extract, from a feeling and beautiful tribute to paper flowers for her, and teaching her to make her memory, which appeared in one of our daily them; and she wrote to her these verses,-her journals, written by one who had a warm ap-dying song: preciation of the many admirable qualities of her character and genius. You've woven roses round my way And gladdened all my being; May He who gave this lovely gift, "She was always of a fragile constitution, easily acted upon by whatever affects health, and in her later years, except in the more genial seasons of the spring and autumn, was frequently an invalid. In the winter of 1847-8 she suffered more than ever previously, but the next winter she was better, and her husband, who was advised by his physicians to discontinue for awhile the practice of his profession, availed himself of the opportunity to go in pursuit of health and riches to the mines of the Pacific. He left New York on the 5th of February, 1849, and was absent a year. Mrs. Osgood's health was varia-before four o'clock, on Sunday, the 12th of ble during the summer, which she passed chiefly May, -as gently as one goes to sleep, she withat Saratoga Springs, in the company of a family drew into a better world. I'm going through the Eternal gates MAY 7th, 1850. At the end of five days,-at fifteen minutes of intimate friends; and as the colder months "On Tuesday her remains were removed to came on, her strength decayed, so that before Boston, to be interred in the cemetery of Mount the close of November she was confined to her Auburn. It was a beautiful day in the fulness apartments. She bore her sufferings with resof the spring; mild and calm, and clouded to a ignation, and her natural hopefulness cheered solemn shadow. In the morning, as the comher all the while, with remembrances that she pany of the dead and living started, the birds had before come out with the flowers and the were singing what seemed to her friends a sadembracing airs, and dreams that she would again der song than they were wont to sing; and as be in the world with nature. Two or three the cars flew fast on the long way, the trees weeks ago her husband carried her in his arms, bowed their luxuriant foliage, and the flowers in like a child, to a new home, and she was happier the verdant fields were swung slowly on their than she had been for months, in the excitement stems, filling the air with the gentlest fragrance; of selecting its furniture, brought in specimens and the streams, it was fancied, checked their or in patterns to her bedside. "We shall be so turbulent speed to move in sympathy, as from happy!" was her salutation to the few friends the heart of nature tears might flow for a dead who were admitted to see her; but they saw, and worshipper. God was thanked that all the eleher physicians saw, that her life was ebbing fast, ments were ordered so, that sweetest incense, and that she would never again see the brooks and such natural music, and reverent aspect of and green fields for which she pined, nor even the silent world, should wait upon her, as so any of the apartments but the one she occupied many hearts did, in this last journey. She slept of her own house. A friend communicated the all the while, nor waked when, in the evening, terrible truth to her, in studiously gentle words, in her native city, a few familiar faces bent above reminding her that in heaven there is richer and her, with difficult looks through tears, and scarcely more delicious beauty, that there is no discord audible words to bid farewell to her. On Wedin the sweet sounds there, no poison in the per-nesday she was buried, with some dear ones who fume of the flowers there, and that they know had gone before her,—beside her mother and her not any sorrow who are with Our Father. She daughter,-in that City of Rest, more sacred read the brief note almost to the end silently, and then turned upon her pillow like a child, and wept the last tears that were in a fountain, which had flowed for every grief but hers she ever knew. "I cannot leave my beautiful home." she said, looking about upon the souvenirs of many an affectionate recollection; "and my noble husband-and Lily and Mary!" These last are her children. The sentence of her friend was confirmed by other friends, and she resigned herself to the will of God. The next evening but one, a young girl went to amuse her, by making now than all before had made it, to those whose spirits are attuned to beauty or to Sorrow,those twin sisters, so rarely parted, until the last has led the first to Heaven." GOOD VERSES OF A BAD POET. EXHAUSTED travellers that have undergone SONNET. Written on a very small sheet of note-paper, upon which a lady had requested the Author to indite some verses. Were I the Poet-Laureate of the Fairies Have told you something with a poet's grace- A world of freedom for a world of passion, AGLAUS. tolled for