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[

^n17

BIZARRE.

Jix

.IfirfBih onii tSopi

CONDUCTED BY CHUECH & CO.

VOL m.

APRIL TO OCTOBER. 1868.

«<BisiiBB, Bums, mux nkr tov, Mapoaf r*-^ fhyidbai^

PHILABILPBZA :
CHURCH A CO.,

4 RABff'i BOIUKm»»

•

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THE NEW YORK

PUBLIC LIBRARY

*ST7 t. UENOX AND
TILO'/-^ FOilNOAHQMi*

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Pa«e

148

858

268

f£, 2,23,85

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18S» 150, 160, 186, 301, 210, 2^6, 260, 807, 366, 870
Sebooi Bamfalmanrm, 885

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Life, The Price of;
Leisure, Moments of,
Longbowisms,
LUb Moments,

1
Motherwell, sad his Foetiy,
MontBlftno,
BQsoseof Leisure
Mnsiesl Bisarre,

183

862

827

846

866,881,807

OldTImee,

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PMmvylnnift Scenery,

Paj of Authors,

Panorama of New Tork,

Philadelphia Odetemtlon of the PMMse of 1788,

Poems by ^^Meditatos,"

826

276
802

864

BesOnrlosn, 217,261,282,828,848,860^268,876,808
BmaaoeorToll,the» 941,247,207

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flaa^Sood, Editor's, 15,28, 44, 09, 75, 04, 127, 141, 156» 176,

100, 207, 223, 280, 265, 971, 287, 808, 818, 882^ 860,

865,882,880.

Shakspeare, Oomplete Coneordanee tO, 60

Syrian Tale, A, (ftom the German,) 278, 280

SahMl for the Solitary, 970

Six Months in Italy, 887

The (M Woman who lired in a Shoe, 9

The Tn n k eepe r and the Skull, 120

TkUeMoTins^ 984

Thonghts on an Alhwn, 891

UaoltTomBeflewe^ 988|909

T.
Yeaoo, cr the Dmm of Idft^ «>!• of Phlladalphks 164

161,177,189,909

W.
Witt's DaifotloD, A, 184

WQd Oats Sown Atooady 968

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8»ifaicWU9«% 68

ToMkB, 907

AUTOGRAPHS.

BuABBXy viu> BAJ Tov, Madcap? '—Farquhar,

FOS THB wax. JUHURO

SATI7AI>AT» APRIIi 16, 1858*

AUTOORAPHS.

THIBB PAPBtU

Among modem corions agsemblages of au-
tographs, must be mentioned that confided
hy the Emperor Napoleon to his brother Jo-
Kfiix containing all the confidential letters
tut had been addressed to him by the vari-
ofos sorer^gns of Europe. This precious
imt was stolen during the passage of the
Cbamiel,and the letters were afterwards dis-
posed of separately, in London, to the minis-
ters and ambassadors of the respective Euro-
peta poFwers, for an aggregate sum 700,000
firaiics, according to Mr. O'Meara. The Rus-
sian ambassador paid 250,000 francs for the
letters of the Emperor, his master.

An analogous event of more recent occur-
reooe may a^tly be recorded here. A very
hige collection of dangerous political and
personal documents has, within a few months,
been missed by the present Emperor, Napo-
leon in., the importance of which may be
flBtimated by the lar^ reward ofiered for
tbar restoration. Their abstraction has been
charged to Mrs. Howard, an American lady
i^io, it is w^ known, has cohabited for many
years with Louis Napoleon, but whose sepa-
ration from him recent important interests
rendered unavoidable.

One oi the autogn^hic monuments of our
epoch will be the famous copy of Ronsard,
given by M. Sainte-Beuve to M. Victor Hugo,
of which the latter, in imitation of the savans
of the &Eteenth Century, made an album
amcarum, in which all the cotemporary poets
of France have inscribed something.

The Duchess of Orleans composed a cele-
brated aBmm of the most celebrated names.
It escaped the notice of the mob, and having
been found at the Tnileries some days after
the 24th of February, it was unhesitatini^y
restored to the Duchess.

But of all the collections of signatures ever
made, the most important, the most precious,
the richest, was lately exposed at the Great
Exhilation at London by the ^*Societi des
Qms de Lettres Fr(mpais" This priceless
dbmny in ilhi8trati<m of which concurred all
the French writers — ^whether members of the
Sodeii or not — all the members of the five
daases of Uie Institut, the first of French art-
ists, painters, designers, engravers, composers,
iiaiaoiaiis» etc., forms two enormous volumes

of the largest oblong form of books. A de-
tailed description of it was given in the Steele.

The taste for autographs has been greatly
developed during the last few years. There
are many very important collections now in
Europe, and a few in this country. It will,
perhaps, be interesting to give here a list of
the principal collections known.

And first, the ladies may be pleased to
learn that Queen Victoria is one or the prin-
cipal cdlectors of the present day. The ca*-
binet, however, of M. Feuillet de Conches
passes as the richest in the world. M. Feu-
illet is not, as many others, a specialist. His
cabinet, which he has been thirty years in
forming, and to which he consecrates a large
part of his fbrtime, abs(»rbs each year all the
variety of the most important and precious
matter which every sale ofiers.

The principal French Collectors after M.
Feuillet are MM. Boutron, d'Hauterive, d'-
Aufiay, Chateaugiron, Lacu^Ue, D«us,'Nau-
det, Martin, d'Hunolstien, de Biraicourt, de
Fitzjames, de Flers, Granger de la Mariniere,
Chambry, Boilly, Omant, and the Banmess
James de Rothschild and MdUe. d'Henin.

In London the important collectors next
to the Queen are Mr. Rey, Mr. O'CaUa^^ian,
and Mr. Hervey.

At Brussells, Baron Stassart.

At Berlin, General Radowitz.

At Madrid, Count Esterhazy, Austrian
Ambassador.

At Turin resides the celebrated collector,
Count Giberto Borromeo.

At Munich, the King of Bavaria. King
Maximilian, we have been informed, takes a
livdy interest in the coUection of American
autographs.

To come to our own country ; the finest
collection, perhaps, is that of the Rev. W.
B. Sprague, of Albany. It is of very great
extent, and contains, among other matter of
great value, a complete series of the Signers
of the Declaration of Independence, and of
the Generals of the American Revdution, the
latter series having been completed a few
months ago, by the acquisition, in this city,
of a letter ci General de Haas, which is ex-
tremely rare.

Another collection of the first importance
is that of Mr. J. R. Teft, of Savannah, which
is equally rich in American historical papers,
and general autographic varieties.

At Boston are the collections of Mr. Mellen
Chamberlain and Mr. James T. Fields.

Mr. Chamberlain's (entirely American,) is
particularly interesting in such names as
Winthrop, Bradford, and others connected
with the early history of Massachusetts. He
has also complete sets of the '' Signers of the
Declaration," ** Generals of the Revolution,"
Members of the Confederation, Members of
the Conventicm which framed the Conttita-

BIZABRE.

tionofthe United SUtes, etc. Mr. Field's con-
sists chidfly of automphs of literary men.

At New York is the collection of Mr. Len-
nox, ooa&taining the original manuscript of
Washingtoa's Farewell Address.

Some of the finest collections are to be
found in Philadelphia. Mr. F. J. Dreer's
comprises, in addition to his own varied ac-
quisitions, all the material industriously
nthercd during many years by the late Mr.
Robert Gilmer, of Baltimore. This compila-
tion is particularly rich in foreign autographs,
comprising numbers of the most celebrated
sovereigns of Europe, and of all most distin-
guished generals, statesmen, naval command-
ers, writers, and artists. In addition to these,
his series of specimens of General Washing-
ton's writing, from the earliest date to the
time of his death, is remarkably complete
and interesting.

Mr. Henry 0. Baird*s cdlection is very
full, in almost aJl the different classifications,
of American names. His series of the officers
of the General Government, comprising the
Presidents, Vice-Presidents, and the several
cabinets from the Administration of Wash-
ington to the present day, lacks but half a
dozen names of completion. His American
militaiy and naval series, is also extremely
valuable, embracing a majority of the leading
names of the Revolution, of the Last War
with Gbreat Britain, and of the war with
Mexico. Of the naval men of the present
century he possesses many letters, nearly all
of which are addressed to the late Commo-
dore Bainbridge. In addition to his regular
collection of autographs, he possesses the
correspondence of two officers of the army
nearly entire ; one of the Revolution, the other
of the Last War with Great Britain, — ^which
papers cover almost the entire period from
17o8 to 1828, and which, in connection with
his more orderly port-folios, constitute a cor^
pus of the most formidable magnitude.

Dr. L, R. Koecker's porte-feuiUe is remark-
able for its elegant and perfect specimens of
of autographic letters of distinguished Ame-
ricans. Tnis nice collector is content onl^
to add to his stock letters as perfect in their
appearance as upon the day when written ;
and the soiled, torn, or rumpled leaf is sub-
jected by him to every conceivable mechanical
and chemical process to restore it to its ori-
ginal beauty. What adds greatiy to the in-
terest of this unique and coquettish collection
is its characteristic arrangement, not to men-
tion the elegant mechanism, and artistic
workmanship displayed upon the binding of
the volumes embalming these precious r«-
tiguue of the preceding generation: (Dr.
Koecker is himself the finest rdiewr amaievr
in the country,) all the letters are ficed by
portraits of the writers, some of which are ex-
oeedin^y scarce. These engravings are also

frequently earliest proof impressions, aad thus
are oombmed in one assemUage many yarie-
ties of two passkns.

Besides these, in Philadelphia, are the col-
lections of Messrs. E. D. Ingraham, Wm.
Schott, J. H. Hedges, J. L. Mickley, and S.
A. Allibone.

At Baltimore, Dr. J. C. Cohen.

At Washington, Messrs. James C. M'Guire,
James H. Gausten, jr., and Peter Force.

Mr. McGuire's American pi^rs are, per-
haps more valuable than thoise in any other
autograph collection in the country. He
possesses an immense mass of the papers left
Dv Mr. Madison, together with much that is
of great value from the correspondence of
General Knox.

The remaining distinguished coUeotions in
America are those ^Miss Arnold, of New
Bedford, Mr. W. Mackenzie, of Toronto, Mr.
John R. Thoifison, of Richmond, and Capt.
Furman Seymour, of West Point. The latter
is a specialist, confining himself to American
autographs. His souS'Specialite of names con-
nect^ with the Mexican war has nothiiig
left for his further exertion.

In conclusion — to analyse writings, to study
their physiognomy and character, — such, we
take it, is the true mission of the autographic
science — ^will it be feared that this leaves not
open a field sufficiently vast ? Let us sup-
pose, (and in oiu* age of mechanical miracles
this supposition is not chimerical,) that with-
in a given time writing will be replaced by
some mechanical accelerative process — ^may
not electricity, photography, etc., afford some
such result ? would not an art, which would
enable us to authenticate writings bv assign-
ing to them a date and an author, be of the
greatest service to the future historian ?

ROMANCE OF BLOOKLEY*

THB WOBKanOPS — THK WASHHOUSE — BABBEB-
SHOP — LOCK-UP.

NUIIBBB NIKB.

There is a vast amount of talent among the
population oftheBlockley Almshouse. Many
able workman may be found here, who in
mechanical skill will bear comparison with
the ablest and most successful artizans, the
products of whose ingenuity add so much to
our domestic conveniences and household ad-
vantages. Some indeed, possess unquestion-
able genius. If the reader should ever visit ,
Blocuev, he will find upon entering the ;
Steward^s office, which is located in the cen- |
tre of the building, a beautiful model of a ,
ship which was executed years ago by one of i
the inmates since deceased. It is a perfect |
gem of workmanship. No sailor could ftsten
his eyes on it, or '' clap his peepers on it," to
appropriate the nautical phnise without giv-

ROMANCE OF BLOCKLET.

ing orders to fori sail or feeling disposed to
cTToat in mellow accents, " Yo-Heave-oh."
A similar exemplification of eenins conld be
feond in the exact model of the entire Alros-
ho«9e, which was executed about two years
ago by another inmate. With the plain and
unpretending materials of glass, paste-board,
&c., he constructed a fac-similie of the whole
establishment. It was a complete specimen
of native ingenuity, for the trade of the man
who thus evinced a taste so ccurect, was that
of a hoose-painter.

It is not to be presumed that the large
amount of artistic OMiowment existing in the
White house should be laid aside as imavail-
able. Neither reason, nor prudence would
dictate the rejection of so effectire and potent
a corps of laborers. And hence the estima-
ble board of managers have turned into a pro-
ductive channd the agencies which are fur-
nnfaed all around them. Not &r from the
Wash-house the visitor detects a low range
of buildings, constituting a little emporium
of Art, You enter one of them over whose
door the words " Tailors' department" ^eams
out in old-fashioned capitals, and you see an
extensive shop-board constituting an area,
^ not to be sneezed at," as Jack Downing has
it, upon which twenty or thirtv knights of
the needle are exhibiting their skill in basting,
sewing, ironing, &c., while the major-domo
stands at the huge counter with a roll of
i coarse blue ware b^ore him, which he is ex-
peditiously manipulating with the shears.
Here are made up the clothes for the inhabi-
I taats of the building. You step into another
\ room and witness the operations of the tin-
,i miths. You pass thence into the region of
, the carpenters, and find yourself at once
i surrounded by a pile of plain pine cofiSns of
aU possible dimensions. Emerging from this
I quarter which may be suppo^ to be the
1 kast congenial to your feelings, you come
' among the sons <ji St. Crispin, whose musical
{ instruments are the awl, the last, and the
J vax-end; puisant media for imparting physi-
{ cal strenth to leather and buckskin. Adjoin-
I ing Uiis you espy the painters and glaziers.
i Goadgions to them are the Weavers. Thus
I in a miall space are concentrated all the sons
' of mechanic skill. When the horn blows for
, labor, they all repair to their appropriate
departments, with alacrity the most com-
mendable, and with spirits as buoyant as the
air. At a given signal in the evening, labor
suspends its operations, and ^XL hands '* knock
;i off** to the tune of ''Coming throueh the
, Rjre," "Hwl Columbia," or the "Bay of
I' Biscay, oh." It is indeed a jovial a^joum-
I, ment to a cup of tea.

I How lamentable the reflection that men
!| who mipht each be carrying on an independ-
li ant business, or oecupymg an honorable sub-
I ordiiiate ci^p«city, should thus be enrolled

among the members of an alms-house. This
sad result has been brought about by Intem-
perance. To that fell tyrant may be attri-
Duted the prostration of two-thirds of the
entire population. True it is, that adverse
fortune or improvident management, has re-
duced to this pitiable level not a few who in
this spot pass their entire life. But in the great
majority of instances, it is the Bowl of the
Enchantress which has eclipsed the prospects
of some of the brightest mmds. As we have
watched the army of workmen filing oflf at
the sound of the dinner horn, and noticed the
muscles and athletic power of nearly all of
them, we have thought of the force of that
moral obliquity which not even self-interest
could rectify or neutralize. Poor, helpless
man, driven o'er the billows of passion, and
wrecked upon the shoals of carnal inclina-
tion! We can but sympathize with thine
unenviable fate, while we take warning from
thy demolition to restrain our impulses of
wrong, and cultivate the heaven-descended
virtues of prudence, temperance and forti-
tude.

