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primeval groves, and the school-house, the church, the depôts of commerce, and the elegant mansion, invited the on-coming multitudes to seek in and around them new and better homes. And the years of the fourth decade were told, and the population had swelled to four million, one hundred and thirty-one thousand, three hundred and seventy souls.

Still went on the work. The seat of a commerce of hundreds of millions per year was this now populous region. The marts of its trade were filled with the surplus products of its soil, which were borne away in thousands of vessels to feed the hungry in less-favored lands. Its flocks were feeding on unnumbered hills, and in countless fields its crops sprang up, and ripened, and bowed before the sickle. That subtle Power, which by water had brought its myriads of people to its generous bosom, and borne its rich products away in exchange for what its own soil did not yield, scorned longer to be confined to the rivers and the lakes, and their comparatively slow-moving keels. Spring; ing upon the dry land, and seeking the iron tracks which science and labor had laid on the leveled earth, He clutched the loaded car with His invisible fingers, and bore it from point to point for hundreds of miles, with an ease and a velocity before unknown,

The beatings of His mighty heart' still sounding through the storm or the calm, and giving the only note of His approach as He rushed through forest and field, over streams and marshes, and around the bases of many hills, with His gigantic burden. Nor was this enough. For commerce it might have been, and for bodily transit from place to place, but not for thought. And next fashed upon human genius the still more subtle essence of the electric spark; and hither came its whispering wires, stretching from hill to hill and from state to state, crossing mountains, leaping ravines, spanning rivers, and bearing to the depths of this far Interior in the twinkling of an eye, the message spoken a thousand miles away, on the outer rim of the vast Continent. And the human tide has still rolled on and on; and the remoter forests of this region have been pierced and subdued, until the solitudes that, at the period from which this retrospect started, heard only the eternal chime of the Falls of St. Anthony, and the wild voices of the dark Chippeways, are filling with the homes of civilized man, and becoming vocal with prayers and hymns of thanksgiving to God. And the fifth decade has gone by, and seven millions now number the population of this region, which half a century ago, as was shown, contained less than three hundred thousand souls.'

With the following thoughts, equally truthful and eloquent, we close our quotations from this well-written and instructive address, which, better than any words of ours, will commend it to the admiration of our readers: “We, who contrast the steam-ship or the packet of our day with the ship of Alexandria,' in which the apostle Paul 'sailed slowly many days;' we, who compare the means of transportation now possessed with any thing known to a previous age; we, who look in vain, in the past of all time, for that which may be presented as an equivalent for the locomotive, or the electric telegraph ; we, who have the printing press, and contend that the ancient world, before the flood or after the flood, had no agent of civilization at all comparable to this; we, who deny the sufficiency of the evidence which is often presented, in support of the claim that the lost arts of past centuries at all equal in number or importance the arts now known and practiced ; have an abiding faith, that all progress is not material progress. We see in the constant struggles of man for a truer freedom and a higher life, evidence of an in-dwelling power to achieve and enjoy them. We see in the gradual but certain spread of Gospel Truth, and the paling of the sacrificial fires of Paganism before its light, indications too strong to be resisted, that through the mission of Christ the nations of all the earth are yet to come to a knowledge of the True God. We see in the weak governments of Asia and the tottering thrones of Europe, 'the beginning of the end of countless ages of oppression. We see in the mighty stream of humanity that pours unceasing from the shores of the Old World to the shores of the New, evidences that here is to be made the next great advance in the political and spiritual freedom of man. And on this continent we behold such a continuous march toward the immediate region of country which we have had under view, as to indicate this as the chosen land of the new experiment; the brilliant centre from which are to radiate the glorious beams of a truer civilization than has yet blessed the hopes of man.' Such addresses as the one we have been considering would do much, if properly diffused abroad, to open the eyes of our trans-Atlantic neighbors to certain physical facts, touching this country, which are not unworthy of heed.


