Nashville union and American. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1853-1862, 1858-11-30

SOMA Of luartieI music. We ueQ aulAta DfeA NV
:. Trsadmin Song" and laughed outright ct the sx-
quisits humor of "The Maiden Aunt. " But ''The
AutOcrat presents new phases of the authors mind.
HOLMES the poet and Holmes the Professor sBd Lee
turer have long been familiar to the literary world;
but the AutOcrat HoIMEs--the talking HOLMES was
comparatively unknown. We like cur old favorite
in his new character-or characters rsther, for as
seen in this volume, he is what Carlyle would call
''many-sided man. (" We have here, philosophy as
profound as BuREE's. humor IS playful as Gold
SMITHS, Wit as sparkling as sHDEET SMITHS or
sHERIDAz's and poetry as tender and graceful IS
MooRE's,-aT put forth in style Of conversational
ease and elegance which CoLEEIDGE might have en-
We'd.
It is an injustice to good book to give extracts
from it. A fine passage always appears best like
good housewife, at home. We venture to make
few selection however, which If not the best may be
received as a fair specimen Of the book
The following is from conversation on trees.
81 have brought down this slice Ofhemiock to show
you Tree blew down in my woods THAT Were) in
1852 Twelve feet and half round, fair girth;
nine fee:. where l got my section, higher up.
This lisa WEDGE going TO the centre, Of the general
shape Of slice of apple-pie in large and not opu-
lent family. Length, about eighteen inches.
have studied the growth of this tree by its rings,
and il is curious Three hundred and foriy-two
rings Started therefore, about 1910. The thick
ness Of the rings tells the rate at which it grew.
For Eve or six years the rate sloE,-then rapid
for twenty years. little before the year 1850 it
began to grow very slowly, and so continued for
about seventy years. In 1920 IL took & new start
and grew fast until IVA; then for the most part
slowly until 1856, when it started again and grew
pretty we'll aud uniformly until within the last dozen
years, when it seems to have got on sluggishly
"Look here. Here are some human lives laid down
against the periods Of its growth 70 which they
responded. This is Shakespeares. The tree was
seven inches in diameter when he was born, ten
inches when be died. A litle less than ten inches
when Milton born; seventeen when he died
Then comes long Interval. and this thread marks
O2t Johnson's life, during which the tree increased
from twenty-five TO tWenty-nine inches in diameter.
Here is the span of Napoleon's eareeT;-the tree
doesn't seem to have minded it.
81 never saw the man yet who was not startled at
looking on this section. have seen many wooden
preaehers,-never ore like this How much more
striking would be the calendar counted the rings
of one of those awful trees which were standing
when Christ was on earth, and where that brief
mortal life is chrOniced with the stoid apslby of
vegetable being, which remembers al human history
as thing of yesterday in its own dateless exs
g. Ihsve lived by the sea-shore and By the
mountains No, am not going to say which is best.
The one where you place is best for you But this
difference there is: you domesticate mountains,
but the sea is fer0 nature. You may have hut, OF
know the owner of one, on the mountsinNside you
light halfway up its ascent in the evening" and
you know there is a home, and you might share it.
You have noted certain trees, perhaps; you know
the particular zone where the bemlocks look black
in October when themaples aud beech es have faded
All its reliefs and intagOs have eleeroiyped them
selves in the msdallions that hang round the walls
of your memorys chamber. The sea remembers
nothing 1t is feline Il ticks your feet-its huge
hauks purr pleasantly for you; but it viii crack
your bones and eat you, for all that, and wipe the
crimsoned foam from its jaws as nothing had hap
pened. The mountains give their lost children ber
res and water; the mocks their thirst and let's
them die. The mountains have grand, stupid,
lovsble tranquility; the sea has a fascinating
treaeherous intelligence. The mountains lie about
like huge ruminRnts their broad backs awful TO look
upon but safe to handle. The smoOths its silver
scales until you cannot see their joints,but their
shining is that Of q snakes belly, after all In
deeper suggestiveuess find as great difference
The mountains dwarf mankind and foreshorten the
procession Of its long generations. The sea browns
out humanity and time it has no sympathy with
either; for it belongs TO eternity, and Of that it
sings its monotonous song forever and ever.
"Yet should love to have little box by the
ses-shore. I should love to gaze out on the wild
feline element from front window Of my own, just
as should love TO look Gagged panther, and see
it stretch its shining length, and then curlover and
lap its smooth sides, and by snd-by begin to lash
itself into rage and show its white teeth and spring
at its bars and howl the cry Of its mad, but to me,
harmless fury. And theu,-to look at it with that
inward eye,-who does not love TO shuttle off time
and its concerns, at interVsls-forget who is Presi
dent and who is Governor, what race he belongs TO-
what language speaks which golden headed nail of
the irmsment his particular planetary system is
hung upon, and listen to the great liquid metrOnOme
as it beats its solemn measure, steadily swinging
when the solo or duet of human life began, and to
swing just as steadily after the human chorus has
died out and man is fossil on its shores P"a
Read the following little poem dozen times. All
its beauties cannot be at two three readings
The VOiceIess.
WE count the broken Tyres that rest
Where the sweet wailing singers slumber-
But DER their silent sister breast
The wild flowers who will stOop to number
AfeW can touch the magic string,
And noisy Fame is proud to win them
Alas for those that sing,
But die with all their music in theml
Nay, grieve not for the dead alone
Whose song has told their hearts sad Story
Weep for the vOCeless, who have known
The cross without the crown Of glory
Not where Leucadian breezes sweep
Ger SapphOs memory haunted billOW,
But where the glistening night news weep
On nameless sorroW's churchyard pillow.
o hearts that break and give no sign
Save whitening lip and fading tresses
Till Death pours out his cordial wine
Slow-dropped from Misery's crushing presses,
If singing breath echOng chord
To every hidden pang given
What endless melodies were poured
As sad earth, sweet as heavenl
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