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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 94 pages of information about International Weekly Miscellany.

“But it is time to bring this notice to a close not, however, that we have by any means exhausted the subject.  For have we not already stated that there are, at the lowest calculation, ninety American poets, spreading all over the alphabet, from Allston, who is unfortunately dead, to Willis, who is fortunately living, and writing Court Journals for the ‘Upper Ten Thousand,’ as he has named the quasi-aristocracy of New York?  And the lady-poets—­the poetesses, what shall we say of them?  Truly it would be ungallant to say anything ill of them, and invidious to single out a few among so many; therefore, it will be best for us to say—­nothing at all about any of them.”

* * * * *

ORIGINAL POETRY.

A RETROSPECT.

BY HERMANN.

  On this rustic footbridge sitting,
    I have passed delightful eyes,
  Moonbeams round about me flitting
    Through the overhanging leaves.

  With me often came another,
    When the west wore hues of gold,
  And ’twas neither sister—­brother—­
    One the heart may dearer hold.

  She was fair and lightly moulded,
    Azure eyed and full of grace;
  Gentler form was never folded
    In a lover’s warm embrace.

  Oh those hours of sacred converse,
    Their communion now is o’er
  And our straying feet shall traverse
    Those remembered paths no more.

  Hours they were of love and gladness,
    Fraught with holy vows of truth: 
  Not a single thought of sadness
    Shadowing o’er the hopes of youth.

  I am sitting sad and lonely
    Where she often sat with me,
  And the voice I hear is only
    Of the silvery streamlet’s glee.

  Where is she, whose gentle fingers,
    Oft were wreathed amidst my hair? 
  Still methinks their pressure lingers,
    But, ah no! they are not there.

  They are whiter now than ever,
    In a light I know not of,
  Sweeping o’er the chords of silver
    To a song of joy and love.

  Though so lonely I am sitting,
    This sweet thought of joy may bring,
  That she still is round me flitting,
    On an angel’s tireless wing.

* * * * *

THE AUTHOR OF “ION.”

“Mr. Talfourd is now a Justice, and we find in the London journals an account of a visit to his residence by a deputation from his native town, to present to him a silver candelabrum, subscribed for by a large number of the inhabitants of the borough, of all parties.  The base of the candelabrum is a tripod, on which stands a group of three female figures; representing Law, Justice, and Poetry, the two former modeled from Flaxman’s sculpture on Lord Mansfield’s monument in Westminster Abbey, the latter from a drawing of the Greek Antique, bearing a scroll inscribed with the word “Ion” in Greek characters.  The arms of Mr. Talfourd and of the borough of Reading are engraved on the base.  The testimonial was presented to the Justice in the presence of his family, including the venerable Mrs. Talfourd, his mother, and a large circle of private friends.  In answer to the gentleman who presented the testimonial, Mr. Talfourd replied: 

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