na,

with so much non chalance: the critics however applaud ther in all she has since undertaken, which no doubt is her due.

TO CORRESPONDENTS "A Dream" by a correspondent is indeed & "somnific" most potent: pray wake up Sir, and give us something better, you have the power of doing so. We regret exceedingly that matter was furnished for our first pages previous to the reception of the promised communication of A. R Those who furnish original sketches will accommodate our publishers by sending them as early as Monday.

We have received a polite communication from a gentleman who has thought proper to honor our former correspondent “Amicus" by assuming his Signature. After presuming his impugnment of our judgment (as a Critic) would be less offensive to us expressed in private then in the public press, he opens upon us his whole battery of Squibs, simply because we had the impunity to compare Pollok's Course of Time with Milton's Paradise Lost - Whe (exclaims the

"Barbers Chair," with all the et ceteras of shaving then advances the courteous host, doffing his tasselled cap, with "Vat is your plaisir, gentil mens? Valk in-voir! See mon curiosities? A-ha! je suis bien heureux-I will shew you." He then walks with you through his rooms, explaining how and where every article was procured, and expressing the liveliest pleasure at your remarks upon their neat arrangement. The first room contains six tables spread with waiters of chisome of the most beautiful patterns edged with gold, while several setts of castors and small salvers of cut glass, decanters, tumblers, &c. occupy the corners. Two eightday clocks, and three large time-pieces click from various parts of the room, while watches of all sizes form a circle round the looking glass. Three portraits of himself, taken at different periods of his life, commence a range of pictures of every description, which literally cover the walls of the apartment, while fans, gloves, artificial flowers, peacocks' fea-Critic) ever heard of Paradise Lost without thers, &c. serve to fill the vacancies. In the next room a cooking-stove presents itself, with a profusion of culinary utensils, sufficient to cook a dinner for a north-river steamboat. On ascending to his dormitory, we found it furnished on the same liberal scale as the rooms below. Four neat and well furnished beds occupied the corners of the room, with quantum sufficit of wash-stands, basins, rugs, &c. Instead of pictures, the walls were covered with suits ol apparel, of every colour, and of every fashion, that has prevailed since the revolution! All we could learn of the private history of this man, has been related above. He lives entirely alone, with the exception of a cat and a parrot, in this amply furnished dwelling; and on no occasion was he ever known to have an inmate or a visiter, by invitation.

TREMONT THEATRE.

The Theatrical bills of the past week have presented such rich treats to the lovers of the legitimate Drama, together with many lighter articles by way of desert, that we can scarcely note them as they pass-we can from our own observation speak of nothing but the "Lear" of Mr. Booth. This gentleman is a true disciple of naturo's school in every part he assumes. In those scenes where the noble energies of the mind seemed struggling with the infirmities of age, he was inimitable :'also the exultation with which he appeals to his nobles to prove that he had slain his last enemy was to the Life.' We regret that Mrs. Parker should have been appointed to sustain the part of Goneril.

She is a pretty

woman, but wholly unequal to that task. Mrs. Jones was respectable as Regan, but her peculiar part of excellence is that of an "old Maid."

Miss Lane is a sweet little creature, but we were sorry to see her in boys clothes uttering oaths

knowing who was the author Sir, what has this question to do with my comparison between these authors? He then proceeds who has ever compared before?" Do you read Sir! if you do you should know that many whose judgment is far superior to either yours or Gurs, have compared them. Although the favour of "AMICUS" was designed for our private edifice

tion, we are unwilling to deprive the public press" of so rich a treat, and shall therefore give the concluding ebulition of his critcal wrath

verbatim.

"Compare Pollok an imitator of Milton, the very copyist of his subject, nay, even of hit faults, with Milton himself? this is the very heresy of judgment! (oh!!!) compare the jackall with the Lion. The Pilot fish with the Whale. The Cock-boat with the seventy-fout Compare a Mouse to an Elephant, but never com pare Pollok with Milton." Finally compare Critic to a jack-ass-and mark which brays to the most purpose? We now make our Congm to" Amicus," who has our permission to make his future communications to us as public es be pleases, we have no inclination to banquet in private upon nonsense.