the departed spirit of our great leader. Death has struck a blow which went home to the hearts of all, both of those who differed, and those who agreed with him in opinion; for all feel that a mighty man has fallen in Israel; nay more-all feel that an honest councillor, a truehearted lover of his country has been taken from amongst us. We may have lost men whom some thought greater, or in whose political creed a larger number accorded; but never, since the death of Washington, has there been any statesman, in the purity of whose virtue there was such universal confidence. His friends, his great rivals,-nay, his foes, the very abolitionists,render him this just tribute. We cannot too deeply feel the loss of such a man at a time like this, when the darkest night involves our skies, and the ship of state, with torn sails and broken masts, no longer knows her rudder, but drifts on to unknown seas. The holy traditions of the Revolution are passing away, and with them pass the great statesmen who were brought up A Few Thoughts on the Death of John C. at the feet of the Gamaliels of that day,-men, Calhoun. In our last number, there was published a noble tribute to the memory of the late Mr. Calhoun, written upon the immediate occasion of his death. We give below some reflections on the same melancholy theme from another hand-a gentleman who, though still young, was honored with the intimate acquaintance of the illustrious and lamented senator, to a degree perhaps not extended to any other person out of the immediate circle of his family. The article reached us too late for publication in May, but it will be none the less acceptable to the general reader at this time.-Ed. Sou. Lit. Mess. "Now is the stately column broke, No journal, calling itself Southern, can pass unnoticed the death of the great Southerner, or fail to pay its tribute to the memory of the great American, whom the federated nations of our States now lament. John Caldwell Calhoun was in truth the great American, for no one in modern times more thoroughly understood those principles of human liberty, which it was the mission of our people to spread over a vast continent. He was still more the great Southerner, for he was a perfect master of the arts of government and the social organization which are peculiar to the South, and which are the indispensable means of success in fulfilling that mission. who, in their youth, drank at the very fountainheads of American liberty. A few mighty oaks still attest the grandeur of the primeval forest, but how soon must they fall before Time, the Destroyer. Calhoun has gone, and when the two or three of his contemporaries yet left. shall have followed, who will be left to command public confidence by fidelity tried in a thousand battles, and gigantic intellects, which in "their mighty war Shook realins and nations in its jar?" It is perhaps too soon to appreciate Calhoun's character justly. Our eyes are still dazzled by the blaze of his genius, and our hearts still gush with love for his virtues. We may safely commit our statesman's fame to the keeping of an impartial posterity. And yet its impartiality will arise from the distance which separates it from him; its judgment will be cool, because it has not had our opportunities of knowing and of seeing the great man we have so honored and so loved, and it is a deep philosophy which teaches us that no human being can be thoroughly known, until love brings his nature into communion with ours. We cannot then forbear adding our feeble quota to the materials on which posterity will form its judgment; we do so to gratify our own feelings, and not in the vain hope of adorning that sepulchre of glory, where Calhoun That kings, for such a tomb, would wish to die." The storm of civil commotion, which raged throughout the land, has been for a moment Mr. Calhoun's mind combined, in a rare dehushed; the din and tumult of the battle has gree, all the qualities which constitute au intelbeen stilled, while we listened to the knell that lect of the highest order. The demonstrative ardent sincerity amply supplied the place of all the graces of oratory,—(though his manly manner was not wanting in grace,)—and his eye and his gesture gave force to every word, and filled roughly and almost ungramatically. Yet the forcible simplicity of the style charms the reader into forgetting such petty defects. He never used a figure for ornament, and rarely for illustration; the few exceptions are always remarkable for their fitness and chasteness. faculty was wonderfully strong; no man in our sessed it in a degree second to none in our day, country, since Marshall, has been his equal, and surpassed by few in any age. as a logician. His arguments are adamantine In what is commonly called style, Mr. Calchains;-admit the first proposition, and the con-houn's most remarkable traits were conciseness, clusion is inevitable. Like