sweetheart; which,
considering it to be a woman's handiwork, is, I daresay, not that far
amiss.

SONG OF THE SOUTH

I

Of all the garden flowers
The fairest is the rose;
Of winds that stir the bowers,
Oh! there is none that blows
Like the south--the gentle south--
For that balmy breeze is ours.

II

Cold is the frozen north;
In its stern and savage mood,
'Mid gales, come drifting forth
Bleak snows and drenching flood;
But the south--the gentle south--
Thaws to love the unwilling blood.

III

Bethink thee of the vales,
With their birds and blossoms fair--
Of the darkling nightingales,
That charm the starry air
In the south--the gentle south--
Ah! our own dear home is there.

IV

Where doth Beauty brightest glow,
With each rich and radiant charm,
Eye of light, and brow of snow,
Cherry lip, and bosom warm;
In the south--the gentle south--
There she waits, and works her harm.

V

Say, shines the Star of Love,
From the clear and cloudless sky,
The shadowy groves above,
Where the nestling ringdoves lie;
From the south--the gentle south--
Gleams its lone and lucid eye.

VI

Then turn ye to the home
Of your brethren and your bride;
Far astray your steps may roam,
But more joys for thee abide,
In the south--our gentle south--
Than in all the world beside.

After reading a lot of the unknown gentleman's compositions in prose and
verse, something like his private history, James Batter informs me, can
be made out, provided we are allowed to eke a little here and there.
That he was an Englisher we both think amounts to a probability; and,
from having an old "Taffy was a Welshman" for a flunkie, it would not be
out of the order of nature to jealouse, that he may have resided
somewhere among the hills, where he had picked him up and taken him into
his kitchen, promoting him thereafter, for sobriety and good conduct, to
be his body servant, and gentleman's gentleman. Where he was born,
however, is a matter of doubt, and also who were his folks; but of a
surety, he was either born with a silver spoon in his mouth, or rose from
the ranks like many another great man. That, however, is a matter of
moonshine; we are all descended in a direct line from Adam