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evening, and hated correcting his copy, as every author, except, perhaps, Pope, must have done. Amongst his enjoyments must be reckoned, a good glass of beer, his pipe of tobacco, and the newspaper-the Augsburg Algemeine Zeitung. He used also to pop into back-doors of public-houses, to read what was going on, and then as quickly pop out again. Conversation he could not join in, on account of his deafness. The use of a bath was as much a matter of necessity to him as to a Turk. When his skull was opened, the auditory nerves were found shrivelled and marrowless; the arteries running along them stretched and knotty; the circumvolutions of his brain, which was soft and watery, appeared twice as deep as usual, and much more numerous. The skull throughout was very compact, and about half an inch thick. They relate that phrenologists offered a considerable sum to the sexton's wife for his head; which, however, she nobly refused.
On the 10th of August, 1845, eighteen years after his death, a great festival was held in the city of his birth, to do honor to his genius, and erect a statue to his memory. On this occasion the Queen of England, and her husband, himself a German, the King of Prussia, the nobility of the principal states of Europe, and nearly all the artistic talent of the day, assembled in that city to render fitting homage to his name.
Concerts were given, at which Beethoven's music was played, under the superintendence of Listz and Spohr; banquets were got up; streets, houses, and canals were illuminated; soirées were given impromptu; bands of music paraded the town, and nothing could exceed the joy and enthusiasm of the assembled multitudes. In the midst of all this the
statue of Beethoven, the great German composer, was inaugurated.
Need anything more be said? Yes, a few words. The greatness of the genius of Beethoven was then, is now, and will forever be, universally acknowledged. He is confessedly the most distinguished musician of his age or country; and for the most striking originality, the most creative genius, the most vivid imagination, and the most fertile invention, Beethoven stands unrivalled. The romance of his own noble river, and the wild, fearless, beautiful, enthusiastic, generous, noble features of German nationality are found pervading the strains so often heard, and so well known in every country in Europe.
Gaze a moment on his features ? there not mind and genius stamped indelibly them?
The majesty of Mind was throned
As in a cloud!-they could but see
The image of the King,
So genius wins its meed!
The love of all its kind,
The pride of monarchs' thrones,
And bow while all their people crown
Born of the people, singing ever from his inmost heart of God's glory and theirs, the genius of Beethoven is a noble type of the deep mind-lore ever surging upward from the great sea of the unknown!
NINEVEH ILLUSTRATED.-Botta's "Nine- | veh" has at last reached completion at Paris. It consists of five folio volumes of the largest size; only 400 copies have been printed; 300 of them are to be distributed by the Government, and 100 for booksellers to be sold. The price is 1,800 francs a copy, or
about $600, the total expense of the edition being 296,000fr., or not far from $55,000. The publication of the work on so expensive a scale, unaccompanied by an edition cheap enough for ordinary readers, is a great blunder; at least the reputation of the author suffers from it.
From Bentley's Miscellany.
THE AMERICAN SEASONS.
BY ALFRED B. STREET.
THERE is nothing to which mankind are so prone, as to overlook common objects. The startling, the wonderful have their charms, but usual things are almost entirely disregarded. We have from our earliest remembrance seen the sun "rejoicing like a strong man to run his course," "the moon walking in her brightness," and the stars spreading out their " poetry of heaven." We have so often looked upon the rainbow winging his flight from the west, and lighting with curved pinions upon the cloud, to tell us that the tempest is past; we have so constantly beheld the flower, that frail child of the light and dew, looking up in our face with a smile, as if beseeching us not to trample upon it in our ramble, that we attach to these objects but little interest.
Still let us dwell for a space upon the common occurrences of the seasons as we find them in America, and we may possibly find things which (if neither new or original) yet possess some claim to interest and beauty.
We will suppose ourselves in the commencement of March. The earth is yet covered with the white mantle of Winter, but there is a softening in the air occasionally, which tells us that the chain of the cold monarch is broken. Still is he lingering with us, but with an ear bent as if listening for the footsteps of the approaching Spring. At length a mild gray overspreads the heavens, a light rain falls, and the snow commences to vanish. All around there is a sweet gurgling music, from the rills that have started into being, and if the hearing be acute, you will be aware of tinklings as of fairy music beneath the pearly covering which is so rapidly dissolviug. The hemlock shakes down its burthen, and the meadow shows its bosom of russet.
At last a warm wind peels off the gray veil from the sky at sunset, and morning brings in a south air so gentle and downy
that you are surprised you do not hear the warble of a bird above you, or see the delicate shape of some blossom at your feet.
