LETTER XXVIII.

Dear Sir,-Herewith I have the honor of sending you what you desire. If the Essay shall be found to give you any new information, I shall not regret the trouble of having written it.

The MS. of Professor Dew is large, bold, very heavy, somewhat diffuse. Neither is the illegibility of the MS. abrupt, and illegible. It is possible that he never thinks to be paralleled by any confusion of thought or expres of mending a pen. There can be no doubt that his sion. He is remarkably lucid. We must look for the chirography has been modified, like that of Paulding, two last mentioned qualities of his MS. in the suppoby strong adventitious circumstances-for it appears sition that he has been in the habit of writing a great to retain but few of his literary peculiarities. Among deal, in a desperate hurry, and with a stump of a pen. the few retained, are boldness and weight. The abrupt- Paper good—but only a half sheet of it-wafered. ness we do not find in his composition—which is indeed

LETTER XXIX.

Dear Sir,-In reply to your query touching the "authenticity of a singular incident," related in one of my poems, I have to inform you that the incident in question is purely a fiction.

The hand-writing of Mr. Mellen is somewhat pecu- by frequent moods of doubt and depression, and by liar, and partakes largely of the character of the signature annexed. It would require no great stretch of fancy to imagine the writer (from what we see of his MS.) a man of excessive sensibility, amounting nearly to disease of unbounded ambition, greatly interfered with red seal.

unsettled ideas of the beautiful. The formation of the G in his signature alone, might warrant us in supposing his composition to have great force, frequently impaired by an undue straining after effect. Paper excellent—

LETTER XXX.

Dear Sir, I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance, but thank you for the great interest you seem to take in my welfare. I have no relations by the name of Miller, and think you must be in error about the family

connection.

Respectfully,

W. Gilmore Simms

JOSEPH G. H. MILLER, Esq.

The MS. of Mr. Simms resembles, very nearly, that of Mr. Kennedy. It has more slope, however, and less of the picturesque-although still much. We spoke of Mr. K.'s MS. (in our February number) as indicating "the eye of a painter." In our critique on the Partisan

we spoke of Mr. Simms also as possessing "the eye of a painter," and we had not then seen his hand-writing. The two MSS. are strikingly similar. The paper here is very fine and wafered.

LETTER XXXI.

Dear Sir, I have received your favor of the inst. and shall be very happy in doing you the little service you mention. In a few days I will write you more fuily. Very respectfully, Your most obedient servant,

Lieutenant Slidell's MS. is peculiar-very neat, very | than once pointedly noticed in the works of this aueven, and tolerably legible, but somewhat too diminu- thor-we mean that of close observation in detailtive. Black lines have been, apparently, used. Few a habit which, when well regulated, as in the case of tokens of literary manner or character are to be found Lieut. Slidell, tends greatly to vigor of style. Paper in this writing. The petiteness, however, is most strik- excellent-wafered.

ingly indicative of a mental habit, which we have more

LETTER XXXII.

Dear Sir,-I find upon reference to some MS. notes now lying by me, that the article to which you have allusion, appeared originally in the "Journal des Sçavans." Very respectfully,

JOSEPH L. M. MILLER, Esq.

The writing of Professor Anthon is remarkably neat and beautiful—in the formation of particular letters as well as in the tout-ensemble. The perfect regularity of the MS. gives it, to a casual glance, the appearance of print. The lines are quite straight and at even distances-yet they are evidently written without any artificial aid. We may at once recognise in this chi

hat Mithou

rography the scrupulous precision and finish—the love of elegance-together with the scorn of all superfluous embellishment, which so greatly distinguish the compilations of the writer. The paper is yellow, very fine, and sealed with green wax, bearing the impression of a head of Cæsar.

LETTER XXXIII.

Dear Sir, I have looked with great care over several different editions of Plato, among which I may mention the Bipont edition, 1781-8, 12 vols. oct.; that of Ast, and that of Bekker, reprinted in London, 11 vols. oct. I cannot, however, discover the passage about which you ask me—“is it not very ridiculous?" You must have mistaken the author. Please write again. Respectfully yours,

JOSEPH N. O. MILLER, Esq.

