cism. He is just what poets would be if they sang, like birds, without criticism; and it is a peculiarity of his fame, that it seems as regardless of criticism as a bird in the air. Nothing can stop a song of his. It is very easy to say that they are easy to do. They have a momentum, somehow, that it is difficult for others to give, and that speeds them to the far goal of popularity,-the best proof consisting in the fact that he can, at any moment, get fifty dollars for a song unread, when the whole remainder of the American Parnassus could not sell one to the same buyer for a shilling. It may, or may not, be one secret of his popularity, but it is the truth-that MORRIS's heart is at the level of most other people's, and his poetry flows out by that door. He stands breast-high in the common stream of sympathy, and the fine oil of his poetic feeling goes from him upon an element it is its nature to float upon, and which carries it safe to other bosoms, with little need of deep-diving or high-flying. His sentiments are simple, honest, truthful, and familiar; his language is pure and eminently musical, and he is prodigally full of the poetry of every-day feeling. These are days when poets try experiments; and while others succeed by taking the world's breath away with flights and plunges, MORRIS uses his feet to walk quietly with nature. Ninety-nine people in a hundred, taken as they come in the census, would find more to admire in MORRIS's songs than in the writings of any other American poet; and that is a parish in the poetical episcopate well worthy a wise man's nurture and prizing.

13. A GOLDEN COPPERSMITH.

BASIL GAVRILOFF MARINE, a Russian crown-slave, and by

trade a coppersmith, was, at the beginning of March, returning to St. Petersburg from visiting his family at his native village. He arrived at Mos'cow on the night of the eleventh, with ten of his companions; and as the railway train was already gone, they were obliged to pass the night there, and remain till three the next afternoon. "The villagers are curious," Marine himself relates, "and as we had never been at Moscow before, we determined to see all the curiosities of that ancient town. We entered the Cathedral of the Assumption, and kissed all its holy relics. We ascended to the top of the belfry of d'Ivan-Véliky, and then proceeded to the Bird-market. Here we heard that a terrible fire was raging-that the Great Theater was burning. As it was only noon, we determined to be spectators, and hastened to the spot."

2. They arrived just as the fire was at its height; the theater burnt from the interior, and the flames spread rapidly, bursting from the roof and the windows in savage fury. At the time the fire broke out, three workmen were engaged at the top of the building it gained upon them so fast, they had only time from

a window to reach the roof; when they frantically rushed about without hope of escape, surrounded by the flames, which each moment gained upon them. Two of them in wild despair threw themselves from the roof, and were killed on the pavement below.

3. The third remained; and, suffocating with the smoke, screamed for assistance in a manner that struck agony in the hearts of all who heard him. His death seemed inevitable. There was not a ladder of sufficient length to reach the roof of the building, and the miserable man had the alternative of perishing by the flames or leaping down, as his comrades had done. But even in this extremity his confidence did not forsake him, and he sought refuge on that side where the wind blew the flames away from him. Marine and his companions all this time were spectators of the scene. "I held my tongue," said Marine, "but my heart beat painfully, and I asked myself how I could save this poor soul."

4. "Companions," cried the brave fellow, suddenly, "wait for me here, while I try and save that man." His comrades looked at him with surprise, but without dissuading him from his purpose. "God be with you," said they, "for it is a good deed you are about to do." Without losing another moment, Marine approached the authorities present, and solicited permission to try and rescue the man from the frightful death which menaced him. Permission obtained, he took off his cap and sheepskin coat, and confided them to the care of the police. Accompanied by his brother, and provided with a stout cord, he rushed to a ladder that was placed against the wall, but which was very far from reaching the roof. Marine made the sign of the Cross, and began to ascend. When he reached the summit, he fastened the cord around his waist, and, once more devoutly crossing himself, began to climb one of the pipes that led from the roof.

5. The crowd below, breathless with astonishment and fear, eagerly watched each movement. Around him the flames were playing with intense fury; and above the terrible noise of the falling timbers were heard the fearful shrieks of the unfortunate man; who, though he saw assistance coming to him, dreaded it might be too late. Nothing daunted, Marine continued his perilous ascent." "It was cold," said he, "and there was a terrible

wind, but yet I felt it not; for, from the moment I determined upon trying to save the fellow, my heart was on fire, and I was like a furnace." His burning hands kept continually sticking to the frozen pipes, which somewhat retarded his progress; but still he courageously continued his way. "The pipe cracked," said he; "it was no longer firm-this dear pipe; but happily I arrived at the cornice, where there was foot-room.”

6. His brother, who had remained all this time on the ladder, had made a hook fast to one end of the cord. Marine passed it to the man on the roof, and desired him to fasten it somehow securely; this he did by fixing it round one of the ornaments of the cornice. Marine doubled it, to make it more secure, and then made him slide down the pipe, holding the cord in his hand, and his knees firmly round the pipe-himself giving the example. At the moment Marine reached the ladder, and the man he had so nobly preserved was seen to glide down in safety, a remarkable movement was manifested by the crowd-a movement truly Russian-all heads were simultaneously uncovered, and all hauds made the sign of the Cross.

