'Herald' newspaper, who had seen his nieces at Sunnyside, and mistook them for his children: not unnaturally, perhaps; for they 'loved him as if he were their father;' and nothing that the most watchful, affectionate child could do for a parent did they omit to do for him, to the very moment of his death. The likeness of WASHINGTON, referred to, was a fine photographic copy of SHARPLESS' picture, for which WASHINGTON himself sat a dignified, natural profile portrait, and in expression much like HOUDON'S bust of the GENERAL. Perhaps the publication of the 'notelet' with which we bring the present article to a close, may prompt the correspondent who sent the 'tome' to us to forward to Mr. IRVING, to give us its title. (Was it 'J. W. B.,' now in Washington?) It was carefully enveloped, and as carefully directed: and as we could not accept, owing to a previous engagement in town, Mr. IRVING's cordial invitation, the 'rummage' was not 'gone into:'. 'MY DEAR CLARK: Sunnyside, Sept. 18th, 1854. 'BAYARD TAYLOR dines with me on Wednesday: come over and join us, and we will have a rummage for that 'little, thin, very witty and amusing Spanish duodecimo tome with a brown leather cover,' of which you speak; though I doubt whether there can be such a very peculiar tome in existence. 'L. GAYLORD CLARK, Esq. 'Yours very truly, WASHINGTON IRVING. 'P. S.: If we find this curious work, had we not better send it to BARNUM'S Museum?' LETTER FROM THE LATE HON. ROBERT M. CHARLTON. - In looking recently among our unfiled but well-preserved and cherished letters from personal friend-correspondents of the KNICKERBOCKER, 'if haply we might find' a letter from Judge CHARLΤΟΝ, of Georgia, 'recapitulating,' as he said, the delight with which he treasured his visit with us to 'Sunnyside,' we chanced upon the following characteristic note, 'dropped' to us from 'Rowland Springs Cass County, Georgia,' toward the last of September, 1846: accompanying a spirited poem on 'LANNES,' sent for our pages: 'I HAD thought, my dear Sir, that I was done with verse for the rest of my life, but the holiday of a few weeks in this mountain region, where the wild Indian so lately roamed, has brought back some faint memories of my romantic days, and I have endeavored to 'woo the coy muse.' She has become so cold, however, from my long neglect of her, that I could coax but little out of her; but I thought that it was due to your long-continued kindness, to send you the little I did coax, that you might see that I still hold you in remembrance, and that 'my poverty' of time and rhyme, and not 'my will' has consented to my long silence. I suspect that you will think that I have murdered poor LANNES more effectually than the Austrian cannon did; and that I am making you an accessory after the fact to this posthumous killing: but you can spare some glory from the KNICKERBCCKER. 'You gentlemen of the North can scarcely believe that we have in Georgia so many fine things as are grouped in this region; but it is true, nevertheless, that we have here, within the compass of a few miles, mines of gold, iron, lead, coal; to say nothing about the diamonds that lie scattered around, and the beautiful scenery spread broad-cast over the land. But I have lingered out my few days of holiday: 'AND have looked on hill and plain, for I am on my way back to the dust and toil of week-day, work-day life, and to my allotted task of helping to drag the so-called Car of Justice. And so farewell poetry, mountain stream, and woodland nymphs; and come on, ye ill-shapen, strife-beget-' ting demons of the Law! But while you roam through the garden-walks of Literature, cast some passing thoughts on the poor pilgrim, who is struggling with weary steps, over the desert ways of strife. Be thou NAPOLEON still, but forget not LANNES!' Lamented CHARLTON! - a true Poet, a true Man, a true Friend, an upright Judge, a good Citizen a 'TRUE AMERICAN.' GOSSIP WITH READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. --We regret to see the announcement of the death, at San-Francisco, Cal., of 'Dow, Jr.,' of whose 'Short Patent Sermons,' continued in 'The Golden Era,' we have so recently made mention in these pages. We are sorry to see it stated, that he died under circumstances of great destitution. We never saw him, save on one occasion, and then only for a moment, during his prolonged residence in our city, while he was contributing his 'Sermons' to the 'Sunday Mercury:' but the quaintness and originality of both his 'matter' and his 'manner' as a 'sermonizer,' always found in us a hearty admirer; and we took not only early but frequent occasion, to bring his literary peculiarities before our readers. A first and second series of his 'Discourses' were published in this city; the first of which was flatteringly dedicated to us, as a return for having 