JESUS.

By Rev. Theodore Parker.

JESUS, there is no dearer name than thine,

Which Time has blazoned on his ample scroll:

No wreaths nor garlands ever did entwine

So fair a Temple or so vast a Soul.

Ay, every Angel set his comely seal

Upon thy brow, and gave each human grace,

In a sweet copy Heaven to reveal,

And stamp Perfection on a mortal face.

Once on the earth, before dull mortal eyes,

Which could not half thy sacred radiance see,

(E'en as the emmet cannot read the skies,)

For our weak orbs reach not Immensity,

Once on the earth wast Thou a living shrine,

Where shone the Good, the Lovely, the Divine.

THE '_Plebeian_' daily journal of Gotham is down upon the _Yanokies_

or Yankees, with a weapon swung round like a flail; and like another

valiant defender of the KNICKERBOCKERS before him, he has raised

such a buzzing about his unlucky head, that he will need the tough

hide of an ACHILLES or an ORLANDO FURIOSO, to protect him from their

stings. We do not like the _nucleus_ of the ball which our sturdy

democrat has set in motion--the glorious battle of Bunker-Hill;

but for the rest, we should do dishonor to the spirit of our great

historian and sire, if we did not applaud the prowess which is

displayed in this warfare upon a set of 'dieven, schobbejaken,

dengenieten, twist-zoëkeren, loozenschalken, blaes-kaken,

kakken-bedden;' a squalling, bundling, guessing, questioning,

swapping, pumpkin-eating, molasses-daubing, shingle-splitting,

cider-watering, horse-jockeying, notion-peddling crew! Let the

'Defender of the Faithful' continue to ply his trenchant quill:

thousands of crowded and jostled KNICKERBOCKERS are heart and

soul in the contest; and the spirit of WILLIAM THE TESTY, who was

translated to the firmament, and now forms a very fiery little

star somewhere on the left claw of 'the Crab,' looks approvingly

down upon the warfare! We confess that we find it in our hearts

greatly to rejoice that the descendants of HABBAKUK NUTTER, RETURN

STRONG, ZERUBBABEL FISK, and DETERMINED COCK, those losel scouts

who overreached STOFFEL BRINKERHOFF, are to be taught that the

'sins of the fathers may be visited upon the children,' by a right

valiant son of New-Amsterdam. When we bethink us how these Yankee

varlets penetrated into the New-Netherland settlements, and bored

our taciturn progenitors with their volubility and intolerable

inquisitiveness; bringing the honest burghers to a stand on the

highway, and torturing them with questions and guesses; 'and which

is more,' seducing the light affections of the simple damsels

from their ponderous Dutch gallants, and introducing among them

the ancient practice of _bundling_; when we call to mind how that

long-sided, raw-boned, hardy race received the proclamations of the

sage Governor of New-Amsterdam, treating them with contempt, and

applying them to an unseemly purpose, and foully dishonoring the

valorous VAN CURLET, who bore them; when we remember these things,

and also how that the tribe has been spreading wider and wider, and

growing more impertinent every day; we cannot find it in our heart

to regret that a doughty champion has come out against them, to

expose their braggadocia and annihilate their pretensions. By the

beard of MAHOMET! do they think that wisdom and patriotism lived

alone and is to die with them? Because they are virtuous, are there

to be no more cakes and ale? Is their aspiring metropolis, climbing

upon its little hills to look down upon itself, to eclipse the

great capital of the Manhaddoes? Is imperial Rome, in comparison,

to be voted a rat-hole, 'Nineveh,' a nook, Babylon a baby-house,

and Pekin the paltriest pile of the pigmies?' Unanimously, in this

meridian, the KNICKERBOCKERS 'reckon not!' * * * WE place the

following passages from recent letters of two excellent friends

in juxtaposition, for an especial reason. The epistles are not

dated far apart; and in the second, the writer, who dwelleth near

'MASON and DIXON,' descants upon the awful climate hereabout in

the summer months. Infatuated person! Observe what he of Tinnecum,

living scarcely eight miles away, saith: 'I have watched a fair

opportunity to invite you to this '_verum et secretum_ μουσειοι.'