7. When Marine reached the ground, the man was already half-way down the ladder, and out of all danger. "I had hardly reached the ground," relates Marine, "when a gentleman, in a cloak and military casque, approached me, and gave me twentyfive silver rubles." A great number of others surrounded him, and each gave him according to his means-some ten kopecks' silver, others a ruble, and some only copper. "Thanks, brave man!" was cried on all sides; "you are a courageous and good Christian; and may God lõng grant you health, and bless you!"

8. "What became of the man I rescued," said Marine, “I do not know; but that is not my affair. Thanks to God, he is saved. A gentleman-an aid-de-camp-came to me, gave me a ticket, and took me in his sledge to the office of the Chancellerie, where he wrote down all that had taken place." During this time Marine did not lose his presence of mind; he was only anxious about one thing-that the railway should not leave with

1 Ruble (18′ bl), a Russian coin about the value of seventy-five cents. -Ko' peck, a Russian coin worth about a cent.-Aid-de-camp (åd' ekang), an attendant on a high military officer to cor vey his orders.

out hin. At three o'clock he was in the wagon; and, on Friday, the thirteenth, he arrived at his destination, where he was waited for by his master, Monsieur' Flottoff.

9. He requested permission for one day's leave, to visit his aunt, who kept a small shop in the Vassili Ostroff, which was readily granted; when, leaving her to return home, he was astonished at being called to the house of the Grand Master of the Police, who accompanied him to the palace. The courage of which he had so lately given so strong a proof, had been brought to the knowledge of the Emperor, who desired to see him. Never had he thought, even in his wildest dreams, that such an honor would be accorded to him, a simple man of the people.

10. The Emperor received Marine in his cabinet, and, with the greatest kindness, said, "Marine, I thank thee for the good and great action thou hast performed; but I wish to hear from thy own mouth how, with God's assistance, thou didst it." Marine related the adventure to him in his own simple manner, and when he had finished, the Czar, who had listened to him with the greatest attention, embraced him, and said: "My son, may God bless you! and remember, if you ever stand in need of my assistance, come to me and it shall be accorded you." The Emperor then presented him with a medal and one hundred and fifty silver rubles. Marine left the Emperor's presence a happy

man.

A

14. THE HIERMIT OF NIAGARA.

BOUT fifteen years since, in the glow of early summer, a young stranger, of pleasing countenance and person, made his appearance at Niăg'ara. It was at first conjectured that he might be an artist, as a large `portfolio, with books and musical instruments, were observed among his baggage. He was deeply impressed by the majesty and sublimity of the cataract and its surrounding scenery, and expressed an intention to remain a week, that he might examine it accurately. But the fascination which all minds of sensibility feel in the presence of that glorious

2 Monsieur (mos sèr'), Sir; Mr.- Aunt (ånt).

work of the Creator, grew strongly upon him, and he was heard to say, that six weeks were inadequate to become acquainted with its outlines.

2. At the end of that period, he was still unable to tear himself away, and desired to "build there a tabernacle," that he might both indulge in his love of solitary musings, and of nature's sublimity. He applied for a spot upon the island of the "Three Sisters," where he might construct a cottage after his own model, which comprised, among other peculiarities, isolation,' by means of a drawbridge. Circumstances forbidding a compliance with his request, he took up his residence in an old house upon Iris Island, which he rendered as comfortable as the state of the case would admit. Here he continued about twenty months, until the intrusion of a family interrupted his recluse habits. He then quietly withdrew, and reared for himself a less commodious shelter, near Prospect Point. His simple and favorite fare of bread and milk was readily purchased, and whenever he required other food, he preferred to prepare it with his own hands.

3. When bleak winter came, a cheerful fire of wood blazed upon his hearth, and by his evening lamp he beguiled the hours with the perusal of books in various languages, and with sweet music. It was almost surprising to hear, in such depth of solitude, the long-drawn, thrilling tones of the viol, or the softest melodies of the flute, gushing forth from that low-browed hut, or the guitar', breathing out so lightly amid the rush and thunder of the never-slumbering torrent.

4. Yet, though the world of letters was familiar to his mind, and the living world to his observation, for he had traveled widely, both in his native Europe and the East, he sought not association with mankind, to unfold or to increase his stores of knowledge. Those who had heard him converse, spoke with surprise and admiration of his colloquial' powers, his command" of language, and the spirit of eloquence that flowed from his lipɛ. But he seldom, and sparingly, admitted this intercourse, studiously avoiding society, though there seemed in his nature noth

'Is o la' tion, situated like an island; separation from every thing.'Hearth.- Colloquial (kol lo' kwe al), conversational. Com månd'.