an enduring vitality, for human nature is the the eliminations of God given genius never same in all ages, and what is acknowledged to pass away? The crown of Denmark also be a true transcript of it now, will be relished frequently aids in bringing out valuable as keenly a thousand years hence. There works, which, from their abstruse nature, can, however, be no doubt that the circum- cannot, of themselves, command a remunerstance of Andersen's being the first Danish ating sale, and, consequently, but for its asimaginative author introduced to the British sistance, would remain unpublished. His public, has aided materially in securing him late Majesty, Christian VIII., was, I believe, his monopoly of their esteem; and so thor- a muniticent and discriminating patron of litoughly has he preoccupied the field, that Ierature and the fine arts. A few months ago, know for a fact, that the London publishers the Bishop of Copenhagen published a transdecline to bring out works of any other Da- lation of Ossian. nish author, on that very account.

There are in Copenhagen two literary inIt is also remarkable that Miss Bremer oc- stitutions, principally devoted to reading. cupies the same position with regard to Swe- One is the Athenæum, and consists of a suite den. She has won the first suffrages of the of many very commodious and handsomelyEnglish people, who know not any other fitted reading-rooms, a refreshment room, Swedish writer ; but here publishers and and also one devoted to conversation and critics alike smile with surprise, when I tell smoking. It possesses a valuable library of them this, and they unanimously declare, upward of 20,000 volumes, principally in that both in Sweden and Denmark, she is the German language—few shelves only beaccounted only a second-rate Swedish writer. ing French and English standard works, inReally, after all is said and done, it is enough cluding latest editions of the “Encyclopædia to make one mutter something about a pro- Britannica.” It is plentifully supplied with phet and his own country—is it not ? Danish, German, and French journals and

I felt naturally curious to learn what Eng- serials, but rather scantily with English ones. lish writers of fiction are most read in Den- It only takes the Times, Morning Chronicle, mark, and I learned, from an undoubtedly Examiner, Atheneum, and Punch, the Edreliable source, that the four favorites are inburgh Quarterly, Foreign Quarterly, and Bulwer, Marryat, Dickens, and James. The “ Law Reviews ;” and Tait's and the United sequence of their names, as here given, in- Service magazines. None other than regudicates their relative degrees of popularity. larly-elected members of the first personal They are all much read; and nearly all the respectability are admitted to this excellent copies bought in the original language are of institution; but shortly after my arrival Mr. the cheap but very neat edition issued by Philepsen, a Copenhagen publisher, very Fauchnitz, of Leipzig.

kindly made application on my behalf to the The remuneration generally given to even directors, who immediately accorded me free first-class Danish authors is very small--not usage of all the privileges of a member-of one-fourth so much as English writers usu- which I have daily availed myself. While ally get for magazine papers. We need not thus acknowledging the courtesy shown me, marvel at this, when we consider the very I wish I could positively assure my Danish limited public addressed. All Denmark friends that my own countrymen would not Proper contains one million less inhabitants be less generous toward any of them, should than London alone. But then, nearly every they sojourn in Britain under similar circumDanish author of repute has a pension from stances. The other establishment, which is the State, which thus nobly recognizes the called the “ Arissalon(News Room), is a claims of literature-paramount, as Hume much humbler and less exclusive place, and says, above all other professions whatsoever. | has only very recently been opened. It is I blush for my own mighty country as I write tolerably well supplied with newspapers, and this, for with all her countless wealth, Eng. the public can at any time go there, by payland, as a state, grudgingly assigns so nig; ment of half a marc (about 2 d. English) gard, so beggarly a mite, for the reward and per visit, or by monthly or quarterly subencouragement of men of genius, of litera- scriptions. ture, art, and science, that foreigners may

To conclude this chapter of literary gossip, well cry shame. When will this burning I may just add, that, happening to say to a stain be wiped away? When will British | literary gentleman here, that the phrase, legislators learn that spirit is superior to James's solitary horseman,” is a standard matter-that mammon will perish, but that joke with the English critics, he replied -VOL. XIX. NO. IV.




