"'The rapids enchanted me far beyond what I expected; they are so swift that they cease to _seem_ so--you can think only of their _beauty_. The fountain beyond the Moss Islands I discovered for myself, and thought it for some time an _accidental_ beauty which it would not do to _leave_, lest I might never see it again. After I found it _permanent_, I returned many times to watch the play of its crest. In the little waterfall, beyond, Nature seems, as she often does, to have made a _study_ for some larger design. She delights in this--a sketch within a sketch--a dream within _a dream_. Wherever we see it, the lines of the great buttress in the fragment of stone, the hues of the waterfall, copied in the flowers that _star_ its bordering mosses, we are _delighted_; for all the lineaments become _fluent_, and we mould the scene in congenial thought with its _genius_.' "Now all this is precisely as Miss Fuller would _speak_ it. She is perpetually saying just such things in just such words. To get the _conversational_ woman in the mind's eye, all that is needed is to imagine her reciting the paragraph just quoted: but first let us have the _personal_ woman. She is of the medium height; nothing remarkable about the figure; a profusion of lustrous light hair; eyes a bluish gray, full of fire; capacious forehead; the mouth when in repose indicates profound sensibility, capacity for affection, for love--when moved by a slight smile, it becomes even beautiful in the intensity of this expression; but the upper lip, as if impelled by the action of involuntary muscles, habitually uplifts itself, conveying the impression of a sneer. Imagine, now, a person of this description looking at you one moment earnestly in the face, at the next seeming to look only within her own spirit or at the wall; moving nervously every now and then in her chair; speaking in a high key, but musically, deliberately, (not hurriedly or loudly,) with a delicious distinctness of enunciation--speaking, I say, the paragraph in question, and emphasizing the words which I have italicized, not by impulsion of the breath, (as is usual) but by drawing them out as long as possible, nearly closing her eyes, the while--imagine all this, and we have both the woman and the authoress before us." * * * * * [FROM THE NEW YORK TRIBUNE.] ON THE DEATH OF S. MARGARET FULLER. BY G.F.R. JAMES High hopes and bright thine early path bedecked, And aspirations beautiful, though wild, A heart too strong, a powerful will unchecked, A dream that earth-things could be undefiled. But soon, around thee, grew a golden chain, That bound the woman to more human things, And taught with joy--and, it may be, with pain-- That there are limits e'en to Spirits' wings.