he came to New York to seek the means for foreign travel he applied at once to the author whose brilliant pictures of European life had roused his young enthusiasm. Willis befriended him in every way; gave him letters to wealthy gentlemen in New York, and bestirred himself to interest people in his adventure and raise the sum necessary to start him on his journey. On his departure he gave him a letter to his brother Richard, in Frankfort, with whom the young _handwerksbursch_ tarried for a time, while he was picking up the German language. His “Views Afoot”--the fruits of this venture--were dedicated to Willis, who contributed the preface. This patronage was unkindly referred to in Duganne’s “Parnassus in Pillory,” a little Dunciad of the old downright “English Bards and Scotch Reviewers” variety, which made some noise in New York in the year 1851:-- “What time Nat Willis, in the daily papers, Published receipts of shoemakers and drapers; What time, in sooth, his ‘Mirror’ flashed its rays, Like Barnum’s ‘drummond’ on the Broadway gaze, When lisping misses, fresh from seminaries, Worshiped ‘mi-boy’ and ‘brigadier’[9] as _lares;_ Then Bayard Taylor--_protégé_ of Natty, Dixon-like walked into the ‘literati;’ And first to proper use his genius put, Like ballet-girls, by showing ‘Views Afoot.’” In another part of his squib the lampooner returns to the charge against Willis as follows:-- “I almost passed by Willis--‘ah, _mi-boy!_ Foine morning! da-da!’ Faith I wish him joy-- He’s forty-three years old--in good condition-- And, positively, he has gained ‘position.’ Gad! what a polish ‘upper-ten-dom’ gives This executioner of adjectives; This man who strangles English worse than Thuggists, And turns ‘the trade’ to trunk-makers or druggists; Labors on tragic plays that draw no tiers-- Writes under bridges, and tells tales of peers; His subjects whey--his language sugared curds; Gods! What a dose!--had he to ‘eat his words!’ His ‘Sacred Poems,’ like a rogue’s confessions, Gain him indulgence for his worst transgressions: His ‘Fugitive Attempts’ will doubtless live-- Oh! that more works of his were fugitive! Fate to his fame a ticklish place has given, Like Mahomet’s coffin, ’twixt the earth and heaven; But be it as it will--let come what may-- Nat is a star, his works--the Milky Way!