THE
ATLANTIC MONTHLY.
A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics.
VOL. XVIII.—DECEMBER, 1866.—NO. CX.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by Ticknorand Fields, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of theDistrict of Massachusetts.
[Transcriber's note: Minor typos corrected, footnotes moved to end ofarticle and table of contents created.]
Contents
JOHN PIERPONT.
MY GARDEN.
BORNEO AND RAJAH BROOKE.
PASSAGES FROM HAWTHORNE'S NOTE-BOOKS.
KATHARINE MORNE.
THE SWORD OF BOLIVAR.
THROUGH BROADWAY.
MY HEATHEN AT HOME.
A FRIEND.
THE SINGING-SCHOOL ROMANCE.
AUTUMN SONG.
THE FALL OF AUSTRIA.
RECONSTRUCTION.
REVIEWS AND LITERARY NOTICES.
JOHN PIERPONT.
Most men of "fourscore and upwards," like Lear, and who, like Lear, havebeen "mightily abused" in their day, are found, upon diligent inquiry,to have long outlived themselves, like the Archbishop of Granada; buthere is a man, or was but the other day, in his eighty-second year, withthe temper and edge and "bright blue rippling glitter" of a Damascusblade up to the very last; or rather, considering how he was lastemployed, with the temper of that strange tool, found among the ruins ofThebes, with which they used to smooth and polish their huge monolithsof granite, until they murmured a song of joy, whenever the morningsunshine fell upon them.
This remarkable man—remarkable under many aspects—died at Medford,Massachusetts, on Monday morning, August 27th; and it is now said ofheart-disease,—that other name for a mysterious and sudden death,happen how it may, and when it may. He had been perfectly well the daybefore, attended church, and called on some of his neighbors; he retiredto rest as usual, and nothing more was heard of him till Monday morning,when he was found asleep in Jesus, prepared, as we humbly trust, to hearthe greeting of "Well done, thou good and faithful servant!" Says afriend, in a letter now lying before me, of August 27th: "On Saturdayafternoon, day before yesterday, your friend and my friend, Rev. JohnPierpont, called upon me, and we had a very interesting interview ofabout an hour. I never saw him look better or appear happier. Althougheighty-one years of age the 6th of last April, he seemed to have theelasticity of youth, and he was perfectly erect. I gave him what hewanted very much,—a copy of his trial before an ecclesiastical councilin this city, several years ago. He gave me his photograph, and, takinghis gold pen, wrote underneath, in a beautiful hand, 'John Pierpont,aged 81.' He said he was doing some work at Washington, which he hopedto live long enough to complete.... When I published m