“ Yes, and so is Andersen's solitary stork' | do this, because, not merely are the chaunts with us, for he introduces it into every book most interesting in themselves, as a fine old he has ever written.”

relic of Scandinavian customs, but there

seems to me a powerful poetical spirit perTHE WATCHMEN OF COPENHAGEN,

vading them. At the top of the sheet are

the lines :During the past year of 1849, it has been my lot to reside at four of the most remark

Baag og beed,

Watch and pray, able capitals of Europe, and to successively

Thi tiden gaaer ;

For time goes; experience what spring is in London ; what Taenk og ftrar, Think, and directly, summer is in Paris ; what autumn is in Ed- Du veed ei naar. You know not when. inburgh, and what winter is in Copenhagen. Vividly indeed can I dwell on the marvelous

In large letters over the engraving of the contrast of the night-aspect of each, but watchman are the words :one of the most interesting peculiarities I

Lobet baere Gud! bor Verre, bam have noticed in any of them is that presented Skee Lov, Priis, og Aere ! by the watchmen of the last-named. When I first looked on these guardians of the night, That isI involuntarily thought of Shakspeare's Dog

Praised be God! our Lord, to whom berry and Verges. The sturdy watchers are

Be love, praise, and honor. muffed in uniform great-coats, and also wear fur caps. In their hand they carry a staff I will now give the literal version, printed of office, on which they screw, when occa- exactly in the same arrangement of lines, sion requires, that rather fearful weapon, the letters, and punctuation, as the original : Northern Star. They also sometimes may

COPENHAGEN WATCHMEN'S SONG. be seen with a lantern at their belt; the candle contained in said lantern they place

EIGAT O'CLOCK. at the top of their staff to relight any street

When darkness blinds the Earth, lamps which require trimming. In case of

And the day declines,

That time then us reminds fire, the watchmen give signals from the

Of death's dark grave; church towers, by striking a number of

Shine on us, Jesus sweet, strokes, varying with the quarter of the city in

At every step which the fire occurs, and they also put out

Tu the grave place, * from the tower flags and lights pointed in

And grant a blissful death. the direction where the destructive element

NINE O'CLOCK. is raging. From eight o'clock in the even

Now the day strides down, ing, until four o'clock in the morning, all the

And the night rolls forth,

Forgive, for Jesus' wounds, year round, they chaunt a fresh verse at the

Our sins, O mildest God ! expiration of each hour as they go their

Preserve the Royal house, rounds. The cadence is generally deep and

And all men guttural, but with a peculiar emphasis and

In this land tone; and from a distance, it floats on the

From the violence of foes, still night-air with a pleasing and impressive

TEN O'CLOCK. effect, especially to the ear of a stranger. If you the time will know, The verses in question are of old antiquity,

Husband,+ girl, and boy ;

Then it's about the time and were written, I am told, by one of the

That one prepares for bed. Danish bishops. They are printed on a large

Commend yourselves to God, sheet of paper, with an emblematical border

Be prudent and cautious, rudely engraved in the old style, and in the

Take care of lights and fire, centre is a large engraving exactly represent

Our clock it has struck ten. ing one of the ancient watchmen, in the now

ELEVEN O'CLOCK. obsolete custom, with his staff and Northern

God, our Father, us preserve, Star in hand, a lantern at his belt, and his

The great with the small, dog at his feet. A copy of the broadside

His holy angel-host,

A fence around us place ! has been procured me, and my friend, Mr.

He himself the town will watch ; Charles Beckwith, (Andersen's translator),

Our house and home has expressly made for me a verbatim trans

God has in care lation of the verses, and his able version I

Our entire life and soul. will now give at length. I am induced to * Burial-place,

** Wife is also understood.

'Twas at the midnight hour

Our Saviour he was born,
The wide world to console,

Which else would ruined be.
Our clock it has struck twelve,

With tongue and mouth,

From the heart's depths
Commend yourselves to God's care.

Help us, O Jesus dear!

Our cross here in this world
Patiently to bear;

There is no Saviour more.*
Our clock it has struck one,

Extend to us thy hand,

O consoling man it
Then the burden becomes light.

Now the black night strides on,

And the day approaches ;
God, let those stay away

Who us will distress!
Our clock it has struck three,

O pious Father

Come to our help,
Grant us Thy grace.

Thou, eternal God, have honor

In thy Heavenly choir,
Who watchman wilt be

For us who dwell on earth,
Now it rings off watch,

For a good night

Say thanks to God;
Take good care of Time.

O Jesu! morning star!

Our King unto thy care
We so willingly commend,

Be thou his Sun and Shield!
Our clock it has struck five.

Come mild Sun,

From mercy'e pale,
Light up our house and home.*

Thou mild Jesu child,

To whom we were so dear,
Was born in darkness wild,

To Thee be honor, love, and praise.
Thou worthy Holy Ghost

Enlighten us
That we may thee behold.

* Mary of the Danish words of this song are obsolete, but Mr. Beckwith has with gre care given the precise equivalents. I am not aware that any translation of it has ever appeared before.-W. H.

