vices indecorously sketched by Mr. Sawin, 325- hopes to decipher a Runic inscription, 330 — a fable by, 331, 332- deciphers Runic inscription, 338-340- his method therein, 339 is ready to reconsider his opinion of tobacco, 340-his opinion of the Puritans, 346 his death, 353-born in Pigsgusset, ib.-letter of Rev. Mr. Hitchcock concerning, ib.— fond of Milton's Christmas hymn, 354-his monument (proposed) ib. his epitaph, ib.—his last letter, 354, 355 - his supposed disembodied spirit, 359- table belonging to, ib. - sometimes wrote Latin verses, ib. — his table-talk, 363-366- his prejudices, 364-against Baptists, 365- his sweet nature, 371- his views of style, 372-a story of his, 373. Wildbore, a vernacular one, how to escape, 263.

of, 253-runs against a post
without injury, ib.- does not
seek notoriety (whatever some
malignants may affirm), 254-
fits youths for college, ib.—a
chaplain during late war with
England, 256-a shrewd obser-
vation of, 257-some curious
speculations of, 262-his mar-
tello-tower, ib. - forgets he is
not in pulpit, 267, 278 -- extracts
from sermon of, 268, 270 - inter-
ested in John Smith, 272-his
views concerning present state
of letters, 272, 273-a strata-
gem of, 276-ventures two hun-
dred and fourth interpretation
of Beast in Apocalypse, ib.
christens Hon. B. Sawin, then an
infant, 278-an addition to our
sylva proposed by, 283-curious
and instructive adventure of, 284
- his account with an unnatural |
uncle, 285 his uncomfortable
imagination, ib. - speculations
concerning Cincinnatus, 286 -
confesses digressive tendency of
mind, 292 goes to work on ser-
mon, (not without fear that his
readers will dub him with a re-
proachful epithet like that with
which Isaac Allerton, a May-
flower man, revenges himself on
a delinquent debtor of his, call-
ing him in his will, and thus hold-
ing him up to posterity, as John
Peterson, THE BORE,') 293-his
modesty, 296-disclaims sole au-
thorship of Mr. Biglow's writ-
ings, ib. his low opinion of
prepensive autographs, 297 - a
chaplain in 1812, 298- cites a
heathen comedian, ib.—his fond-
ness for the Book of Job, ib. —
preaches a Fast-day discourse,
299 is prevented from narrat-
ing a singular occurrence, ib. —
is presented with a pair of new
spectacles, 305- his church ser- Zack, Old, 287.

Wilkes, Captain, borrows rashly,

313.

Wind, the, a good Samaritan,
278.

Wingfield, his 'Memorial,' 323.
Wooden leg, remarkable for sobri-
ety, 279 never eats pudding, ib.
Woods, the. See Belmont.
Works, covenants of, condemned,
324.

World, this, its unhappy temper,

299.

Wright,

Colonel, providentially rescued, 246.

Writing dangerous to reputation, 297.

Wrong, abstract, safe to oppose,

197.

Y.

Yankees, their worst wooden nutmegs, 337.

Z.

INDEX OF FIRST LINES

As life runs on, the road grows strange, Don't believe in the Flying Dutch580.

As sinks the sun behind yon alien hills, Down 'mid the tangled roots of things,

Ere pales in Heaven the morning star, 536.

Fair as a summer dream was Margaret, 37.

Far over Elf-land poets stretch their sway, 543.

Far through the memory shines a happy
day, 465.

Far up on Katahdin thou towerest, 84.
Far 'yond this narrow parapet of Time,

31.

Fit for an Abbot of Theleme, 432.

For this true nobleness I seek in vain, 27.

Frank-hearted hostess of the field and wood, 382.

From the close-shut windows gleams no spark, 6.

Full oft the pathway to her door, 580.

Giddings, far rougher names than thine have grown, 33.

Go! leave me, Priest; my soul would be, 101.

God! do not let my loved one die, 20. God makes sech nights, all white an' still, 294.

God sends his teachers unto every age, 61.

Godminster? Is it Fancy's play? 399. Gold of the reddening sunset, backward thrown, 545.

Gone, gone from us! and shall we see, 1.

Great soul, thou sittest with me in my room, 27.

Great truths are portions of the soul of man, 27.

Guvener B. is a sensible man, 150.

He came to Florence long ago, 397.
He spoke of Burns: men rude and
rough, 60.

He stood upon the world's broad
threshold; wide, 32.

Hers all that Earth could promise or bestow, 544.

Hers is a spirit deep, and crystal-clear,

4.

How strange are the freaks of memory! 442.