Next in importance to the Workshops
stands that redoubtable citadel, the Wash-
house. In this province feminine skill is laid
under requisition to renovate the garments of
the multiude by the process of the laundry.
On the capacious green which skirts the en-
virons of the spot, you may on a pleasant
sunshiny-day, descry, without the aid of a
telescope, a thousand articles spread out to
catch the solar ray, and attest the value of
its drying attributes. Scores of busy women
are hurrying to and fro ; some rinsing, others
belaboring at the washing-board with soap-
suds spouting up into their faces like billows
of the deep ; a group at one point sending the
flat-iron with its capacious disk, across the
continent of an ample blue shirt, while a host
of talkative old grannies with sleeves rolled
up, are espied retailing the oiewest dish of
Almshouse gossip, which monopolizes all their
&ncy. Draw near and listen. See the vivac-
ity of that antiquated dame, as she whispers
in the ear of her co-patriot an unmentionable
item of intelligence, and catch the response
from the other, as with eyes half closed and
devated hands she savs, "Well now, you
don't say that indeed V^ or some other stereo-
typed expression which belongs as naturally
to the old granny vocabulary, as nitric acid
or hydrogen enter into the nomenclature of
the practical chemist. If there is anything
which exhibits strength and life it is the
clandestine colloquies of a bevy oi old ladies
on a washing-day. A Representative Assem-
bly possesses not to a quarter degree the ele-
ments of force and grace and energy. Women
are always eloquent. But as thev grow older
their stump-speeches have a pith and whim
about them which oitea carry off the palm

BIZARRE.

from Demosthenes himsdf. The antiquated
form becomes erect, the lustreless eye oeams
out like a star in its brightness, and the with-
ered acm waves in the air with a gyration
which is absolutely terrific. And tne more
deeply spiced with scandal is the topic under
immediate review, the greater is the quota of
eloquence employed in its enforcement. The
love of the marvellous increases as women
increase in age. Perhaps we should not be
too severe on the other sex ; but to tell the
truth, their instinctive curiosity goes on from
strength to strength, till they have no news
to communicate, and no physical power to
give utti^'ance to their burning thoughts. At
least, it is so with the Almshouse women.

Suppose we step across to the Barber Shop.
As you enter the door which opens into the
capacious ward where a thousand beards are
mutilated, and a thousand heads denuded of
their superfluous herbage, you are struck
with a number of fancy pictures which are
pasted up against the wall without any par-
ticular reference to gracefulness of position.
Look at this one which attracts your gaze at
the very entrance. It is a comical delinea-
tion of a thin and cadaverous fellow in the
act of being shaved. The barber is repre-
sented as a fine, &t, burly inquisitor in his
shirt sleeves, who uses his impliment, the
razor, as though he was mowing down grass
in summer time. A little further on you per-
ceive the likeness of the Prince of the estab-
lishment. He is depicted as a grave old
Frenchman with his head encased in a night-
cap, and an eye as sleepy as that of a lobster.
The rotundity of his paunch evidences the
fiict that he loiows how to make good use of
his grinders, and can speak from experience
of tne juicy beef which gives his squp a fla-
vor. The worthy old fellow whom the pic-
ture repre^nts, is quite a character. He is
<« boss^^ of the lodge, and no mistake. Viva-
cious, fidgetty and always on an edge, he is at
all points of the c(Hnpass with his hone and
scissors. The shop wnose interest he studies,
is the head-quarters for the men. There
assemble the old ii^bitants, who have no
hard manual labor to perform, and who love
to talk about political questions whose merits
they no more comprehend than they do the
cUmate of Hershell. Yonder old man who is
hard of hearing, and whose words reverberate
like the gong of a hotel, fought under Zabulon
Montgomery Pike. That other thin specimen
of humanity, stood side by side with Scott in
his campaigns. He who is asleep before the
fire like a self-complacent descendant of
Grimidkin, wajs once a respectable merchant
in the oyster line. A worthy company indeed !
But each has his own deeply marked page of
personal history, which is calculated to inter-
est and please the philosophic mind. We
believe that a number of Revolutionary inci-

dents could be gathei^ from some of the
veterans of the barber shop. Many interest-
ing facts connected with the late War with
Great Britian, and the recent Mexican cam-
paign, as well as numerous Indian adventures,
could be garnered here if a faithful chronicler
could be found who would cheerfully under-
take the task. Often has the writer seen the
old man eloquent, as he shouldered his crutch
and showed how fields were won. Yea, that
badged pauper felt all the American stirring
in biS soul, as he descanted on the tale of
English domination, and portrayed the contest
which was nobly carried on beneath the broad
folds of the glorious banner, whose stars and
stripes looked out like angels visitants in the
dust and din of war. As the merits of an Amer-
ican General are discussed, and his chiyalric
bearing and aflaUe intercourse are dwelt
upon, how the bosom has heaved with emo-
tion, and the eye filled with tears of genuine
devotion. The tie between a subaltern and
a gentlemanly superior in the battle field, is
enduring and tender. Common dangers and
privations blend their hearts in one. The
camp-fire and the bivouac, the hard-earned
victory and the meed of glory, fuse together
and assimilate the polished and the unlettered,
and identify their interests and their hopes.
And till the latest hour of his probation,
the old soldier will cherish the memory of
him who spoke to him kindly in the day
of battle, and cheered him forward in the
noble cause of freedom by words and looks
of genuine sympathy. Such is the fellowship
which is engendered between the lowly and
the chivalrous.

Reader, we have advanced to the Lock-up.
The Lock-up ? say you. What ! have you a
jail within the precincts of the white house ?
1 es, friend ; but it is a very comfortable affair
we assure you. It is nothing but a darkened
room, plainly fitted up, and a padlock on the
door, to keep delinquents in close custody.
There are no manacles whatever, no irons to
enter into the soul, no little packa^ of straw
to answer the purpose of both bed and chair.
No appliances of the room indicate a desire
to torture the poor rascal who has been cau^t
in some act which militates against the salu-
tary regulations of the Establishment. The i
culprit is simply c<Nid&ned a brief period, and |
comes down to a low diet of bread and water,
and is further deprived of the invigorating
light of the sun. Four and twenty hours may
terminate his incarceration, and then he will
come out like a butterfly, cheerful and reno-
vated. If he has sore eyes, the absence of
light has had a sanative influence ; if laboring
under an attack of dyspepsia, the low diet
has materially assLsted nis digestive func-
tions ; if he is naturally possessed of an indo-
lent temp«>ament, he has had a glorious
respitefrom the toils of office; and if, finally,

SPIRITUAL DIALOGUEa

^ inclines to an ascetic course, and loves
Qoaker contemplation, he has had a fine
cfaaoce to chew the end of reflection, and
rerotre afresh his learned speculations. Now,
» not the Lock-up a glorious spot, when you
take into consideration the bland results
which it may produce? Of course it does
iK>t always produce these results. Many an
irascible biped, comes out of the black nole
irf Calcutta, Towing vengeance against the
powers that be, and threatening to crack the
scull of the redoubtable Spencer who has the
power of the kefs, and is Sergeant-at-Arms
with an emphasis the most appalling. Spen-
cer does his duty, however, with the most
onsfarinking fidelity. You could not deter
him from prosecuting the straight line of duty ,
though he knew he were to be burned in
effigy, or have his ears cropped in the pillory.
Honest old fellow with his little dog at his
heels, ready to second his commands by a
consecutive series of barks and sundry snaps
at the nether limbs of the delinquent who is
bein^ marched off to the receptacle of the
vilkmous and the irregular. Guardian of
order, I truly respect thee! Thou bindest
over the rufBum crew to keep the peace with
majesterial gravity. Thou enforcest the blue
laws with an emphasis. And when thou art
gone to the Lock-up of the grave, we will cut
ihy image out of granite, and represent thee
ts turning the key of the padlock upon some
of the motley crew who came beneath thy
legal jurisdiction. Thus, so far as the record
of thy goverenment is concerned — ^Esto per-
petoa!

SPIRITUAL. DIALOGUES.

niALOGUB xm.

Bex Jonson. — Sam Johnson.

W. the Elder. Well, well, doctor, notwith-
Btnding this long dissertation of yours, I
don't see why the word pattern is just as
good, in this connexion, as the word modeL

John, Just as you please, old gentleman.
It is not very civil, however, after invoking a
learned shade, and extracting a couple of
pineas' worth of valuable information out of
him, to turn round and dismiss his remarks
in this off-hand style. If these are your
American manners, all I can say is, I don't
like 'em.

W. the Elder y (aside.) The same domineer*
nig, oracular old fellow as ever !

John. What are you muttering about?
Speak out

W. the Elder. Well, if I must say it, I
dont think your own breeding is of the high*
est order of excellence. Besides, the autho-
I ritks are against you. Grabb says —

John. Hang Grabb ! What do I care for
Crabb?

W. the Elder. Webster, too—

John. Bah ! How dare yon speak of Web-
ster before me ? That rascally little, dried-up
New Englander ; not satisfied with stealing
my thunder, he must ne^ds walk off with my
laurels, too. He be hanged, and his new-
fkngled spelling with him!

W. the EkSr. Jealousy, Doctor, sheer
jealousy.

John. Jealous? The idea of my being
jealous of such a creature; ay, or of any
Yankee varlet of you all ! A vile crew of
rebels ; why an't you all colonists this very
hour?

W. the Elder. Fie, fie, Doctor! Hasn't
death cured you of vour tory prejudices yet ?

John. Don't talk to me. Out upon you
all, I say a^in, fbr a miserable pack of de-
mocrats ! Ye whittlers ! Ye tobacco-chew-
ers ! Ye flint-skinners ! Ye surgar-sanders J
Ye rum-waterers! Ye wooden - nutmeg-
makers! Ye manufacturers of worthless
clocks and suspicious sausages ! Ye turners
oi shoe-pegs into oats ! Ye venders of bass-
wood cucumber seeds ! Ye—

W. the Elder. Doctor, doctor, doctor,
what are you about ? Piling up abusive epi-
thets here, faster and hi^er tnan old Jack
Falstaff himself ever did ! You must have
been having a talk with Mother TroUope
Utely.

Jckn. Don't speak disrespectfully of that
worthy old soul, ifyou please.

W. the Elder. Worthy old soul ? lying old
hussy! The thermometer must be pretty
high, I should say, where she is.

John. You'll find it higher, when your
turn OMues, you — ^you — ^you —

W. the Elder. Why, what an mfemal
temner you are showing, to be sure ! But
111 nnd a sedative for thi^se irritable nerves
of yours. Let me see — ah ! yes, yes ; just
the thing. (Goes to the library and gets down
the volume of the Doctor^s works that has the
tragedy of Irene in it.) There, my old Iw,
there's an A, number one, soothing syrup ror
you. If a scene or two of that don't tran-
quillize you, I don't know what on earth will.

Jchn. Why, you impertinent old jacka-
napes, to insult a ghost of my standing in
this war! Under your own roof, too. {Throws
the booK at his head.)

W. the EUUty Idodcring the sams.) Well, I
declare ! That 1 should have lived to see the
author of the Rambler making such a dis-
gracefiil exhibition of himself! Dear, dear,
dear!

/o^, (after a pause.) I ask ten thousand
pardons, my old friend, for this most unbe-
coming display of tempr.

W. the Elder. Donh mention it. Doctor,
don't mention it.

BIZARRE.

John, To think that I should have giyen
way to my feelings in this abominahle style !
But if YOU knew, old gentleman, what a suf-
ferer I have heen ; yes, yes, both sides of the
grave. Oh! Lord, what with pneumonia,
strangury, dyspepsia, and every now and
then a touch of my old trouble, the St. Vitus,
I have a pretty exciting time <^ it, I tell you.
Do you wonder, my friend, that I growl some-
what?

W, the Elder, Why, under heaven, didn't
you tell me so, before f To think that I, too,
should have been so disrespectful to a ghost
for whose genius and goodness I have so pro-
found an admiration ! But, Doctor, you cer-
tainly did throw about the old Saxon words,
for a moment or two, in a style hardly to have
been expected from one who makes so little
use of them in his writings.

John, Well, don't say any more about it.
We aj^ a poor set, the best of us, ghosts as
well as bodies ; a poor set, a poor set.

W, the Elder, One thing however, that
you said just now Doctor, supprizes and an-
noys me beyond measure. I certainly did
have a focdish kind of a notion that when the
body died, these same disorders took a lasting
farewell with it.

John, A most terrible blunder indeed! But
mortal, these themes are strictly tabooed to
us spirits, as you ought to know by this time,
so change the subject instantly if you please.

W, the Elder, Most cheerfully. I wonder
where your name sake is, though, all this time ?

John, What name sake ?

W. the Elder, Ah, speak of Beelzebub,
and — (enter Ben Jonson.) And so you have
come at last my dear ghost, have you ?

Jon, So it seems my old boy, so it seems ;
after a world of blunders and inquiries though.
Why! God bless me. Doctor, is that you?
How are you, how are you ?

John. Benjamin my boy, I am delighted
to see you.

Jon, But what brings you to earth, Sam-
uel ? What 's the best word, anyhow ?

Johiu The best word, say you? Sure
enough, what is it ? That's the very point
that our old host here and I have been squab-
bling about for the last half hour. Best word
ind^!

Jon, You talk in riddles. Doctor. Pray
what is the meaning of all this grinning and
winking? Take me with you lads. Propound,
Rasselas, propound.

W, the Eldir, Oh, no matter. Doctor, no
matter.

John. I beg you pardon ; a thing that is
worth sending for me about, half a cross the
Universe too at that, is surely worth telling
Brother Ben.

Jon. What is it, what is it ?

John, Well, you must know that oar friepd
here, (old enough, certainly, to know better,)

has been investing no small portion <^ the
evening of his days, in the composition of a
tragedy, which he has just completed, and
about the fiite of which, he is evidently very
anxious. Indeed, he says in his note to me
on the subject that he has strong hopes of as-
tonishing not only all America and Europe bat
Asia and Africa likewise, in certain passages
of it. Some few little matters of verbal crit-
icism bothering him somewhat, he thought
best to secure my assistance, as being of
course, the great authority of the system, <m
those points. We had not been very long em-
ployed on our task when you entered. But
what brings you here Ben ? Is it the mere
feeling of auld lang syne, or an idle curiosity
to see the improvements these Yankees are
making in the Western Hemisphere of the
planet f Or is it that old Inter-Planetary
Copy Right business again ? Are you as copi-
ous and eloquent as ever on that theme, eh,
Ben?

Jon, Nothing of the sort. I am here simply
in compliance with the electric invitation of
this old gentlemen and like yourself, as it seems
on dramatic business. In his dispatch he re-
quests me to come and look over the plot of a
forth coming tra^y of his, and to make such
suggestions as might present themselves : the
identical work no doubt on which he has seen
fit to consult you also.

John, Why, bless me, my old host, why did-
n't you mention this before ? We might have
waited then for brother Benjamin, uid have
had the benefit of his criticisms. He is a bet-
ter Latinist than I am you know, and out of
sight of me as a Hellenist.

Jon, But why is it old gentleman that you
can*t bring out a play without disturbing all
Ghoastdom on the occasi<Hi ? / never had any
such supernatural aid when I composed my
master pieces, nor had brother Samuel here
either. By the way, Sam, it is but yesterday,
that I heard WiU himself, blowing you up m
good round terms for what he was pleased to
call your most pompous and shallow criticisms
on some of his performances.

John, Ratherstronglanguagefor Atm; all
the more unbecoming too, seeing that I have
more than once acknowledged their worthle>«-
ness, and apologized to him about them in
person.

W, the Elder, You haven't happened to
hear what he thinks about brother CoUridges
notes, have you ?

Jon, Oh yes, yes. He was perfectly cham-
ed with them ; he found them a little too idol-
atrous to besure, in certain passages, not to
wound his modesty : and here and there a sligh t
propensity to mysticism ; but on the whole, (I
give you his own words,) he considered them
the most subtle, searching, delicious speci-
mens of criticisms that ever came fh)m earth.
The exposition of Hamlet especially delight-

SPIRITUAL DIALOGUES.

dl him ; £u-, far ahead of Schleeel, he said,
and worth ten thoosand earrets full of such
lumber as Richardson and Company.

W. the Elder. Has he seen sister Jamie-
son's Chftracteristics?

Jon. To besore he has.

fF. the Elder, He liked them I hope.

Jon. Could he help liking them mj old
b^ ? IVe cried over them, myself, I Know,
nure than once.

W. the Elder. Indeed! You don't look
meeh like a crying ghost.

Jon, A trine too ruddy and rotund for
aesttiment, you think, eh f I would 'nt give
much, thcRigh, for the eyes, that her sketch
cf Ophelia would'nt bring the pearls to. Ah,
dear, when she comes to si>irit-land, Will has
pt a glorious reception in preparation for
her. £kit I forgot ; that was confidential.

W, the Elder. By the way, my dear ghost,
before you take your flight, IVe got a httle
work here, that I should dearly love to have
joa pres^it to the bard with my reverential
regards.

Jon. And what may it be ?

W. the Elder. Sister Clarke's Concordance.
I can't help thinking that hell be more tick-
led with it, after all, than with even brother
Coleridge's Notes. Here it is on the table.
Just cast your learned eye over it a moment.

