our pupilage to England. We have come of age, cal. It may be true, but is it any truer of nations and have learned that we must count upon ourselves than of individuals? Peace and good-will are clearalone. Very soon, if the strenuous, devoted, and ly the way of happiness for all of us. We all know noble labors of Agassiz are supported by public sym- it, but quarreling has not yet gone out of fashion. pathy and aid, as they ought now especially to be, In like manner, it is easy to foresee the terrible blow we shall have a scientific museum which surpasses that the withdrawal of our supplies of food would any in England, and American science, with its emi-be to England and that our privateering would be nent leaders, will no longer foolishly defer, as it now to her commerce, nor less easy to understand to our does, to that of Britain. Our literature has been disadvantage that two foes are more formidable than taught by the contempt which it receives from En-one. glish criticism that it can not hope for justice from British critics. It sees also that English literature, represented by many of its chief authors, has been steadily maligning and opposing a cause which, in maintaining liberty and order, is the champion of intellectual freedom. cism? But wars are not waged any more than duels are fought upon philosophical principles. Indeed all human affairs are conducted upon the Yankee principle of make-shift. We choose to do what present circumstances allow, nor can we practically adjust ourselves to what ought to be the condition of Who reads an English criti-human affairs. The European nations, for instance, are nominally "Christian" nations, but do any of them ever forgive international injuries when they are at all able to revenge them? The ruler of France is traditionally "His Most Christian Majesty." But what is the most Christian Potentate doing in Mexico? You may be as innocent as you call yourself, the housekeeper said to the suspicious man whom he found in his silver closet, but what are my spoons doing in your pocket? The British spell is broken. But it does not follow that war is desirable. British statesmen sneer: British papers slander: British public opinion disbelieves; but after all we must not forget that constitutional liberty exists in no great nation in Europe but Great Britain. Our common language is the symbol of a permanent common interest, and that is the progressive security of human rights. We claim that Shakespeare is ours, because he belongs to the language and to all who speak it. We must claim also that the great statutes of human right, written in the same language, belong to all who speak it, and impose upon them all unity and co-operation. It is a two-fold class interest that opposes us in England. First, it is the aristocracy which represents the political interest which fears our success lest coronets should fall. And, secondly, it is the commercial interest which would monopolize trade. They are certainly the two most powerful classes, for the aristocracy owns the land and controls the laborers, while the commercial class owns the mills. There is probably no class in England, as such, which is friendly to us; but there are members of all classes who wish us well, and do and say for us all they can. Indeed our debt to Cairnes, Cobden, Bright, Mill, Newman, Dicey, Goldwin Smith, and others, with the Daily News, Star, Spectator, and other journals, which have faithfully told the truth, is greater than that of our fathers to Burke. But British public opinion is now our enemy as it was then; while, beyond a doubt, in the hearts of the people, who would be the soldiers and sailors in case of war with the United States, there is a profound and vital sympathy with this country, so far as its condition is understood. Of course the considerations which make an English war with us so sad to contemplate are not the usual ones of blood and waste and sorrow, but they involve the interests of the principles which have been the hope of the best men of every nation in the world. The constant struggle of European nations has been the effort of the people to obtain constitutional security of rights from their Governors. The forms which have been granted and then violated, are the homage offered by Privilege to Justice. They show the conviction that the only way of "holding on" for a despotism is to persuade people that it is liberal, as Louis Napoleon began his career of wars by announcing that the empire was peace. war. It is useless to sit down, as W. - and I do, by the fire and argue why there should or should not be It is vain to see and to say that little could be gained for either side by bloodshed, and that, at bottom, the interests of all great nations are identi- | And that reminds us, of course, that war threatens us upon the French horizon also. In fact there are very few editorial chairs whatever which really feel themselves to be easy. An American empire is suddenly erected by foreign bayonets under our very eyes. There is the usual juggle of the