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Mrs. Ellis's Morning Call.


MAURICE Mayfield was exactly what is was a widow, and placed in what are called generally called a remarkably fine boy, and straitened circumstances; for though she the pride of his mother's heart. As an in- would gladly have indulged her beautiful fant he was rosy, vigorous, and robust,—the son by purchasing for him almost anything envy of all the matrons in the neighborhood which he desired to eat, drink, or possess, where his family dwelt. And as he grew in such was the smallness of her income, that strength and beauty, with his fine rich hair she was often compelled to deny herself and clustering in short curls around his large but him the gratification of these wishes. It is well-shaped head, and as he threw about his true they would not have been very easily lusty limbs, and displayed a complexion gratified had Mrs. Mayfield been a much heightened by vigorous exercise, but never by richer woman than she was; for Maurice had ill-temper—for Maurice was remarkably good a most pressing and peculiar fancy for everyhumored—no wonder that his own fond thing good to eat, whenever it could be had, mother stood gazing at him with a smile al- as well as for everything beautiful to see, most of exultation lighting up her face and ma- amusing to hear, or valuable to possess. king her look at once both proud and happy: People called him a greedy fellow; but

And yet the mother of Maurice Mayfield they smiled so kindly when they did so, and patted him so gently on his fine rosy cheek, 1 night, cracking nuts, or cracking jokes, as and so often gave him at the same time the fancy might be ; sometimes in looking the very thing he wanted, that for Maurice at pictures, or in making pictures himself by to entertain an idea that greediness was dis- drawing shadows on the wall, caricatures, agreeable to any of his numerous friends and all sorts of things to amuse his mother would have been contrary to nature. Nor and sister, to make them laugh, and so to turn in fact was the child greedy, according to the their attention away from his lessons, which general application of the word ; for he liked had all to be learned for the next morning; very much to give his good things to other and then, when the hour of bed-time came, people as soon as his own appetite was satis- of taking up his candle and going up stairs fied, and he would most willingly have fed the just as leisurely as if all his duties had been whole human race on sponge cake and bar- done ; then placing it on the table, giving ley-sugar.

two or three long, loud yawns, throwing himBut Maurice was not the only child of his self into his comfortable bed, and falling fast widowed mother. He had a sister, Isabel, asleep before bis mother went to take his one year older than himself, and between candle away. these two children a more than common But the morning was the time to be more attachment had been cherished from their particularly noticed by those who may early infancy. Indeed, the widow's family wish to follow Maurice Mayfield's plan; altogether was an unusually united one'; the morning, when Isabel crept out upon seldom finding any moments so pleasant as the staircase, and went sometimes, in her those which were spent together in their haste, with bare feet along the cold passage own quiet domestic way, around a sim

sim- to her brother's door, rousing him so gently, ple, but always genteel-looking table, or and yet so earnestly, that he could not, with hearth.

any show of reason, fold himself up in the It is not pretended that this family were bed-clothes and fall asleep again. It is true free from those natural faults which so often this did happen sometimes, but there was create disunion, even where affection exists. always a ready excuse on his part. Isabel No doubt they had each their share of these. had not knocked loud enough, the candle Mrs. Mayfield was, perhaps, too proud of she brought had died out in the socket, he her children, too solicitous that they should had not believed it was so late as she told succeed in the world and obtain the appro- him it was. There was always something bation of her friends. Isabel, the daughter, thought of by Maurice, and brought forward was a trifle too anxious about those whom in his own excuse, for he did not like to she loved, about her brother in particular; be blamed, any more than other people and Maurice—but of him there remains so do. He simply liked to do what was much to tell, that it will be best to let bis pleasant to him at the precise moment of character speak for itself.

doing it. One thing, however, it may be well to state When Maurice did rouse himself, however, in the outset—that as he advanced in years, there was noise, and stir, and animation it became evident that he was gifted by enough. Chairs and stools were then knocked nature with very superior talents, and could over, books were snatched by their old worn learn more quickly than any of the boys with backs, and often torn in the struggle; Isabel whom he associated at school or at play: was called for faster than she could fly to Whether this was a good or an evil appeared fetch twenty things at once, and all the sometimes a question with his sister; for, as while she was entreated, implored, nay, some

a she used to say—“If Maurice found but half times even commanded to stand beside him the difficulty in learning which I do, he would to hear his declension of a Latin noun, to look be more careful to have his lessons always over an exercise, or to find the root of some ready in time.” To which sober remark her dozen doubtful words. Shoes, breakfast, brother would as frequently reply,—“But clothes, brush, string, buttons, clean handyou see I never am really too late.