A FEW WORDS MORE TOUCHING JENNY LIND. - So much has been said about JENNY LIND, so many elaborate ques printed, and so many opinions expressed by artists and amateurs, and the people at large, that, illustrious as is the subject, it has become almost hackneyed. It still remains for us, however, to finish our say;' and not a reader of these pages but knows that what we say is unfettered by side-influences, and uninfluenced by frown or favor. The point has been already settled that Mademoiselle LIND's voice is perfect in quality, and wonderful in compass, reaching to F of the second line above the lines, with which note she plays as if in involuntary love of and wonder at her own strange and unique power. With regard to the warblings upon some of the soprano notes, compared with which the sweetest carol of birds is as that of the thrush to the nightingale, we need say little. They are indescribably pure and musical. She here lays indisputable claim to unrivalled natural facility and a great degree of artistic skill. But to speak of the highest of all the grades of art, which may better go by the name of genius, since the power lies in the inspired soul, it is in the Sacred Oratorio that M'lle JENNY LIND discovers the full measure of her resources. In her capacity for interpreting the highest kind of music — the spiritual — it may be said that she is perfect. But perfection is always unobtrusive, because entirely harmonious and symmetrical : therefore, how delicate must be the ear, how pure and elevated must be the soul of the critic, to appreciate it; whereas the heavenly spark in the breasts of the urinitiated is kindled, unwittingly to themselves, by the subtle influence; and the throngs of the middle classes, who spend their hard-earned dollars for a few hours of this spiritual enjoyment, do not know that they are moved by the purest inspiration. This worshipping of the Muse by the common mechanic and the artizan is the surest proof of its genuineness. It is on the one hand only the extremest glare that can dazzle them, on the other it is only the electric principle of the extremest harmonies that can penetrate, inspire and subdue them. Any intermediate shades are so many senseless sounds and images; and where the artistic power exists in a degree, without the charm of musical tones, which is almost universally the case with our prima-donnas, our sturdy artisan turns away disgusted, failing to find any thing in their highest flights but what is disagreeable or ludicrous. The fact that our concerts have been hitherto sustained exclusively by the élite, and the evidence deduced therefrom that the humbler classes consider it extravagant self-indulgence to pay their dollar or half-dollar when a so much finer concourse of sweet sounds' can be enjoyed by the purchase of a two-shilling ticket


for an entertainment, where pathos and grossness alternate in the most grotesque contrast, (as the 'CHRISTY’s’and the like places) which entertainments have been and will continue to be thronged as densely as TRIPLER Hall; this fact, we say, proves. absolutely, that it is extremes which sway the multitude, and that therefore JENNY LIND's popularity with them must be abscribed to the influence of the most musical tones that human organs ever produced, and the most subtle genius that ever gave inspiration to them, for such only can awaken the latent harmonies in every breast; in the refined and educated; in the humble, the unlettered and the rude. We have said it!

Dickens's · David COPPERFIELD' CONCLUDED. This work, which we cannot belp. thinking is not inferior to the very best that has proceeded from the pen lar and prolific author, is brought to a conclusion, and a complete copy, on somewhat too fine type, we are sorry to say, from the press of Mr. W. F. BURGEss, publisher, in Ann-street, lies before us. We have from time to time, as the work advanced, in its separate numbers, spoken of, and made extracts from it. We have made our readers. acquainted with little Dora, the 'child-wife of the hero ; with the villain SteerFORTH, the cold MURDSTONES, the simple, honest Peggottys, the stately MICAWBER and his prolific family, glorious BETSEY TROtwood, and that sneaking, designing, crawl. ing rascal, the umble' Uriah Heep. All these characters have now 'passed into history,' and are endenizen'd in thousands of memories. We have had marked some time for insertion this admirable sketch of the manner in which URIAH HEEP was baulked in a base attempt to cheat his employer out of his fortune, through the illness and neglect of his benefactor. MICAWBER, his clerk, exposes him to the friends of the family, and especially of Agnes, the young and lovely daughter, after whose hand and affections' his own mean soul was yearning :

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'I had not seen Uriah Heep since the time of the blow. Our visit astonished him, evidently; not the less, 1 dare say, because it astonished ourselves. He did not gather his eyebrows together, for he had none worth mentioning; but he frowned to that degree that he almost closed his smalí eyes, while the hurried raising of his grisly hand to his chin betrayed some trepidation or surprise. This was only when we were in the act of entering the room, and when I caught a glance at him over my aunt's shoulder. A moment afterward he was as fawning and as humble as ever.