'made the humble preacher famous, as well abroad as at home.' Poor PAGE! - we grieve to hear of the 'low estate into which he had fallen in the 'City by the Sea,' on the shore of the great Pacific! That his odd conceits, and quaint expression of them, continued unabated, take this single passage from the last of his discourses which we have encountered; based upon a text of a verse by Dr. WATTS. He is disagreeing with 'Brother PAUL' as to the fact, that a man 'puts away childish things' when he ceases to be a child : 'BROTHER PAUL gives us to understand that when a youth emerges from his chrysalis state into the full bloom of manhood, he 'puts away all childish things.' Here we respectfully disagree. In my humble opinion, the youth only lays aside one childish thing in exchange for another. What are two-thirds of the worldly objects which men seek, but mere toys, to gratify their vanity, pride or ambition? A trump of fame is but a penny-trumpet of louder blast and stronger constitution: the patriotic drum that arouses martial enthusiasm, is but an improved specimen of the tiny paste-board affair tunked upon perseveringly between Christmas and NewYear's: and cannon, muskets, rifles, pistols, and all the dire implements of war what are they but fruit grown and matured from the germs of childhood? I make a bold assertion, my friends, when I say that nearly all who volunteer to take up arms in support of a contested cause, are not actuated so much by the love of plun der as by the excitement, glory and sport of the thing; albeit that sport be indulged in at the very jaws of death. So the child fires his pop-gun, draws his wooden sword, and squeaks his consumptive trumpet, governed by the same impulse, and inspired by similar emotions. Let be said what will be said about maturity putting away all childish things, I have seen white-haired old men who would fain bend the knee and shoot marbles upon the very spot of earth ready to receive them, were it not for the rheumatiz,' and the fear that their crutches might be stolen during the pastime.' , There was always a latent vein of strong common sense running through Dow, Jr.'s lucubrations, which added not a little to their popularity. They were thoroughly original and AMERICAN. 'The Tribune' of to-day (a 'Happy New-Year' to you, readers, one and all!) has this capital illustration of fine-art appreciation: 'Two very splendidly attired ladies recently made a condescending visit to the studio of one of our distinguished landscapists, and asked the privilege of looking at his pictures. The artist was but too happy to comply with their request, and placed before them a brilliant sunset which he had just finished. His visitors were lavish of those charming epithets which ladies bestow so liberally upon the objects of their admiration. 'Oh! isn't it lovely! How sweet! How natural!' etc. And then, after gazing at the glowing canvas for a few minutes in rapt silence, the lady who had been loudest in expressing her admiration, said, with a naïveté which must have penetrated to the very core of the painter's heart: 'Pray, Mr. G-, is it a moonlight?' The artist meekly replied that it was intended for a 'sunset.' 'Oh! indeed!' replied the lady. 'Pray, Mr. G which do you think the most difficult to do, pictures in oils or in worsted?' 'Really,' replied the astonished painter, 'I am unable to say, for I have never done any thing in worsted.' 'Ah!' said the lady, 'I find it so difficult in working little dogs to put in the eyes!'' This reminds us of an anecdote which the lamented HENRY INMAN used to relate. He was sitting in his studio, then in Murray-street, near Broadway, one morning, when a jaunty-looking young man and woman entered, and 'wanted to see the picture he had painted of S'PHIAR G-, in B- street.' It was unfinished, but was readily shown to them by the always obliging artist. 'Oh! an't that good!--an't that good! - particularly the comb! That's S'PHIAR'S comb for all the world! I should ha' known it any wheres!' The appreciative young lady's companion admitted that it was good; and added, flatteringly to the artist: 'After all, paintin' is a reg'lar trade, is n't it?' He told his companion, however, that 'the best way to look at a picture, if you wanted to 'throw it off,' is 80:' and he stooped down and looked up at it through his legs! Some body had probably told him that distance was sometimes given to a landscape by that process! Difference of costume rendered his improved lens unavailable to his companion. Two correspondents, from widely distant regions, north and south, send us the subjoined 'Sayings of Little Children.' Both are capital. 