kerchief, slate pencil, every imaginable item It may be worth while to inquire what that could be necessary, was carefully made was Maurice Mayfield's idea of not being ready for the young student as punctually as really too late. His sister Isabel could have the clock struck eight; but they were seldom described it very feelingly, for she had a laid hold of by his cager hand until a few good deal to do with it one way or another. minutes before nine, the hour at which he She knew, therefore, that it consisted chiefly had to make his appearance at the door of Mr. in sitting until the latest possible moment at Jessop's academy, situated within half a mile


of his mother's residence. Thus, if Maurice “That boy will be an honor to his family," did manage to be really at the door by the was t!e pleasant observation often made by time the last stroke of the hour had sounded the good schoolmaster, when he drew his chair from the neighboring belfry, it was only by beside the widow's fire; and Isabel would keeping his mother and sister in attendance then stand very still, and look into his face upon him for a full hour, and then leaving with her deep, searching eyes, and listen, as them unnerved, exhausted, and without ap- one listens to sweet music-she loved so much petite for the scattered breakfast which re- to hear her brother Maurice praised. mained after he was gone ; by running in Nor was Maurice, in return, indifferent to breathless haste for the whole distance, and what was said in praise of his sister. When all the while cramming into his capacious the boys at Mr. Jessop's academy spoke of mouth such portions of buttered roll as he her as having beautiful eyes, and asked how could keep hold of in his rapid flight. By old she was, or remarked of any one's hair these means Maurice Mayfield so managed that they liked to see hair worn as Isabel as seldom, if ever, to be what is called — Mayfield wore hers, Maurice felt more than really too late.

usually disposed to be on good terms with "But the time may come,” sighed Mrs. those boys, and would offer to help them May field over her boy, “and if you do not with a sum, or an exercise, as if he owed take care, Maurice, it will come yet.”

them a kindness, and was delighted to pay “Wait until it does, mother," was the accus-off the debt. tomed reply of the heedless boy; and with But there were many serious things for every repeated warning on the part of his Mrs. Mayfield to think about, besides what mother, and every repeated success at the agreeable remarks were made upon her boy. critical moment on his own, the triumph of It was daily becoming more and more deMaurice became more exulting, and his con- sirable that he should be removed to another fidence in never being actually too late more school; and sorry as Mr. Jessop felt to part complete.

with him, he could not deny that since Mrs. Mayfield's small income required great Maurice had gained the highest place in his economy and good management, to enable academy, his efforts had begun to flag, nor her to maintain a genteel as well as comfort- was he altogether free from an impression able appearance throughout her household. that, under certain circumstancs, Maurice She had many rich relations, but she did not mighı yield to habits of procrastination. wish to be indebted to them for money, even The first time Mr. Jessop said this, Isabel in the education of her children. All that was standing near him, in her usual place, she asked of them at present was their in- for she liked the good schoolmaster, who terest to obtain for her son admission into a always spoke so kindly of her brother. But higher school, in order that his mind might now, gently as this was said, her cheek grew be more cultivated, his manners improved, pale, her lip quivered, and suddenly tears and his whole character fitted for taking a started into her deep, thoughtful-looking higher position in the world.

eyes. Ah! what a tender little heart that Nor was Maurice, in reality, undeserving of was of poor Isabel's, to begin life with, and his mother's anxious care. Partial as she was, how often it would be likely to ache, if it and predisposed to look with favorable eye could not bear a few gentle words like these ! upon everything which his quick talents Still, it is a sad thing to hear of the faults of enabled him to do, even her fond loving those we love, whether from friend or heart scarcely valued his natural gifts beyond enemy; but it is a far sadder thing to feel, their real worth. The great thing was to as the sister of Maurice did on this occasion, turn his talents to account. And he did that, whatever the kind schoolmaster might turn them to account sometimes, especially say, the truth was far worse than he knew; at school. When once there, where there and that in the secret of her affectionate soul was nothing to tempt him from his studies, there were fears and misgivings of a far more nothing to eat or to drink, and nothing either serious nature than any which Mr. Jessop to see or to hear, besides the lessons he had had expressed. It was this feeling that to learn, and the duties he had to perform, called forth those tears which Isabel now he found his place always amongst the clever- wiped away from her eyes as fast as they est boys, many of whom were much older came, and still kept wiping away, until the than himself; while he was esteemed by tea was made ready, and the little party drew his master as the most promising of all his toward the table, with a shining lamp in the pupils.

centre ; and then, not liking to attract atten



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