invader to the effect that he comes to enable the people of the country to choose without constraint a Government that pleases him. But who asked him to interfere? Precisely those who had been cast off by their fellow-citizens. In the case of Mexico, it was the Church and reactionary party represented by Miramon, Almonte, and Miranda. Two of these persons arrive in Mexico with the invading French army. When that army has defeated the Mexicans, these persons, supported by the French, invite Maximilian of Austria to be Emperor. Is that the wish of the Mexican people? Who knows? Those who speak for them they have repudiated, and where is the proof that they have since acquired any authority to speak? But still further, the army which proposes to protect the Mexicans in expressing their honest wishes not only brings back these repudiated persons, but, before it sails from France, before Mexico is conquered, before there is even a pretense of a popular desire for an empire or an election of emperor, these persons proceed to Vienna and propose to Maximilian to make him Emperor. Lord Cowley, British embassador in Paris, writes to Lord Russell in January, 1862, that Thouvenel, the French foreign minister, told him that these persons had gone to Vienna to open negotiations. Thus that the midnight-conspirator, as Kinglake calls Louis Napoleon, is simply a party to a cunning plot is as clear as that it is the French army, and not Mexico, which has changed that Government to an empire. Indeed, who shall tell the catalogue of the crimes of every hue committed by His Most Christian Majesty? or who doubts that he means the utmost mischief to us? Our duty is plain enough. It is to see exactly what is going on, and not to seek safety in the repetition of a phrase. One war at a time is true policy, but only because only one at a time is possible. If France and England both make war upon us, it will not make three wars-it will only multiply our present war three times. The present enemy will be reinforced, that is all. But, if he is so, we must adapt ourselves to the change. If, for instance, Great Britain wars upon us by a pirate fleet, and France by planting an army upon our frontier which can only help our enemy, the practical question is, whether it is not safer for us to move before we are bound hand and foot; in other words, whether we should not use the means directly against them which they indirectly use against us; or, to put it in another way, when three wars are made upon us, shall we continue to engage in one war only? Such are the questions that fill all minds and hearts, and occupy all Chairs. Events move so rapidly that between writing and printing grave changes may occur. The war-cloud may be blowing over while we talk. But it may also be gathering. But whether the troubled history of the time is to record more extensive war or not, no man who values justice and honor as the foundations of genuine peace but will join in hearty thanksgiving that the nation was willing to endure such a war rather than to tolerate such a peace as was offered it. THE little grass-plot that we have sometimes good-naturedly called a lawn was plowed up this year, so that the Sassafras Club has had no meeting. The grass was quite thick and turf-like last year. But a more exquisite texture seemed possible; so last autumn the sod was removed and the ground trenched. It seems that there had formerly been a garden in the same spot, but the mould had been buried under the soil thrown out from the excavation of a cellar. The trenching was intended to restore this old mould to the surface, and by the mixture of other earth to obtain a strong soil for a noble grass-plot. But, for the warning of posterity, the Easy Chair is almost persuaded to erect a marble memorial under the Sassafras with the old Spanish epitaph, "I was well, I would be better, and here I am." For after carefully trenching in the autumn, and leaving the earth to be manipulated by the frosts, and then loosening, and raking, and grading, and smoothing, and rolling in the spring, we were sure of a glorious green result before mid-summer. So on a soft, still, cloudy morning a skillful hand scattered the seed, the heavy roller smoothed all, the wire fence was set up to guard against any chance intrusion, and we waited patiently for the lawn to develop. The bark of the Sassafras swelled, and the silver velvet leaves burst out, and the blossoms opened. His Grace the Elm, our sylvan Bishop, unfolded all his splendor, and imparted his benediction to the landscape. The grass elsewhere grew luxuriantly, and we patiently waited for the new grass to appear. The Forsythia, the Japan quince, the flowering almond hastened to show that winter had not harmed them, and that the old beauty is forever new, and still we waited. Then came June and roses-white, damask, pink, yellow. They sweetened the sunny air which brooded over the sheltered little lawn; and still we waited. At length the Easy Chair became alarmed. Early in the morning, when nobody was near, he