Marshall, he thought and the almost entire absence of ornament. His that the great art of logic was in rightly putting delivery, as an orator, was distinguished by an that first proposition, and in the statement of his earnestness, which was indeed a part of his whole case. He would begin with something so plain, nature. His flashing eye, and the repressed enand which seemed so far removed from the point ergy of his manner impressed all who heard him, in issue, that his opponents would sneer at it as in public or in private, with his deep, heartfelt a barren abstraction, or a useless truism. And conviction of the truth of what he said. This yet he would soou show it to be identical with the very conclusion he was seeking to establish. But this logical power does not, of itself, make a first-rate mind. It has often been highly developed in men, who were unable to make any up the gaps in his sentences, so as to make that durable impression on the course of human af-sound smooth and perfect, which now often reads fairs. Such men are the great majority of the intellectual laborers of the world, and their ap propriate office is to work upon the materials and premises, which are furnished by the few master minds who stamp their image upon the coin of thought, which shall pass current through all ages. Such creative genius is always ac- His taste in this regard was closely connected companied by a suggestive style in writing and with the entire absence of any love for show in speaking. A broad line divides all the works of his character. No worthy of the elder Republic these two classes of mind. We may be delight- of Rome could have been more simple-hearted ed with the beauty of a poem, the eloquence of than Calhoun. Nothing in him was meant for an oration, or the close, keen logic of a demon- the eye of the world; his personal tastes and stration; but if they are the work of a man of habits, even his dress and his chamber, were remere talents, their effect is transitory. Our minds markable for their plain neatness. Mr. Webare not stirred up to new trains of thought, but ster has paid a just tribute to his wonderful powpassively repeat the ideas and images that are ers of conversation, and their singular fascination presented to us. Not so with the language of for all, especially the young. The magic lay in true genius, with the suggestive style, filled with the union of his great talents with the kindly simthe seeds of thought, which are ever ready to plicity of his heart. There was no effort to make burst into grand fruit-bearing trees if they fall on an impression on his guests, no appearance of a kindly soil. To preserve unity of composi- letting himself down to the level of their minds tion, such an author may keep closely to his sub- or information. On the contrary, he received ject; he may reject all adventitious ornaments, all, the high and the humble, the old and the and all digressive thoughts; he may condense, young, as equals. He would discourse, without till every idea and every word bears directly on reserve, of the great themes which always filled his subject, and such was pre-eminently the case his mind, and talk of men and things with a truly with Calhoun. And yet his writings cannot be read passively. Our minds are roused to the exertion of thinking over,—(and this is very different from mere reading,)—his thoughts, and these are ever opening before the reader new tracks of kindred thought, which indicate the manifold relations of the author's ideas to the system of universal truth. This has been characteristic of the mighty masters of thought in all Akin to this was his great moral courage; we ages, of the Platos and Aristotles, the Bacons have never kuown any one, who had so perfect and Newtons, the Homers and the Shakspeares. a reliance on the power of truth, and the capaThe very many-sidedness of their thoughts proves city of the people to be convinced of it. We them to be detached parts of the great whole of have sometimes thought he carried this feeling Divine truth, and by whatever name we call the too far,-that he did not sufficiently remember power of seeing these portions,-Reason, or that truth requires long,-often, very long,-peImagination, or a union of both,-Calhoun pos- riods of time for her operations. Hence Mr. VOL. XVI-48 surprising degree of freedom. He seemed incapable of supposing that this confidence would be abused, or that others, particularly the young, were less guileless than himself. Such was the childlike simplicity of a heart, that so loved truth and honor, that it could not believe, except upon positive evidence, that they were wanting in others. Calhoun was always before his day, and he has knew how much he had done even in this way. more than once sacrificed the brightest prospects Perhaps we may learn more, when we receive of the very highest political honors in defence of the