6. Well, I am sure,' he said. “This is indeed an unexpected pleasure! To have, as I may say, all friends round Saint Paul's, at once, is a treat unlooked for. Mr. COPPERFIELD, I hope I see you well, and, if I may umbly express self so, friendly toward them as is ever your friends, whether or not. Mrs. COPPERFIELD, Sir, I hope she's getting on. We have been made quite uneasy by the poor accounts we have had of her state, lately, I do assure you.'

• I felt ashamed to let him take my hand, but I did not know yet what else to do.

6- Things are changed in this office, Miss Trorwood, since I was a numble clerk, and held your pony; ain't they ? said URIAH, with his sickliest smile. But I am not changed, Miss Trotwood.

"Well, Sir,' returned my aunt, to tell the truth, I think you are pretty constant to the promiseof your youth; if that's any satisfaction to you.'

• Thank you, Miss TrorWOOD,' said Uriah, writhing in his ungainly manner, ‘for your good opinion! MICAWBER, tell 'em to let Miss Agnes know, and mother. Mother will be quite in a state, when she sees the present company!' said URIAH, setting chairs.

" 6. You are not busy, Mr. HEEP? said TRADDLES, whose eye the cunning red eye accidently caught, as it at once scrutinized and evaded us.

“No, Mr. TRADDLES,' replied URIAH, resuming his official seat, and squeezing his bony hands, laid palm to palm, between his bony knees. “Not so much so as I could wish. But lawyers, sharks, and leeches are not easily satisfied, you know. Not but that myself and MICAWBER have our hands full, in general, on account of Mr. WICKFIELD's being hardly fit for any occupation, Sir. But it's a pleasure as well as a duty, I am sure to work for him. You've not been intimate with Mr. WICKFIELD, I think, Mr. TradDLES? I believe I've only had the honor of seeing you once myself?

I "No, I have not been intimate with Mr. WICKFIELD,' returned TRADDLES, or I might perhaps have waited on you long ago, Mr. HEEP.'

There was something in the tone of this reply which made URIAH look at the speaker again, with a very sinister and suspicious expression. But seeing only TRADDLES with his good-natured.

face, simple manner, and hair on end, he dismissed it as he replied, with a jerk of his whole body, but especially in his throat:

** I am sorry for that, Mr. Traddles. You would have admired him as much as we all do. His little failings would only have endeared him to you the more. But if you would like to hear my fellow-partner eloquently spoken of, I should refer you to COPPERFIELD. The family is a subject he's very strong upon, if you never heard him.'

I was prevented from disclaiming the compliment (if I should have done so, in any case) by the entrance of Agnes, now ushered in by Mr. MICAWBER. She was not quite so self-possessed as usual, I thought, and had evidently undergone great anxiety and fatigue. But her earnest cordiality, and her quiet beauty, shone with the gentler lustre for it.' I saw Uriah watch her while she greeted us, and he reminded me of an ugly and rebellious genie watching a good spirit. In the meanwhile, some sligbt sign passed between Mr. MICAWBER and TRADDLES; and Traddles, unobserved except by me, went out.

• Do n't wait, MICAWBER,' said Uriah.

• Mr. MICAWBER, with his hand upon the ruler in his breast, stood erect before the door, most unmistakeably contemplating one of his fellow-men, and that man his employer.

What are you waiting for?' said Uriah. • MICAWBER, did you hear me tell you not to wait ? Yes!' replied the immovable Mr. MICAWBER. "Then why do you wait?' said Uriah. "Because I - in short choose,' replied Mr. MICAWBER, with a burst.

Uriah's cheeks lost color, and an unwholesome paleness, still faintly tinged by his pervading red, overspread them. He looked at Mr. MICAWBER attentively, with his whole face breathing short and quick in every feature.

" You are a dissipated fellow, as all the world knows,' he said, with an effort at a smile, and I am afraid you'll oblige me to get rid of you. Go along! I'll talk to you presently.?.

" If there is a scoundrel on this earth,' said Mr. MICAWBER, suddenly breaking out again with the utmost violence, with whom I have already talked too much, that scoundrel's name is – HEEP!!

