the royal gardens; the canals of the low countries typify the plodding industry of the Dutch, and the lakes and rivers of America are on the same broad scale as her national development.

How naturally do these associations glide into the verse of the poet! Each sings his favorite stream. The "dolci acque" inspired Petrarch at Vaucluse; Byron sang the "blue and arrowy Rhone." Can we behold the Danube and not think of the dying gladiator's "young barbarians there at play ;-they and their Dacian mother?" or the Thames, and not breathe a sigh to the memory of Thomson and Hood?-watch the "hissing urn," unmindful of Cowper; or drink from "the moss-covered bucket that hangs in the well," nor repeat the household tribute of a native bard? "The white swan spreads her snowy sail," in Percival's lyric to Seneca Lake; "my name was writ in water," is the meek epitaph of Keats; to celebrate a cloud was akin to Shelley's genius, and "The Fountain" is one of Bryant's most felicitous poems; the lakes of Windermere reflect the benign serenity of Wordsworth; and every rustic mil! in England enshrines the name of Tennyson; Irving's fame, as well as home, is identified with the Hudson, and the Tweed gurgles over its stony bed the dirge of Scott. Goldsmith's flute seems yet to echo "beside the murmuring Loire," and Campbell's spirit to haunt the Susquehanna; when the Po is swollen by freshets, we quote Tasso's line, "pare che porta guerra e non tributo al mare." Falconer, Childe Harold, Dibdin, the bard of Hope, and Barry Cornwall, have sung of the sea as the scene of shipwreck, of freedom, of cheery toil, of deadly strife, and of immortal valor, of beauty, of grandeur, of delight and of death, in numbers attuned to its own changeful moods and noble rhythm.

When, indeed, the poets draw near to the waters and celebrate their grace and marvels, it is as if a votary of Nature laid his tender homage before her crystal altar. Hear Byron apostrophe to Velino, and Brainard prociaiming that Niagara's proud flood is poured from the hand of Deity; how grand the simple phrase of the psalmist:-"The sea is His and He made it," so expressive of the unchanging phenomena and uninvaded sphere of that element which man can but cautiously traverse, but whose aspect and power his inventions leave identical with the dawn of creation. The briny fields are eternally the same. Perhaps

the indirect tributes of the bard most emphatically suggests the beauty of this element. Shakespeare's lover wishes his mistress, when she moves, a 66 wave of the sea," to be for ever graceful; Othello's passion, "like to the Pontick Sea," has no ebb; "a little water clears ns of this deed," huskily whispers Lady Macbeth; Cleopatra's barge "burns on the water;" the moon 66 sees her silvery visage in the watery glass;" "the hungry sea;" "like a circle in the water;" as profitless as water in a seive;" and "like a dew-drop on a lion's mane, be shook to air," are significant metaphors. How the waters ooze, fume, curl, roar, and mantle in his description, as in nature!

66

No poet, however, in the widest range of his fancy, can imagine variety of effects like those native to water. Spread into a boundless waste, it is the most sublime; concentrated into the most lovely shapes, it is the most beautiful object in nature. The crystal blocks of the ice-quarry, the fairy globe of dew, the white pluies of the fountain, and the prismatic hues of the iris, the transparent emerald of the billow, and the scenic illusion of the mirage, how wonderful as mere phases of form and color, derived from a common element! Sublimated by heat, it expands into fleecy piles or long scintillations radiant with every tint of jasper and ruby, opal and amethyst; congealed by frost, it shoots into crystals more brilliant than diamonds or stalactites. The snow-plain glittering in the sun, the fog wreathing in the breeze, the lake spreading as a boundless mirror, the ocean heaving like the mighty heart of the universe, and the brook winding at random through rocks and woodland-what diverse features of an identical landscape! Now a stainless amplitude, now a spectral medium, the majestic emblem of perpetual unrest, of heavenly repose, and wayward frolic! The evanescent charms of aerial perspective that Claude and Turner strove, with all the self-devotion of genius, to represent; the delicate pictures which momently gleam on a bubble, and the eternal foam of torrents attest the same origin. No element appeals to the sense of beauty with such versatile grace; cheerful in the fount, solemn in the ocean, winsome in the brook, soothing in the breezeless lake. To the eye, water is the most Protean minister in the universe, and, combined with vegetation, atmosphere and light, the most prolific source of its gratification.

TERY few men, we venture to say, have

VER

carefully noted the steep and steady climax of the long succession of public men in the United States, from 1783 to 1854;-how, although we may have begun at the former date with fair selections, we have continued to make better, antil for the last twenty years our leaders and representatives at home and abroad-our whole force of officials, executive and legislative, national, state and municipal, has mustered as a host of high-souled, noble-minded, unspotted men, distinguished by every private and public excellence ;-by surpassing talents, suspicionless disinterestedness, translucent purity of motive, invincible modesty and patience-crowned, in short, with starry coronals of virtues whose pure lustre might befit a white-robed choir of angels.