carefully examined the smooth, hard earth which last year was so green and pleasant. He cheerfully said that the season was rather dry for grass, or that the hot sun baked the ground sadly, and gave little seed no chance. But when he was asked if he supposed that the lawn was not doing very well, and answered perhaps as well as could be expected, but that it did not seem to him exactly of a grass color, he was sarcastically told that he had no eye for color, and was invited to stoop very near the ground and look at it sideways, and then declare upon his honor if he saw nothing. He stooped and looked, and upon his honor he did see nothing. But he put out his hand upon the hard surface and felt, and upon his honor he did feel something much like what a man feels who passes his hand over his chin before shaving in the morning. By the middle of July there was a thin growth of oats and brilliantly blossoming weeds upon what had been the lawn; and in September operations were resumed toward developing a lawn for another year. There was, therefore, no place to sit under the Sassafras during the summer. But the corresponding member for Woods and Fields has not left us without music for the waning year. There is a racy New England flavor in the lines; none the less that the form and the phraseology smack of good old English reading. These that follow have the air of being casually thought aloud, like the few notes dropped by a swift, home-flitting bird at evening. FALL. The maple's changing leaves declare Yet still along the wayside fair I see the sweet wild rose. Still from the orchard's leafy bowers The autumn days in youth are sweet, When busy memories throng. And here is a similar effect-lines that seem to be taken from a longer poem, as indeed in one sense they are, for they grow naturally out of the life of our associate, the friend of woodchucks and the confidant of robins and thrushes. OCTOBER'S CLOSE. A golden sunset closed this autumn day, How rich a man's life is who loves and knows the birds and trees and beasts! Our corresponding member is never alone. Winter can not spoil his society, and "the shanty" has its warmest welcome for the friends that come with the coldest days. Here is its January greeting to one such friend: THE CHICKADEE. Thou little blackcap, chirping at my door, And though in numbers few thy song is given, ing Cardinal Richelieu, does not suppose that he would deliver the curse of Rome like a maniac raving in Bedlam. Yet nothing can be more exquisitely rendered than other portions of the same play a hundred-fold more impassioned. There may be a necessity, of which every speaker is sometimes aware, of whipping in the attention of the audience, but it is always a gross injury to the art both of the actor and orator. Yet scarcely when the joyous year brings back The swelling choir of various notes once more, Have I found deeper or more welcome strains. For when all nature glows with life again, When hills and dales put on their vernal gear, When gentle wild flowers burst upon our gaze, With all the exultation of the year, Our souls unequal to the heavenly boon Are often overwhelmed, and in the attempt To enjoy it all droop listless and confused: But in the dearth of these sweet sights and sounds This grand display of God's enriching power, The trees all bare and nature's russet stole Thrown o'er the landscape, dull must be the heart, Ingrate to Him who rules the perfect year, That is not gladdened by thy gentle song. There is a heartiness and rural homeliness in these lines which are no less remarkable than delightful in this day of highly colored verse. They have a sobriety which reproduces not only the general win-Roberto Devereux, or Don Sebastian, or Il Pirata. ter scene, but its New England aspect. And the poet who is most faithful to nature is necessarily truest to man. There is no good cause, no high hope, no earnest effort, which has not the same hearty welcome as the chickadee from our genial member of the Sassafras. THE Easy Chair observes that no public crisis long disturbs the even tenor of the theatre. Whatever happens we must be amused. Our army at Port Royal or the Kane expedition at the Pole must equally divert themselves, and generally with the drama. As for the great city, reeking out of the wanton and murderous riots, and reminded of su preme law and absolute order by the imposing army in August, it turned quietly to Forrest and Booth, and shouted with delight over Bandmann. The hold of Mr. Forrest upon popular favor is remarkable. It seems to be undiminished in strength, and the spell is certainly unchanged. They speak in England of a muscular Christianity, and Mr. Forrest offers us the physical drama. His acting imparts a shock of exhilaration to the animal man. The tenacity of the public regard for his performance may be explained upon the same principle with While the three most eminent players in the country have been thus combined in the city, the Academy has thrown open its wide doors inviting the public to rush in. Mr. Manager Maretzek