence felt, to make our mark upon the age in which we live. To some extent the world will be better or worse for our having lived in it. Which shall it be? Young man, deBiographies of great and good men the cide. The choice is in your own breast. No reading of which, if well written and truth-man can decide for you. But the whole ful, is always profitable-are numerous, and within the reach of all. And hundreds of these stirring narratives, are as attractive and interesting in every respect, as the best class of fictitious writings. History, too, affords a vast field for pleasing and profitable investigation; yet many are the young people of both sexes, who spend hours, days, and weeks, every year, over their charming nov els, and are still as profoundly ignorant of most of the great events that have transpired in the world, as if they had lived in the days of Methuselah. They prefer the Romance of the Forest to the History of Greece, and are more familiar with the silly story of Alonzo and Melissa, than with the true and truly wonderful story of Napoleon and his Josephine Such readers know nothing of the Natural Sciences. Nature is to them a sealed book, They cannot appreciate its beauties, nor en Mundy, Genesee Co., Jan. 1st, 1852. BENEVOLENCE. Here is a calm, sweet calm, here are the ways of pleasantness and the paths of peace. The garden which she tills is the human heart; and the seed which sho scatters will bear their fruit in Heaven. Here are the pomps of science, and the splendor of genius; the glitter of wealth, the might of armies. With her pale finger, she points to the annals of the past, and they will all be come as chaff before the wind. Yet she duced a sort of acorn, which resembled cinstops not here. Speaks she now in tones as namon in taste, but was an inferior article. solemn as the midnight bell, of the nothing- Gonzola was provoked at not finding more ness of human greatness. Listen again! valuable objects. He asked the natives and you hear her clarion voice proclaiming where El Dorado lay; and, because they abud, that human virtue never dies! Ap-could give him no intelligence of this fabupears she now with shadows of death upon lous country, the cruel Spaniard tortured one hand, and the history of the world upon them to extort a confession of that which the other, to teach how pitiful is individual they did not know. Some of them he burnt ambition, and how senseless the love of self. alive, and others he threw to be devoured by his dogs. DISCOVERY OF THE RIVER AMA ZON. AFTER the Spaniards had conquered Peru, they heard of another country, in the east, which was said to be very rich, and to abound in cinnamon. Gonzola, one of the brothers of Pizarro, determined to take possession of this inviting region, and then to search for the famous golden country of El Dorado, which was supposed to exist somewhere in the neighborhood. In 1541, he set out from Peru, with a In this manner, the Spaniards reached the force of two hundred foot soldiers, one hun- head streams of the Amazon, a river till del horse, four thousand Indians, to be then unknown to them, except that its sel in carrying burdens, and four thousand mouth had been seen by Pinzon, in 1499.swine, and llamas, or Indian sheep. for pro- They built a vessel, and begun to sail down visions They first entered the territory of the Coca, one of these head streams. They Quizos, the last tribe whom the Peruvi- passed an extensive tract of uninhabited an Incas had subdued. These people fled country. The current of the river was at their approach. While the army halted strong; they were weak from want of food, here, a violent earthquake took place, which and they had no prospect but that of perthrow down the Indian houses and cleft the ishing. earth in many places. Orellana, however, was determined to proceed onward. He renounced the commission which he held under Gonzalo, assumed the command of a portion of the adventurers himself, and sailed down the river. Provisions now entirely failed them. They had eaten up all their dogs, and were reduced to the necessity of boiling their old shoes, leather straps, &c., for food. When they had almost abandoned the hope of life, they heard, just at daylight, the sound of a drum. Shortly after they saw four canoes, and a village where a great body of Indians were drawn up in order of battle. The Spaniards were too hungry to |