The Aldine, Vol. 5, No. 1., January, 1872 | Page 4

in infancy lisped" 246 "Who Said Rats?" _A.H.
Thayer_ 175 Winter Sketch, A. (Frontispiece) _George H. Smillie_.
Opp. 149 Wolf, Calf and Goat, The _H.L. Stephens_ 124 Wood or
Summer Ducks Gilbert Burling 179
"Ye limpid springs and floods," 237 Young Robin Hunter, The _John S.
Davis_ 60
Zekle's Courtin' Frank Beard 29

THE ALDINE
VOL. V. NEW YORK, JANUARY, 1872. No. 1.

[Illustration: MAUD MÜLLER.--DRAWN BY GEORGIE A. DAVIS.]
"MAUD MÜLLER looked and sighed: 'Ah, me! That I the Judge's
bride might be!
"'He would dress me up in silks so fine, And praise and toast me at his

wine.
"'My father should wear a broad-cloth coat: My brother should sail a
painted boat.'
"'I'd dress my mother so grand and gay, And the baby should have a
new toy each day.
"'And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor. And all should bless me
who left our door.
"The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill, And saw Maud Müller
standing still.
"'A form more fair, a face more sweet, Ne'er hath it been my lot to
meet.
"'And her modest answer and graceful air, Show her wise and good as
she is fair.
"'Would she were mine, and I to-day, Like her a harvester of hay.'"
--_Whittier's Maud Müller._

THE ALDINE.
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23 LIBERTY STREET, NEW YORK.
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_AT NEWPORT._
I stand beside the sea once more; Its measured murmur comes to me;
The breeze is low upon the shore, And low upon the purple sea.
Across the bay the flat sand sweeps, To where the helméd light-house
stands Upon his post, and vigil keeps, Far seaward marshaling all the
lands.
The hollow surges rise and fall, The ships steal up the quiet bay; I
scarcely hear or see at all, My thoughts are flown so far away.
They follow on yon sea-bird's track. Beyond the beacon's crystal dome;
They will not falter, nor come back, Until they find my darkened home.
Ah, woe is me! 'tis scarce a year Since, gazing o'er this moaning main,
My thoughts flew home without a fear. And with content returned
again.
To-day, alas! the fancies dark That from my laden bosom flew,
Returning, came into the ark, Not with the olive, with the yew.

The ships draw slowly towards the strand, The watchers' hearts with
hope beat high; But ne'er again wilt thou touch land-- Lost, lost in
yonder sapphire sky!
--_Geo. H. Boker._

_MILLERISM._
Toward the close of the last century there was born in New England
one William Miller, whose life, until he was past fifty, was the life of
the average American of his time. He drank, we suppose, his share of
New England rum, when a young man; married a comely Yankee girl,
and reared a family of chubby-cheeked children; went about his
business, whatever it was, on week days, and when Sunday came, went
to meeting with commendable regularity. He certainly read the Old
Testament, especially the Book of Daniel, and of the New Testament at
least the Book of Revelation. Like many a wiser man before him, he
was troubled at what he read, filled as it was with mystical numbers
and strange beasts, and he sought to understand it, and to apply it to the
days in which he lived. He made the discovery that the world was to be
destroyed in 1843, and went to and fro in the land preaching that
comfortable doctrine. He had many followers--as many as fifty
thousand, it is said, who thought they were prepared for the end of all
things; some going so far as to lay in a large stock of ascension robes.
Though no writer himself, he was the cause of a great deal of writing
on the part of others, who flooded the land with a special and curious
literature--the literature of Millerism. It is not of that, however, that we
would speak now.
But before this Miller arose--we proceed to say, if only to show that we
are familiar with other members of the family--there was another, and
very different Miller, who was born in old England, about one hundred
years earlier than our sadly, or gladly, mistaken Second Adventist. His
Christian name was Joseph, and he was an actor of repute, celebrated
for his excellence in some of the comedies of Congreve. The characters
which he played may have been comic ones, but he was a serious man.
Indeed, his gravity was so well known in his lifetime that it was
reckoned the height of wit, when he was dead, to father off upon him a
Jest Book! This joke, bad as it was, was