The woods are gloriously animated; the fields deliciously

green; the west winds overburdened with clover; the sea-shore

breezes are life-inspiring; and to quote Greek again from one of the

noble bursts of the chorus, I love to sit upon a piazza, with my

picturesque head of hair ensnarled in the breeze, and sing out:

Αυρα, ποντιας αυρα,

Αυρα, ποντιας αυρα.

'The strawberries (an old writer has remarked that doubtless GOD

_might_ have made a better berry, but he never _did_) are as

deliriously ripe as if they had been smiled on by Venus, and dear

goddess! she had imbued them with the sweetness of her own lips:

'_Quinta parte sui nectaris imbuit._' They are charming! To see

them piled up in little heaps, like the fruits of an early harvest,

not to be stored away for a winter of discontent, but to cheer

the immediate moment, to be refreshed every now and then by the

anticipation of their sweet breath as it comes up, not obtrusively,

gushing into your face, and causing you to throw back your head with

a smile, as if all the senses were lulled into a dear security!

To see them lying in so many wanton attitudes, as rubicund as if

they were intoxicated with sun-beams, in all their variety of

shapes; some preciously diminutive, others of an incredible, jovial

plumpness; variegated, luxurious, shaped like some pyramids I know

of, with their great circumference overshadowing the narrow base;

conveying by their very size a provoking, insulting challenge,

that they are too big to be swallowed up--by Phœbus! it is a treat

to merge expectation in fruition; and if there is any _danger_

in swallowing them up, then I say again with Horace: '_Dulce est

periclum_'--the danger is sweet. 'These delights if thou canst

give----' Indeed _can_ I; and you shall have others beside--Και

πλεον εξεις--as Venus said, when she advertised her missing

boy. There is a pleasure in sitting by the window, to be lulled by

a variety of murmurs, or to listen to them in the solemn groves;

whether it be the sound of the sea, or the winds undulating among

the tree-tops, or the swarming of bees, I can hardly tell, they are

so like; and if the heart beats at regular intervals not too much in

a hurry or with an inconsiderate knocking, being kept from agitation

by a good conscience, as may without vanity be claimed both by you

and me, we shall be captivated by a music more sweet than BELLINI.

_Come out here right off!_' Thus far the favored occupant of this

delectable region. Give ear now to that other scholar and gentleman,

'hereinbeforementioned:' 'IT is truly a blistering day, and the

breath from the mouth of the approaching Dog is enough to stifle a

Christian. I keep continually thinking of Nebuchadnezzar's furnace,

and repeat, with more _fervor_ than I could wish, 'Bear me, Pomona,

to thy citron shades!' etc. But 'Oh! Jimmy Thompson, Jimmy Thompson,

oh!' never in Green England did you experience such an atmosphere as

this! Pah! it goes down my throat like the spirit of melted lead.

Oh! for some water-sprite to bear me under his dripping wings to the

summit of Dawalageri; there among the notched rocks to sit sipping

of iced sherry, and with pine-apples pendant to my very mouth, to

whiff the cool Havana and read DANTE'S Purgatorio! There might some

'swift-winged courier of the clouds' bring me the July number of the

KNICK.; and after laughing at the wit and melting with the pathos

of American talent, might some prophetic angel unscale my eyes, and

show me in the future the Chinese wall blown up by a match of opium,

and the wheels of the Juggernaut carrying a train of burden-cars and

a crowd of travellers from Calcutta to Delhi! What an unimaginable

world lies behind the vale of that same wonder-pregnant Future!

Oh! that one might raise that veil and see all that is to be, save

the destinies of himself and his own beloved land! The sight,

however, might be far from pleasing to the philanthropist. Freedom

may fly again to her hereditary mountains; Knowledge may burn her

lonely lamp in conventual cloisters; the 'march of mind' may make a

retrograde advancement; another Caliph may fire the Royal Library

of Paris; and posterity may be sufficiently unfortunate to have

lost all trace and all memorial of you and me! God forbid!' * * *

REPINING reader, bethink you in your moments of despondency, or even

gloom, of the mind that traced, in the 'enduring dark' of his lonely

apartment, these touching lines:

'OH, who on earth would love to live,

Unless he lived to love!'