Francis Lieber

The MS. of Professor Lieber has nearly all the cha- the letter puts us at fault-for we have never before racteristics which we noticed in that of Professor Dew-known a man of minute erudition (and such is Probesides the peculiarity of a wide margin left at the top fessor Lieber,) who did not write a very different of the paper. The whole air of the writing seems to hand from this. We should have imagined a petite and indicate vivacity and energy of thought-but altogether, careful chirography. Paper tolerable and wafered.

LETTER XXXIV.

Dear Sir,-I beg leave to assure you that I have never received, for my Magazine, any copy of verses with so ludicrous a title as "The nine and twenty Magpies." Moreover, if I had, I should certainly have thrown it into the fire. I wish you would not worry me any farther about this matter. The verses, I dare say, are somewhere among your papers. You had better look them up-they may do for the Mirror.

Mr. JOSEPH P. Q. MILLER.

Soran J Hale

Mrs. Hale writes a larger and bolder hand than her whole MS. is indicative of a masculine understanding. sex generally. It resembles, in a great degree, that of Paper very good, and wafered.

Professor Lieber-and is not easily decyphered. The

LETTER XXXV.

Dear Sir,-I am not to be quizzed. You suppose, eh? that I can't understand your fine letter all about "things in general." You want my autograph, you dog-and you sha'nt have it.

JOSEPH R. S. MILLER, Esq.

Yours respectfully,

M Mwak

Mr. Noah writes a very good running hand. The ance of being written very fast. Some of the characters lines, however, are not straight, and the letters have have now and then a little twirl, like the tail of a pigtoo much tapering to please the eye of an artist. The which gives the MS. an air of the quizzical, and devillong letters and capitals extend very little beyond theme-care. Paper pretty good-and wafered. others-either up or down. The epistle has the appear

LETTER XXXVI.

Mister-I say-It's not worth while trying to come possum over the Major. Your letter's no go. I'm up to a thing or two or else my name isn't

Mr. JOSEPH T. V. MILLER.

Jack Downing

The Major writes a very excellent hand indeed. It that we shall say nothing farther about it. has so striking a resemblance to that of Mr. Brooks,

LETTER XXXVII.

Dear Sir, I am exceedingly and excessively sorry that it is out of my power to comply with your rational and reasonable request. The subject you mention is one with which I am utterly unacquainted--moreover, it is one about which I know very little.

Respectfully,

JOSEPH W. X. MILLER, Esq.

Mr. Stone's MS. has some very good points about precise opinion can be had of Mr. Stone's literary style. it--among which is a certain degree of the picturesque. [Mr. Messenger says no opinion can be had of it in any In general it is heavy and sprawling--the short letters way.] Paper very good and wafered. running too much together. From the chirography no

LETTER XXXVIII.

My Good Fellow,-I am not disposed to find fault with your having addressed me, although personally unknown. Your favor (of the ultimo) finds me upon the eve of directing my course towards the renowned shores of Italia. I shall land (primitively) on the territories of the ancient Brutii, of whom you may find an account in Lempriére. You will observe (therefore) that, being engrossed by the consequent, necessary, and important preparations for my departure, I can have no time to attend to your little concerns. Believe me, my dear sir, very faithfully your

JOSEPH Y. Z. MILLER, Esq.

Mr. Fay writes a passable hand. There is a good of the long letters are too long. [Mr. Messenger thinks deal of spirit--and some force. His paper has a clean I am right--that Mr. F. shouldn't try to cut a dash-appearance, and he is scrupulously attentive to his and that all his tales are too long. The swagger he margin. The MS. however, has an air of swagger says is respectable, and indicates a superfluity of about it. There are too many dashes--and the tails thought.]

CECIL. (fiercely)

That hand!

Look on it well. What stain hath marred its white
Since last we met? And you, most learned Martin,
And you, text-mouthing Harrison-what saws
Plucked from the rotten tombs of buried codes,
What devilish garblings from the holy writ,
Gave ye one shade of sanction for that deed
Which murdered England's honor in her king?
HARRISON. (interrupting Martin and Ireton, as they
are about to reply)

Peace! peace, my brethren! Leave to me the word:
Lo, my soul longs to wrestle with the youth.
I will expound to him. Thus saith the Lord-

CECIL. Blaspheme not! keep thy dark hypocrisies
To shroud thee from thyself! But peace, my heart!
I will not waste my wrath on such as these.
Most honest Ireton, did they tell me false,
Or is thy leader here? thy kinsman, Ireton ?—

Oh God! hath stout-armed Cromwell come to this!-
The master deathsman of your gory crew?

