My bonnie steed, o’er noontide mead We’ve swept in canter gay, Through woodland path have boldly dash’d, Oh! what can check our way? With hound and horn in jocund band And hearts that smile at fear, And flowing rein and gay halloo, We’ve chased the flying deer. My bonnie steed, with matchless speed At eve we dash away, The zephyrs laughing round our path As children at their play, And while in merry race and free, Away, away we fly, The thick stars shining overhead Seem speeding swifter by. My bonnie steed, my bonnie steed, True friend indeed thou art, And none are brighter in mine eye Or dearer to my heart. Let others smile on gallants gay I mock the lover’s creed, Then onward press, away, away, My bonnie, bonnie steed. * * * * * ORIGINAL LETTER FROM CHARLES DICKENS. [For the truly characteristic letter here published, and for the sketch which accompanies it, we are indebted to the obliging attention of Mr. John Tomlin of Tennessee.—With our own warm admiration of the writings and character of Dickens we can well understand and easily pardon the enthusiasm of our friend.] In setting about that most difficult of all tasks, the sketching of the character of a living author, I feel that I cannot entirely keep clear of that weakness of the human mind, which praises the foibles of a friend and condemns the virtues of an enemy. There is no task more difficult of performance than the one I have imposed upon myself—no task but what can be more easily performed correctly, than the presentation to the world, in their nice distinctive shades, of living characters. To admire one is to praise him—and to cover all of his faults in the blindness of charity, is the weakness of our nature. It is scarcely possible then, Mr. Poe, for one like me, whose love is as strong as the faith of the martyr, when at the stake he expires, and whose hate is as deep as the depths of the sea, to shun the errors that almost every one has fallen into, who undertakes the task of sketching characters, _life-like_, of eminent living individuals.—To succeed partially is in my power, and in the power of almost every one, but to succeed wholly in introducing to the mind’s eye the character as it really is, of any individual, is scarcely possible. I will not say that I am peculiarly fitted to shine in this province, nor will I say that I am equal to the task that I have voluntarily imposed upon myself—but I will say that everything I say will be said from a conviction of belief.