While George Washington, John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, John Quincy Adams, and James Madison were Presidents, and generally, while they were in public life, an impression decidedly favorable to their reputation as statesmen, thinkers and citizens, extensively prevailed. There were many who thought them honest, wise and trustworthy. In fact it was currently believed that they were the ablest men in the nation.

All that may be so. But those obscure and old-fashioned virtues of theirs, well enough in their small way, and in the slow times of our earlier history, would now, amidst the sparkling skyrocketing glories of Young America, be tedious and insignificant to extremity. Are those dull and square-toed worthies to be compared to the gigantic men who have lately shed upon the presidential chair the lambent light of their respective coronals as aforesaid to the splendid intellects and grand achievements, in war, in peace, and in the hearts of their countrymen, of Van_Buren, Harrison, Tyler, Polk, Taylor, Fillmore and Pierce?

It has been claimed, for instance, that there was glory in the stubborn and steady resolution with which our nation, under the presidency of a Washington or a Madison, fought victoriously or with even success, against a nation more powerful than herself, by land and seathe most powerful nation in the world. But no such insane risk as accompanied those foolhardy contests has marred the

warlike renown of our commanders of a later day. Why should our blood and treasure be expended, when they might be saved? Why should men be used up, when a judicious outlay of dog would serve? Why should costly glory be sought, when a cheap article is accessible? And so the kind wisdom of our national leaders directed the yelping of our bloodhounds, the points of our bayonets, and the thunder of our guns against the Seminoles; against Mexico; against Greytown.

"And dogs crawled in, where soldiers feared to tread."

66

A few hundred half-starved Indians may be stabbed, mangled, or knocked in the head, with much more ease than veteran English regiments of the line. Land may be stolen-conveyed, if you please -from a crew of lazy, pepper-eating Mexicans, much more safely than from the beef-eating British. Carajo!" is not half so terrible a shout as "Hurra!" It does not require as many Paixhan charges (at eight or twelve dollars each) to bang down a few dozen Central-American shanties, as would need to be expended upon the fortifications of Quebec or Havana. And-most gloriously transcendent wisdom of all-for Greytown there was absolutely nobody to strike back. Neither pop-gun nor protocol replied to the Cyanean thunders, nor to the Hollinsian proclamations. The operation was as safe and as bold as that of the young hero who thrashed a rickety old man of eighty. "How could you,' expostulated a mild reprover," thrash an old man of eighty?" "How could I?" answered the Achilles-"I could have thrashed him if he had been a hundred years old!"

Nor do the civil virtues of "the earlier Presidents" escape irremediable eclipse, by the results in action of the broader and deeper philosophy upon which have been based the actions of their successors. Washington, fettered by obsolete notions, and complaisantly obedient. to the "shrieks of locality," declined to appoint or to remove officials, except for matters determining their honesty or capacity. But our recent giants in politicizing have nobly scorned to be holden within such narrow bounds. "What," they have reasoned, "can be a more important function of government, than to perpetuate the ascendency

of right principles ?" And accordingly, their inquiries and conclusions, in using their extensive and increasing patronage, have uniformly and without distinction of party been characterized by a pertinacious adherence to the profound principles which such intuitions had revealed, and by a martyr-like disregard of the storms of misconstruction and obloquy which their enemies have aroused against them. They have not bowed to the shallow prejudices of local preference. They have not regarded unreliable assurances, even of a unanimous neighborhood, of the honesty, ability, industry, respectability, of any candidate. No. That

might do for the neighborhood; but the Executive commanded a broader perspective. The government, being Whig, Democratic, or as the case might be, was, at any given time, installed in office by the efficacy of certain great political principles, well advocated. And now, of course, the good of the country -which is synonymous with the perpetuation of those great principles, whatever they may be-being immeasurably more important than the satisfaction of a village, the one appropriate all-comprehending question always is, "What has he done, is he doing, will he do, for the party?" As honest and sincere men, the appointing power is bound to make that inquiry and no other. For, what could be clearer than that now, having the country right side up, every nerve must be strained to keep it so? The "greatest good of the greatest number is at stake. Only stingy, unpatriotic wretches would regard their own prosperity and comfort, or that of their neighborhood, an instant, when opposed, as it must so evidently be in every such case, to the prosperity of our whole noble Republic. The duty of the appointing power, we say, is clear. And most nobly and consistently has it— lately been performed.