promises us at least two new operas, "Ione" and "Faust;" the Faust of Gounod, probably, and not Spohr's. But an opera new to us is not necessarily a good thing. It is much pleasanter, for instance, to hear Norma, or the Somnambula, or the Barber, or Lucrezia, which are very familiar to all of us, than to hear There are certain To sing old operas better than they were ever sung But with the truly excellent Italian opera of German opera of Anschütz-from which we have the right, based upon experience, to expect the most faithful and musical rendering of great works-and with the Chamber concerts of Messrs. Thomas, Mason, and other musicians, with the virtuoso performances of Gottschalk and the soloists, we shall not want the most delightful opportunities during the winter. Editor's Drawer. 8 permanent public regard for bitters or for salt- ANOTHER YEAR of the Magazine closes with bathing. There is a purely physical "fillip" which is always agreeable. Perhaps it would not occur to Mercury, new-lighted upon a heaven-kissing hill, and thence proceeding to the parquette of Niblo's, that acting is an intellectual art. But if he crossed the street to the Winter Garden and saw Edwin Booth, or waited to see Bandmann the next evening, he might be of another opinion. this Number, and the man who keeps the key of the Drawer takes the opportunity to return his thanks to the numerous friends who have so freely contributed to this department of the Monthly. In the midst of arms, it has been said, the laws are silent, but the laugh comes in to enliven even the grim visage of war; and it will not have escaped the notice of any that the camp, the field, and the sea have furnished much of the liveliest humor that flows into these pages. The soldier and the sailor enjoy a good thing, and they send us mapy. Our thanks are due to the officers of the army and the navy for favors received at their hands. We love to know that the art and practice of war are not all horrors, and that the merry quip and turn are enjoyed with as keen a relish in the tent and on the march as they are by the evening fireside at home. Yet whether it be the force of tradition, or the irrepressible desire of an immediate response betraying him into a more sensational style, the friends of Mr. Booth do certainly remark an occasional extravagance, which is plain in his Richelieu. And indeed it may be fairly doubted whether a faithful, purely intellectual, and sustained representation of Hamlet, for instance, would be acceptable to an audience. A subtle portraiture of so delicate and contemplative a character appeals to the finest perception and cultivation. Can those qualities be pre- The gentlemen of the clerical order have usually sumed in any audience at any theatre? As there been the Drawer's most frequent and prolific conis necessary to make music a continuously popular tributors. As none enjoy its collected humor more amusement that it should be spiced with all the ex- than they, so none are able to communicate more travagance of the Opera, so to commend the rarest largely and acceptably. We will never have a line creations of the drama there seems to be required or word in these pages to which the best of men can a certain coarseness of declamation. Surely Mr. object; and if mirth is measured by the bounds of inBooth, reading the memoirs of the time and study-nocence the wisest may enjoy it, as we know they do. Ladies are valued correspondents of the Drawer, | folded, and that persons could be placed before him their delicate appreciation of the humors of the day without announcing their names, and he would read encouraging them to write when they would not their several characters as from a book. The M. C. venture on the display of wit in the social circle. was of course brought forward, and after certain sigAnd there are thousands of the Drawer's readers nificant "ahems" the lecturer commenced manipulatwho have never written a line for it, or only now ing the cranium of his subject. Full fifteen minutes and then a little. We bespeak their kind assist- were occupied with thumb and fingers, measuring and ance to make this department the spice of life. calculating, without uttering a word. The immense When you hear or say something that drives dull audience were as still as so much flesh and blood care away and lights up the face of friends with a could be. Not a whisper, not a shuffle of a foot merry smile, that belongs to the Drawer. could be heard. Finally the lecturer seemed to have settled the question as to the preponderance of the mental powers of his subject, and exclaimed, “Ladies and gentlemen, this man is a perfect peacock!" A A WESTERN eloquence continues to improve. Wisconsin reporter sends the following sketch. lawyer in Milwaukee was defending a handsome young woman accused of stealing from a large unoccupied dwelling in the night time, and thus he spake in conclusion: "Gentlemen of the Jury, I am done. When I gaze with enraptured eyes on the matchless beauty of this peerless virgin, on whose resplendent charms