How struggles with the tempest's swells, 431.

How was I worthy so divine a loss, 537. Hushed with broad sunlight lies the hill, 134.

I am a man of forty, sirs, a native of
East Haddam, 207.

I ask not for those thoughts, that sud-
den leap, 27.

I call as fly the irrevocable hours, 579. I cannot think that thou shouldst pass away, 28.

I christened you in happier days, before, 514.

I could not bear to see those eyes, 539. I did not praise thee when the crowd, 135.

I do not come to weep above thy pall, 140.

I don't much s'pose, hows'ever I
should plen it, 372.

I du believe in Freedom's cause, 269.
I go to the ridge in the forest, 417.
I grieve not that ripe knowledge takes
away, 33.

I had a little daughter, 120.

I have a fancy: how shall I bring it, 551.

I hed it on my min' las' time, when I to write ye started, 324.

I know a falcon swift and peerless, 64. I love to start out arter night's begun, 311.

I need not praise the sweetness of his song, 443.

I rise, Mr. Chairman, as both of us know, 577.

I sat and watched the walls of night, 550.

He who first stretched his nerves of I sat one evening in my room, 108.

subtile wire, 550.

Heaven's cup held down to me I drain, 119.

Here once my step was quickened, 416. Here we stan' on the Constitution, by thunder! 265.

I saw a Sower walking slow, 82.

I saw the twinkle of white feet, 89.
I sent you a messige, my friens, t'other
day, 333.

I spose you recollect thet I explained
my gennle views, 287.

I spose you wonder ware I be; I can't
tell, fer the soul o' me, 279.

I swam with undulation soft, 437.
I thank ye, my frien's, for the warmth

o' your greetin', 340.

I thought our love at full, but I did err, 34.

Men say the sullen instrument, 445.
Men whose boast it is that ye, 75.
My coachman, in the moonlight there,
398.

My day began not till the twilight fell,
525.

My heart, I cannot still it, 549.

I treasure in secret some long, fine My Love, I have no fear that thou hair, 413.

I, walking the familiar street, 532.

I was with thee in Heaven: I cannot
tell, 542.

I watched a moorland torrent run, 551.
I went to seek for Christ, 89.

shouldst die, 28.

My name is Water: I have sped, 129.

My soul was like the sea, 12.

My worthy friend, A. Gordon Knott, 194.

I would more natures were like thine, Never, surely, was holier man, 103. 13.

I would not have this perfect love of
ours, 26.

If he be a nobler lover, take him! 587.
If I let fall a word of bitter mirth, 482.
If I were the rose at your window, 580.
In a small chamber, friendless and un-
seen, 138.

In good old times, which means, you
know, 588.

In his tower sat the poet, 21.

In life's small things be resolute and great, 579.

New England's poet, rich in love as years, 518.

Nine years have slipt like hour-glass
sand, 402.

No? Hez he? He haint, though?
Wut? Voted agin him? 257.
Nor deem he lived unto himself alone,
515.

394.

Not always unimpeded can I pray,
Not as all other women are, 7.
Now Biörn, the son of Heriulf, had ill
days, 417.

In the old days of awe and keen-eyed O days endeared to every Muse, 567. wonder, 14.

In town I hear, scarce wakened yet,
540.

In vain we call old notions fudge, 580.
Into the sunshine, 14.

It don't seem hardly right, John, 319.
It is a mere wild rosebud, 59.
It mounts athwart the windy hill, 446.
It was past the hour of trysting, 106.
It's some consid'ble of a spell sence I
hain't writ no letters, 299.

Leaves fit to have been poor Juliet's
cradle-rhyme, 519.

Let others wonder what fair face, 586.
Light of triumph in her eyes, 547.
Look on who will in apathy, and stifle
they who can, 110.

Looms there the New Land, 420.

Maiden, when such a soul as thine is born, 28.

Mary, since first I knew thee, to this hour, 32.

'O Dryad feet,' 546.

O dwellers in the valley-land, 105.
O Land of Promise! from what Pisgah's
height, 87.

O moonlight deep and tender, 25.
O wandering dim on the extremest
edge, 85.

Of all the myriad moods of mind, 122.
Oft round my hall of portraiture I gaze,
542.

Oh, tell me less or tell me more, 540.
Old events have modern meanings;
only that survives, 422.
Old Friend, farewell!
door again, 515.

Your kindly

On this wild waste, where never blossom came, 586.

Once git a smell o' musk into a draw,
346.

Once hardly in a cycle blossometh, 30.
Once on a time there was a pool, 331.
One after one the stars have risen and
set, 51.

One feast, of holy days the crest, 428.