Jon. Why, what a labor of love, to be
fore. This makes up for a whole ship-load
oi impudent commentators. No offence
meant, Sam.

John. She'd much better have been
searching the Scriptures, all this while.

Jon. Oh, don't be crusty now. Ain't
there a hundred Concordances, more or less,
to the Scriptures, already 1 And doyou be-
grudge poor Will his little one? Will, the
feat lay-preacher of humanity ? For shame !
shall be delisted, my old host, to be the
bearer of your gift. But where on earth is
m^ Conoordanoe ? I might as well take that
with me, too, and make one job of it.

W. the Elder. I know of no such work, I
am sorry to say, either in esse, or in contem-
idation.

Jon. I suppose not.

W. the Elder. You deserve one, undoubt-
edly, glorious old poet that you are. But I
don't think the world has f&iiiy waked up
yet to a sense of your genius. Your day
will come, thoneh, don't doubt it, and the
Coiieordance with it. Some future Malone.

Jon. Malone be

John. Ben, Ben, Ben, don't be profane.
Malone was a pretty decent sort of a fellow,
after alL

W. the Elder. An infernal old humbug.
Doctor, .b^;ging your pardon. The idea of
bis whitewashing that dear old bust ! He
ought to have had a coat of tar and feathers,
bimself, for his pains.

Both Jonsons. Tar and Feathers ? What
do you mean by that ?

fv. the Elder. Ah ! I see ; the custom has
sprung up since your day.

Jon. What is it, what is it ? A summer
or a winter garment ?

W. the Emr. It is a playful manifestation
of poptdar regard, and worn in all weathers ;
but never mind it now. One remark, my
dear dramatist, you must allow me to make,
while I think of it, and that is to express my
delight, not altogether unmixed, I confess,
with surprise, at the hearty way in which
you have spoken of our big brother, Shak-
speare. There have been unpleasant rumors
current on earth, Ben, that you were very
envious and jealous of him, and that you
were always glad of an opportunity of under-
rating, nay, back-biting him.

Jon. I know there are, I know there are.
And let we tell you, once for all, my old
friend, that more arrant and preposterous
lies were never hatched in

John. Oh, dont't get so excited.

Jon. But isn't it so ?

J(^n. It is indeed. Ben has been most
foully and abominably belied in the premiseB.

Jon. The idea of my slandering my con-
stant friend and benefartor; the man who
brought out my first play ; nay, who conde-
scended to take a subordinate ipwi in it, busy
as he was at the time, and having a severe
attack of Influenza, into the bargain; the
man in whose mahogany I have seen my old

Ehiz, a thousand timCs ; nai^, whose pall I
elped bear, when they laid mm in the earth ;
the idea, I say, of my slandering his memory
— isn't it too absurd ?

iV. the Elder. 1 was never willing to be-
lieve it, I assure you ; especially, too, when
I thought of those elaborate and stately verses
of yours, in his honor.

Jon. I have been called a bully, too, and
an halntual sot.

W. the Elder. That is too ridiculous, that
last charge. The ghost who can point to ten
such massive volumes as those on yonder
shelf, all filled with tip-top reading, needn't
trouble himself much about such an absurd
fib as that. Still, to be candid, you d^ii't
look like an habitual teetotaler, even now.

John. No, indeed, Ben.

Jon. Don't i/oti talk, BocUat. You your-
self, if I am not mistaken, have been accused
of punishing the port pretty extensively while
here below.

John. Too true, too true. Yes, I am
ashamed to confess it, I was quite too much
in the habit while in the body, of running
away from my troubles and pains, and taking
refuge in the bottle, instead of standing up
and facing them like a Christian.

W. the Elder. {Impulsively,) You are a
glorious dd fellow; doctor, and deserve the

BIZARRS).

best glass of wine on the planet, for that
speech. I ask your pardon, though. I am
always making a fool of myself.

Jon, You certainly are a queer customer,
my old bachelor friend.

W. the Elder, Widower, if you please.
But come, spectres, what say you to sNiopping
and taking pot-luck with me ? There are a
few Yankee notions in this town of ours that
I should really like to haye you see, and in
the eyeniMwell to business.

John. Well, really, my time is so very
valuable at this particular juncture that —

W, the Elder, Why, what makes you so
busy?

John, I am getting out the 34th edition
of my Polyglott Plutarch.

W, the EUer, Whereabouts?

John, In Geor^um Sidus.

W, the Elder. The deuce you are ! How
is King George about these times, if I may
be so bold ?

John, Rather poorly, I am sorry to say.

Jon, Come, come, doctor, I don't see why
you can't take a day's recreation as well as
any other ghost. 7 shall stay and dine with
the old gentleman, anyhow.

John, Well, Ben, if you say so, —

Jon, I do say so, Sam, most decidedly.

John, So be it, then. But where are you
goii^, 1andl<nxl ?

W, the Elder, Only to make a suggestion
or two to the cook. I'll be back presently.
Meanwhile amuse yourself with that, {hams
him a morning paper f Ben, Jonson loses himself
at the same time in the pages of Doggett s

W. the Elder, (Re-entering,) Well, friends,
I have not kept you watting long, I hope.
Ah, Ben, what poetry have you got there f

Jon. Poetry?

W, the Elder, Oh, I beg your pardon, I
see ; hunting up your namesakes, eh ? You
find a pretty large home circle there, do you
not?

Jon. Yes, indeed. Here are at least a
score of Benjamin Jonsons, all in a row.
They seem to be mostly men of color, how-
ever, and in the white-washing line.

Jhhn, What a state of things, to be sure.
Such unblushing impudence, t^ !

Jon, Halloo, doctor, what are you getting
80 excited about ?

John. If this is your democracy, these
the results of Independence, God save the
King, say I, to all eternity.

Jon, What are you grunting about, eh ?

John, Why the scoundrel editor here,
actually conmtulates the country on the
election of a Bam-'humer to the gubernatorial
chair. Think of that, Ben: a Dam-burner,
— a wretch that in our time would have dan-
ded at Tjrbum, made governor! There's
Republicanism for you.

Jon. Yes, and of a pretty rosy tint, I
should say.

W, the Elder, Poh, poh, doctor; wiiat
afifectation ! X^u must nave seen at once
that that is a mere nickname.

John, Well, well, that alters the case.
He soes on to say ' The Lieutentant Governor
on the other hand, is a Hard^SheU Hunkevy at
the worst kind. ' What, in the name of won-
der, is a Hard-Shell Hunker ?

Jon. Why don't you look it out ? There's
your own dictionary, there right under yoar
nose.

John. Pshaw! Ck>me> old gentl^nsa,
throw a little light on this subject, if you
please.

W, the Elder, Well, doctor, a hard shell
hunker means a thorough going old tory, and
enemy of progress,— just what tfou woold
have been, asking your pardon this very mo-
ment, had you been a hve yankeo and voter
in the empire State here, and not an ikiglish
ghost.

John. But why hard-shell? — ^why hard-
shell ?

W. the Elder, Well, I was about to add
that the terms Hunker and Barnburner rdate
to State questions, while the distinctions of
soft and hard shell have reference to Federal
difficulties, and more especially, to the fiun-
ous Compromise measure of 1850.

Jon. Oh, confound your yankee politics !
Sam, how the deuce does this interest us ?

W, the Elder, So I say, besides it would
take at least a century to explain the thing
properly.

John, Well, well, hang the newspaper!
But have you a monthly among you ?

W, the Elder. Have we a monthly among
us ? To be sure we have ; half a dozen tip-
top ones. Here are some of them on the
taole, now ; there's old Knick to begin with
— the oldest and best of them all ; full of his
fun, I can tell you, (hands him the Knicker^
booker,)

Jchn, Ah, that print is too fine foi^ my old
eyes. But what's that pleasant looking doc-
ument in green ?

W, th: Elder, Putnum. Its inside is quite
as pleasant too, I assure you.

John, It has a far more cheerful, sprightly
look to me than the other. What superb
cuts, too !

W, the Elder, But here's the boy. (hands
him Har^,) What do you suppose now,
doctor, IS the circulation of mis w(»*ld-
searcher ?

John, Oh, how should I know? Some
six or seven thousand, perhaps.

W, the Elder, 120,000.

John. You amaze roe! Why that's at
least a hundred and fifteen thousand more
subscribers than brother Cave ever had in
his palmiest days.

THE OLD WOMAN WHO LIVED IN A SHOE.

W. the Elder. Bj the wvy, what did bro-
ther Cttre chftrge a number f

Joku. Why a crown; of course ; the old
ptiee.

W. the Elder. And Eburper only charges a
qouter.

kika. HanjT your yankee currency ! How

W. the Eider. A shilling.

Mn. Whew ! what, all this for a shillmg ?
It tooks like real good stuff, too. (Runs his
tytover the contents,) Napoleon Buonaparte
^Mimey a Moter — My Novel— The Last of
the Bomrbons — Homes of American Publishers
—Nero a Gentieman cmd a Scholar — Editor^s
Drawer — Books of the Month, By the way,
how are criticisms a bushel, now ?

W.thelMer. What is it?

Johm. I asked you how much criticisms
vere a bushd ?

W. the Ekler. I don't understand you Doctor.

Jckn. Poh, poh ! none of 3rour nonsense.
Tofu a literary man, and not know the market-
ntes? Come, show us a few of your sam-
^es. What do you expect to give now for a
dozen first-rate puffit for your fbrth-coming
ofiate, — ^I ask your pardon, — tragedy, I meant
to say ? What ought I to nay an acre, for
MoBKal Notices? sound orthodox Sermons,
toe; what are they worth a barrel ? Why,
what's the matter with the mant Come, come,
haren't you a tariff of prices to show a ghost ?

W. the EkUr. Doctor Jdinson !

Jchn. Well, what is it?

W. the Elder. I am perfectly thunderstruck
St the tone at your remark. Do you dare
to insinuate that criticism has become an
article of merchandise among us ? Fie, fie,
for ihame ! Let me tell you, once for all, that
however much you old Ehiglanders of the
18th century may have disgniced yourselves
in this way, we New Englanders of the 19th
century luive a perfect scorn for all such
traasaetions.

John. Well, well, well ; no offence meant ;
let's diange the subject. It won't do for us
to be wasting the day, either, in chattering.
What are these same lions that you proposed
to show us?

W. the Elder. First and foremost, there's
the OrjTstal Palace ; then the Hippodrome :
the Academy of Design : the Egyptian Anti-
quities : in net a score of things that I think
would interest you. By the wajr, what be-
lated you so, Ben ? I was afraid you were
not goiBgto respond to ray invocation at first.

Jon. Well, the truth is, somehow or other,
I took the wrong parallel, and so, instead of
ttiikine Qotham, I came plump into Portland.

W. &e Elder. Indeed! Ton might have
got to a worse place. A fine, sprightly little
dty ; you were charmed with it, I dare say.

Jon. I beg your pardon, I was never more
inhospitably treated in all my experience.

W. the Elder. How so?

Jon, Well, you must know, that being
somewhat exhausted, after my long sqtM
jaunt, presently after alighting at the hotel,
I called for a little brandy and water ; and
what do you think the landlord told me?
Such a landlord too ; a long, lean, melanchdy
looking person in purple spectacles ; the very
opposite in all respects, of my host of the
Mermaid. * Individual ;' said he, with marked
solemnity of manner, and with a singularly
nasal twang, * Are vou not aware that it is
contrary to law V * What ?' said L * Why,'
said he, * dealing in ardent spirits.' * What,'
said I, * Do you really mean to tell me, that
a respectable foreigner can't mix a little weak
grog here in a gentlemanly way, without
running against the statute-book?' *I do,'
said he, * most distinctly.' * Off I ^, then,'
said, I * posthaste. ' * Stop,' said he, < if you are
positively unwell and under medical advice,
follow me, without further remarks.* I did
so. He straightway conducted me through
a long, narrow passage, into a room with
closed shutters, where, by gas-light, he ad-
ministered unto me, under a name as long as
himself, which I cannot now recall, some of
the fieriest Hollands I ever encountered.

John. That was no place for youy Ben,
evidently.

Jon, No, indeed, I was right gjad to get
into anotherjurisdiction, I assure you.

W, the Elder. Well, they are a pretty
queer set up that way. Their intentions are
good, I dare say ; but I've no great faith in
such legidation, myself. Butcome spirits, let's
be off while da^gbt lasts. (Exeunt,)

THE OLD WOMAN WHO
LIVED IN^A SHOE.

Few of our readers, we opine, but have
attained to the traditionary knowledge of the

^old woman who Ilred tn aiboe.

And had ro many cbildTcn, she did'nt know what to do,"

We ourselves possess a faint impression we
have had the acquaintance of the old lady,
and if never installed into her ancient habita-
tion, have descried hs/t in a little red cloak,
walking about in the oool of the evening.
The fanciful impressions of childhood are in
after years like realities.

« The truth that is and truth thftt items,
Mix in fantastio strife."

But to pass from one allegoir to another, we
have encountered a foreigh literary importa-
tion, rare in itself and from a rare source, by
which it would appear that in this da^ of
railroads and steamboats, of caloric engines
and universal suffrage, the old woman cannot
be left in peace, but must be submitted to all
the tortures springing firom public curiosity
that win not be satiated. Her whole internal

BIZAR]^

eoonomy is interfered with. Political Sur*
yeyors, luid Architects, social Masons and
Carpenters, all must have their say. If

** Britannia needs no bulwark.
No toworc akmg the itMp,"

she at least needs, it would seem, the officious
interference of " the next of kin. " A learned
and noble author it may be, and a learned
and noble author we think it is, who has here
donned the reverent garb of an apostolical
adviser ; the speech is at once so crude and
the words so heavily labored. Like Mark
Brutus on the accusation preferred against
him on the death of Caesar, we may say,
** It is agrievbas charge, and grieToudy,"

because so laboriously and painfully hath
this noble and learned author (in a few cc^ies
made to circulate amidst his friends) set it
forth. Now, first, of the old woman, partic-
ularly:

'* And for ages, ere St Augustine's foot had
pressed the Kentish beach, bound <m a Chris*
Uan mission to King Ethelbert who dwelt in
a near vidley, where the rude gateway of the
royal Sax<ni s palace now serves as entrance
to a yeoman's farm— ere this Churchman had
converted Britannia's early-bom to profess
the Christian fiuth — Britannia had shown
herself a partial mother. In short, since the
ancient date of her first-bom's birth-day
infant she has had her children elect. And
the elect luLve ever fared at the expense of
their despised brothers and sisters, and the
latter, till within the last twenty years, have
suffered their wrongs with enduring pa-
tience."

But all power involves resistance: every
depression, political, physical or moral, has
its corresponding elevation, and action is fol-
lowed by reaction. So listen :

''But of late the snubbed of Britannia
have raised a clamor in the shoe, which
alarms her, and the prolific mother asks
counsel of her elect in vain. Not knowing
what to do with so many starving brats, yet
anxious to qudl their rioting, she has locked
up a few <3i the most turbulent and threat-
ened to visit with the severest punishment
all who may misbehave themselves for the
future. She has crowded all her offspring
into one shoe, and though she has many capa-
cious shoes, almost emp^, she whines, and
tells you that she can't afford to remove any
of her progeny thither. Meanwhile the family
lie huddled together, miserably clad and
starving : and now and then you may hear
oaths muttered against her who brought them
fiMth to linger out a wretched li^ And
within hearing of these heart-broken mur-
murs Belgravia rides magnificently attend-
ed."

But of the size, make and shape of the
shoe ? Anticipating this astute questicm, the

author replies, <' It is exactly in breadth and
length, of the measurement of great Britaizi :
in shape, most irregular; in make, thou^ii
the Umd old woman asserts the contrary,
how far off perfection \ as to fashion, remark-
able. The French shoe, she will tdl jofx,
and the Prassian and Austrian shoes cannot
be borne after hers ; foreign shoes, she tells
you, with a toss o£ her head, are alwavs
bursting; whilst hers .may be wom by the
most sensitive with the most perfect ease
and freedom."