But again will the black clouds sweep over,-again will the snow stream down, and all the fairy beauty of blue sky and soft sunshine appear like a passing dream.. Once more, however, will spring show her sweet face, until the sap which has coiled itself in the roots to sleep, like a bear during the winter, begins to awake and ascend into the tree to pay its compliments to the buds.
But whilst this struggle is progressing between Spring's vanguard month and Winter for the supremacy, April steps in and determines the conflict in favor of its mistress of the green robe and the flowery sandals. Still this month is a weeping, shrinking creature, appearing as if unwilling to undertake, because fearful of her ability to perform, her destined task. The sunshine and streaks of rain frequently make braids in the air, and the cloud does not more than show its black plume, ere the rainbow comes flashing out, and kindles up the sky like the ladder in Jacob's vision. The grass begins to spread its green carpet, and the buds, unlike sappy heads in general, are displaying great promise of something within them. At length, on some beautiful morning, we hear with a thrill of pleasure the sweet carol of the blue bird amongst the trees, as if commissioned to tell them that Spring is indeed here, and that the little violet has sprung up at their roots, to show that it was high time for their buds to open. And the trees "take the hint." The birch hangs itself over with tassels, like the mantle of an Indian sachem,—the maple breaks out into a crimson glow, like a cloud at sunset,--the beech shows at the tips of its sprays down as soft and glossy as the breast of the cygnet, and the wild cherry displays its banner, white as the coat of the ermine. The shadbush has been for some time scattered along the sides of the dark glens and hol
lows, as if Winter in his retreat had dropped patches of snow there, and the wind flower has kept it company with its little wreath of silver in the paths of the forest, whilst a slight perfume upon the air tells you that the tender sprout of the wintergreen has just pushed aside the dead leaf the last Autumn that had fallen over the spot of its birth.
The clink of the farmer's hammer is now heard about his fences, his whistle sounds as he drives his flock and herd to feed upon the rising pastures, or his loud call echoes as he guides his plough through the greensward, leaving behind him rows of tawny fur
which merely show what will be; it is in the March of its existence.
Childhood, like April, then succeeds; the tear is chased away by the smile the voice has broken into language--the mind bears its first few flowers of intelligence, and everything indicates that the soul is wakening, whilst the heart is being rapidly developed. Then are the seeds of instruction dropped within the mind, to bear their fruits in due season, and the fringes, tassels, and down of the faculties betoken the future glory of their leaves.
The May of youth then steps in, the heart and the intellect are still developing, and at last the threshold of manhood is reached, with the physical stature fully reared, and the moral nature showing what the man will most probably be in the future stages of life. June-the beautiful first-born of summer
By and by the pleasant sound of the dropping seed is heard in the fields, like the fine patterings of a shower upon water, growing quicker, as great dun streaks on the distant horizon tell that April's tears are forthcoming. The grain is all this time rising higher-is, in our circuit, now brightening the earth and higher, and at length the strengthening sun brings up the last of the spring trio, delightful May.
The fringes of the maple by this time lie like live coals upon the forest earth, the birch has dropped its brown tassels upon its roots, and the fine down of the beech has floated through the air like the white stars of the thistle. In place of these, young leaves are spotted over the boughs, springing as it were out in a day, and expanding with the passing
The fruit trees now break out into a perfect glory of fragrant blossom, each tree resounding like a harp with the low monotone of the honey-bees. There is a perfect jubilee of flowers also over the earth, as though a multitude of gems had been scattered around, all uttering their language of joy to man, and praise to God. The birds, too, have all made their appearance. The warble of the robin is heard from the apple tree, the wren chatters as busily as a village gossip from roof to roof, the tap of the woodpecker is constantly sounding like the house-builder's hammer in a thriving village, whilst the drum of the partridge is heard as pertinaciously as that of the corporal and his file in search of recruits. At last the fruit trees manufacture mimic snow storms underneath their branches, and May stands forth in full growth with flowers at her feet, green boughs upon her head, and a mantle completely enveloping her bosom of the richest and brightest emerald.
Human life hath also its infancy, as have the seasons. It hath its scarce formed elements of mind and body; its promises,
and the heavens. The oak, that laggard of our forests, has put on his coronet of foliage, and one pomp of green is spread over the woodlands. Amidst it, however, are later blossoms than those of the spring-tide. The chestnut has braids of gold scattered over its dark dome of leaves, the basswood and whitewood are spangled with yellow flowers, and the dogwood lifts at its summit a diadem of gauzy silver, whilst all around, in the glens, dingles, and glades, the laurel has burst into great nosegays of splendid blossoms swinging over the brooks, lighting up the shadowy coverts, and making the mountains blaze out into one universal floral smile.