'WHEN in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,

I all alone bewail my outcast fate,

And trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself, and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope;

Featured like him; like him with friends possessed;

Desiring this man's art and that man's scope;

With what I most enjoy contented least:

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Haply I think on thee--and then my state

(Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth) sings hymns at Heaven's gate;

For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings,

That then I scorn to change my happy state with kings!'

THE following, which we derive from a Boston friend, who assures

us that it is a 'statement of a veritable occurrence,' we can very

readily believe. Indeed, we have never been able to doubt any thing

which a bird might say, since we heard Uncle BEZONNET'S 'Poor Mino'

in Nassau-street, laugh, and sing, and exclaim 'Good morning!'

'What's your name?' 'Uncle JOHN! Uncle JOHN! somebody's in the

store;' and then, changing his tone, remark, what nobody could deny,

'What an extraordinary bird!' But to his 'Boston contemporary:'

'I came across a pious parrot the other day, while strolling down

toward the wharves. It was the first of the class I had ever seen. I

was just passing by a sailor boarding-house, when I heard, several

times repeated, the words, '_The Lord ha' massy on Poor Poll, a

sinner! Lord ha' massy! Amen!_' Turning round, I perceived they

were uttered by a parrot in a cage, who with one claw drawn up on

her breast, head bent reverently down, and eye cocked solemnly

upward, was now following her ejaculations by the most piteous

moans. Talking parrots are generally sad creatures, and seldom very

choice in their language. 'But here,' thought I, 'is an exception;

and surely, a race which has in it even _one_ individual capable of

attaining to a knowledge of its utterly depraved condition, cannot

be altogether lost.' What seemed to me to be the more remarkable,

was the fact that such knowledge should have been attainable in a

sailor boarding-house, in one of the most vicious streets of the

city. While these thoughts were passing through my mind, the parrot

had been eyeing me with an eager, sidelong glance, as if she were

quite ready for a chat, and waited only for me to begin it. 'Pretty,

pretty Poll:' said I, stroking her head gently with the end of my

cane; 'Polly have a biscuit?' '_Yes, G--d d--n you! hand over!_'

was the sharp, quick reply.' * * * FEW and far between, now, are

the scenes recorded below by a Southern correspondent. The last of

the old hearts-of-oak will soon fall to the ground: 'Since I last

'drove pen,' I have sat by the death-bed, watched by the corpse, and

shovelled earth upon the coffin, of an old revolutionary soldier.

He served four years in WASHINGTON'S own division of the army; and

doubtless, although he attained no high official rank, his blood

was as freely offered, and his services should be as gratefully

appreciated, as those of any general of them all. He was a forgotten

unit in that subaltern rank, on whose individual merits the titled

built their edifice of fame. His offering was like 'the widow's

mite,' an offering as dear to him as any the costliest oblation made

unto his country's treasury of glory. Requieseat!' * * * 'YOU will

find,' says a friend writing from London, by the last steamer, 'that

your portrait has been extensively circulated about Great-Britain

and her dominions, in the last number of 'Chuzzlewit.' The artist

who draws the illustrations, has given, in the person of young

MARTIN, who is reading one of your flash newspapers, in presence of

the editor and his war correspondent, a very faithful transcript of

the lineaments of the Editor of the KNICKERBOCKER, as we remember

them.' We cannot say how far our correspondent is correct in his

impressions; although they were corroborated by a score or more of

American friends, before we had seen the engraving in question;

but _this_ we know, that if any of our readers desire to see a

portrait, as life-like as if he had sat for it, of the late lamented

WILLIS GAYLORD CLARK, they may find it in the person of young MARTIN

CHUZZLEWIT, in the English edition of Mr. DICKENS'S last issue

of the work of that name. The outline, the air, the manner, are

_perfect_. * * * IT may be thought remarkable, that while to the

mass the illusions of the theatre possess unwonted interest, those

who know the most of its secrets affect it the least. THEODORE HOOK,

we are told by his reviewer, had a fixed and rooted aversion to the

stage, and a consummate contempt for the player's profession, as

a school of character and manners; an absolute physical loathing,

as it were, for every thing connected with the green-room, from

the mouthing art of managers, to the melancholy pirouettes of the

'poor plastered things with fringes to their stays, which they call

petticoats.' FANNY KEMBLE herself, overcoming so many proud and

glorious associations, did not sicken of it more heartily. Doesn't

this militate against the argument of 'C.'? _Rather_, we think. * *

* IF the reader does not discover something sparkling, quaint, and

decidedly _original_ in '_No'th-East by East_,' in preceding pages,

we shall inevitably have thrown away and sacrificed 'our guess.'

