The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1866-08-04

4 ten Wohe had reached his twenty-hith year
and was engaged in Dublin, his native city, as a
| tutor In Trinity College, of which time-honored
| Institution he was recent graduate. 1t Is
| engrafted IN letter, written in rather a small
snd running hand, TO friend, who, 1t seems,
bad insisted on seeing two of the stanzas before
the complexion of the poem. The letter is writ
ten on and around the MARGINS of, full sheet
., letter-paper, and suggests somewhat care
less correspondent there being left only small
square, on which the following address is
written:-
JOHN TAYLOR, Eco,
lat the Rev. VIM. Armstrong's,
"ClOwOnth, Cashiel"
ut is without date, but though the post.mark
| ls dim september 6, 1916 can be traced with
out much difficulty. II was probably written
| from college, and is as follows;-
81 have completed The Burial of Sir John Moore
ana Will here lnhict 1t upon you; you have one
a,Y YouIselI TO blame Tor perusng The two stanzas
Here follow the eight stanzas.l
| Pray write soon You may direct as usual to the
college, and it will follow me to the country.
"Give my love to Armstrong and believe me- nv
dear John, ever ours, CHARLES WOLFE
"Aga,n, say remember Constantine tIhe latter
part Of the last word Is very dim Elizabeth is to
be drawn among the rest. 1.-THE first word and the
last though underscored, are also very dim.j You
| sage from that quarter"
Brief as these words are, they serve to give
| an interesting peep into the mans nature. "A
little chlnk will let IN much light says the old
proyerb. His humble, deprecating manner,
bordering on apology. for troubling his friend
| with the lines which were to make his name
| Immortal, is at least touching-indicatng, as it
| does, want of appreciation of the rare water
| OF the gems he wrought 1t is the true modesty
| which so often accompanies the highest gifts
| ana the long questioned authorship of the
,Bur1ap Is the best evidence of it. Jean Inge-
| low, bythe-way, in speaking of the kind
| reception of her little book in America.
| showed modesty akin to it. The letter shows
| that the author had warm, genial Irish heart,
ana ana many trends whom he loved, and that he
D,,A
his youth and poetic nature are free pardon
| ior his being particular about any message
| from that qudrteT.'"
The present European war has not been
very productive of poetry so far, although 1t
will unquestionably produce the usual crop of
verse. The German poet, Freiligrath, has
spoken, or sung in behalf of his native land, in
the following song, which we find translated in
| late English weekly
wEsTPHALIAN SUMMER SONG
In lightning and in summers ram,
In noOnsun hot and glowing,
Full gaylY, o Westphalia's gram,
art shooting up and grOWIngl
Old Hellweg's rye, so 1.-THE and strong
Seven feet and more thy stems are long,
How gloriously oOst ripen!
IL grow and ripen last and strong.
1be year with gifts is mellow,
To satisfy both old and young
l rlpen rich and yellow.
But uost thou not, u Wanderer, know
That he who jOyfUlly did SOW
Can never cut ana reap me?
Forth thro' my swaying ears he went.
In rank and order starting
With clenched fist and head low bent
From house and home departing:
DE goes to crush his brothers corn
In brother.war unhallOwed.
VIII ieteh the girls iris 70 sef loot is
Alas! who'll wave the harvest wreath?
Upon the barn who'll put itH
The reaper'S name IS Death, wOt,
He moWs this year with grape and shot;
Well know who has hired HIM.
"a little bird sings on the Haar
Where Elbe and Name are hieing
There he who was a ploughboy here
All stiff and STARK IS lying.
Ills homes ead's pride, forth did he 90;
A brothers bullet laid him loW!-'
rustic to the breezes"
Mr.. G. G. Leland has recently published a
collection of translations of his, of the text of
Hernes Book of Songs" from which we take
the following pathetic ballad in which the spirit
of Herne is infused into English:-
'My heart my heart Is weary,
Yet merrily beams the MAY,
And lean against the linden
High up on the terrace grey.
"The town moat far below me
Runs silent and sad and blue;
boy in q boat floats o'er 1t,
Still fishing and whistling too.
"And a beautiful varied picture
Spreads out beyond the nOOd
Fair houses and gardens, and people,
And cattle, and meadow and wood.
young maidens are bleaching the linen,
They laugh as they go and come;
And the mlll-wheel IS dripping with diamonds,
list to its far'away hum.
"And high on yon old grey castle
A sentry box peeps o'er;
While young red coated soldier
Is pacing beside the door.
"He handles his cleaning musket,
Which CLEANS in the sunlight red,
He halts, he presents, he shoulders;
IoiSh that he'd shoot me dead"
The real name of the lady who has hitherto
published under the name of F. G. Tratford, the
author of George Geith," MAXWELL Drewitt,"
etc., is Mrs. s. H. Riddell. Her last fiction,
''The Race for Wealth." originally contributed
to Once-d- Week, is now on the eve of publication
IN book form. ......
Mr.. William Winter is about to see through
the press a second edition of the late George
Arnold's pOetical remains, with additions from
the Round Table and other journals for which
Mr.. Arnold wrote in the last ears of his life.
-Viscount Stratford de Redcliffe, the famous
Eastern diplomatist, who has just published a
volume of Indifferent verse entitled Shadows
of the Past, has not the excuse of youth to offer
In exteDuation, being seventy-eight years O.d.
Mr.. Edmund Yates is said to hold an office
in the General Post Office, London, a situation