Whilst the author protests agunst the
dame's swagger, and allows that it has mmay
and great advantages over those fashioned by
the Napoleons and Mettemichs of the day ;
that it is a stupendous manufacture ; mm^
nificent as regards material, he at the same
time urges that it is of unequal workmanship,
and though a shoe that looks marveUoosfy
well it is calculated to remind one of the
giant Wellingtons, of wondrous polish,
wherewith plebeian snobs are wont to decor-
ate Uieir shop-fronts. '* Its exterior is with-
out flaw or memish, viewed from a distance,
but it will not bear examination."

Out on a walk with the old lady, on which
she led the author through streets and squares
where every house was fit for an empress,
and in which she curtsied to a lump of lm>n3ie
— a huge horse and a hooked nosea rider, he
gather^ this tmth :

'*That in Britannia's shoe, — as with the
Amakosas and Amapondas of Kafi^land —
the warrior ranks before the statesmen and
the philosopher— the art of wounding rec^v-
ing more homage than the art of healing.
With no wish to depreciate the great services
of F. M., the Duke, it simply occurred to us
that statesmen were at least as worthy of
their country's admiration, as successful gen-
erals. However we suppressed our thou^ts
on the matter, and with depressed spirits
trudged onward in the steps of our matronly
guide. We presently came up with Britan-
nia in a fine park, where we staged some time
to rest oursdves. With an air of triumph
she pointed towards a palace of uriy exterior,
built in a hollow; then, as wim a fairy's
wand, she made the stuccoed walls as trans-
parent as dass — revealing the most sumptu-
ous magnificence. We saw men and women
imbedded in their wealth — ^literally buried
in jewels and gold and costliest clothes : and
we beheld gidleries brilliantly lighted and
furnished, as Britannia's playhouse managers
have it, regardless of expense. We were
dazzled by this display, and in our abstrac-
tion showed our weakness, by muttering i
within the hearing of Britannia. Magnifi- j
cent!" I

For the contrast :

<* We had been watching some thousands of |
crouching creatures stalking in the narrow

THE OLD WOMAN WHO LIVED IN A SHOE.

I 1M>^

ys of a less merry part of the city,

the dame addressed na, and we had

pud due attention to her words; and

rfaen she noticed our abstraction, and more

pulicularly the objects of our scrutiny, she

became uneasy, and sought again to direct

our attention to the palaces in the west.''

The old lady never had such a rating as

00 this occasion — a severe castigation inter-
mixed with some oi the sagest advice on the |
gcnereal subject of shoes, blacking and polish. |
As oar readers, stout and numbeiiess as they |
we, woold not be likely to survive any more, 1
we win conclude therewith :

** Ton must not give them up to men who I
don't know how to polish them. Each shoe
moat be allowed to af^oint its own ^ boots.'
Tour Canadiari, Cape, Fort, Natal, and Aus-
tralian shoes must be well made and well
polished — ^that they .may be both creditable
lod comfortable to the wearers. As it is,
they are ontidy, neglected places, where men
rmir as gamblers, and wnence they gener-
^if return as soon as possible, large gainers.
Madam, believe us, it is not by casting your
most depraved, and your most wretch^ chil-
dren upon luxuriant lands, without guidance
lod without help, that you will rear abroad
ftmiliee as great as that which remains at
home. As Sie Greeks did of old so must you
be prepared to do. You must depart to your
immense territcnies, organize coionies com-
frehending all the elements of your home
society. In Australia, in Canadian back-
woods, and in New Zeidand, the intellectual

1 vigor as well as the iron muscle of your chil-
dren are wanted. At present emigration is
regarded by your chiloren as the desperate
iHemative of starving men ; whereas, if pro-
moted in a spirit worthy of your name, it

I would be looked upon as the wholesome re-
Bolt of that indomitable spirit of enterprise
8Aid to be the characteristic of your race.
Mmy among your well-fed children declare

I emigration to be an unnecessary and uncon-
8tituti<mal means of relieving your crowded

j &ffiily; besides, they, say, no Englishman

I win leave his country while he can keep body
iad soul in her; and an Irishman would
rather exist in Ireland on potatoes than in
exfle on the daintiest food. And we believe,
to a certain extent, that this is the feeling of
vo<8r children : but pray, recollect that this
love fji motherland and averseness to seek
abroad the comforts denied at home, is the re-
sult of colonial mis-government. The colonial
subject should be in all respects the equal of
the subject resident in England. If it be
jtmr wish (as it is that <m every sensible
person) that the tide ci emigration flow copi-
ously to your distant and empty shoes, you
must so regulate and furnish tnem that they
mar give to year childen who repair to them
all the politi^ advantages of the shoe from

which they have emigrated. But so long as
your distant shoes are at the mercy of * bc^'
who have never seen them, but who, enscon-
ced in Downing-street, give ignorant orders
respecting them, so long will your children
of substance turn a mistrustful eye towards
colonial shoes, and carefully buttoning their
pockets, remain content with the three per
cents. You would do well to treat your col-
onial family as independent, rather than de-
pendent childr^. Uive them full freedom to
make the best of their natural resources, and
cease to leave them at the mercy of theorists
at home. Your boy, Stanley, gets into your
Colonial-office, and forthwith proceeds to test
the soundness of his theories at the expense
of New South Wales, when presently he is
ousted by Grey, who does not happen to think
with his predecessor, and so countermands
his orders. This system must no longer be
practised. It appears to us, in fact, that
your expensive colonial office might be par-
tially done awa^ with if you were prepared
to ^ve up all interference in your colonial
shoes, except in any case where the constitu-
tion of either country was threatened. Why
not allow your colonies to be entirely self-gov-
erning, reserving to yourself (that is to say,
to Parliament) the right of interfering if a
colonial legislature pass any measure infring-
ing upon the principles of your common con-
stitution? Why not adopt the system of
representing yourself in the person of a consul
<Hr ambassador, directing your colonies to
send their respective representatives to their
mother country ? Treat your colonial chil-
dren as men, not as so many puppets made to
move at your beck. Give them a fair inde-
pendence, and you will give them energy :
make them seli-supporting, and you do jus-
tice to your childen at home. You cannot
in fairness to those who remain with you
burden them with an annual payment of four
millions of money. If you are prepared to
treat your colonial children as becomes a
mother, you may make an annual saving of
three millions sterling, and for the next ten
years you might with advantage, both to your
colonial and home families spend two millions
annually of the money saved in the promo-
tion of a system of colonization founded on
sound, and economic princijdes."

** Treat them as becomes a mother ! How
you talk ;" remonstrated Lady Britannia.

** Madam," we answered apologetically,
**we do not accuse you of wilful cruelty,
but we certainly do hold you guilty of per-
severing in a policy dictated in a spirit
of feudalism, and adhered to with remorse-
; less severity. Will no examples warn
i you from your perilous course ? Can you
calmly contemplate the mutual animosity of
! your children t Can you c<mtentedly look
I forward to the day when your children in

BIZARRE.

your Canadian, Cape, and Anstralian shoes,
will struggle to rid themselves of your ma-
ternal rule; f«r, believe us, if you do not
train yourself to treat your adult children as
equals, they will rebd and disown their mo-
ther. Taught by the high spirited example
<^ that poor child, you must confess, you ill-
treated sorely, they will disown you, and
assert their perfect independence of your
rule. If you are pre^pared to persevere dog-
gedly in your present course, we would warn
you to be also prepared for a decay and an
old age of sorrow and loneliness. You have
now the richest family and the finest shoes
in the world; and while you loudly vaunt
your pre-eminence, learn to act so that you
may not forfeit that which is your boast.
Your shoes include an area of between 4,000,
000 and 5,000,000 of square miles, independ-
ent of your own insular shoe ; and on this
vast expanse lie scattered the scanty popula-
tion of 5,000,000 of people ; whereas in your
own home, which is scarcely 40,000 square
miles in extent, you jam some 28,000,000 of
souls. Does not your own sense tell you that
this unequal distribution of your family, is
preposterous and absurd! Well, on these
colonial shoes, you expend annually upwards
of £4,000,000 sterling, while your exports to
them average but £9,000,000 sterling. Is
this fact evidence of sound statesmanship ?''

^i^arre among % '$t\o ^aoh.

NiOM-r

THE

wA-roMBa, o^
OROse~av e.

TMB. PBACB OF

— This collection of sacred Ivrics, evinces
poetic talent of extraordinary character. For
sweetness of diction, beauty of verse, terseness
of thought, and exuberance of fancy, they are
little l^hind, if not equal to, the most ad-
mired pieces of Reble. A vein of quiet pa-
thos is detected throughout. Among the
gems of the volume we notice "Flower
Thoughts," " The Pastor's Blessing, " **St.
Peter^s Bells," The Mourner," "Wbyaml
Sick?" &c. A striking feature of the book
is the imique and novel application of Scrip-
ture passages to particular subjects. Many
verses are thus transfigured into sparkling
jewels. The estimable and learned Rector
of St. James' Church tells us in the neat intro-
duction with which he presents the work to
the favorable notice of the public that ** these
poems were written during the progress of a
nervous disease so distressing in its symptoms
that the maintenance of a connected train
of thought seemed wonderfiil, and its expres-
sion in writing a physical impossibility. * ' We
cordially commend these productions of a
young and gifted female sufferer to the notice
and regard of the literary public. The work
is published by Hazard, of our dty.

HARRV MUIR.

— ^This is a story of a Scottish life of decided
power and interest ; one which portrays in
striking relief the weakness of man, and the
gentle, tender devotion of woman. We see
much to commend in a novel when it carriea
with it so good a moral as does, "Harnr
Muir." Young men who are coming into the
world may then read it, and pause at the
threshhola of sense-gratification even long-
enough to conclude to turn back. We ques-
tion whether a work of more power has ema-
nated fron Sootia since the days of the Wiz-
ard himself. We know the reading of it sent
the old-fashioned thriD through us. The
author unquestionably demands a high posi-
tion among her sister novelists ; indeed, tak-
ing the avera^ of Miss Bronte, from «* Jane
Eyre" to " Vilette," she is in no way inferior
to that successfiil writer.

ISHOK OP THfiC WOOOa.

— A new and veiy beautiful edition of this
story has just been publi^ied by Redfield, of
New York. The author, we presume, has
now but little time, and less inclination, to
devote himself to novel-writing ; being, as is
known, the editor of the ** North American"
newspaper, and the mouth-piece of a political
party, whose principles require an immense
de$X of labor and talent to define and sustain.
He can, however, beguile an hour or so, now
and then, by trimming up old works, and
sending them forth with uresh-washed faces
and new coats and pantaloons. The novels
of Dr. Bird are all of a high order. It is a
pity that he ever abandoned the field of liter-
ature. If the truth were known, we doubt
not he would gladly say adieu to the foetid
atmosphere of partisanship in which he is
now immersed ; for such an atmosphere must
be wholly uncongenial to him ; while it is
plainly one in wMch he was never made to
shine.

^mrmm pl.ooov,

— Messrs. Getz, Buck & Co. have got out a
neat edition of this work which embraces a
number of the best sketches of the late
lamented Joseph C. Neal. Th^ embellish-
ments in the volume are numerous and well
executed ; indeed, the ensemble of the regen-
erated Ploddy is of the most attractive char-
acter. Neal, in his peculiar style as a writer,
stands alone. His works, will, we think,
grow more and more Taluable the older they
grow. They contain not merely the excita-
tives for laughter ; but also food for profitable
reflection. They are, indeed, as was their
brilliant author — ^we knew him well — ^the
drollest compound of humor and philosophy,
fim and earnest, imaginable.

BIZARRE AMONG THB NEW BOOKS.

BRA89 ROUIMOSR'8 OUIOB.

—A. Hart, late Carej & Hart, has just pub-
Mied a very useful little work with this title.
It is from thepen of James Larkin, conductor
of the Brass Foundiy department in the P^m
Works of this city, and is designed to furnish
ft concise treatise of the art of Brass Founding,
Moulding, &c., with practical Rules, Tables,
and Receipts for Gold, Silver, Tin and Ck>pper
Founding, Plumbers, Bronze and Bell-found-
ers, Jewellers, &c.

T-MK |^^OrvlAROHI8-r.

—We presented an extract from this spirited
American novel while it was passing through
the press of Mr. A. Hart of our city ; and,
doubtless, much to the gratification of our
readers. Mr. J. B. Jones, the author, has
retson to feel proud of the " Monarchist."
It is truly one o( the best revolutionary sto-
nes we have read for many a day. The pub-
lic Hke it too ; for one edition is already ex-
hausted, and another will shortly be issued.
, Mr. Jones has a fine reputation as a romance
writer. He gathers it, too, from a large num-
. ber of works, among which his "Wild Western
I Scenes" stand prominent. He enters into a
'. 1 subject like the revolution, quite con amore.
"Hie characters in the " Monarchist" are all
I realities of the " times that tried men's souls,"
', and not creatures of the fancy. In other
) words, they flourished in Virginia, where the
j scene is laid.

[ —This work is made up' of a variety of

; sketdies, some of which have appeared in

' newspapers and other *ephemeralitie8.' They

tre of the Davy Crockett school, and we con-

; teas not entirely according to refined taste.

T%at they possess humor, and that the author is

1 ri^t comical chap, no one can for a moment

draij. He writes, too, after a fashion highly

popular with the rather unscrupulous million,

and hence his works must sell. Redfield, of

Kew York is the publisher.

BLKwisrre of -tmk lj^ws.
; —This is a worit just published by lippin-
i eott, Qfan^x) and Co. of our city, and em-
, bnoes dements or outlines of the system of
' dril and criminal laws now in force through-
oat the United States. The author is Thomas
L Smith, late one of the judg^ of the Su-
preme Court of the State of Indiana. Lepl
rii^ flmd privileges in all parts of the Union
may be gathered from the volume. It has
been iBtndaoed into the pnbhc 8dKx>ls of
Incbnuia.

' UMfMOTIOSO BOOKS.

~ The following new books are on our table

awaiting notice: — From the Harpers, New

' York, De Bauchesne's <' History of the Dau-

I phm of France;" *' Ellen linn, '^ a Franconian

Story, by J. Abbott; *' Coleridge's Works,"
third and fourth vdumes ; «* Yusef, a Crusade
in the East," by J. Ross Browne. Fnxn
Crosby, Nichols, & Co., Boston— "Reason
and Faith, and Easays," by Rogers. From
Phillipfi, Sampson, & Co., Boston,— " Lectures
on Life and Health," by Alcott.

— The April number of ** Harper " is capital.
A work so admirably sustained as is this
magazine, well desei-ves the brilliant favor
which it receives.

— The " American Law Register " for April,
has just been issued by the publishers, D. B.
Canfield & Co., No. 9 Mercantile Library
Building. It is filled with valuable decisions,
as well as much other material calculated to
attract the attention of legal gentlemen. The
publishers are fiill of enterprise, and have our
best wishes for success.

— Mr. Thackeray has finished his Southern
tour, and has announced his speedy return to
England. It is not unlikely that he will pay
us a second visit before many years have
rolled away.

— Rev. J. H. Ingraham, author of " Robert
Kyd, " and other blood- and-thunder novels, ori-
ginally printed tensor twelve years ago, in a
letter to the " Churchman " disclaims all share
in their recent republication.

Professor Ingraham is now an Episcopal
clergyman, and may well be ashamed of such
boyish emanations as the works in notice.
He has talent, very decided talent, and had
he been contented, as a literary man, to rest
upon his " South- West, by a Yankee," he
would have been saved much annoyance, and
the shedding of much ink. The "Home
Journal," we note, by the way, makes Prof
I. the author of " Nick of the Woods," a mis-
take, of course, as Dr. Bird will testify.

— The London "Daily News" states, that
Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton hafl agreed to allow
himself to be put in nomination for the office
of Honorary President of the University of
Edinburg. Lord Campbell, Mr. Macaulay, and
Mr. D'Israeli had previously declined the
honor.

— The Paris Charivari^ the London Athe-
nssum informs us, has been formally excluded
from the States of Austria,— laughter being a
political offence in the new military codes of
the continent— the more dangerous from its
vagueness and mobility. The French humor-
ists have not, however, lost mndi by the
bum : for it is reported of them that u^
had only eleven suoscribers in the Austrian
empire, and one ci these is Francis-Joeeph
hixoselil

BIZARRi:.