'The apparent truthfulness and originality which are manifest in your papers scattered over the EDITOR'S Table, regarding the perplexing questions and the unique reasonings of the 'Little Folk,' mark a very distinct contrast to the manufactured stuff that so often meets the eye in many other journals: and should you deem the following worthy of a place among your selections, you may rely on its genuineness. HARRY, a 'six-year-old,' a manly little fellow, and remarkable for his candor and his faith in prayer, was told by his Aunt SALLY, that if the snow ceased falling in the afternoon he should take a sleigh-ride with her. The snow continued, accompanied, as the day advanced, with a strong 'wind, greatly to HARRY'S annoyance, as he feared being deprived by it of his promised pleasure. At about two o'clock, Aunt SALLY had occasion to enter the quiet parlor, when to her amazement she beheld HARRY (who had not heard her approach) on his little knees in the beautiful attitude of prayer, and overheard him saying: 'Please, good God, stop it snowing, just for a little while, so I can go out riding with Aunty.' Aunt SALLY withdrew without being noticed by him; and presently he entered her room, with his furs and cap, and requested AUNTY to get ready, for 'he had asked God to stop it snowing, and it would stop in a minute. It did 'stop in a few minutes,' and Harry had his coveted sleigh-ride.' That is the first little boy: now for the second: 'My dear KNICKERBOCKER, how is it that in our great State they never can settle the question as to the use of the BIBLE in the public schools? Our boy of five (whom you would like if you only knew him) is very fond of hearing the BIBLE read, and his thoughts dwell much on the subjects therein; as witness the following question which he broached at the dinner-table to-day: 'Ma, do the King's chamberlains empty the slops?'' SINCE the time that 'JOHN PHOENIX' sent us the pictorial GEORGE WASHINGTON, (made by adding a green body, in most uncouth dress, to the green full 'front-view' face of the GENERAL, which constitutes the California postage-stamp,) we doubt if a funnier thing of the kind has been seen, than that which is recorded in the following paragraph: 'ON Monday evening 'certain lewd fellows of the baser sort,' who had evidently been imbibing too freely, found themselves near Union Square about ten o'clock. The full moon shining brightly, displayed the statue of the Father of his Country sitting grandly and sedately on his bronze charger, as ever, still pointing to the Church of the Pilgrims, with that significant gesture which seems to indicate that it is only by carrying out the doctrines of true liberty there preached, that the work commenced by him can be finally completed. But the sight of WASHINGTON failed to inspire these graceless revellers with proper emotions of patriotic reverence. On the contrary, they only saw in it an opportunity for a very disreputable trick. Robbing one of their number of his hat and shawl, a couple of the fellows climbed the pedestal by the aid of a ladder found within the inclosure, and sacrilegiously enwrapt the august shoulders with the shawl, and placed the large felt hat upon the stately head. It is a wonder that the statue did not, like its prototype in DON GIOVANNI, frown such a frown, and shake its head in so awful a manner, as to cause the sobered desecrators to lose their hold and fall headlong to the earth. But it appears that no such ghostly manifestation was made, for the fellows descended safely and fled, leaving the image of GEORGE WASHINGTON attired in such guise as he never wore when alive. For some reason, the metamorphose escaped the Argus-eyed policeman in that precinct, and for an hour the passers-by were amazed at the unwonted sight. But at last, either a watchman removed the hat and shawl, or their anxious owner slunk back to recover his garments from the shrine where his companions had placed them. At any rate, the statue was denuded, and looked as cold and metallic as ever, in the clear, icy moon-shine of the mid-night hour.' Apropos of our California caricature of the Pater Patriæ: we sent it at the time across the river to Mr. IRVING, who in a note to us expressed himself exceedingly amused at its grotesqueness. 'SQUIBOB' had turned up the grave corners of WASHINGTON'S mouth, giving to that feature the most ridiculous smirk, while the body was very short, and the dress terminated over the top of a pair of clumsy English top-boots! How very forcible are these characteristic lines from the German of HEINE! Even while we are copying them, thinking the while of the sad cause of WASHINGTON IRVING's departure, a telegraphic paragraph in the 'Tribune' of to-day arrests the eye, announcing the instantaneous death, in the street, by disease of the heart, of the venerable and venerated Catholic Bishop of Philadelphia: 'LAY thy hand on this heart of mine, little dear: 'He hammers and knocks by day and by night, You must read this four or five times. SAY |