The golden chalices of the water-lilies are strewed over the shallows of the ponds, frequently palpitating to the passage of the canoe or skiff which the angler urges amongst them in search of the speckled trout or hungry pike. The wild brooks are also visited by the lovers of the rod, who drop their lines in the sparkling rifts or deep black pools that. coil themselves amidst the roots of the alders and willows.
And how beautifully morning lifts her bright lids during this enchanting season! How the first gray dreamy light trembles along the air, making the stars disappear one by one, until the east is kindled into the tints of the rainbow! How the colors stream up and out, spreading into the heavens, and glowing more and more intensely, until a flash appears, and at last, amidst the gorgeous hues of the clouds, and the general gladness of nature, up rolls the sun.
And the blue calm noontide, how lovely! The white clouds are asleep in the sky, like
snowy sails in a breathless ocean, and the rent asunder, the sun bursts out, the rainbow earth basks in the rich yellow sunlight. In gleams forth like hope in the season of sorthe garden walks there is a profusion of row, the light winds shake down diamonds roses luring the wandering bees and butter- from the trees, the birds sing in full chorus, flies to them; and behold that feathered and all is pure and fragrant quiet, bright and spangle, the humming bird, darting like golden beauty. thought from flower to flower, and thrusting its little needle-like bill into the perfumed goblets, as if to taste every drop of the golden wine that is hidden within.
But the shadows begin to creep out from under the trees, and the long slanting light tells us that the day is drawing to its close. The sunsets of this month possess not the gorgeousness of those belonging to Autumn. The rich crimson and the lustrous purple are wanting, but instead, they have a pure transparent beauty, a fine gold melting up into a clear pearly gray, with sometimes the young crescent moon stealing forth with a timid air, like beautiful girlhood just stepping upon the arena of existence.
July now salutes us. Noon blazes over the earth; there is a constant glimmer of fierce heat in the atmosphere, dancing over the fields and tree-tops, the peaked clouds are like piles of brass, and all nature seems as if fainting with lassitude. The aspen flickers occasionally, and the broad leaf of the maple now and then turns over, but the rest of the woodland seems cut in rock. The cattle are standing in the dark cool basins of the stream lashing off the insects, and the flock has sought the highest hills and ledges panting to catch the air.
Suddenly a deep distant growl is heard in the heavens, and glancing up, you see the black point of the thunder-cloud which is coming to claim dominion over the sky.
A few minutes succeed the lightning glitters-the growl has become a roar and crash-the cloud is overhead-it swallows the sun-the horizon is obscured, and at last making the trees writhe and toss, and fall nearly upon their faces, on speeds the mighty blast. A few great drops fall as if they were tears wrung from the affrighted day, then comes a blinding flash and fearful roar, and, like the fall of a torrent, down tumbles the ponderous rain. Now the storm is at its height. How the lightning darts and wavers and cuts athwart the eye-sight! How the thunder bounds with a roar across the sky, like a wild beast let loose from his den! how the blast dashes and drives on! how the rain is whirled into a fine mist and smokes along -the Camilla of the tempest-pursued even by the furious wind.
At last the tumult ceases, the clouds are
Now smiles the glad month of the reaper, plenteous August. There is a flashing of scythes-the lightening of the fields all around-there is a pleasant, cutting, rustling sound in the meadows as the grass fallsthe maize lifts its tall stalk furnished with green bandrols like a lancer's spear, and hangs out its silken fringes like a dragoon's helmet, whilst the blossomed buckwheat makes the air delicious with its odors.
How gladly the tired harvester, as the first star glitters like a diamond on the forehead of the west, shoulders his scythe, and hastens homeward through the glimmering twilight. Hark! it is the merry laugh of his little child who is bounding forth to meet him as a turn in the footpath brings him to his home, and instantly that little hand is linked in his, and that lisping voice is prattling in his ear. As the door swings open, his wife is there to greet him with her smile, that immediately transmutes, like a fairy charm, the humble cottage into the very palace of content. His arm-chair is his throne-love and obedience are his subjects-he is the monarch of a realm of happiness.
And the harvest moonlight, how beautiful! There walks the superb queen of night in her azure kingdom, whilst her broad silver mantle flows down to and spreads over the earth. Several stars are around her, the pages of her court, one heralding her way with his sparkling torch, whilst there are two others following, doubtless engaged in holding her train.