— The London papers inform us that among |
the coming auctions of interest to literary
men and odlectors generally, may be men-
tioned the sale of the very fine library of Dr.
Hawtrey, of Eton, which will shortly come
off. Mr. Hawtrey has long been known as a
well-read and lilieral collector of books, stu-
dious about editions and condition of books
as well. We presume Mr. Pennington of our
city has catalogues of the collection.

— The centenary of the birth of the elder
Roscoe was celebrated in Liverpool by a pub-
lic breakfast. A son of the historian wa^
present, and a paper was read on the style
and hterary character of the most celebrated
of Liverpool authors.

— The English papers announce the death, on
the 5th ult.,of Mr. Frederick Shoberl, senior,
a German by birth, and in conjunction with
old Mr. Ackermann, of London, the first to
introduce the class of illustrated books called
"Annuals."

— The London Times says, " It has long been
known to physiologists that ceilain coloring
matters administered to animals along with
their food, possess the property of entering
into the system and tin^g the bones. In
this way the bones of swme have been tinged
purple by madder, and instances are on record
of other animaLs being similarly affected. No
attempt, however, was made to turn this
beautiful discovery to account until lately,
when M. Boulin speculated on what might
have been the consequences of administering
colored articles of food to silkworms just be-
fore spinning their cocoons. His first experi-
ments were conducted with indigo, which he
mixed in certain proportions with the mul-
berry leaves serving the worms for food. The
result of this treatment was successful, — he
obtained blue cocoons. Prosecuting still fur-
ther his experiments, he sought a red coloring
matter capable of being eaten by the silk-
worms, without injury resulting. He had
some difSculty to nnd such a coloring matter
at first, but eventually alighted on the Big-
nonia chica. Small portions of this plant hav-
ing been added to the mulberry leaves, the
silkworms consumed the mixture, and pro-
duced red-colored silk. In this manner the
experimenter, who is still prosecuting his
researches, hopes to obtain silk as secreted by
the worm of many other colors."
— The London Athenaum has notices of
Lowell and Reed — ^two popular American
poets. The former it thinlut has an ''earnest
spirit of love," and a '* passionate sense of
wrong," is "skillful <rf hand," but "defi
cient in tone." The "Summer Shower" of
tiie latter, it asserts, contains " graphic mu-
sic," a " rain measure," Ix. T^ Jthenaum
in the course of its introductory remariu to
these notices of Lowell and Reed, talks, and

with reason, of the " foreign tone" which has
too much pervaded American poetry hereto-
fore. Now and then, it says, at long inter-
vals, the sound of the " true harp, struck hy
a mature and skillful hand, did come wafted
to us over the Atlantic wave, — but it had for
the most part a tone foreign to the scenes in
which it played, and fell fkmiliarly on the
English ear Hke a music uttered bsside our
own streams." It adds: "The causes for
this are easily traced, — and resolve them-
selves, in fact, into so many reasons, explain-
ing why the American muse was foreign-
taught. But gradually she has been learning
to walk her native hills, — to sit by American
rivers, and hang her harp upon American
trees to catch the touches of the free western
breeze. This has for some time been very
observable — though not perhaps in the more
eminent American examples — even under the
continued existence of some of those fetters
which most restrained her home wing. But
circumstances are combining for her emanci- I
pation : and the prospect before us, under the
new law of international copyright, of a rapid
growth for America, and a rich harvest in I
all her fields, attracts attention to this depart-
ment of our theme when we pass an hour or
two with the Poets." We certainly have
subjects enough for poetry. Indeea, never
did a land offer a history fuller fraught with
incidents of romantic caste.

— The large and valuable library of the late
Baron Walackenaer is announced for sale in
Paris on the 12th of next month, and forty-
eight following days.

— A new grave-stone has been recently placed
over the grave of Chatterton and his family
in the churchyard of St Mary, Redcliffe,
Bristol, (Eng.), on which is the following in-
scription :

In Memory of
Thomas Chatterton, Schoolmaster, who died

7th August, 1752, aged 39 years.
Also Thomas Newton, Son-in-law of the above,
who died 29th September, 1785, aged
40 years.
Also 2 of his Sons and 1 Daughter.
Also Sarah Chatterton, Widow of the above
Thomas Chatterton, who died 25th
December, 1791, aged 60 years.
Also Mary Newton, Widow of the above Tho-
mas Newton, who died 23rd February,
1804, aged 53 years.
Also Mary Ann Newton, ^inster. Daughter
of the above Thomas and Mary Newton,
who died 7th September, 1807, aged
24 years.
The old Tombstone having fallen into de-
cay was thus replaced

Anno Domini MDCCCLIH.
Sholto Vere Harb,

WiLUAM Hm«RT EnWASOfi,

Churchwardens.

EDITORS' SANS-SOUCI.

(Kditors' $M&Sm.

—The etymdogy of this word we do not pre-
cis^ know. It is one, however, which is
applied to those who enjoy the privilege of
fince tickets to oitert&inments of all kinds,
whether h&Ting claim or not to a ^tiiity of
^kind. We understand that the bst of dead-
onr city is so considerable that
groan at the very tiiought of its
p c nderoaity ; particuburly, too, as it is eyeiy
day growing. Formerly the honor of dead-
hfaicHwn was confined to the press; now,
howeTer, it embraces, in addition to these,
laanagers of literary, mnsical, philosophical
and other societies, hotel keepers and their
aaristantfi, captains of steamboats, and officials
cf all kinds, mnn mayor <k>wn to the tip-stave
in an alderman's office, hangers-on of the
freas, or gentlemen outsiders, who now and
thea are permitted to write an editorial para-
gr^ih, &c. When, indeed, one contemplates
the length of ih& dead-head list ; when one re-
gards its q)ecialitie8, item by item, class by
diss ; one is puzzled to know how any money
at an, is gathered at theatres and concerts.
The receipts are very considerable, however ;
ao much so, that several artistes have already
acquired fbrtmies amcmg us, while others are
rapdly following suit How is this? We
reply : — Those who do pay, pay exorbitantly.
Two, three, five, and seven dollars have b^
rea£ly given for a single ticket to a concert ;
and even now, two dollars are required to hear
Madam Sontag, Signer Badiali, and Signoc
Pozndoni ; for when we have mentioned ttiese
very 8uperi<»: artistes, we have sounded the
wh^e «pths c{ the present operatic troupe
at the NationaL Two dollars ! An amoimt
widdi supports many a family a week, and by
\ DO means meanlv either ; an amount, to earn
whidi we are obliged to labor for many an
hour.

We do think it the duty of the press to aid
in abolishing these high prices — they are anti-
r^blican, and degnuie us in the very ^es of
tme for whose boiefit we are so anxious to
disburse our cash. With few exceptions, the
only result is to support the attach' s and rela-
tioos of the hard-working performers in a life
of inordinate luxury, if not debaucheiy, and
often to sopply their reckless losses at the
gamnag-tabie. Music, though the sweetest Qf
the gins of the gods, should not be bought by
us, though rich, when its purdiase induces so
pomicioas a license.

On the score of unprecedented attractions,
y» Sontag troupe cannot claim Uie exorbitant
prices ibey charge. It contains three or four
a^erim* artistes we will allow ; among them,
of course, the heantiftd Countess her^, and
SgnoffS Badiali and PozzoUni. But what does

the aggregate amount to, when compared with
the late magnificent Havana troupe, who san^
for us, with Bosio, Steflanone, Vietti, Salvi,
Badiali, Marini, and Beneventano, to say
nothing of an ordiestra containing Botessini
and Arditi, and yet charged only one dollar
the ticket?

How are these exorbitant prices to be reformed
away ? We answer by renising to pay them.
If managers continue to tax such rates, ke^
away firom their shows. It ib wrong for citi-
zens who are without the bounds of dead-head-
ery to pay for those who are within them.
Let your Prima Donnas sing for a fair price,
and look to the whole public to sustam them.
Make every body pay who goes to an opera
or other amusement ; editors and all. When
an^ thing is wanted of newspapers, let it be
paid for specifically, unless for the entertain-
ment of his readers an editor choses to notice
a performance.

Some editors have told us that they counted
themselves under no obligations to managers
for tickets : that they gave throng their col-
umns more than they received. This may, or
may not be the fact. One thing we do know ;
those gentlemen of the press, who really can
do least, always think tl^ can do the most ;
they hence are most imporUinate in the demand
for free- tickets. So far as ** BizaArb*' is con-
cerned it probably has as high a class of read-
ers as any other paper in the city ; indeed our
lists are made up mainly of educated accom-
plished people, and specially those who pat-
ronize the Opera. What might be done by
our pages, hence, to benefit such an entertain-
ment, will be seen at once.

THB OPKRA

— The great musical and operatic sensation that
prevailed quarter of a century ago in Europe,
has been revived in this age, in Philadelpma,
and by the same instrument. Madam Sontag.
It is difficult for one who saw her during the
period first mentioned, to credit his own ad-
vance in ycMTS, as he now beholds her again
at the foot^lights, radiant with beauty, youth-
fulness and humor. This remarkable preser-
vation of appearance, however, is not more
the theme of general observation than the
equally wonderihl conservation of that voice
which, syren-like, enchants all who have once
listened to its notes.

It is difficult to make an^ distinction either
in her delightfiil vocalization, or her superb
acting, in any of the operas in which she has
now appeared, La Somnambula, La Fi^a dd
Reggimento, Lucrezia Boigia, Linda di Cha-
mouni, II Barbiere di Seviglia, or Don Pas-
quale. Perhi^ ^e looked the most charming
as the mendacious little Rosina, but hsr voice
has preserved its uniform fireshness and melody
throughout the whole series. We were parti-
cularly struck with her graceful rendering in

BIZARRE.

La Figlia of Quando m mexzo, &c. ; though,
strange to say, it was received without a par-
ticle of emotion on the part of the audience.

It is the fashion to abuse the<»era of Linda,
but in our opinion it abounds witn more pretty
isdatcd pieces of music than any other opera
we can call to mind. The grand duet is itsdf
sufficient to establish the character of the
opera. Nothing could have been more effec-
tiYo, in stace representation, than the scene in
which Linda's wandering reason is restored,
upon hearing the well-known music of her
mountain-hcmie, breathed, too, by Pozzolini
with a tender sweetness, that we believe to be
unsurpassable. The voice of this tenor, though
not powerM, we think is capable of producing
a stronger effect upon the fedings than any
other we have ever heard. A plaintive ten-
derness pervades it, that, if united with a
S3rmpathetic subject, we think might provoke
an audience to tears. The effect is increased,
too, by a face of the greatest refinement and
beauty. Still, in flmcy, we hear the softly
swelling strains of his voice.

n Barbiere drew a tremendous house, and it
can't be denied that the puUic, even the pick
of it who attend these operas, prefer a large
admixture of stage buffoonery with their mu-
sic, to pure, unadulterated draughts of melody.
The Barber, however, is full of capital music,
in which is always conspicuous Una Voce ; in
this, as given to us by ^udam Sontag, a world
of new beauties and hidden meanings were re-
vealed.

The magnificent lyrical drama of Lucrezia
was repeated a second time, although we think
the character little fitted for the sparkling face
of our charming prima donna ; but, as in Ro-
sina, she shone again in all her characteristic
espieglerie in the part of Norina in Don Pas-
quale.

Badiali is a baritone singer, and an actor
of established reputation; no fault can be
found with him, except that his efforts at act-
ing are too apparent : of course good acting is
impossible without effort, but it is always the
actor's business to omoeal it.

ORANT THORBURN ON AUTOORAPHa.

— We have recdved another letter fix)m our
old firioid Grant Thorbum— extracts from
which we give in the following :

<' Your very entertaining and veir amusing
chapter on autographs, in a late *\ Bizab&e,*^^
(Busy-Bee, I think, would sound better,)
brou^t to mind the following incident —
About twenty years ago, I received a letter
from a gentleman in Philadelphia, requesting
myautogr^)h. I wrote by return of mail the
following :

*'Sir>-YounQfthelOthisathaQd. Ifyou
are a bachelor, and your circiunstaaoes easy,
pay over to a poor widow, having two young

orphans, two dollars — a dollar on your account^
by way of remembrance— that when yoa asl
a favor by letter, you may be sure to pcnf ma*
tage ; and a dollar on my account £>r reaungaixii
thee of th^ duty. No doubt the recording a
gd will give us the proper credit. Yours,

[No name.]

'< P. S. As soon as informed of your con>»
pliance with my request, I will comply with
thine.'

'' In a few days I received an answer full of
apologies. He had done as he was told. He
requited a sentiment over my name : said he
was a bachdor of thirty, and rich. I gave
him a sentiment from brother Paulas letter to
the Hebrews, viz : * marriage is honorable in
all,* and added, it is cheaper to live with an
honest wife, than to buy play tickets, and sit
staring at some French or Italian Nymfh de
Pave, with a fix>ck of about the same longitude
as that she wore when in her twdfth year. He
wrote me a few months thereafter that he was
married, and found it more profitable, noore
comfortable, and more honorable to walk with
a wife than to sit in a theatre."

HONOR TO WHOM HONOR, «BO.

— A Sketch of Mr. Waterman, a member of the
Philadelphia Select Council, appeared a ^ort
time since in the Sunday Mercury. It does
justice to the subject in all points, — a very
worthy gentleman, and one to whom we are
indebted for much kindness. Long may he
flourish.

NK\A/ VORK BXHIBITION

— The Chrystal Palace will, it is said, not be
ready for an opening until Jime next. Prince
Albert is among the contributors of works of
art. The portraits of Victoria, himself, and
of the late Duke of Wellington, forming the
picture painted by Winterhalter, is his con-
tribution. We learn also, that the Baron
Marochetti has completed a colossal eques-
trian statue of General Washington, which is
about to be embarked for the euiibition. 3fr.
Carow has executed a colossal statue of the
late Daniel Webster, for the same place. It
represents the American statesman in the act
of addressing the Senate. The State of Mis-
souri has appropriated $4,000 for its proper
representation at the opening of the exhibi-
tion ; and Congress on the 26th of February
last, voted $20,000 to defray the expenses of
the Turkish steam frigate during her visit to
the New York World's Fair.

L.rTTmR« FROM QOORQIA.

— We are promised a series of letters, em-
braeixiK incidents of travel in Georgia and
other Southern States, wherein certain mat-
tera will be treated of, which cannot fiul to
interest our readers.

MOTHERWELL AND HIS POETRY.

MOTHERWELL AND UtS
POETRY.