. • Uriah fell back, as if he had been struck or stung. Looking slowly round upon us, with the darkest and wickedest expression that his face could wear, he said in a lower voice:

“Oho! This is a conspiracy! You have met here by appointment! You are playing Booty with my clerk, are you, COPPERFIELD? Now take care. You'll make nothing of this. We understand each other, you and me. There's no love between us. You were always a puppy, with a proud stomach, from your first coming here; and you envy me my rise, do you? None of your plots against me; I'll counterplot you! MICAWBER, you be off

. I'll talk to you presently.' “Mr. MICAWBER, said I, “there is a sudden change in this fellow, in more respects than the extraordinary one of his speaking the truth in one particular, which assures me that he is brought to bay. Deal with him as he deserves !

** You are a precious set of people, ain't you ? said URIAH, in the same low voice, and breaking out into a clammy heat, which he wiped from his forehead with his long lean hand, to buy over my clerk, who is the very scum of society - as you yourself were, COPPERFIELD, you know it, before any one had charity on you - to defame me with his lies? Miss TrotWood, you had better stop this, or I'll stop your husband shorter than will be pleasant to you. I won't know your story, professionally, for nothing, old lady! Miss WICKFIELD, if you have any love for your father, you had better not join that gang. I'll ruin him, if you do. Now come! I have got some of you under the harrow. Think twice, before it goes over with you. Think twice, you MICAWBER, if you do n't want to be crushed. I recommend you to take yourself off, and be talked to presently, you fool, while there's time to retreat. Where's mother ? he said, suddenly appearing to notice, with alarm, the absence of TRADDLES, and pulling down the bell-rope. •Fine doings in a person's own house!'

“Mrs. Heep is here, Sir," said Traddles, returning with that worthy mother of a worthy son. "I have taken the liberty of making myself known to her.'

"Who are you to make yourself known ? retorted Uriah. • And what do you want here? “I am the agent and friend of Mr. WICKFIELD, Sir,' said TRADDLES, in a composed, business-like way. And I have a power of attorney from him in my pocket, to act for him in all matters.'

The old ass has drunk himself into a state of dotage,' said Uriah, turning uglier than before, 6 and it has been got from him by fraud!

Something has been got from himn by fraud, I know,' returned Traddles, quietly; (and so do -you, Mr. HEEP. We will refer that question, if you please, to Mr. MICAWBER.'

6. URY — ! Mrs. Heep began, with an anxious gesture.
“You hold your tongue, mother," he returned ; least said, soonest mended.'
“But my Ury

Will you hold your tongue, mother, and leave it to me?'

Though I had long known that his servility was false, and all his pretences knavish and hollow, I had no adequate conception of the extent of his hypocrisy, until I now saw him with his mask off

. The suddenness with which he dropped it, when he perceived that it was useless to him; the malice, insolence, and hatred he revealed; the leer with which he exulted, even at this moment, in the evil he had done - all this time being desperate too, and at his wits' end for the means of getting the better of us – though perfectly consistent with the experience I had of him, at first took even me by surprise, who had known him so long, and disliked him so heartily.

'I say nothing of the look he conferred on me, as he stood eyeing us, one after another; for I had always understood that he hated me, and I remembered the marks of my hand upon his cheek. But when his eyes passed on to AGNES, I saw the rage with wbich he felt his power over her slipping away, and the exhibition, in their disappointment, of the odious passions that he had led him to aspire to one whose virtues he never could appreciate or care for, I was shocked by the mere thought of her having lived an hour within sight of such a man.'

MICAWBER proceeds to unfold his villainy in detail, and in a manner entirely characteristic. Uriau is a numbler' scoundrel than ever, at the last ; for the deed of his benefactor, which he had forged in his own favor, was literally wrung from him. “There was,' says Copperfield:

. THERE was, as I had noticed on my first visit long ago, an iron safe in the room. The key was in it. A hasty suspicion seemed to strike URIAH; and with a glance at Mr. MICAWBER, he went to it, and threw ihe doors clanking open. It was empty: 6. Where are the books! he cried, with a frightful face. “Some thief has stolen the books!

Mr. MICAWBER tapped himself with the ruler. “I did, when I got the key from you as usual — but a little earlier - and opened it this morning.'