How she turns into white splendor the lulled water! How she makes the leaves flash out with a pearly brilliance! The most common objects are invested with a lovely garb, and the distant landscape is touched with a tender and romantic interest. around there breathes a peace-a sweet holy peace; the passions are stilled, the heart is lifted, joy is sobered, sorrow is chastened, prayer takes possession of the soul, for the solemn heavens and the brightened earth are full, deeply full of God.
The June of mankind is probably the most happy, as undoubtedly it is the most radiant period of life. The faculties, the fresh green leaves of the former blossoms, have now become expanded. There are a few bright flowers of boyhood's feeling yet lingering,
giving a grace and beauty to the thoughts of the man-beautiful and fragrant as the summer blossoms of the whitewood and chestnut, whilst all around his path, shedding a glory over existence, the laurels of distinction show their splendid bloom to his hopes. Love, too, at this season lights her purple torch, and thus on the altar of his heart is kindled a flame which brightens his future course with pure undying lustre.
As man advances deeper in the pathway of being as the July sun of his life beats upon him-the fierce heat and burthen of the day is to be borne, and frequently there come across him a lassitude and weariness when his energies would gladly retreat to the cool shadowy nooks of life, but the fierce storm of circumstances rises to startle him from his repose, the lightning and thunder of adversity gleam and crash around him, the blasts and rains of sorrow dash upon him, and his nature is convulsed to its very centre in struggling against the fury of the tempest. But again does the sun of joy and prosperity beam out,-again glitters the rainbow of glad anticipation, and existence smiles once more around him in its freshened beauty.
in heaven, in that glorious realm where all care and sorrow shall be swept away, and where the weary soul, like the babe upon the bosom of its mother, shall repose in full faith and security upon God.
And now September, the first of the three parts of that sermon which Nature annually preaches to man, is here. The hazy heat has dissolved from the sky which glows in its witchery of blue-the clouds are soft and silvery, but there is a slight tint of change over the leaves of the woodland-the first token of Autumn. That practical Pythagorean, the boblink, has now departed, to be transformed to the ortolan of Maryland, and the brown rice-bird of the Carolinas, the wedge of the wild-goose, begins to be seen with its point directed from the northern lakes toward southern skies; the yellow-bird darts up hill and down through the clear atmosphere; whilst the crow, which always seems to hold its congress in Autumn, commences, politician that he is, to make the groves echo with his wise, solemn, interminable tones, addressed to the "dear people," his fellow-crows, with the difficulty, however, against him that they are talking all the while as busily as he is.
The purple hues of the aster now gleam in the forest glens-the golden rod curls over its rich plumes of yellow, the crimson apples of the thorn-tree are dropped upon the grass, the whortleberry crouches with its blue misty fruit in the sterile "barrens," and the blackberry, with its glittering cones, like fairy beehives, clambers along the fences, whilst the plum and peach glow overhead, the thistle sends its stars to float like winged creatures upon the breeze, the burr of the chestnut is changing to light brown, the braid of the mullein shows its flowers, whilst, forerunners of the October tints, there are spots of crimson scattered along the edges of the oak, and the beech displays, here and there, amidst its green, a leaf of brillant gold.
In the later period of his manhood, in his August prime, the fruits of what he has sown in his early years begin to ripen. Knowledge spreads her stores, sober experience stands by his side, calm deep wisdom of men and things sways his actions, his ambition has become chastened, hope no longer sheds her deceitful glow over all things, but in her stead is a wise calculation of future chances-disappointment does not prostrate his energies, but, on the contrary, there is a cheerful acquiescence to whatever comes to pass, and a reasonable expectation that the future may have something more favorable laid up in its mysterious depths for him-that the ever-revolving wheel of fortune, or, rather, the neverceasing round of God's allwise providence, may vouchsafe to him joy and prosperity on the morrow to compensate the sorrow and Thick amongst the shorn grass of the adversity of to-day, if he resigns himself to meadow are stretched from grass-tip to grassthe righteous will of Him who "doeth all tip the white threads of gossamer, until the things well" in short, it is in the August of whole space is covered with a web upon which life that the man, the true noble man-man the dews of the morning flash, like the as God destined him to be, and whom in hea-pinions of the bee, humming-bird, or hues ven the angels will hail as brother, towers up into the real elevation of his nature, if he ever does attain in this life that exalted summit.
At times, also, amidst the cares, toils, and distractions of existence, there beams around the wise and virtuous man a pure, sweet moonlight of felicity, when his being seems but a reflection of that which he shall enjoy
upon changeable silk, or (what are as splendid) the fancies of Tennyson's poetry.
The most interesting and beautiful incident in natural history, occurring in this month, is the labor of the field-spider. Gluing one end of his slender thread to some shrub, he launches himself forward upon the other, until he strikes the opposite twig where he