William Motherwell was bom in the city
of Gla^ow, in the year 1797. At an early
age he entered upon the study of law, and so
rapid was his progress, such the stability of
his character, and so great was the confidence
icpoaed in him, that he was, when only
tv«nty-<me years dd, appointed to fill the
office of deputy to the sneriff of Paisley, at
tbat time a highly respectable situation,
y ffis knre for poetry would not, however, suf-
? kt him thus to derote his attention exclu-
2 sirely to the pursuit of a science which is at
■ once arduous and almost entirely practical.
The gay queen of fancy and of art, had
marked him for one of her most willing and
Ittf^y subjects — ^and now claimed his alle-
giance. A taste for poetry he had early
erinoed, and he accoitlingly engaged in a
criltng more congenial to his disposition than
the present one which he was then pursuing.
^In 1819 we find him editing a miscellany,
'i known as the " Harp of Renfrewshire, " which
all agree in representing as haying been con-
ducted irith much taste and judgment. A
> relish for antiquarian research led him to in-
i yesiigate the subject of ballad poetry in
SeoUand, and the happy result of these labors
he has giyen us in two yolumesj entitled
""Minstrelsy, Ancient and Modem." The
fidd was new, the task adapted to his capa-
cities, and the harvest plentifiil. With care-
fid hand he has culled the choicest fruits,
rescuing from obliyion many noble ballads,
which, handed down from sire to son, existed
, only in the memories of the oldest inhabi-
tasts — songs which told of that bold spirit
which the sons of Caledonia haye oyer de-
liC^ted to cherish — ^legends which will foreyer
commemorate the ^ts and personages of
whom the^ treat. This was certainly a ya-
laahle addition to Scottish literature. Some
oflhese, although grotesque in style and sin-
gularly orieinid in concepticm, are deeply in-
terestmg, because thonraghly imbued with
the dimeter and feelix^ of the times in
whiefa they appeared. The introduction to
I these yolumes has been highly esteemed, and
justly pronounced of a distinguished nature ;
both on account of the purit^r of style, and
the suggesticms contained, which must eyer
[ pwre a d ir e cto r y to eyery one who anticipates

laboring in a similar field. He was subse-
quently engaged in editing a weekly journal
and magazine in Paisley, to which he contri-
buted man^ of his finest pieces. But we
now find him entering upon a more extended
field of influence, displaying his talents in a
more remarkable manner, and that imder
circumstances at once exciting and tr3ring.
In 1830, he was invited to accept the editor°s
chair of the " Glasgow Courier," " a journal
of long standing, of respectable circulation^
and of the ultra tory school of politics." —
His pen, so long used to conyerse only of the
beautiflil, was now called upon to ^igage in
grayer matters. The feyer of party poUtics
raged high in the yeins of society, and, as a
prominent member and exponent of his party,
he was bound openly to sustain and defend
his yiews. Admirably did he discharge this
responsibility, entering upon his new ayoca-
tion with zeal and power. Such was the
sincerity of his actions, and the generosity
of his intercourse with his fellows, that eyen
from those opposed to him, he elicited spon-
taneous tributes of personal regard, and es-
teem for his talents. Five years did he fulfil
the duties of the station to the entire satis-
fiiction of all. But the shaft of the Pestroyer
was already fitted to the bow, and he was
soon to leaye his earthly ayocations. The
account of his last moments is, briefly, as
follows: Accompanied by a friend, in No-
y ember, 1835, he had been dining in the
country near Glasgow; and on his return
home, feeling indisposed, he retired to his
room at an early hour. Waking a few hours
after, he complained of a piun in the head,
which increased to so alarming an extent,
that he was rendered completely speechless.
Medical assistance proved of no avail. The
apoplectic stroke had fallen, and the curtain
descended over the life and fortunes of Wm.
Motherwell. One universal feeling of sym-
pathy pervaded the breasts of all the mem-
bers of the community in which he lived,
when the news of the unexpected and pre-
mature decease of the able writer and ac-
comidished poet reached their ears. The
good and the great, the learned and the pea-
sant — ^persons of every shade of political sen-
timent, all united in paying their willing tri-
butes to his memory, and in accompanying
his remains to their last long home in the
Necropolis of Glasgow. The place of his
sepulture is described as well ntted for the
grave of a poet. Bold masses of rocks, cover*
ed with moss, and crowned with shrubbery,
rise around it. Below, the broken ground,
richly wooded, with its monumental columns
scattered here and there, slopes gently down-
ward to the edge of a beautiful lake, whose
waters are forever rippling in sweet accents
Along the shore. The wild-wood tree grace-
fully overspreads his tomb, the native flower

BIZARRJS.

blooms around his grave, while the plaintiye
carrol of the forest songster is ever heard
mingling with the gentle sighs of the winds,
and the murmurs of the lake. Thus the poet
calmlj sleeps upon the soil which his own
verses have hallowed, surround^ with all
that his soul loved and admired — the beauties
of nature.

** The dead cannot grieve.
Oh I sweetly they rlumbcr, nor lore, hope, or ftor:
Peace, peace te the watchword, the only one here."

Motherwell was emphatically the poet of
feeling. As such he spoke, wrote and acted.
He communed from the secret workings of
his own bosom, and presented every emotion
with such freshness, such simplicity, such
fervency, that it immediately lodged in the
mind of the hearer, winning his a^bniration,
while it secured his sympathy. The measure
is entirely free from constramt, and adapted
to the thought. The idea itself is chaste,
the language consistent, and the verse haroH)-
nious. Few poets understood so well how to
vary his theme and st^'le, proving himself
equally at home whether he sang of love, or
the storms of battle, of the prattle of the
rivulet or the roar of ocean : and few are the
hearts that are as susceptible as his was to
the finer emotions, tenderer passions and
purer feelings of the souL At one time nis
strains fidl upon the ear like the plaintive and
pensive notes of an teolian harp, nnely strung
and played upon by the mild vespers of even-
ing; again they cause the manly spirit to
leap with pride at the recital of some ballad
of stirring tone ; and again in notes of love,
they warm the heart into a pure flame of
affection.

He was also a national poet. Scotland was
his home — ^her honor his heritage, — her beau-
ties, her enjoyments, her prowess, his themes.
Like Bums, he seeks no other fame than the
honor of having sung her praises, commemo-
rated her brave deeds, and wreathed garlands i
of poesy around her natural objects and I
scenes. There is no mystery, no love for the {
marvelous, no search after strange passions, |
artificial emotions and foreign glories : but
all is^ust as a son would give vent to an ex- 1
pression of his sincere regfuxi for the memory |
of his mother-land, and sing in tenderest .'
lines of her loveliness. In the " Battle Flag |
of Sigurd,*' we find an example of his bolder
and more heroic strains. It nas been aptly
remarked, that the notes here are not those
of a soft lute, from silken string or silver
wire, but are tones wrung from one of the
Norseman^ own rude harps, sinew-stnmg,
whose measures are marked by the sword-
struck shidd, and whose pauses are filled by
the shout of the warriors or the roar of the
keel-cleft wave. The poem ccMnmences tiius :

««The «•(!« bcarto of aU the Xocth
Hare l«ft tbafr atormy attand ;
The warriore of the world are ftnrth
To chooae anoflier UxA t
Again their long keela ahaer the mf,
Their bro^ sheeta oonrt the tareeae;
Again, the reckleaa and the braTe,
Bide lorda of weltering ■eaa.*'

As it proceeds, we mark a nervous energy ap-
pearing in every line, a reddess daring chta>
acterizmg this adventurous land, an impeta-
osity which nerves the aim of every Socal^ and
infuses an \moommon vehemence into his voice
and action, as in view of the approaching con-
test he eagerly inquires,

« Who Bhoreward,fthrougfa the swelling surge,
Shall bear the scroll of doom ?**

Young Harold, silent and sdf-dovoted, stood
leaning upon his gleaming axe. His feariess
soul was preparing for the post, and it wavered
not in the trying hour. Lifting his giant form,
planting his foot firmly upon the prow of his
dashing bark, and tossing back tne '* yellow
storm of hair'* which gathered thickly upon
his broad brow,

"The lips of song burst open, and
The words of fire rvwh ont,
And thundering through that martial eraw
Pealed Harald's batUe shout**

Seldom is it that we find the stem nicture of a
warrior so powerfully presented. We can hear
young Harald's voice mingling with, and ris-
ing superior to the dashing waves ; see his pnmd
form as it stands exultingly forth, and tod the
pulsations of that heart which beats with un-
diminished courage despite the death-rune and
the presaged downfall. Follow that fleet as
nearer and nearer it bears down to the shoare.
At length upon those low-lving fields, hear the
defying shout and the clash of steel. See
younff Harald, how he wields his ponderous
axe, dealing death at every blow, and at last fiUlfl
beside that fatal scioU which he had sworn to
defend. This poem is consonant from begin-
ning to end, and Scandinavian in all its featmes.
The doctrine of relentless fate is advanced, its
potent influence exemplified, and a character
produced, which cares neither for the hazards
of battle nor impending death. His arm is
still powerful, and wmle across that gorv
fidd of strife, the '< Shadowy Three" like
meteors passed, while they sung the war deeds
of his aires and pointed also to their tombs.
While in that trying hour his heart turned
to his betrothed Brviihilda, who soon in rain
will wring her milk-white hands above the
salt-sea foiam, still high amid the fl*^>^iTTg
storm he rears the flag of doom,

•*Tai fell the young Harald, as of oM Ibll his stiea
And the bright haU of heroes, hade han to his spMt*

ThiB ineoe is remarkably oonaisteiit It on-

MOTHERWELL AND fflS POETRY.

feldfl the inflnence of mythology, presents us
vith a complete trhimph of unflinching valor
orer the severest of all trials, the doom of fate,
exultingly does the hero in the "Sword
Cbant cf Th^-stein Raudi," grasp his trusty
ireapoo, and pointing eastf west, north and
south, exdaim, "there am I Lord!" In the
** Wooing song of Jail Egill Skallagrim,*' we
fad no sickly sentimentality. The Scandin-
■vian Sea King comes not with unmeaning
hfctshes axid flattering tongue, with puling
coDipliinents and senseless flattery, hut in the
trae manly spirit of the Norse Warrior, he
■pwkp the real yirtue of her whom he would
wed, and thns sec^ her hand,

"■ *Ti« a YiUngir uks tbee,
Land maiden, to wed :
lie aeoki not to woo thee
In trembUog and fiwr :
• # * •

The endle he rocked in
80 sound and so long,
Hath ihimed him a heart
And a hand that are strong.
He cornea, then, at Jail should,
Sword belted to side,
To win thee, and wear thee,
With glory and prida.**

These and other pieces of a similar character,
arc remarkable for their propriety of language,
and the m'ce attention paid to the peculiar
ciTCumstances of time, place, and personage.
The distinctire features of national character
arc clearly and forcibly embodied ; so that in
the perusal of them, we at once see the bold,
fiesrless, and steel clad warrior in every line.
The words are his, the manner, that of one who
hears life and honor in his hand, the deeds
siKh as he would perform, who is jealous for
the ^ory of his race, and the distinction of
that profession of which he is a member.
i^nJoune Morrison has justly been regarded as
"^ one of the most touching effusions of the
Scottish muse. We have here presented an
RBtanoe of ardent and lasting devotion, of
melting tenderness, and of the warmest love
which Ae human breast is capable of cher-
iflhing. The gentle attachment of childhood
k seen mildly, yet firmly ripening into the
eotatant aflbction of riper years. The plea-
worts of that morning life, and morning love,
of tiiose long and joysome days,

** When hinnied hopes arooMl their he«rti^
Ltka aimmer htawoma q^tanfe"

The thoossnd objects which charm the e^e

I 6f the ittnocent child, the flowers blooming in

|. fweetness around, the rustle of the summer

kaves in the grove, the {dayine of the waters

is the brook, the mirth and treedom of the

Saturday holiday, are all beautiftdly described

idnle over them all is thrown a veil of love,

a unity of hcttrt and affection, which renders

I the OBtirasoeM one of the most exquisite love-

{b-'ii ■g>iiM^.*piii»-^..»ii.,i III ■ ■ II I ■ I.

liness and attractiveness. When these two
fair friends are parted, the teudemess of the
feelings they express, of the reminiscences
upon which they delight to dwell, and the
professions of esteem for each other, are so
earnest and afiectionate, that you might wdl
conceive that their hearts were united by some

gulden chain, whose links were wrought in
eayen. Yes, with them, separation causes
no diminution of the most sincere regard.

** The fount that first hurst ftae this heart,
. Still traTols on Its way ;

And channels deeper as it rins,
The luTo o* life's young day.''

Truly in view of this picture, we may unhes-
itatingly adopt the language of Schiller, "Seas
and hills, and horizons are between us, but
souls escape from their clay prisons and meet
in the paradise of love." In connection with
Jeanie Morrison, we may appropriately intro-
duce another of Motherwell's pathetic effii-
sions, which appeal to the heart of every
reader in strains so touching, that the efiectis
irresistable and overpowering. K he had
penned no other lines than those contained in
"My heidisliketo rend Willie," he would
have distinguished himself as a true Poet, and
enshrined his memory as well in the bosom of
the Scottish peasant, as in the affections of all
who are capaole of appreciating expressions of
the tenderest love. Few readers can even now
calmly consider these lines and mark their ex-
cellencies, without weeping. There is in every
sentence such an abundant flow of true feding,
so much of refined sensibility, sudi an outgush-
ing of emotions of the purest character, such a
knitting of heart to heart by the most delicate
and 3ret the most pwerftd chords of love, that
his breast must indeed be stony which beats
not in sympathy with that heaving bosom : his
eye must surely be dry, which weeps not at
the warm tears that are coursing down that
pallid cheek. It is a pleasant and agreeable
thought, that love like this, exists on earth,
as is nere represented, and that we have Poets
who are able to embody the same in such ap-
propriate terms. Isolated passages will con-
vey no adequate conception of tne harmony
and excellence of the poem, yet we cannot
ibrbear extracting the following lines, which
may be regarded as a specimen of the tender
strain in which the whole is composed.

** A stoun gaes though my held Willie^
A sair stoun thxough my heart—
01 hand me up and let me kiss
Thy brow, ore we twa pairt!
inither, and anlther yet I
How ikst my Ule^trings break!
Farewcell fare wool! Through yon kirk-yaid
Step lichtly for my sake.

But 01 rtmember me WQlie^
On land where'er ye be.

BIZARRE.

And 01 tbiiik on the leal, leal heart,

That no'er luvit ane but the«!

And 1 think on the cauld, cauld moalB,

That file inj jellow hair;

That klM the cheek, and kiss the chlo,

Ye nercT rail kiM mair!"

Can any thing be more touching than this
scene of parting ? Let him whocavils with this
world as a home for man devoid of life, love,
and affection, read this poem and learn, that
he need seek no Utopian realm to ftnd the
heart in the happy exercise of those noble and

)ure sensibilities which the God of all has so

dndly implanted within us.

Who that has perused the "Madman's love,"
has not felt a chill of horror creep through his
veins at the delineation therein presented, of
those fearful notions, unnatural desires, and
imaginings, which plainly and mournfully
indicate that reason, that faculty which char-
acterizes man as the noblest of all sublunary
beings, has forever taken flight and left but
a wreck behind of all that was harmonious,
a chaos of clouds and darkness, where once
smiled peace and joy. How vivid the poetic
portrayal of the '* Demon Lady," with that
passionless hand, whiter than the foam of the
sea, and like the finger of death falling upon
the heart of the living * 'dull, clammy and cold. ' '
Motherwell's descriptive powers are certainly
as superior as his imaginative. Take for ex-
ample, his ** Sabbath Summer Noon." Here
we find combined both grace of diction, deep
toned melody of verse, and hieh devotiomd
feeling. Beautifully indeed are the calmness of
this noon tide hour, and the sacred silence of
earth and all created beings delineated, as
they then unite in "felt but voiceless prayer."
Li "Midnight and Moonshine," vividly is
pictured forth the heavenly in^uence of the
season. The pale moon, "journeying high in
mid air on seraphic wing," the melody oF the
brook far down the dell, the weary soldier
slumbering away his battle toils, the sleep-
locked city, the echoless hall , the long shadows
chasing each other over the fields, the disem-
bodied spirits with pale, cold and mournful
faces wandering by old walls, by ancient tomb
and wizard oak, and above all, the unseen arm
of the Almighty, protecting a defenceless
world, are all presented with so much power,
that we can fed ourselves surrounded on every
ade by their influence.

There is no feigned cry, but the genuine
groan of a deeply wounded spirit that we
hear in " 0, agpny, keen agony.^* The aflaict-
ed soul knows its depths, and responds to its
sentiments. Who has not fdt the truth of
the thoughts embodied in " Moumfiilly ! 0,
moumfidly this midnight wind doth sigh."
Yes it is tnen that each breath stirs some cord
of memoiy, awi^ens the remembrance of de-
parted friends, of neglected opportunities, of
hopes that "bloomed to die.'* In "What

is Glory," and "What is Fame," we see ex-
emplified those, who with disappointed am-
bition, try to buoy themselves up by depre-
ciating that which they most of all coret.
How does the heart fail, and the spirits p»ll
before the chilli!!^ view which the Poet has
given of " The darkness of a nameless tomb. *'
jji truly poetic and affecting language, has he
depicted the march of time, in ** Change
swe^th over all. " The leaves fall from the
tall forest tree, day hurries to its close, the
firmamental cresset li^ts droop on their
thrones, dumb creatures graze over the mins
of ancient cities, and thedcy-searchiug to'wer
is levelled with the plain fh>m whence it arose,
" oceans their wide-stretched beds are ever
shifting," the man of renown dies, and his
name lies in dim forgetfulness.

** Nanght lackcth here a dofle,

SaTe human woes.

Tet, they too have on end, —

Death is man's friend :
I)o(»ned for awhile, his heart must go on hreaking

Day after day,
But light, lore, lifb-«]l, aU at last Ibnaking,

Clay daspeth clay."