Notwithstanding all this rholomontade, Pollok's "Course of Time" may properly be compar ed to Milton's "Paradise Lost" and in many 18spects will suffer little by the comparison. Mr. Pollok, in common with other fine writers, bat many prominent errors (the sin of imitations may be one) but his works will always be read with pleasure long after his hypererities are in the dust. As we have formerly given our opalioda of this Author to repeat them here would be superfluous.

THE BOWER OF TASTE, edited by MRS. KATHI
RINE A. WARE, is published by Dutton and
WENTWORTH, Nos. 1 and 4 Exchange-stres
Boston-Who are authorised to transect al
business relative to the printing and circuit
tion of this Work.

All literary communications should be, as fen
erly, directed to the Editor.
All Laima
must be post-paid.

Original Poetry.

LINES,

On being requested to write some Stanzas on a blank leaf, in a volume of MILTON.

O! for one spark of that celestial fire,

That warm'd the bosom of my favourite bard—
Sure, while some bending angel swept his Lyre,
He breath'd responsive notes to every chord!

But, vain the wish-around my humble brow,
Ne'er will the sacred bay or laurel twine:

Some simple wild flowers, that uncultured grow,
Are all my offering at the muses shrine.

AUGUSTA.

PRIZE ADDRESS.

The following ADDRESS was spoken by Mr. Wood, at the opening of the Arch-Street
Theatre, Philadelphia. We have not yet learned the name of the author; but think
the power of one of our " Master Spirits" is exhibited in its polished lines.
It came from Heaven! the realms of time to tread,
And summon forth the long forgotten dead;
Their deeds of guilt and goodness to unfold,
The garnered glories of the days of old.

It came from Heaven! to soar where fancy reigns,
And rouse the phantoms of her bright domains;
Their wildest haunts, their loftiest heights explore,
And lead man on to wonder and adore.

Genius! these gifts are thine-'tis thine sweet power,
With these, to soothe and sway life's shifting hour;
To nerve the soul, to wake young virtue's glow,
And bid the tears of grief and rapture flow;
"Tis thine with these to rule each clime and age,
Mankind thy subject, and thy throne THE STAGE!
The pencil's boast, the chisel's skill decay,
And wisdom's noblest record fades away;
But here, untouched by time's devouring tooth,
The pictured group puts on immortal youth;
Here the bold deed that in the marble spoke,
Again revives, new plaudits to provoke;

And the proud truth that graced the mouldering page,
Still pleads triumphant echoed from the Stage.
Here gathering round in long departed days,

Earth's master minstrels poured their deathless lays.
Descending down, through each descending race,
Still came the gifted to adorn the place;
With love to soften, and with wit to charm,
To mock with folly, and with guilt alarm;
While o'er each scene to sacred feeling dear,
Taste smiled applause, and beauty dropped a tear,
Long, long for these may this fair Temple stand,
The pride and promise of our happier land.
Our happier land! forever live that claim
On virtue's rolls, as in the blast of fame:

So rival shores, while saddening they behold
Our young orb rising to eclipse the old,

May with our greatness find our goodness page,
To mark indeed a new-a better age.
Within these walls, in some inspiring day,
May native bards our native deeds portray,
Shall foreign legends still go brightening down,
And cold oblivion's night-cloud veil our own?
Look round the spot to faith and firmness dear,
Finds no rapt spirit fit incitement here?
Here, where the Indian roved in nature's pride,
And built his fires, and loved, and warred, and died?
Here, where his holy fane the pilgrim reared?
And gave an empire to the God he feared?
Here, for that empire where the patriot bled?
Here, where the foul invader turned and fled ?—
These are the themes to stir your rising youth,
Their fathers' valour, and their fathers' truth:
These be the themes to grace this swelling dome;
In pleasure's courts let freedom find a home;
While virtue sits, all radiant in her light,
The guiding priestess of each glorious rite.
And O, when ye, who now enraptured gaze,
Shall yield to other throngs and other days,
Still may this altar beam its purest fires,
To charm the Children as they charmed the Sires.

PENS.

VOL. I.

"With youthful fancy, or with matron taste,
"We cull the meadow, or explore the waste,"-PAINE.
The brightest flowers, the purest gems, to save
From the dark bosom of oblivion's wave.

BOSTON.....SATURDAY.....OCT. 18, 1828.

No. 42.

ORIGINAL SKETCHES.......NO. III.

