rn works, held some rare and valuable editions. It was presided
over by the gentlest and most courteous _litterateur_ of the South.
Many a bedeviled and ambitious public man may still recall his quiet,
modest aid, in strong contrast to the _brusquerie_ and "insolence of
office," too much the general rule; and his touching, heart-born poems
were familiar at every southern hearth and camp-fireside. Soon after,
the familiar voice of friendship was dulled to him--_exul patriae_--by
the boom of the broad Atlantic; and now his bones rest far away from
those alcoves and their classic dust.

John R. Thompson, the editor of the famous "Southern Literary
Messenger," went to London to edit "The Index," established in the
never-relinquished hope of influencing European opinion. On reaching
New York, when the cause he loved was lost, the staunch friendship of
Richard Henry Stoddard and the appreciation of William Cullen Bryant
found him congenial work on "The Post." But the sensitive spirit was
broken; a few brief years saw the end, and only a green memory is left
to those who loved, even without knowing, the purest southern poet.

From the roof of the Capitol is had the finest view of Richmond, the
surrounding country lying like a map for a radius of twenty miles. Only
from this bird's-eye view can a perfect idea be gained of the elevation
of the city, perched above a rolling country--its stretches of
meadowland below cut by the valley of the James; the river stealing in
sluggish, molten silver through it, or heaving up inland into bold,
tree-bearded hills, high enough to take the light from the clouds on
their tops, as a halo. Far northward alternate swells of light and
depressions of shadow among the hills; the far-off horizon making a
girdle of purple light, blended into the blue of undefined woods. On
clear days, a splendid ozone fills the air at that high perch, the
picture having, as far as the eye can travel, stereoscopic clearness.

Immediately beneath lies the Square; its winding walks, rare old trees
and rich sweep of sod filled with children, so full of enjoyment that
one is half-minded to drop down and roll over the grass with them. On
the central walk, midway between the Capitol and St. Paul's church,
stands Crawford's equestrian Washington in bronze, resting upon a
circular base and pedestal of plain granite, in which are bases for
statues of the mighty Virginians of the past. Only the three southern
ones were now o