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SARAH HELENA WHITMAN.

MRS. WHITMAN, whose maiden name was Power, is a native Providence, Rhode Island. Her father, a merchant of that city, was descended from Nicholas Power, who, with a few other bold spirits, consorted with Roger Williams after his exile from Salem, "to establish in the wilderness, a community maintaining the entire emancipation of the individual mind from all spiritual jurisdiction and thradom." For his liberal opinions he was illiberally arraigned before the General Court of Massachusettes, in 1642.

Miss Power was married in 1828 to John Winslow Whitman, a son of the Hon. Kilborn Whitman of Pembroke, Mass.; and a descendant on the mother's side from Edward Winslow, the first governor of Plymouth. Mr. Whitman passed his childhood at the residence of his grandfather, Careswell farm, Marshfield. We mention this, because of his gifted wife, who has published an interesting account of a visit made to the old mansion; when it was still graced with many of the antique oaken chairs and massive tables brought to this country in the May-Flower, its walls still decorated with the curious old family pictures, which have since been deposited in the Antiquarian and Historical Societies of Massachusetts. Mr. Whitman commenced the practice of law in Boston, and was distinguished for his learning and wit; but, while all things promised him a brilliant and successful career, he was cut off in the midst of his days. After the death of her husband, Mrs. Whitman returned to her native city, and has resided there with her mother ever since. She has, for some years past, contributed to the best of our magazines and reviews; and her skilful pen has won—not a wide popularity, but—an honourable reputation among the most able judges in matters of literary taste. Her prose writings exhibit much clearness of perception, and vigour of thought. Her translations from the German poets have been highly praised for the ability with which the spirit of the original is retained; none of the freshness or bloom being lost in passing through her delicate hands. Her own poems are chiefly records of experience;—the experience of a gently and refined woman, devoted
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to beauty, nature, and truth. Her love for nature has made her a keen observer, and many of her descriptions are most exquisitely painted landscapes. Her ear is fine for the melody of language, and her taste correct in the use of it.

THOUGHTS OF THE PAST.

"A green and silent spot among the hills." COLERIDGE.

IN the soft gloom of summer's balmy eve,
When from the lingering glances of the sun
The sad earth turns away her blushing cheek,
Mantling its glow in twilight's shadowy veil,—
Oft 'mid the falling dews I love to stray;
Onward and onward through the pleasant fields,
Far up the lilied borders of the stream,
To this "green silent spot among the hills,"
Endeared by thronging memories of the past.

Oft have I lingered on this rustic bridge,
To view the limpid waters, winding on
Under dim-vaulted woods, whose woven boughs
Of beach, and maple, and broad sycamore,
Throw their soft moving shadows o'er the wave,
While blossomed vines, dropt to the water's brim,
Hang idly swaying in the summer wind.

The birds that wander thro' the twilight heaven
Are mirror'd far beneath me;—and young leaves
That tremble on the birch tree's silver boughs,
In the cool wave reflected, gleam below
Like twinkling stars athwart the verdant gloom.

A sound of rippling water rises sweet
Amid the silence; and the western breeze
Sighing through sedges, and low meadow blooms,

Transcription Notes:
---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 10:17:09