But enough of this. Perhaps even ironic sport is misplaced in discussing shameful truth. Let us speak soberly.

It is a difference too startling to be overlooked between the early life of this Republic and its later life, that formerly its ablest men held its highest offices; while now they do not, and confessedly cannot. It is a significant and representative difference. We have suggested an illustrative comparison as to the National Executive. Let us complete our case by referring briefly to a few

additional ones, most or all of which we have heretofore at least mentioned.

Consider the State Executives. Compare the first half-dozen Governors of Connecticut, New York or Pennsylvania, chosen by the people, with the last half-dozen so chosen. Institute a similar comparison in any other of the "Old Thirteen." In former times, the ablest men, strongest statesmen, purest citizens, filled the gubernatorial chairs. Now, second-rate attorneys, colonels from "the army of Mexico," trading politicians, are foisted into their places. The same is true of the National and State

Legislatures. An absurdly large proportion of their members are either insignificant or notorious. There are, of course, many exceptions; we are not all vile; but blackguards and bullies stand even upon the floor of the United States Senate. Representatives carry pistols and bowie-knives, swear and threaten and revile, haunt the house in inarticulate or uproarious drunkenness, and jump, sword in hand, at any fellowmember with whose remarks they are dissatisfied. The ill-natured descriptions of Aytoun, spitefully intended as the very broadest and most irritating caricature, have to-day a keener edge, simply by virtue of having barely reached up to the sober (or drunken) truth. They are mere historic narrations of actual occurrences within the year. Apply now his verses to some of our legislators:

"Young man,' quoth Clay, 'avoid the way of Slick, of Tennessee

Of gougers fierce, the eyes that pierce, the fiercest gouger he.

He chews and spits, as there he sits, and whittles at the chairs;

And in his hand, for deadly strife, a bowie-knife he bears.'"

Nobody could mend the description, unless, perhaps, to substitute a pistol for the 66 toothpick." Again, when the member from Tennessee considers himself personally insulted (we hasten to remind the present members from that noble State that we don't mean them, but have simply transferred Professor Aytoun's own unfortunate specificationthough, perhaps, they will not consider the cap a fit):

"The colonel smiled with frenzy wild, his very beard waxed blue,

His shirt it could not hold him, so wrathy riled he grew

He foams and frets, his knife he whets upon the 'chair below;

He sharpens it on either side, and whittles at his toe."

Exactly; and how practical and efficient, as well as accurately described, his mode of calling the gentleman to order, viz.:

"His knife he raised; with fury crazed, he sprang across the hall.

He cut a caper in the air-he stood before them all.

He never stopped to look or think if he the deed should do,

But spinning sent the President, and on young Dollar flew."

Such men sit in the seats of the Continental Congress of the Confederate Congress of the compeers of Washing

ton.

Neither is the majesty of our nation better represented abroad. In former times there were sent to Europe for the transaction of our public business such men as Franklin, Adams, Jay and Laurens. We will not name their modern antitheses. We apprehend that few men glory in our official representatives abroad. Too many of us know how and why their honors were conferred. It is enough barely to say, by way of reminder, that notorious sots and notorious profligates have more than once within ten years been stationed at European courts, to uphold the bright honor of a nation professing a political creed which logically implies and demands, from high and low, honesty, purity and morality.

Such are the men. How are they chosen? Modes of selection in New England differ slightly from those employed in the remaining States, and from each other; but only slightly. In New England, it is not etiquette openly to push one's own nomination or election. But it will not be necessary to present distinct instances of these methods of operating. We will suppose, merely as one case, that Mr. Jenkins desires to become United States Senator. First, he arranges to have himself appointed Chairman of the State Central Committee. Being a man of wealth and leisure, the party leaders are glad of it, and Jenkins finds no difficulty in obtaining that place. That done, he works like a beaver in the usual party harness; arranging with this and that village whipper-in, to secure here and there half-a-dozen of doubtful votes; writing letters; preparing sharp or non-committal articles, to suit the demand, for the