great work on Government, which he has opinions, that he lived to see adopted by his op- bequeathed to mankind, where he has, doubtless, ponents, and made the successful rallying-cry of indulged his fondness for tracing back the ideas a great party. He always rejected timid coun- and institutions of the present, to their originals sels, and used to say, "I will do my duty, no mat- and analogues in the past. The constitution of ter what may be the consequences." He never the Roman and Hebrew States, of the Italian hesitated to avow his opinions, however unpopu- Republics, and of Anglo-Saxon society, all gave lar, for, as he often said, he had never known him new views of our own political organisation. the time when the American people could not be He had been a close student of Aristotle's Politics, made to see the truth. Hence he was always and he used to say that literature and philosohopeful, and this cheerful confidence in the power phy had sustained no greater loss than the latter of reason attended him to the last; but a few part of that work, in which were described the weeks since, when speaking of the necessity and various politics that prevailed in Greece and her difficulty of placing a great question before the colonies. Such, we think, was also the judgpeople in its true light, his touching, and uncon-ment of Niebuhr, whom Mr. Calhoun greatly scious exclamation was, "Ah! what would I admired. Another book, of which he often give for one day of sound health to express my spoke, was Machiavelli's History of Florence, views!" Would to God it had been vouchsafed and there were no writings of which he was him!-We may judge from his last great speech fonder than Burke's. This may seem a little what we have lost. It was the opinion of some curious, when we contrast his own severe simof the oldest and wisest of his brother senators plicity of manner with Burke's exuberance of of either party, that this was the finest effort of his life. At least, it proved, what has often been predicted, that his mind, ever active, ever advancing from high to higher, would burn brightly to the last, and would know no darkening cloud Vice-President, the other, after. The former on its path into the full effulgence of Heaven. His mortal frame was slowly wasted away by the increasing fires of the immortal spirit within. His vision grew clearer, till, as he lately told us, in his conviction-bearing way, “he could see far, far into the future,—farther than ever before." His soul became purer and purer, and his powers mightier and mightier, until this world was too low, too narrow a sphere of action, and "Then with no fiery throbbing pain, And freed his soul the nearest way." splendid ornament; but both were alike remarkable for their suggestive style and creative genius. Mr. Calhoun's political career divides itself into two parts, the one before he was elected belongs to our Revolutionary era; the warriors and statesmen of that day were still living, and active in finishing the great work of American Independence. None of the young generation brought more ardor and power to their aid than Calhoun,-the young Hercules, as Mr. Madison, (we think) called him. The war of 1812, and Mr. Monroe's course in opposition to the Holy Alliance, were the necessary means of achieving an equal position for us in the world. The Revolution was not completed,-we were not truly Independent, until the latter period, when our flag rode triumphant on every sea, and our eagle soared unharmed across the continent. Peace was then needful for our work of subduing the Mr. Calhoun was not a learned man, in the wilderness, and to reap the rich harvest of the ordinary acceptation of the term, for he never many discoveries in art, which have distingushed had leisure for the details of scholarship. But the present age. Peace, more than once powhe was an exceedingly well-informed man, and erfully sustained by Mr. Calhoun's efforts, reignhis various scientific and literary visiters always ed throughout Christendom; but in its bosom came away astonished at the knowledge he dis- lurked Socialism, the most dangerous enemy civiplayed of their respective departments, and the lisation has ever known. If the world was bepower and originality with which he conversed coming more democratic, it had, at the same upon them. He gleaned much information from time, unfortunately preserved the centralised ortalking with others, and he distinguished, with ganisation, which despotism and plundering surprising sagacity, the true and valuable from oligarchies had formerly established for their own the spurious and erroneous. He was so quick, benefit. Other causes everywhere promoted a and his mind so active, that he thought more in tendency to centralisation. But the ultimate a year than other men, even of equal talents, form of a centralised democracy is Socialism. would in ten. Hence he could dispense