THE POOR ARTIST.

CONCLUDED.

MR. VONHARTZ, the father of Maria, still she was disgusted with his atwas a man of keen observation, but tentions, probably from divining his no education. He owed his vast motives, and always avoided his sopossessions rather to the turn of for-ciety if possible. The object of his tune's wheel, which favoured his last visit, as has been intimated, speculations, than to his own judicious calculations. Conscious that wealth was his only boast, he was desirous of marrying his only daughter to a man of rank and fashion, whatever his profession might be, hoping thereby to obtain access to that society to which money alone could not entitle him.

was to request Maria to name the "happy day." Having already obtained the consent of her father, little else he thought was necessary. It may be remembered, that on returning to the house, they met him in the garden, having been as he said, in search of them.

"But what have we here?" cried With the hope of securing this he, taking the' sketch' from the hand 'golden prize,' Captain Wallace, a of Mr. Vonhartz, and glancing at dashing officer stationed at Brook- Maria, who blushed as her father lyn, the hilt of whose sword had a-related all he knew of the affair. chieved more conquests in Broadway, than its blade had in the field, bowed before the young heiress, and unexpectedly became deeply interested with the woman, whom he sought as his wife! Yet, although Maria had no previous attachment,

VOL. 1.

"And so you have no suspicion of the artist ?" said the Captain, folding the paper, and placing it in his hat. "None," said Maria, but pray give it me."

"It is in the hands of its owner. If you will allow me to finish it,"83

"Good heavens! was it you?" faintly asked she.

The Captain, who believed it would add a feather to his cap, declared himself the artist! while Maria, evidently disappointed by this discovery, walked slowly to the house, accompanied by the gentle

men.

After seating themselves, Captain Wallace, with that unembarrassed air, which anticipates success, said, "I have permission from your father, Miss, to address you on the subject of marriage. My heart you have long had," displaying his white hand upon the breast of his embroidered coat, "and I now offer to you a life devoted to your service."

Having achieved this speech, he sat tapping his boots with his riding whip, calmly awaiting her reply.

"From the romance of my unhappy life where parental author ity would usurp unnatural power," replied she, and bowing slightly to the Captain, she left the room, followed by her father, who told her, as he violently grasped her hand, that he gave her but one month to consider of this proposal. If then she persisted in her folly, he resolv ed to place her for the rest of her life under the care of two superan nuated old maids, her aunts, who lived upon his sparing bounty, in a rude and desolate cottage, in the wilds of Vermont.

These women had in their dispositions all the verjuice of their brother, which together with a spirit of discontent which they were ever expressing, on account of his ava rice, rendered them most execrable companions. Knowing the dislike which Maria from her infancy had ever evinced for her aunts, her fath

er punishment could be inflicted, than a residence with them.

"My father, Sir," answered she, "has conversed with me on this subject, and knows my opinion,-er rightly conceived, that no greatwhich I desired him to express to you. But since he has not done so, I feel it my duty to assure you, that though I am sensible of the honour you have done me, I must decline your offer. Neither my education or mode of life, qualify me to become the wife of a man of fashion!"

"In case you refuse obedience to my commands, in that hut shall you pass the rest of your life; and at the instant of your departure hence, my will shall be made giving to your brother the whole of my property." So saying, he returned to the parlour.

糖

The Captain uttered a sort of aspiration between a sigh and a whis- This last threat was powerless on tle, and rising, he seized her hand, the heart of the weeping Maria, is and exclaimed passionately- comparison with that of living with "Oh! say not so !-you will-those fiends of discord and envy, you must be mine!!-retract your for she loved her young brother who words or you will drive me to despair!"

Maria raised her eyes to the calm face of her desperate lover, and seeing no symptoms of self-destruction in its expression, she replied, "Sir, I trust you will receive this as my final answer; and hope, should we meet hereafter, the subject may never be renewed."

was now in college, and trusted that if he possessed her wealth, he would not let her suffer want in future. In a few moments she saw Captain Wallace depart, saying in a low voice to her father, "I may write, but think it would not be adviserble for me to visit her again, until the close of the month.'"

This last word seemed to seal the fate of Maria, and she gazed at the

"From what romance was that fine speech taken ?" said her ironic-speaker with augmented disgust al father.