columns of " the organ;" operating, probably, in particular, to secure the sending of the "right sort of men" to the convention for nominating State Representatives and Senators from his own county or district. This is not very difficult. People in general are so apathetic about these preliminaries that anybody who is a little earnest can "fix matters" to suit himself. Having secured, in a convention thus doctored, a nomination to the State Assembly, he now redoubles his diligence to gain the election. He toils industriously with influential men all about; arranging a multiplicity of local details; means of securing doubtful partisans; of bringing up the entire "regular party vote;" of obtaining the help of any clique or section of outsiders, independents or bolters, who can be worked upon by the promise of future offices or assistance; by indiscriminate promises of clerkships or other appointments to all the electioneering lawyerlings who want them; by the unlimited (except by the amount required) use of flattery, sophistication, misrepresentation, and all other conceivable modes of underhanded manœuvering. The election into the State Legislature accomplished, next comes the struggle in the "caucus" for the nomination of the United States Senatorship. This is very much the same work over again. One man is to be convinced that no other candidate can succeed. Another is to be convinced that he himself is a most excellent fellow and a talented man. Another must be convinced that Mr. Jenkins answers that description. Another is to be dismayed by a view of the dissolution of the party, or of the Union, which impends, unless averted by Mr. Jenkins' apotheosis into the Senate. A "third party" corporal's guard is perhaps extant. Their support is to be secured by the promise of an equivalent support from Mr. Jenkins' friends for some candidate of their own, and by the promise of firm and conscientious opposition from the same friends, in any other

event.

If all this is done thoroughly, and not overdone, Jenkins gets his senatorship, and is entered for the Presidential race; for as a shrewd northern Congressman remarked, "every man in the Senate is a candidate for the Presidency." And why should he not get it? He has spent more time, more money, more effort, in working for it than his competitors have spent. "The gods sell everything for

labor," senatorships included: When Jenkins wanted a vote or an influence. he went and asked for it; and if that wouldn't do, offered good consideration for it. When he wanted a man in a convention, he got him nominated, and paid his expenses. And he has his reward.

In other sections of the country, as we remarked, the approved mode of operation differs slightly. Instead of covering their aspirations with the decent veil of reluctance or indifference, some candidates not only want to be elected, but too often bombard the ears of the individual and collective public with endless and importunate reiterations of the announcement. Over their personal signatures they too often advertise themselves in the papers, as on hire for the public good, as coarsely as if they were donkeys to let; warranting, as one would warrant his donkey sound in wind and limb, that their best efforts shall be devoted to the performance of their duties. They "stump" their districts; cry themselves up, and their adversaries down; drink, swear, and tell dirty stories all about the country, and if they succeed, do it by being (only a coarse phrase will serve as the exponent of the precise idea) "just the d-dest best fellows in the State."

This degradation of candidates, a consequence of laziness and lust of office has, very naturally, reacted upon voters. The constituent body in this country, whatever its latent excellences may be, does not now possess decided and active intelligence enough to select good men to rule it. Voters expect candidates to come begging to them. They ask--it has often been asked in so many words —“If a man wants an office, why don't he ask for it? If he does not want it enough to ask for it, he shall not have it." What a disgraceful ignoratio elenchi! As if a man ought to be grateful for being put into office, except as the elevation is a spontaneous testimony to his private worth and ability; and as if official station gained by bold begging could be other than a demonstration of worthlessness and disability! And as if the favor were not reciprocal, if an honest and noble man will consent to burden himself with the vexing intricacies and thankless labors of official life! What such man will gad about and ask, either of individuals or of crowds, their "most sweet voices ?" It would be unendurable. Coriolanus was right. And

bitter sneers like those of his asking, would perforce poison the beseechings of the men most worthy to rule these United States, even if they could bow themselves as stiffly as he did.

"Your voices; for your voices I have fought; Watched for your voices; for your voices, bear Of wounds two dozen odd; battles thrice six I have seen and heard of; for your voices have Done many things, some less, some more; your voices;

Indeed, I would be consul !"

Would not all our noblest men-of whom, indeed, in these last years, at least, in the National Government, a most meagre delegation has held high office would they not all speak so?

Are not cases within the personal knowedge of all who have possessed even a slight acquaintance with contemporary politics, where men of great abilities and stern integrity have been left at home, while shallow and limber-backed managers have wriggled themselves into places which must needs honor their holders, since the holders certainly could not honor them? We remember at this moment the cases of a senatorship, and of a nomination for governor; we might specifically allege many more, if proof were needed, or if specification were expedient. Men ought to condescend, not to aspire, to office. It should seek them: not be sought by them.

But among maxims in a manual for reformed voters, there would be little exaggeration in inserting these; 1. The present holding of office is prima facie evidence of unworthiness; and 2. Ascertained desire for office is a demonstration of unfitness.

The intellectual, moral and social average of the character of our legislators is such as might be expected from men so chosen. The political machinery of the United States-not its Constitution and laws, but the apparatus by which it is attempted to keep them in their proper relations to the changing condition of our cominonwealth-is thorough ly demoralized. This condition of public affairs began in 1790-91, with the beginning of cabinet intrigues against Washington's administration; has accelerated its progress in a geometrical ratio; has precipitated itself with frightful rapidity for twenty years last past; and has, we hope and believe, now reached its dirty anticlimax.

It is unnecessary for us to cite facts