suspicion never dared to breathe; when I behold her radiant in this glorious bloom of lustrous loveliness, which angelic sweetness might envy but could not eclipse; before which the star on the brow of night grows pale, and the diamonds of Brazil are dim; and then reflect upon the utter madness and folly of supposing that so much beauty would expose itself to the terrors of an empty building in the cold, damp dead of night, when innocence like hers is hiding itself amidst the snowy pillows of repose; gentlemen of the jury, my feelings are too overpowering for expression, and I throw her into your arms for protection against this foul charge, which the outrageous malice of a disappointed scoundrel has invented to blast the fair name of this lovely maiden, whose smile shall be the reward of the verdict which I know you will give!" The jury acquitted her without leaving their seats. HENRY ELLISON, of Herkimer, New York, was a man of sound judgment and acknowledged integrity. A neighbor of his, by the name of John F, was voted by universal consent a "hard-faced" man. After F's death his disconsolate friends erected to his memory a costly monument with a wordy inscription enumerating his many virtues. Ellison being called upon as a neighbor to render assistance in raising the marble shaft over the last restingplace of his departed friend, after the stone was in its place, and every thing completed, sat down and read over the inscription. Pondering on the subject a few moments, and as if communing with the spirit of the departed, he was overheard to say, "John, if you could arise and read that inscription, you would think that you had got into the wrong grave!" ONE of the soldiers tells the Drawer of a sudden discovery of the " "politics" of a family down in Dixie: Our regiment, he says, was in Northern Missis- A CORRESPONDENT who was among the surrendered at Vicksburg, rejoicing that he can once more get Harper, and read it, says that he has gained more fat laughing over the Drawer than he got from all the mules that he helped to eat during the siege. A VINTNER in London sent Lord Derby a sample of wine that he recommended as a specific for the gout. Afterward he sent to request of his Lordship an order for some more of the wine; but Lord Derby replied that he preferred the gout! REV. MR. JONES's people made him a tin-wedding visit on the tenth anniversary of his marriage, each one giving him a present of some article of tin-ware. One of his hearers, who had never joined his church, presented him with a long tin pen, remarking at the same time that he did not give it to him to write any longer sermons. The hint was well taken; but Mr. Jones instantly answered, "I hope they will be long enough to reach you, Sir." A YOUNG lady, a teacher in an academy, was also a teacher in the Sunday-school. The lesson of the day was about the two MITES of the widow, which she pronounced mits. Explaining the reason why these mits were so valuable, she said that the widow probably knit them herself. A SOLDIER in the army writes to the Drawer SOME years ago Derby, the great phrenologist, lectured in the old court-house of Joliet, Illinois. During the afternoon previous to the lecture varjous citizens called at the rooms of the lecturer, among whom were the late Judge Hand the late W. E. L, both at that time practicing attorneys in the Fourth Judicial District. At that interview it was agreed between the lecturer and the two lawyers that when persons were placed before him for the purpose of an examination of heads, that he should give a certain lawyer in town (now Member of Congress) a particular style of character, and that when their man was placed on the stand before the lecturer they would notify him by certain signs. When evening came the old court-room was filled to its utmost capacity, and after an able lecture the au- WHILE at Berryville, Virginia, writes an army dience were informed that the lecturer would be blind- correspondent, we established our lines, and all per sons residing within them and wishing to go beyond them were required to take the oath of allegiance. An intelligent "contraband,” wishing to go through, on learning the requisition, very innocently asked, "What is de oath ?" "Oh yes," said the old man; "he's behind the barn now, holding the calf!" This was a little too much; Robison was ahead; and Jones gave in-just as Cage did, as narrated, with a picture of the scene, in the Magazine for "You must swear to support the Constitution," June, 1862. replied the marshal. "Why," said Sam, "I can't hardly support the old woman, times is so drefful hard!" The marshal let him pass. THE following came under my observation while serving under General Palmer on the Tennessee River. There was in Company C of our regiment (Forty-second Illinois) a singular genius, familiarly known as Jerry, an easy, careless, jovial fellow, thinking a man a man any where, and paying no attention to the "shoulder-strapped gentry" any more than if they were not about. One day, while General Palmer was upon