"Don't be uneasy,' said TRADDLES. “They have come into my possession. I will take charge of them, under the authority I mentioned.'

* You receive stolen goods, do you?' cried URIAH.
"Under such circumstances,' answered TRADDLES, “Yes.'

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"Good!' said TrADDLES, when the deed was brought. "Now, Mr. Heep, you can retire to think; particularly observing, if you please, that I declare to you on the part of all present, that there is only one thing to be done; that is what I have explained ; and that it must be done without delay.'

• Uriah, without lifting his eyes from the ground, shuffled across the room with his hand to his chin, and pausing at the door, said:

"COPPERFIELD, I have always hated you. You've always been an upstart, and you've always been against me.'

" As I think I told you once before,' said I, “it is you who have been, in your greed and cunning, against all the world. It may be profitable to you to reflect, in future, that there never were greed and cunning in the world yet, that did not do too much, and over-reach themselves. It is as certain as death.'

"" Or as certain as they used to teach at school (the same school where I picked up so much umbleness,) from nine o'clock to eleven, that labor was a curse; and from eleven o'clock to one, that it was a blessing, and a cheerfulness, and a dignity, and I do n't know what all, eh ?' said he, with a sneer. •You preach about as consistent as they did. Won't umbleness go down? I should n't have got round my gentleman fellow-partner without it, I think. MICAWBER, you old bully, I'll pay you!!

We like to follow up such a rascal to the end of his career. The last that is seen of him, in this history, is in prison, doing penance as ‘Number Twenty-Seven,' where he is visited by Copperfield and the gentle Agnes, whom the low-minded wretch had striven so repulsively to win:

"At last, we came to the door of his cell; and Mr. CREAKLE, looking through a little hole in it, reported to us in a state of the greatest admiration, that he was reading a hymn book.

There was such a rush of heads immediately, to see number twenty-seven reading his hymn book, that the little hole was blocked up, six or seven heads deep. To remedy this inconvenience, and give us an opportunity of conversing with Twenty-Seven in all his purity, Mr. CREAKLE directed the door of ihe cell to be unlocked, and Twenty-seven be invited out into the passage. This was done ; and whom should Traddles and I then behold, to our amazement, in this converted number Twenty-Seven, but URIAH HEEP!

• He knew us directly; and said, as he came out, with the old writhe:
• How do you do, Mr. COPPERFIELD? How do you do, Mr. TRADDLES ?

“This recognition caused a general admiration in the party, I rather thought that every one was struck by his not being proud, and taking notice of us.

"Well, Twenty-Seven,' said Mr. CREAKLE, mournfully admiring him. How do you find your-self to-day ?

“I am very umble, Sir ! replied Uriah HEEP.
"You are always so, Twenty Seven,' said Mr.CREAKLE.

It is not our intention to forestall the interest of our readers in the completed CopPERFIELD;' but we must show them the family of the MICAWBERS, as they appeared when about sailing to the Australian colonies, the California of the struggling and destitute in the great capitals of England:

Mr. MICAWBER, I must observe, in his adaptation of himself to a new state of society, had acquired a bold buccaneering air, not absolutely lawless, but defensive and prompt. One might have supposed him a child of the wilderness, long accustomed to live out of the confines of civilization, and about to return to his native wilds.

He had provided himself, among other things, with a complete suite of oil-skin, and a straw-hat with a very low crown. pitched or caulked on the outside. In this rough clothing, with a common mariner's telescope under his arm, and a shrewd trick of casting up his eye at the sky as looking out for dirty weai her, he was far more nautical, after his manner, than Mr. PEGGO'rty. His whole family, if I'may so express it, were cleared for action. I found Mrs. Mīcawber in the closest and most uncompromising of bonnets, made fast under the chin; and in a shawl which tied her up (as I had been tied up, when my aunt first received me) like a bundle, and was secured behind at the waist in a strong knot. Miss Micawber I found made spug for stormy weather, in the same manner, with nothing superfluous about her. Master MICAWBER was hardly visible in a Guernsey shirt, and the shaggiest suit of slops I ever saw; and the children were done up, like preserved meats, in impervious cases. Both Mr. MICAWBER and his eldest son wore their sleeves loosely turned back at

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