Knows him as one inflexibly austere

In what his head deems justice; but his heart
Is mild, and shrinks from the uncalled-for shedding
Ev'n of the meanest blood: yet would to Heaven,
For his own peace, that he had been less great,
Nor sate as judge in that most fearful court,
Where either voice was peril. What the world
Will deem his choice, lies doubtful in the clouds
That shade the time. Thank God that we are women!
LADY CLAYPOLE. Yea! in these hours of civil strife,
when men

Know not which way lies conscience, and the night
Scares the soft slumbers from their haggard eyes
By schemes of what the morrow shall bring forth,
'Tis sweet to feel our weakness, and to glide
Adown the stream of our inactive thought!—
While, on the bank, towers crash and temples fall,
We sail unscath'd; and watch the unvex'd life
Mirror that peaceful heaven, earth cannot mar!
(after a pause, with a smile)

IRETON. I would he were, young madman, to requite Yet scarce indeed unvex'd, while one wild power

Thy courteous quoting of his reverent name.
Go seek our England's David at his hearth,
And chide the arm that struck Goliah down.
HARRISON. I will wend with thee, rash idolator!
So newly turned to the false gods of Horeb;
My soul shall wrestle with thee by the way.
CECIL. (to Harrison, who is about to follow him)
Butcher, fall back!-there is a ghost behind thee,
That, with a hueless cheek and lifeless eye,
Forbids thee henceforth and for aye to herd
With men who murder not. And so farewell!
(exit Cecil)

HARRISON. (looking fearfully around)
A ghost! said he, a ghost?

MARTIN.

Ay, General, ay;
And he who stands upon the deadly brink
Of Cromwell's ire, may well behold the ghosts
He goes so soon to join.

Soldier.

(Enter a Puritan Soldier)
Worshipful Sirs,

The council of the faithful is assembled,

And the Lord President entreats your presence.
IRETON. Come, Martin; come, bold-hearted Harrison,
Bradshaw awaits.

SCENE III.-A Room in Cromwell's House. The Lady Clay.

pole. Edith.

Can rouse the tide at will, and wake the heart
To tempest with a sigh ;-nay, blush not, Edith.
EDITH. I have no cause for blushes; and my cheek
Did wrong my thought, if it did speak of shame.
To love!-ah! 'tis a proud, a boastful joy,
If he we love is worthy of our love!

LADY CLAYPOLE. And that, in truth, is Cecil: with
his name

Honor walks spotless, and this stormy world
Grows fair before his presence; in his tongue
Lurks no deceit; his smile conceals no frown:
Ev'n in his very faults, his lofty pride
And the hot frankness of his hasty mood,
There seems a heavenly virtue, by the side
Of men who stalk around, and, if they win
Truth to the soul, wear falsehood on the brow.
EDITH. Speak thus forever, dearest ! for his praise
Makes thy voice music. Yes, he is all this;
And I, whose soul is but one thought of him,
Feel thought itself can compass not the girth
Of his wide merit. Was I not right to say
I could not blush to love him? Yet, methinks,
Well might I blush to feel that one like Cecil
Has love for Edith!

LADY CLAYPOLE. If, sweet coz, I cease
To praise him, it shall be for sweeter words
Ev'n than his praise!

EDITH. Impossible!

LADY CLAYPOLE.

And yet,

Tidings from Spain?

LADY CLAYPOLE. No, Edith, not from Spain; Tidings from London. Cecil is returned.

LADY CLAYPOLE. So leave we, then, the Past! The Just ere we met, his courier's jaded steed angry sky

Is cleared by that same thunderstroke which cleaves

The roof of kings; the dark time's crowning evil
Is o'er; the solemn deed, that stern men call
Necessity, is done ;-now let us hope

A brighter day for England!

EDITH.

Who knows Cromwell,

Halted below. Sir Hubert had arrived,
And, on the instant, sought my father.
EDITH.

Come!

And I to hear it from another's lips!

LADY CLAYPOLE. Nay, coz, be just: with matters

of great weight

Matters that crave at once my father's ear