our boat, he was among a company of officers, looking with his glass at the battle-ground of Pittsburg Landing. Jerry was near by, and, stepping up to the General, slapped him familiarly on the shoulder, and said, "Say, old feller, let me see that thing, will yer?" The officers expected to see Jerry sent in on bread and water; but, always ready for fun, Palmer handed Jerry his spy-glass. Jerry took it, and very deliberately looked it over; and, placing it about two feet from his eye, looked through it. One such look was sufficient, and turning to the General, with a look of extreme contempt, he said, "Here, take the tarnal thing; I can see through it!" and retired amidst the shouts of the General and his officers. IN the good old times before the war, writes a friend in the lower regions, the candidates for office in this Southern country were accustomed to resort to strange dodges to conciliate the people and get their votes. One of them, in the Old Dominion, while stumping the outskirts of his district, came early one morning upon a clearing where a solitary man was hoeing. Alighting from his horse, he took an extra hoe standing by, and commenced working very vigorously, at the same time delicately hinting who he was, and for what purpose he had come. The man, however, was obtuse, not seeming conscious of his visitor's design till just as the sun was sinking beneath the horizon, when he suddenly brightened up and said, "Wa'al, I reckon you're mighty good at hoein', and if I was only over in Old Virginny I'd vote for you." The dismayed politician did not let the grass grow under his horse's feet till he was safely out of North Carolina, where he had labored hard all day for naught. THE same correspondent sends the following, which is very good-none the worse that it has appeared before in substance in the Magazine. That time the scene was laid in Lower Mississippi. Very likely it happened in several places. Politicians are very much alike. Another candidate came upon a poor white man," who had a vote to give, if he did have to do his own milking. The candidate, Jones, asked him if he should hold the cow, which seemed to be uneasy, and the old man consenting very readily, he took her by the horns and held fast till the operation was done. "Have you had Robison [his rival] around here lately?" he asked. WHEN Dr. Paley was dining with the Bishop of Durham and a large party an old gentleman remarked, as the subject of domestic life was under discussion, that he had been married forty years, and had never had the slightest difference with his wife. The Bishop was expressing his great delight, when Dr. Paley very archly inquired, "Don't you think it must have been very flat, my lord?" TOM is a bright little boy, and very much attached to his mother. The other day his father came home in a bad humor, and was scolding and finding fault with things generally. Little Tom sat and listened until he thought it necessary to interfere in behalf of his mother, when, looking up at his father, he said, in a very decided tone, "If you did not like her ways, what did you marry her for ?" I need scarcely add that the weather cleared up at once, and that storm was over. THERE is so much drinking in the army, and patriotism so often sports itself over the wine-cup, to the injury of the glorious cause, that it is well for soldiers to remember an old saying of Bishop Kennett, of Oxford, in the times of James the Second. He was Proctor of the College, and going his rounds one night he found a party of students engaged in a drinking bout, and making a great noise over their wine. He reproved them sharply, and ordered them to disperse to their several rooms. One of the company said to him, "Mr. Proctor, you will, I am sure, excuse us when you are told we are met to drink prosperity to the Church." To which the Proctor answered: "Sir, we are to pray for the Church, and to fight for the Church; not to drink for the Church." Our army boys would do well to pray for the country, and fight for the country; and not drink for the country. "OLD JOE" keeps a noted saloon in a basement on Leonard Street, and along the front he stretched a canvas, upon which, in large letters, was painted THE SHADES. Time wore on, and with it was worn off the first four letters, leaving the appropriate designation, HADES. Joe still survives; but he took down that sign when he was made to understand the English of it. "I AM an alien,” says a correspondent of the Drawer, "and was expatiating the other day upon the duty of every good citizen to support the Government, and declaring myself in favor of the draft as the best means of filling up the army. 'Yes,' said a friend standing by, 'I haven't seen an exempt but was in favor of the draft."" THE Bostonians, even the men in the cemeteries, are the smartest people on this planet-or, what is the same thing, "in this universal Yankee nation." One of them says, in a letter to the Drawer: Having occasion not long since to ride in an omnibus, I could not help hearing a part of the conver |