While the lingering tones of these and other
strains of a sinailar character are still falling
sadly upon the ear, the poet, as if unwilling
that the mind should long dwell upon subjects
so sad, suddenly enchains the attention with
happier scenes, causing the eye to kindle, and
the spirits to flow joyfully at the pleasant
picture presented in " They come, the meny
Summer months," — touching the lively cords
in the bosom of the young maiden, by his pro-
fessions of love in " Certain pleasant verses
to the ladjT of my heart," or amusing the
fancy by his " Facts from Fairy -land," The
effects pruduced by such changes of scenery
and combination, is truly agreeable, and we
may thus in his productions, find a verifica-
tion of that well-known sentence of the dis-
tinguished Roman, " Omne tulit punctum,
qui miscuit utile dulci."

It is needless to dwell longer upon the at-
tractions of Motherwell's poetry, or to attempt
a recital of its beauties. His works, to be ap-
preciated, should only be perused, and then
their excellencies will be tne more apparcut,
the more carefully they are examined. Fine
gold is never dimmed by age, nor does the
diamond ever lose its lusU«.

Upon the de^ of the Poet, just after his
death, a touching piece was found. It ap-
peared to have b^n recently composed, and
commenced thus :

** When I beneath the oold-Ted earth am deeping,
Lifi»*s term o'er,
Wni there for me be any brigbt egns weeping

That I'm no more f
WIU there be any he«rt still i
OfhentofoMr'

THE SUCOES^DL FORGERY.

I>Oiobttess in this, his last poem, he had
heen commiming with the past, and lo(^ng
sakmsij towa^ the future. No wonder
tiieii, that as his eye rested upon* that great
eT«nt, which is to call the living from time
Bilo eternity, that the interesting anestion
dKMild have presented itself—whether his
monory woold be cherished by his friends,
and he, rescaed from the *< Darkness <^ a
naiDidess tcnnb." Were not that ear now
dii& and heavy, it would hear the willing
pnises of many, and find that his fame was
■ot confined within that grave in the Necro-
poKs of Glasgow, bat was spoken in far distant
dhnes. Yes, his name is linked with the
hoDor of Scotland, and is associated with all
those scenes and characters upon which his
pea delighted to dwell. The lovers of poetry
will ever esteem it a privilege to pay their
homage at his tomb, and that sacred spot will
be biased with the smiles of her wh()se beau-
ties he lived to commemorate.

THE

SUCCESSFUL FORGERY.

PABT FIRST.

Works upon Shakspeare have multiplied to
80 great an extent, that a library might almost
he nrmed of these done. Their variety extends
frotn Boyddl's Illustrations, or Drake's large
Tohnnes, to the humblest sdection of <* Shaks-
pevian Maxims," or ''Beauties of Shaks-
peare." £very thing relating to the immor-
tal bard is received with interest: and we
nesd not wonder at the number of authors
who have sought to gain money or fame by
hnamg forth all their available materials to
swell the collection. We have thought that
an entertaining article for ** Bizarre"* might
be writtoi on this fertile subject, by giving
m aeooont of one of ^e most remarkable lit-
erary forgeries ever executed: we refer to
Ibb^nd's Shakspbarr Papbrs.

WHliam Henry Ireland was, in very early
life, artaded to a practitioner of the law in
London. His fk^er was a most ardcait and
CBthnsiastic admirer of Shakspeare ; and the
ffm imbibed a similar veneration for every thing
tfast bore a reference to the great baid. He
was also a lover of antiquities of every kind,
particalaiiy old books, rare pamphlets, tracts,
•c The fate of Chatterton interested young
Irdand to such a degree, that he even ardently i
desared to terminate his existence in a similar
mfloner ! About six months previous to his
attempting the 9iaksperian papers, and before |
ike hiHl even thought of such a project, he '
bon^t a smidl tract, written by a gentleman |
of Linotto's Inn, and dedicated by him to
Queen ESizabeth. It was bound in vellum, I
with varioos ornaments, and the borders of
the pages w&e beautifully illumiiiated. He

iimnediately determined to make it appear
to be the presentation copy fh)m the author ;
and for this purpose he whote a letter to Her
Muesty , re<jue8ting her acceptance of the book,
and placed it between the cover and the inside
paper. Before giving this to his father, he
took it to a Mr. Laurie, a bookseller, and
showed it to him, in the presence of two iour-
neymen ; confessing the intended imposition.
One of these men save him a mixture, resem-
bling old ink much more nearly than that he
had used ; and with this composition the man-
uscripts were afterwards vmtten. Mr. Jreland
received the book without a doubt with regard
to its authenticity.

After a tour through Warwickshire, this
gentleman returned with, if possible, a still
stronger predilection for every thing connected
with Shakspeare : and he frequently asserted
that he would gladly give half his library for his
signature. This coveted treasure his son at-
tempted to find, by frequenting the stalls of
venders of old parchments, and by searching
old deeds to which he had access. Not being
succesful, the idea occurred to him of attenpt-
ing an imitation of Shakspear's writing. In
accordance with this design, he carefully traced
the name from the will in the Ck)mmons, and
placing a deed before him of the time of James
1. he proceeded to imitate its penmanship.
He then wrote a lease between William Shaks-
peare and John Heminge, with one Michael
Frazer and Elizabeth, his wife. The prepara-
tion of the seals to this document, was a work
of much care and thought, as they had to be
formed frOhi old wax. At last everything
was complete, and the reception of the paper
by his father equalled his most sanguine an-
ticipations. To evince his gratitude for the
same, Mr. Ireland gave the keys of his library
into his son's hand, with permission to sdect
whatever he pleased. Crowds flocked to in-
spect this wonderful deed, and all bdieved its
genuineness ; suggesting at the same time, that
perhaps other papers might be found, by far-
ther investigation. These hints determined
the young forger to produce a document writ-
ten in the language of Shakspeare; and he
forthwith produced a " Profession of Faith,"
penned by the immortal poet ! We will quote
the first sentence from this paper, that our
readers may have an idea of its style :

**I beynge nowe offe sounde Minde doe
hope thatte thys mye wyshe wille atte mye
deathe bee acceeded toe as Inowelyve in Lon-
donne ande as mye soule maye perchance soone
quitte thys pooreBodye it is mye desyre thatte
inne suche case I maye bee canyed toe mye
natyve place and thatte mye Bocfye bee th«w
quyetlye interred wythe as lyttie pompe as
canne bee, ande I doe nowe inne these mye
seyriouse moments make thys mye professione
of fajttk and which I doe moste solemnlye be-
Ueve."

BIZAJEIRE.

After the production of this manuscript,
many questions were naturally asked regard-
ing the source whence these papers had been
drawn ; and it became absolutely necessary to
compose a story for the satis&ction of these
inquiries.

The following narrative was framed and in-
variably related to all who questioned Mr. Ire-
land as to the oriein of the manuscripts. He
informed them that he one day met a gen-
tleman at a coffee-house, who, durii^ the con-
versation, perceiving his antiquarian taste,
invited him to visit him ; saying that he had
many old papers, descended from his ances-
tors; and promised to give Mr. Ireland any
of these he might find of value. The latter
complied with this kind invitation ; and on
examining the papers, to his great astonish-
ment discovered the deed before mentioned.
He showed it to his fnend, who was equally
surprised at the existence of such a docu-
ment; but said that he would be as good
as his word and allow voung Irdand to keep
the deed, if he would nrst make him a copy
of it. As the manuscripts became voluminous,
it was thought very strange that any man
should give awav such treasures. In order
to account for this, it was stated that Mr.
Ireland found among his friend's papers, one
which established his right to a property which
had long been disputed ; and on this account
he considered the Shaksperian manuscripts
only a proper compensation for the service thus
rendered. The name of this mvsterious friend
was of course anxiously sought for : and an-
other lie was invented, to the effect that the
old gentleman did not wish to be troubled by
inquiries and impertinent questions, and had
joined perfect secrecy on Mr. Ireland. Drs.
Wharton and Parr were among those who at
first credited these manuscripts, and their
opinion could not fail to excite the vanity of
a lad scarcely seventeen and a half years old.
It is also stated that James Boswell, Esq.,
kissed the valuable relics, and said that '< he
should die contented since he had lived to
witness that day!'' Happy would it have
been for young Ireland had his forgerv been
at once discovered ; for the success he met
with only incited him to further acts of du-
plicity.

He purchased the fly-leaves of old folio and
quarto volumes from a bookseller, for five
shillings. Having ascertained that a ''jug"
was a common water mark, in the reign of
Queen f^zabeth, he produced sucoe^Ung
manuscripts on paper with this mark. His
next attempts were, a letter from Queen
Elizabeth to Shakspeare, a copy of a letter
sent by the poet to Lord Southampton, and a
love letter and verses to Anne Hathaway,
with a braid of his hair* Numerous play-
house receipts were also l»t)u^t forward,
tied with string unravelled from a piece of

M tapestry. A bold effort was then deter-
mined UTxm: which was the re- writing <d
one of Shakspeare '« plays, with alterations.
He transcribed King Lear from a rare quarto
copy in the pi^session of his £ftther, and made
various interpolations ; avoiding also the in-
sertion of the ribaldry so frequent in Shaks-
peare 's works. It was immediatdy conceded
that these objectionable passages musi have
been introduced by the players of the day,
and bdng inserted in their copies, were aftc»n-
wards given to the worid. About this tone
the whole deception might readily have been
exposed, for a Mr. Montague Talbot, an ac-
quaintance of Ireland's, became accidental-
ly informed of the true state of affairs. He had
suspected the facts from various reasons ; but
one day he entered the room quietly, and sud-
denly arrested Mr. Ireland's arm while en-
gaged in writing one of the manuscripts, so
that further concealment was impossible.
He was, therefore, taken into his confidence,
and induced to pledge himself never to divulge
the truth. Mr. Talbot even went so far as to
write a letter to Mr. Samuel Ireland, stating
that he was present on the discovery d the
papers by his son.

"VoRTiGBRN AND RowBNA," a drama of
unusual length was next written, and pur-
chased by the managers of Drury Lane The-
atre. After having perused it, Mr. ^eridan
remarked, " There are certainly some bold
ideas, but they are crude and undigested. It
is very odd : one would be led to think that
Shakspeare must have been very young when
he wrote the play. As to the doubting wheth-
er it is really his or not, who can possibly
look at the papers and not believe them an-
cient?" For some weeks previous to the
performance, Mr. Malone had frequently in-
timated that his inquiry into the validity of
the papers attributed to Shakspeare, would
immediately be published ; and it was said
that he intended to have handbills circulated',
proving the whole a forgery. Mr. Samuel
Ireland had some cards printed, begging the
public to lay aside all pMrejudice, and sul^
the piece to speak for itsdf. The theatre
was crowded in every part ; the seats in the
boxes having been all taken previously, and
numbers paid box prices for a seat in the pit.
Mr. Kemble personated '*Vortigem," and
Mrs. Jordan was one oi the dramatis fersonct*
Mrs. Siddons was requested to take one of
the characters, but declined on account of a
cold. There were various obstacles which
combined to prevent the success of this play.
First, a Mr. Dignum had certain laughable
peculiarities which unfitted him aitirely from
i4>pearing in tragedy. In a speech of his,
when he gave the order for the trumpets to
sound — '* let them bellow on," — his guttural
tones produced uncontrolled merriment in
the audience. Mr. Phillimore, a Saxon gen-

ROMANCE O? BLOCKLBY.

tnlt who WIS kill«d in a combat, on reeeiTing
his mortal wound, feU with one half of his
boc^ towmrds the spectators uod the other
bitf behind the scenes. The wooden roller
at the bottom of the cortain, pressing rather
hcarily, >&. Phillimore extricated himsdf
from his uncomfortable position ; which was
a lemaricable feat for a dead mofu Mr. Kem-
Ma's conduct was obviously intended to ex-
dtt soapicion. When the following words
oecvrred in his speech, ** And when this sol-
earn mockery is o*er," he uttered the line in
■epnkheral tones; and with such peculiar
emphasis that the i»t sent forth a discordant
boiri. After the noise subsided, instead d
proceeding, he repeated the same words, still
more pointedly. It is said that Mr. Sheridan
was much displeased with Mr. KemUe for
thns evincing his private opinions on the
stage. The morning after the fate of the
play had been decided, Mr. Samuel Ireland
was told that two hundred and six pounds
remained in the treasury, exclufflve of all
expenses. One half of this sum was given
to the manager of the theatre, and but thirty
pounds tb young Ireland, who had received
sixty when the manuscripts were delivered.
Had VoRTiGEBN AND RowBNA been published
immediately, instead of waiting until the
tothor coi^essed having written it, a large
sum might have been realized. A bookseller
m Russel St. said that ten days previous to
its performance, he would have paid 1000
guineas for the copyright. We find, however,
that we nmst defer the conclusion of this
nbject until a fbture number of *' Bizarre."

ROMANCE OF BLOCKLEY.

\; m mOB TOU-FBLLOWS ; OB, BILL AND JOSBT,
!l THB BUNNEBS.

NUMBEBTBK.

We have heard of persons in Engjand who
drew their first breath in a coal mine, and,
ifter toiling for a succession of years in their
subterranean workshops, died and were sepul-
dired under ground. To such, how narrow
tad circumscribed is the sphere of existence ;
how limited their mental resources — brought
ttp, as they have been, in ignorance the most
mveterate. To them the very light of heaven,
genial and garish, is a non-existence. Earth
is bat a tomb, unlit by one beam of radiance,
one ray of vital hope.

Onr heroes, named in the title, Josey and
Bin, though they have basked in the sunlight
for thirty odd years respectively, and plucked
the mangolds once in a while in the garden
of the building, have still been confined to
those little spots ; the one, the ancient Alms-
house, located in Spruce street, in. by-gone
days, — ^the other, the present more oommodi-
OQB building, erected some seventeea years

ago, — since they wwe ushered into the whirl
and bustle of practical life.

Bill and Josey are each on the wrong side
of thirty. They look upon the two Alms-
houses as the embodiment oi all that is sub-
lunary. They have no conception of (Geogra-
phical limits, except as they are indicated by
various points of the building. The ice-house
is to them the north pole, and the suracal
ward the equator ; the four divisions of the
building are the only continents of which
they have the slightest knowledge, and the
basin whence the water is sent mrough the
Institution, peers up before them with its
green summit in all the dignity of Mount
Blandi from the vale of Chamouni. To
them the bustling Almshouse is the great
world of commerce, and agriculture, and man-
ufacture. They have never, like the mouse
in the fable, ventured out to the chest-lid, to
take a hasty peep at the limitless expanse
which lies beyond their little stopping place.
Happy, however, in their ignorance, resigned
to their fate, (we should not use the word in
this connection, for Josey and Bill know no
such word as fiate, and rather magnify their
office than depreciate it,) and sedulously oc-
cupied fix>m the break of day till the sun goes
down in his pavillion of purple and gold, their
months and years roll on calmly, tranquilly,
usefully. They are respected by the old,
reverenced by the young, and laughed at, so
far as their whimsical oddities are concerned,
by those who love them most. Look out into
the long hall. Bill is standing there with an
old flageolet in his hand, a finger on the key,
and his mouth expanding, as if hoarding up
a vdiume of air to create a blast When he
brings the instrument within range of the
wind, Jose^, with spectacles on his nose,
and maintaining the ^vity of a tip-staff in a
court of judicature, stands at his elbow, as
if to sanction the anticipated musical over-
ture. Now comes the tune — ^no, it is not a
tune ; it is a species of irregular and fantastic
notes, which would seem to jump out of the
old flageolet as if they had taken lessons from
a mountebank ; and as the sounds grow more
hideous and nondescript, Josey rubs his spect-
acles, puts them on again, strains his gaze in
the direction of the hall-door, and at last
gives utterance to his excited feelings by ex-
claiming vociferously, "You have brought
them, &11 !" Simultaneously with this am-
biguous intimation, a throng of little ones,
with their check aprons and neat little gar-
ments, come bounding pell-mell out of the
extensive play-ground, and file off with the
decorum of orderly sergeants, with their
hands systematically tucked up behind their
backs, to the large dining-room on the left
hand. Now you see the logical connection
between the mellifluous notes of the flageolet
and tJie sodden egress of the army of juve-

mZARRE.

nile rascals, who are bent upon despatching
their meal in the most approved style, beneath
the eye of that guardian of order, the estima-
ble Matron. Bill formerly blew a fine large
tin horn, to summon the youthful troop to
their fodder; but his ideas becoming more
classical, he repudiated an instrument which
seemed to put his excellency into the same
catalogue with Jimmy Charcoal, and betook
himself to an approved flageolet, which,
althogh partially dilapidated, was, in his e^e,
equal to the re^ of Pan. The writer will
never forget the day when Joe walked withm
the manager's parlor, and asked him whether
he had heard the flute ? " G^i^inly !*' said
we, **and the notes were quite ravishing."
" And do you know," said he, briskly contin-
uing the conversation, *^do you know who
taught Bill how to set forth his music?"
** Well, no," said we, feigning a little sur-
prise> for we anticipated the reply of the
knight of the Specs. Putting his hand through
his hair and assuming an attitude which we
may suppose old Cavendish took when he
made his orilliant discoveries in rdation to the
elemental princi];des of water, poor Joe as-
sured us in vehement syllables, as though he
thought we might be tempted not to accord
to BiU so great an allowance of original
genius. " It was his own prevention, Chap-
lain, altogether his own prevention !"