with The whole of the latter period of Mr. Calhoun's long courses of studious reading, though few life was devoted to an unceasing war upou this "His worth, who, in his mightiest hour, foe. He detected and exposed it under all its disguises, and especially in the most atrocious crusade, it has ever undertaken, for the aboAnd served his country for herself?" lition of negro slavery throughout the world. He has never been more profound, or more sucThe people everywhere,-friends and foes,cessful, than in showing the identity of abolition- acknowledge his almost unparalleled virtues, and ism and socialism, and that the same principles, they confess their loss, as an eminent man has which lead to the former, must end in over- justly said, with a feeling, the like of which has throwing all the rights of property, and every relation that God has instituted between man and man. We have, in truth, fallen upon evil times; the waves of socialism and of abolitionism, are running mountain-high, and threaten to engulf all that mankind has achieved in the long course of time. Where shall we rest our hopes of safety in such a storm? What State in the civilised world is wise enough, and strong enough to weather its assault? Not Russia, which is but a camp of soldiers, ruling with the sword never been witnessed, since the death of Wash- more. "think, how to his latest day, vast hordes of barbarians. Not Germany, or France, where all attempts at freedom end in anarchy,—where the Atheistic ravings of Proudhon, the insane socialism of Louis Blanc, or the profligate counsels of the debauchee Rollin are mistaken for the holy wisdom of Republicanism. Scarcely in debt-ridden England, and as little cau When death, just hovering, claimed his prey, With Palinure's unaltered mood, we rest our hopes in our Northern States-the Firm at his dangerous post he stood; congenial soil of every species of fanaticism,- Each call for needful rest repelled, where mere Numbers reign supreme, and the With dying hand the rudder held, Till in his fall with fateful sway, rights of property become daily more insecure, and which, but for the conservative influence of The steerage of the realm gave way!" the Federal Union, would quickly fall into hope. We feel the void he has left,- —as a harp withless anarchy. No! our Southern States are the out its master-as a host without its leader. only ark of safety for civilisation. Its mighty We see the dangers that encompass us on every guardian is gone: let us hasten in multitudes to side, but we hear, from the tomb, his call to acoccupy the post, which he alone could singly fill; tion! We know that the truth is with us, and let us unfalteringly defend the ark, which shall knowing this, like him, let us stand firm, trusting safely ride the waves of fire, till the deluge sub-humbly, yet confidently in GOD AND OUR RIGHT. sides, and the bow of promise adorn the retreating storm. *See a beautiful essay on the death and character of Calhoun, by the Hon. Richard Rush, of Philadelphia. But we must forbear, for our limits are nearly filled, and we have said nothing of what was, "VALENTINE'S DAY AT THE POST-OFFICE.” above all things, admirable in Mr. Calhoun,—his It was then just drizzling newspapers. The great virtues? Yet what can we say, that will be ad- window of that department being thrown open, the first equate? or that will heighten the public sense of black fringe of a thunder-cloud of newspapers impending their beauty? Shall we speak of that “ plain, over. the Post-Office was discharging itself fitfully-now heroic magnitude of mind," which looked to his in large drops, now in little; now in sudden plumps, now stopping altogether. By degrees it began to rain hard; own conscience aloue for its reward, and would by fast degrees the storm came on harder and harder, unhave scorned to buy a world by the sacrifice of til it blew, rained, hailed, snowed newspapers. A founone iota of his duty? Shall we name that kind-tain of newspapers played in at the window. Waterliness of feeling, which irresistibly attracted all spouts of newspapers broke from enormous sacks, and within its sphere; or that devotion to his country's good, which only ceased to throb with the last pulsation of his heart? Alas! what boots it to recount his services; to tell how often he reuounced the highest prize of public life, when almost in his grasp, because the service of truth required it? What avails it to tell engulphed the men inside. A prodigious main of newspapers, at the Newspaper River Head, seemed to be turned on, toreatening destruction to the miserable PostOffice. The Post-Office was so full already, that the window foamed at the mouth with newspapers. Newspapers flew out like froth, and were tumbled in again by the bystanders. All the boys in London seemed to have gone mad, and to be besieging the Post-Office with newspapers.-Dickens' Household Words. |