would soon educate to his purposes, our professor would be able to give a course of lectures of exceeding curiosity and interest. He would begin with the history of music; he would gather up from the hymns and chants of the early church, the wrecks of classical music, constantly, by the aid of the performers whom he had trained, giving specimens of the style of those ancient compositions; he would trace its development through the hands of Ambrose and Gregory till the genius of Palestrina fashioned it to the regular form of art. He would search into the origin of the Oratorio and the Opera, with examples by his choir of the crude recitative, or the simple melodies of these early efforts, till coming down to a later time he would find an ample field for his taste and eloquence, and for the skill of his assistant performers in the varied and copious productions of modern composers; and in the leading characteristics of the music of different nations. I will not attempt to follow out in the detail all that might be done for the cause of music in this country by the efforts of such a man. But I would suggest it as one of the most proper objects of attention to this society to bring about the establishment of such a professorship in our University."- pp. 7-9.

Poem spoken at Cambridge, before the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Harvard University, August 27, 1840. BY FRANCIS C. Boston Charles C. Little and James Brown. pp. 36.

GRAY. 1840.

It was a matter of very especial wonder on the last Phi Beta day, how the poet on that occasion, in the short space of two or three days, which was all the time allowed him, after it was understood that Mr. Ingersoll, the regular poet of the day, must fail through sickness, should have been able to produce a poem of so much literary and poetic excellence, and of such length as to occupy an hour in the delivery. Supposing it to have been previously written, in whole or in part, or to have required only remodeling and re-touching, still it was no small achievement to have done that, and then to have lodged it so perfectly in the memory, as to recite it without one misrecollection, or so much as a moment's hesitancy. Yet all this, and much more, was accomplished by Mr. Gray. The only regret was that, while the manner of the poet in his declamation was remarkably free, graceful, and emphatic, the voice loud and clear, there was some secret defect in the elocution, which made it difficult for any, save those who were fortunately in a front seat, and near the speaker, to hear with ease or distinctness. The fault, it seemed to us, was laying a disproportionate stress of voice upon accented syllables and emphatic words, while the intervening ones, quite as important to the sense, were passed over in so low a tone as to be inaudible. This gave the general effect of animaVOL. XXIX. - 3D S. VOL. XI. NO. II.

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tion and boldness to the delivery, but it was at the expense of a clear and ready comprehension on the part of the audience. We now see, too, upon reading the Poem, that the hearer had the advantage, not always yielded by the poet on these occasions, of a definite subject, and a methodical treatment, such as would have chained the attention of the house throughout, but for the hindrance alluded to. We accordingly welcome the poem from the press, that they who heard may renew their pleasure by reading what they heard, and they who were then less fortunate may now more than make up for their loss. We have already, in our first article in this department, offered to the reader Mr. Gray's tribute to the memory of Dr. Kirkland; we can add nothing better or more appropriate than its companion, the portrait of Bowditch.

"Nor less she earlier mourned, when Bowditch gave
His soul to heaven, his body to the grave.
We wept not then, as when compelled to shed
Untimely tears o'er some Marcellus dead,
Preeminent in talents and in fame,
Only to be an earlier, surer aim

For death- a greener garland for the tomb;
Wept not as erst o'er manhood's early doom,
When Buckminster, our ornament and pride,
Ardent McKean, accomplished Thacher died,
When fate the bright career of Ashmun crossed,
And Frisbie's fervid eloquence was lost.
Then might you weep, beholding beams so bright
Eclipsed at noon, and midday turned to night;
But not for him, who closed with placid ray,
The tranquil evening of a well-spent day,
And all life's honors earned, its duties done,

Sank in full radiance, like a cloudless sun.

"We wept not him, who, even from boyhood's prime, Felt the inestimable worth of time,

Who threw no opportunity away,

Nor ever once, like Titus, lost a day.

He never failed to find, whate'er befell,

Time to do all things, and to do them well;
Was but a scheme for public good displayed,
His the best counsel, most efficient aid;

And mid the busy world's cares, toil, and strife,
His leisure bore the harvest of a life,
A work, that on his nanie sheds long renown,
And adds a jewel to his country's crown.

"From earliest youth, upon himself alone
Depending, none he feared, he flattered none,
But showed, throughout his life's consistent plan,
The self-reliance, that makes man a man;

Fearlessly followed what he thought was right,
And did whate'er he did, with all his might.

"To latest age, he kept the stainless truth,
The modesty, the playfulness of youth;
With rock-like firmness, joined to liveliest zeal,
Calm to resolve, but oh, how quick to feel,
Too frank to feign, too shrewd to be beguiled,
'In wit a man, simplicity a child,'
Free from suspicion, selfishness, or art,
He spoke, and acted only from the heart.

"His was the life, the real sage to bless, A life of high exertion, and success.

His was the death, the sage's life to crown,
Calm, grateful, full of trust, he laid him down;
Mid those he best loved, and who loved him best,

And happy in their love, he sank to rest,

While even their grief was mixed with joy and pride,
To think he thus had lived, and thus had died.

"No, not for thee did friendship ask a tear,
Not for thy sake do I now name thee here;
But for their good, whom thou hast left behind,
But for ourselves, our country, and mankind,
But for these youth, who rise to take our place,
Just starting eagerly on manhood's race,
That they with kindred energy may strive,
That thy example in their lives may live,
And cheering others in the generous strife,
Thy memory bless thy country, like thy life.