There is a touch of DANA, a dash of COLERIDGE, and the 'slightest

possible taste in the world' of HALLECK, yet withal no _imitation_,

in that amphibious poem. Some lines _seem_ somewhat amendable; 'As

lightning had sprung _sudden_ then,' is one, for example. Lightning

_is_ rather 'sudden,' we believe, in most cases. We scarcely

remember ever to have seen a _very_ slow flash; yet the line could

hardly be bettered, and there is good precedent for the apparently

adscititious word. A few 'common substantives' in the poem may

require elucidation for the uninitiated. The 'Graves' are rocks

in Boston harbor, near the outer light, or 'big bright Eye.' Near

this light, and past George's island, by 'Nix's Mate,' is the main

channel, through which ships _must_ make a 'procession' in coming

up toward Boston. The 'pinkie' is a schooner-rigged craft, sharp at

both ends, a short peak running up aft, and designed for a chasing

sea. The annexed lines were written to follow the passage wherein

the courier-star says 'The sun is coming up this way,' etc., but

they came too late for insertion:

'THE sun is now uncovering

The mid-Atlantic--scattering

The mists, with many a toss and fling

Of dangling skirts and weary wing;

Half frantic, as they knew not where

To hide them from his fiery glare;

The iceberg from his ocean-bed

Lifts loftily his glittering head,

But shakes not off one burnished spear,

To ring in the frosted atmosphere.'

PERHAPS we _are_ amenable to the criticism of our New-Haven friend.

Certain it is, however, that 'the lightness which predominates in

our cogitations and gatherings' is often to us a veritable relief;

and if we may trust the candor of many friends, it has been grateful

to them also,

... 'when the fretful stir

Unprofitable, and the fever of the world

Have hung upon the beatings of the heart.'

We are not all constituted alike, dear Sir; yet what is one man's

meat we would not have another's poison. 'The amiable qualities of

cheerfulness and good-humor,' says an old writer, 'cast a kind of

sunshine over a composition, and resemble the gentle smile that

often lights up the human countenance, the never-failing indication

of a humane temper.' As for wit, we consider it a species of poetry.

It amuses and delights the imagination by those sudden assemblages

and pleasing pictures of things which it creates; and from every

common occasion can raise such striking appearances as throw the

most phlegmatic tempers into a convulsion of good-humored mirth. We

fear our censor will consider us 'past mending.' We must still hold

with the excellent FLETCHER, that 'a little mirth now and then is a

great purifier:'

''Tis mirth that fills the veins with blood,

More than wine, or sleep, or food;

Let each man keep his heart at ease,

No man dies of that disease.

He that would his body keep

From diseases, must not weep;

But whoever laughs and sings,

Never he his body brings

Into fevers, gouts, or rheums,

Or ling'ringly his lungs consumes;

But contented lives for aye--

The more he laughs, the more he may.'

Does our critic remember an ancient motto on a sun-dial? '_Non

numero Horas, nisi serenas?_' It is capable of application. * * * WE

are glad to say, since our opinion in this place is requested, that

the essay on '_Education of Youthful Morals_' is an _excellent_ one.

It is only _too long_ for our Magazine, if we would preserve our

accustomed variety. It would make at least fifteen printed pages of

the KNICKERBOCKER. We hope however to see the article published. No

parent who feels as he ought for the children which GOD has given

him, growing up around him, but would honor its aim and emulate

its salutary lessons. Years pass quickly away. Yet a little while,

and our dear ones will be actors in this busy world, of which at

present their knowledge is so small. The article in question has

been returned, as requested, through the Upper Post-Office. * *

* SOMETHING akin to the following, were certain lines written

by '_S. C. M._', now well known in America and England under a

popular _pseudonyme_, many years since. There is rather more of the

'_cautionary_,' however, in this 'limning from life:'