time to time came King's sons and wished to push through the hedge into the castle. But it was not possible for them; for the thorns clung one to another as if they had had hands, and the young men remained caught in them, and perished miserably. After long long years came again a King's son through the land, whom an old man told about the thorn-hedge, that there was said to be a castle behind it, in which was sleeping a wonderful King's daughter, called Dornröschen, and with her the whole Court. He told likewise that he had heard from his grandfather how many King's sons had come to press through the thorn-hedge, but had remained hanging there and died a wretched death. Then said the young man: "That must not hinder me; I will push through and see the beautiful Dornröschen." The old man might try as hardly as he would, to turn him from his purpose; he did not listen to him at all.

But on the very day when the King's son came, the hundred years were over. And when he drew near the thorn-hedge, all was great beautiful flowers, which parted asunder so that he passed through unharmed, and closed themselves together again behind him. He went on to the castle, where lay the horses in the stable and the spotted hounds; and they were asleep. Upon the roof sat the doves, and they had put their little heads under their wings. And when he came into the house the flies were asleep upon the wall; the cook in the kitchen still held his hand as if about to seize the boy, and the maid-servant sat by the black chicken which was to be plucked. Then he went farther on and saw the whole Court lying there asleep; and higher up by the throne lay the King and Queen. Then he went still farther, and all was so still that one could have heard his breath; so at last he came to the tower and opened the door to the little chamber in which Dornröschen was asleep. There she lay, and was so beautiful that he could not turn his eyes from her; and he stooped down and gave her a kiss. As soon as he had touched her with the kiss, Dornröschen opened her eyes, awoke, and looked kindly on him. Then they went down together; and the King awoke, and the Queen, and the whole Court and looked upon each other with wonder. And the horses stood up in the stable and shook themselves; the dogs sprang up and wagged their tails; the doves upon the roof drew their little heads from under their wings, looked about and flew into the field; the flies crept on along the walls; the fire in the kitchen started up, flickered and cooked the food; and the meat went on frying; and the cook gave the kitchenboy a box on the ear, and the servant-maid finished plucking the chicken. And then was the marriage of the King's son and Dornröschen celebrated with all pomp, and they lived happily even to their end.

THE METRICAL COMPOSITIONS OF ADDISON.

Ir not unfrequently happens that those productions which contribute most to the reputation of their author with his own generation, are forgotten by posterity; while others, less esteemed by both himself and his contemporaries, establish his posthumous fame. A crisis in politics, or a sudden change in the public taste, has occasionally covered with honor the fruit of leisure hours, and left the results of the heaviest toil despised and neglected. The prose, and especially the Latin prose, of Milton, undoubtedly effected much more for his fame among his contemporaries, than the Paradise Lost; which, indeed, lay at a discount with the booksellers, till called from its obscurity by the praises of the Spectator. But, though some of his controversial writings deserve the same rank in English prose which his great poem has obtained in English poetry, the former are scarcely read by our generation, while the latter has successfully challenged for its author a seat on the dais, side by side with Homer. Gay doubtless supposed that he was to be immortalized, if at all, by the Beggar's Opera. But the Beggar's Opera, though cheered on every stage in England a hundred and twenty years ago, is hardly known, by name, to the present race of readers; while the Fables amuse as many households as the Pilgrim's Progress instructs. Pope's translation of the Iliad was published under more splendid auspices than any other work of his. But were his reputation grounded upon no better foundation than that translation, he would hardly hold the rank of the best poet of his century after Dryden.

The same is true of Addison. His Spectators, Tatlers, and Freeholders, by which, almost exclusively, he is known to the present generation, originally accomplished far less for his reputation than "The Campaign" and "Cato." But it is not a mere historical interest which attaches to the lighter composition of the great Essayist. As an imitator of the style of Virgil he is unrivaled; as a writer of Latin verse generally, he is allowed to have but two equals among the English-Milton and Buchanan. These considerations must be our excuse for offering some few desultory observations upon his various metrical compositions.

It was in Latin verse that he made his first attempt before the public. He appears to have been at home in the heroic measure; indeed, he has undertaken no other, except in two brief pieces which are both in one of the Horatian metres.

We cannot agree with Johnson, that three of the most humorous of these poems-the "Battle of the Pygmies and Cranes," the " Barometer," and the "Bowling Green," are upon subjects of so trivial a character, that the author would not have ventured upon them in English verse. Examples are not wanting of very clever poems in our language upon themes of no greater dignity than these. It must, however, be confessed, that the sonorous and imposing cadences of the Latin spondees and dactyles grace these exquisite pieces with a

peculiar mock-importance, which would be hardly attainable in our mother tongue. The poem on the Peace of Ryswick is highly elaborated; but as it allows of no great display of humor, and its author had no capacity for sublimity, few readers will prefer it to the less pretending mock-heroics of the Puppet-Show or the Battle of the Cranes and Pygmies. Even into the "Peace of Ryswick," however, Addison has introduced a few lines of that sprightly humor of which he was so perfect a master; and the passage describing the mimic combats of the little Duke of Gloucester is one of the most striking in the piece. "Parvus Iulus" was evidently in the writer's mind. Whoever reads this poem will fully agree, we doubt not, with the following criticism of Johnson upon Addison's poetry in general. The criticism, by the way, is as strongly marked by the swell and puff so peculiar to its author, as any in his works. "His poetry is first to be considered; of which it must be confessed that it has not often those felicities of diction which give lustre to sentiments, nor that vigor of sentiment that animates diction; there is little of ardor, vehemence, or transport; there is very rarely the awfulness of grandeur, and not very often the splendor of elegance. He thinks justly; but he thinks faintly." In truth, whenever Addison undertakes to be sublime, he is at the best mechanical; and in those parts of the present piece where there is most appearance of energy, it will be found, in most cases, to be mainly due to his well-rounded hexameters. He never even aims at the simple majesty of Homer; and whenever his style is elevated, it seems to be, as we generally observe in the Æneid, because he feels that he has reached a point where an admixture of a proper quantum of sublimity is quite desirable.