"And pardon, should another motive lend
Its aid, and with the man unite the friend;
Nor blame, that one, who on a foreign shore,
Was doomed to hear, that we should meet no more,
Who could not have the privilege to stand
By thy sick couch, and press thy fainting hand,
To hear the wisdom of thy parting breath,
And see the simple triumph of thy death,
To whom another's tongue was charged to tell
Thy last kind words, thy fatherly farewell,
Should seize this hour the earliest fortune gave,
To pay the tribute truth and feeling crave,
And here at length the grateful task assume
To hang one humble wreath upon thy tomb.

Two Years Before the Mast. A Personal Narrative of Life at Sea. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1840. 12mo. pp. 483.

We have risen from the perusal of this volume with as strong a feeling of moral approbation for the writer and his object, as we ever did from any within our remembrance. It is a book not only intensely interesting as a narrative, from the first to the last page and word, but of the highest value, considered in relation to some of our most important public interests. It is a volume full of instruction for sailor, ship-master, and merchant; for the merchant, full not only of instruction, but, as we think, of just and solemn rebuke. The merchant must be held responsible in the main for the character and condition and treatment of sailors, as a class. Not that all the evils, now to be charged upon their condition, are to be laid at his door as proofs of moral delinquency on his part, any more than the present existence and evils of slavery are to be laid at the door of the slaveholder, as though all the guilt were his. For custom has blinded generations to their duty here, as in a thousand other directions, and the merchant of to-day has adopted the usages which have descended to him, as if they were laws of nature, and never to be changed. But in the midst of the light which an active spirit of philanthropy and the religion of Christianity are throwing upon time-honored errors and abuses, the merchant as well as the slaveholder is morally inexcusable, if he do not turn his attention to the evils, of which, as soon as his attention is turned to them, he perceives at a glance he is the cause, directly or indirectly, at any rate has power, and he alone has power, by gradual or sudden changes, ultimately or immediately to remove. We see no reason why a sailor should not be dealt with, in the same spirit of humanity, to be without which, in the treatment of any other class, stamps a man as infamous. Yet, as Mr. Dana shows, he is in a manner thrust out of the pale of at least a kind and Christian sympathy. If he is cared for at all, it is as we care for the miserable hacks we hire to get in our harvests, or drag us to our journey's end. Dog's food is thrown to him, just such as may serve to keep the life in him, and a foul Calcutta hole provided to serve as a shelter from heat, cold, and wet. But, as for a humane provision against times of great exposure, or sickness, or a reasonably comfortable one in the usual circumstances of a voyage, there is no approach toward it. A principle of the narrowest covetousness seems to dictate what has hitherto been done in the structure of the forecastle, and in laying in the stores for a voyage, both as to quantity and quality. The ship, in which Mr.

Lis

Dana returned, is spoken of as being unusually well provided.
What must be the condition of a crew, where it is worse!
ten to Mr. Dana. The ship is in the stormy latitudes of Cape
Horn.

"Yet it was a dreadful night for those on deck. A watch of eighteen hours, with wet and cold and constant anxiety, nearly wore them out; and when they came below at nine o'clock for breakfast, they almost dropped asleep on their chests, and some of them were so stiff they could with difficulty sit down. Not a drop of anything had been given them during the whole time, (though the captain, as on the night I was on deck, had his coffee every four hours,) except that the mate stole a pot-full of coffee for two men to drink behind the galley, while he kept a look-out for the captain." - p. 390.

us.

"It was a tedious and anxious night. It blew hard the whole time, and there was an almost constant driving of either rain, hail, or snow. In addition to this it was 'as thick as mud,' and the ice was all about The captain was on deck nearly the whole night, and kept the cook in the galley with a roaring fire to make coffee for him, which he took every few hours and once or twice gave a little to his officers; but not a drop of anything was there for the crew. The captain, who sleeps all the daytime, and comes and goes at night as he chooses, can have his brandy and water in the cabin, and his hot coffee at the galley; while Jack, who has to stand through everything, and work in wet and cold, can have nothing to wet his lips, or warm his stomach. This was a 'temperance ship,' and like too many such ships, the temperance was all in the forecastle." p. 385.

Exposure like this is in the very nature of the service. But neglect like this is not in its nature, and ought not to be possible, as it need not be. The least touch of humanity, any the least action of Christian principle, were his attention once turned to the subject, would impel the merchant, we are sure, to stand by these men, and beyond any possible deprivation insure them the cheap reliefs which they require, but do not even ask for, under perils and toils like those described by Mr. Dana. We say "do not ask for." We know nothing more touching than the patience with which this crew, for nearly a month, encountered cold and tempests, fields and islands of ice, snow, sleet, and wind, while doubling Cape Horn, deprived during all that time of all they wanted, but, we repeat, did not ask for, a little hot tea or coffee on the night watch; and the generosity with

*

* And what is this costly beverage, of which sailors are deprived on board temperance ships. "The proportions of the ingredients of the tea that was made for us, (water bewitched, or tea begrudged, as they called it,) and ours was a favorable specimen of American merchantmen, were a pint of tea and a pint and a half of molasses, to about three gallons of water. These are all boiled down together in the 'coppers,' and before serving it out, the mess is stirred up with a stick, so as to give