The lines on the "Barometer" flow smoothly, and is similar to the style of the Georgics, as the "Peace of Ryswick" is to that of the Æneid. The latter part of it is strikingly like that passage in the first Georgic, in which are announced the prognostics of the weather. There is, doubtless, more genuine wit in the "Battle of the Pygmies and Cranes," than in all the other pieces together. The description of the Pygmy General, and of his unceremonious transportation to the skies, are as delicious specimens of demure wit as can be found in Dean Swift.

The "Bowling Green" is evidently modeled after the foot races in the fifth book of the Æneid. Though lively in its incidents, the reader cannot avoid the conviction that its elegant Latinity is its chief recommendation.

The "Puppet-Show" indicates the same hand as the "Cranes and Pygmies." There is a certain quiet, playful humor about these pieces, which peculiarly distinguishes the temper of Addison. Throughout his writings there is observable abundance of wit. But it is as harmless as the sporting of a lamb. Nor is this innocuous gentleness any indication of weakness. We are rather inclined to admire the genius and skill, no less than the good-heartedness which produces it. Common witlings can point a satire when they have a definite object at which to aim. The errors, faults, or vices of their victims, furnish materials to their hands. They are in the less danger of becoming insipid, because they are not expected nor expecting to exercise the least clemency, when clemency stands in the way of a clever quip. But when wit, keen, refined, delicate, and yet touching no particular individual character, but lashing public follies or vices, is required, they are found wanting.

For such a purpose Addison was most admirably adapted. If he ever attacks individuals, it is with blunted arrows. But when he takes his stand as censor upon the public, it is with just that sort of benevolent irony which is fitted to shame rather than to exasperate; to purge and heal rather than to ulcerate. Yet, though his satire is as general in its application as a good old English homily, it is as racy and delicious as the keenest sallies of Dean Swift. In this respect his humor resembles his satire. Charles Lamb and Thomas Hood might both of them, had they possessed the piety of Addison, have been much more useful, and no less entertaining, than they were in the field whither they followed him.

In this "Puppet-Show," (or, with more dignity, "Machine Gesticulantes,") the mock heroic is perhaps less successfully sustained than in the "Cranes and Pygmies." Indeed, there is constantly coming up to the mind the unwelcome and decidedly anti-heroic scenery of street-exhibitions, dancing monkeys, ragged boys, yelling draymen, and yelping dogs. The mixture of the comic, therefore, is almost necessarily in too large a proportion for the best effect. passage, however, is so exquisite that we cannot avoid quoting it. Our readers will be strongly reminded of the "Culprit Fay."

Tales, cum medio labuntur sidera coelo,

Parvi subsiliunt Lemures, populus que pusillus
Festivos, rediens sua per vestigia gyros
Ducit et augustum crebro pede pulsitat orbem.
Mane patent gressus; hinc succos terra feraces

Concipit, in multam pubentia gramina surgunt
Luxuriem, tenerisque virescit circulus herbis.

We have noticed merely the Latin verses of our author; but must hastily bring our lucubration to a close, hoping on some future occasion to resume it again.

1

THE TRUE WRITER.

HONEST READER :-Pray thee, pass us not utterly by. Stay at least for the theme's sake, and give it a kindly perusal, that the weightiness and worthiness of the topics therein considered may answer for a better treatment of them. We have taken our pen in hand to put down a few stray thoughts and fancies about the advantages furnished by this goodly Magazine. We do it, not professionally as a grave and anxious Editor-that dignity, it is not our fate to bear-but simply as a spectator and an acquaintance; one who has known somewhat of its contents and their authors from the first. You will see, then, that we write without bias, yet not in utter ignorance.

We do not purpose to discuss the merits or demerits of this work, to speak of its managers or its management, its past fortunes or its future prospects. We write rather for the good of a class, who, with abundant ability to write, lack either the courage or intelligence to enjoy the privilege. Thus much also we premise, that the reader need not look for an eloquent essay or a solemn homily. The burden of these remarks has been on our mind for years, as it must rest with more or less weight upon every one who enters, with any proper thoughtfulness, on a course of Education; and we may, perhaps, as well give a distinct expression of them here and now as elsewhere. If our language seems too strong and urgent, and our manner rather earnest and magisterial, the reader will please remember that we write because we feel; because we are convinced there is great neglect in this matter, and because we believe that there is as little done-we say it with hesitation-in this Institution, as in some other more prominent Colleges of our country, towards correct and finished composition as a distinct branch of learning. It becomes, then, quite a national concern, has much to do with the future Literature of the age, and touches, not merly the private fame of the individual, but the public reputation of the State. We know that some may receive this last statement with a smile; as though the students of a place of learning could in anywise affect the country at large. It is enough to say that such persons can never have reflected very much on the relations of things, and must have failed to notice that in a world so full of influences as this, the great have always much, indeed chiefly to do with the small, and that as the strength and energy of the man is often presaged by certain promising marks in the boy, so the greatness and dignity of a nation is always determined a generation in advance. Let us bring home so significant a consideration. The words which, by the busy yet silent mediation of the press, have become the property of the public, are all the fruits of individual minds; the style and strength of these writers are chiefly or wholly measured and decided by their habits when young; and therefore our fame and usefulness as strong and effective writers is cast quite upon ourselves. We are aware that this statement is very obvious. But it is also true. It is