Josey is somewhat superstitious. This of
course is attributable to his ignorance, the poor
fellow not knowing even how to read. One
Sunday morning we had preached from the
text, *'And l&tan answered, 'From going
to and fro in the earth, and from walking up
and down in it.' " It was a plain and fami-
liar exhibition of the cardinal doctrine of
Satanic agency. Josey was an attentive lis-
t^ier. His occasicmal grimace and sudden
twitch of the shoulder indicatckl the fact that
we were portraying a character not veiy con-
raiial to the iedings of our humble iriend.
Weeks revolved and one Sunday morning
Josey told us in the most lugubrious strain,
that the Devil had been wiJking the whole
blessed night up and down in the boys' dor-
mitory where he always lodged, as the Super-
visor general. "Did you hear him, Joe?"
** Palpably I heard him ; he stepped along as
if he was lame." "Did he approach your
bed ?" " Palpably he did, and n4)ped on the
head-board with his sulphur knuckles."
"And were you not dreadfully alarmed at
this unexpected visit from his sable majesty ?"
" Yes, I labored for breath and cried mightily
for deliverance. He stayed so long rapping
that it seemed to be too contedious for my
poor week nerves." " And how did you g^
rid of him, Joe?" "Why I b^gan to be
frightened about the diildrcn, and thinks I to
myself, I'll jump out of bed and see if they
are allraafe and sound in their little beds. I

pitched out of the blankets, and went from
one to another, and sore enough he had'nt
taken any of them yet. So thinks I, I guess
the Devil intends taking me off first and foro-
most, because I am the biggest; and with tbskt
I runs to the bureau, and gets my little new
testament frx>m the top of it ; fori knowed
exactly where I had positioned it the day be-
fore. So I grabs it and thinks to myself,
if I hold up this ere gospel in his face, it will
be exactly like a scare-crow in a com field.
So I goes to bed, gets under the blankets, and
the next noise I hears I cuts with my testa-
ment and holds it clean up afore the vilUan's
tamal physimognomy, am he walked down
stairs as soft as a mouse treading on velvet."
Such was Joe's adventure with the Devil i
an adventure which in the simplicy of his
heart he regarded as equal, doubtless, to the
romantic exploit of Luther in the Castle of
Wartburgh. We now transfer the story to
the page of recorded history, and bespeak for
it the attention of the philosophical.

JSAMBS'S DIARV.

— The Appletons have issued another volume
of their "Popular Library," containing
"Jcames's Diary, a Tale of the Panic of
1845," " A Legend of the Rhine," and " Re-
becca and Rowena;" all from the pen of
Thackeray, and of course good in the most
emphatic sense. The first appeared in
"Punch," and is a satire on those people
who, humble in life and of vul^r minds, sud-
denly acquire a fortune; while it preaches
sound sermons on the follies of wild specula-
tions. Jeames Plush has been a footman in
a gentleman's family, but a happy turn of
good luck in the investment of a small sum
of money, loaned him by a fellow-servant,
makes him a millionaire. Like the majority
of ignorant and vulgar people who become
suddenly rich, Jeames apes fashion ; deserts
the companions of his humble life, and makes
himself supremely ridiculous. How many
such does one encounter in a large city, on
the street, and at public places ! We know
several Jeameses in Philadelphia, and have
been often times at public amusements more
entertained with them than with actors or
singers. Cannot our readers find parallels
to Jeames, as he appears in the following ex-
tract given in his diary touching a visit to the
* *Hopra. ' ' Hear him :

"28r^.— BeentotheHopra. Music tdlod.
That Lablash is a wopper at singing. I cooda
make out why some people called out *Bravo,'
some * Brava,' and some * Bravee.' * Bravee,
Lablash,' says I, at which hevery body laft

"I'm in my new stalL I've add new

BIZARRE AMONG THB NEW BOOKS.

„ pat in, and harms in g^dd on the

bttck. I'm dressed hall in black, excep a
nU waiscoat and dimind studds in the em-
fariderd busom of mj shameese. I wear a
Camallia Jipcmiky in my button ole, and have
a dfrnUe-barreld opera glas, so big, that I
makeTimmis, my secnod man, bring it in the
otbra-Cabb.

** What an igstronry exhabishn that Pawdy
Carter is ! If those four gals are fanes, Tsl-
uoNi is sutnly the fairy Queend. She can
do an they can do, and somethink they can't.
There's an in^Uscrible grace abont lier, and
CAmLOTTT, my sweet Gablottt, she sets my
art in flams."

Hear Jeames, too, on the scene of his riding
on horse-back, and readily you may make up
your parallel from Philadelphia snobdom.

" 2i. /w/i/. Rode my bay oss Desperation
in the park. There was me. Lord George
RiNGwooD (Lord Cinqbar's son). Lord Bal-

LTBCNNION, HONORABLE CaPTIXG TrAP, and

serral bother yonng swells. Sir John's car-
ridge there in coarse. Miss Hemly lets fall
her booky as I pass, and I 'm obleged to get
hoff and pick it hup, and get splashed up to
the his. The gettin on boss back agin is nal-
ways the juice and halL Just as I was hon,
De^ration b^ns a porring the hai^ with 4
feet, and sinks down so on his anches, that I'm
bkst if I didn't slipp hoff again over his tail :
at which Balltbunkion & the other chaps
rord with lafter."

Jeames did not enter his race after fashion,
without making a dash for a coat of arms.
He says in a letter to ** Punch,"

" I have ad my podigree maid out at the
£nldHo£Bs (I don't mean the 3formng£raU),
and have took for my arms a Stagg. You are
cornet in stating that I am of hancient Norm-
in fiunly. This is more than Peal can say, to
whomb I applied for a bametcy; but the
pranmier being of low igstraction, natrally
Btiddes for his border. Gonsurvatiye thou^
I he, / monf chants my omnions before the next
Eketion, when I intc»ia to hoffer myself as a
CiDdjdick for Parlymint.

*«lfeanwild, I haye the honor to be, Sir,
" Your most obeajnt Survnt,
<'Fitz-Jambs db la Pluchb."

One more extract as to Jeames's household
arrangements, so easily paralleled, too, in our
great cities, and we hare done: —

^/if% 24. — ^My first floor apartmince in the
Halbrny is now kimpletely aiMl cfaasely fum-
niiiied — the dnHing-room with yellow satting
iod sflyer for the chairs and sophies — ^hemraU
green fabbinet cartings with pink yelvet &
goold borders & fringes ; a li^t blue Hax-
miniter Carpit, emboyd^vd with tulips : ta-
Uea, secritaries, cunsoles, &c., as handsome
as godd can make them, and candlesticks and
I of the purest Hormolew.

"The Dining-room funniture is all hoak^
British Hoak ; round igspanding taMe, like a
trick in a Pantimime, iocommadating an num*
ber from 8 to 24 — to which it is my wish to
restrict my parties — Curtings Crimsing dam*
ask. Chairs crimsing myrocky. Portricks of
my &yorite great men decorats the wall —
namely, the Duke of Wellington. There's
four of his Grace. For Ive remaked that if
you wish to pass for a man of wei^t & consid*
dratkn you should holways praise and auote
him — ^I haye a yalluble one hckwise of my
QuBKND, and 2 c^ Prince Halbbrt — as a
Field Martial and halso as a priyat Gent. I
despise the yulgar snears that are daily hul-
lered aeinst that Igsolted Pottentat. Be-
twigxt the Prins & the Duke hangs me, in the
Uniform of the Cinqbar Malitia, of which
Oinqbars has made me Capting.

"The Liberv is not yet done.

"But the Bedd-roomb is the Jem of the
wh(4e — ^if you could but see it ! such a Bed- •
worr ! lye a Shyyal Dressing Glass festooned
with Walanseens Lace, and lifted up of eyen-
ings with rose coloured tapers. Goold dress-
ing case and twilet of Dresding Cheny — My
bed white and gold with curtains of pink
and silyer brocayd held up at top by a goold
Qpid who seems always a smiling angiUicly
hon me,has lay with my Ed on my piller hau
sarounded with the finst Mechlin. I haye a
own man, a yuth under him, 2 groombs, and
a fimmale for the House — I ' ye 7 osses : in
cors if I hunt this winter I must increase my
ixtablishment."

Some of our readers haye doubtless read
"Jeames's Diary," but a large number will
unquestionably enjoy it in this pretty little
bo(d£ from the Appletons for the first time.
As we hay ^ hinted , it may be read not only with
pleasure, but with the extraction of a capital
moral. Many among us, too, as we haye also
hinted, will find it an exo^ent mirror in
which to see ourselyes at full length, and
happily become as much disgusted with our
own folly as with that of our silly nei^bors.

MIOIHAUO • HISTOfTV OP -TMS ORUBADBe.

— Three elegant yc^umes, with this title, haye
been sent to us by Redfidd, of New York.
They embrace a loost admirable history of
the Crusades; emanating, as they do, from
the pen of an author who deyoted twenty
laborious years to the subject. Michaud was
a r^;ular "workie," engaged in his labors
heart and soul, and did many things at once
with remarkable readiness. Thus, while he
was prosecuting his historical researches, and
writing poetry, he also managed " La Quoti
dienne," a paper which was prominent in
Paris, in the early part of the present cen*
tury ; but which, during the reign of Napo-
leon — ^Michaud haying fled— digenerated into
the " Fueille du Jour," or, as a wag said, the
"FueiUe de laVille," (last night's Journal,)

WLAESKEL

from the fkct of it's being edited entirely by
that supple tool of tyranny, arrant coward,
and dull dolt — Monsieur Scissors. The < < Quo-
ti dienne" was subsequently revived under
its original brilliant editor, and resumed its
prominence as an organ of government. Mi*
chaud, while editor, during his last adminis*
tration, held the office of reader to the Ring,
at a salary of 3000 francs per annimi : anfil it
is said, one of the stipulations he made on ac-
cepting this office was, that he should not bo
called upcm to perform its duties.

Michiuid commenced the history in notice,
durine the reign of Charles X., who bestowed
upon nim 25,000 francs, in order that he
might visit the Holy Land ; but he had hardlj
arrived in Palestine before the reverses of his
King reached him : at the same time he got
news of the loss of 200,000 francs — it having
been confided to unsafe hands at home. Mi-
ohaud, like numy other literary men, was fond
ai the glass, — ^not the loolong-glass, — and
drank deeply at times. Still he was a scholar
and a poet, blessed with warm friends idiile
living, who mourned his death. His •♦ His-
tory of the Crusades" is unquestionaUy one
of the finest of its class, and* has been trans-
lated in admirable style. Michaud, in addi-
tion to writing this elaborate work, was the
founder of, and a considerable contributor to
** La Biograghie Univeselle," a splendid con-
ception, splendidly executed. We have heard
that this inmiensely valuable production of
labor and talent, was bdng translated for a
large publishing house in this coimtry : but
if commenced, we suspect it has stopped on
the way.

The ffistory before us covers ibe entire
story of the Crusades, from the earliest to the
last pilgrimages to the Holy Land. It em-
braces the greatest feature of the middle
ages ; a feature involving a desperate struggle
for mastery between Europe and Asia; the
Cross and the Crescent ; a feature which has
whetted up the energy of the gospel defender,
imparted fresh fire to poetry and romance,
and established a precedent of perseverance,
in battling for religicm and right, which have
unquestionably been attended with beneficial
influences upon the world. True, as our au-
thor intimates, in these battles of the cross,
on the soil where the cross was reared, the
sublimest virtues were mixed with all the dis-
orders of the wildest passions ; but the end
sou^t was a noble one.

We have read this work with the most de-
cided pleasure, and we doubt not, it will at
once find a place on the library shelves of
Americana.

OLARA ^40ASLAND.-•V ■Mfllf««ON SSN-

NBT-r.

— This is a newspaper story, which Mr.
T. B. Peterson, No. 98 Chestnut street,
has published in fine stjle, certainly as to

engravings and typography. It wn b rmoc s I
vast amount of stirring adventure, — somi
probable, and some ridionlously improbmlte
Its industrious, and, in lus way, clever soth^
has never written a better romance, to oausci]
quick-breathing excitement in the besoms of
tne million ; ami we suspect both himself and
his enterprising publisher, will greatly pro*
fit by this crowning success in wild story-
telling. Whether *' Clara Mordand*' is des-
tined to take its place by the side of the
"Ivanhoe," the "Spy" and <' Braoebritke
HaQ," remains to be seen. Mr. Bennett, the
author, if he writes not fbr the future, cer-
tainly does for the present : and let ns add,
he comes most fully up to the requirements
of popular marvellousness. He reascMis well,
too : ne says posthumous fiune is well enoagji,
but present dollars are a good deal better;
for, in the former case, one has a chance of
sleeping in a grave, the sod of which is trod-
den down by pilgrims to the tomb of genius,
very pleasant under the ciruumstances, whilein
the latter, one stands no chance of being hur-
ried to one's last resting place by starvation.

REASON AIMO FAJTH.

— A very handsome volume with this title,
embracing essays from the pen of. Henry
Rogers, has lately been published by Messrs.
Crosby, Nichols, & Co., Boston. These es-
says are extremely able ; and commanded
great and deserved favor, when originally
published in the " Edinbur^ Review." The
author is well known by his "Eclipse of
Faith," a book which, of its kind, is without
a superior.

UfMOUB TOM AT HOMK.

— F. C. Adams, the author of this book, is
understood to be a " Britisher," and the su-
percilious and disdainful temper peculiar to a
nation governed like his own is every where
sticking out on his pages. He has collected
all he could hear and read of wrongs or hard-
ships among the slaves of the South — has
commented on these, and on rumors of vice
and convictions of crime for the last fifty
years, and treats and uses them as indexes oi

Sublic sentiment and common custom at the
ou^. He has done what a man m^t do
here, who should collect into a book all the
instances of crime and vice recorded, or even
dreamed of, in Philaddphia, for half a cen-
tuiy past, and send it forth as a specimen of
the general morality of the city — the true
lights and shadows of puUio sentiment with
us.

None but a " Britisher," aocostomed either
to be despised himself, or to despise others at
home — ^none but one of a peqde o^nying
about, in their capacious chests, sudi swollen
disdain for inferior ranks of white men as the
privileged orders of England, could have
written such a book : a book so unjust, so
forgetful of aU but the Uaok man, in treating

LITERARY AND SOONTIFIC GOSSIP.

of tbe nghts of htUBanity ; bl»ckemiiff what
isiduie* and whitening what is blade: till
the whole mmm is tendered unsightly wad con-
fiind, bj- a smearii^ of his own. N<me bat
a BMD aoonstomed to yield a seirile homage
to soperiors, and to haye it enacted from him,
oooid have such a q>ite at masters, when let
loose fraoL the chains of custom, and the bonds
of larth and home, as this book betrays.
SaTery of whites ; disdain of them would not
shock him, for both he has seen from his youth
up ; both are the right and wont of his supe-
riors : bom such, and likely to stay such, as
modi from what he is, as from what they would
l)e. IkfisB Martinau somewhere remarks, in
rabstance, that nothing astonished her more
than seeing how hiunanity was respected in
this country, the dignity to which it attained
W birthri^ts, contrasted yrith the disdain of
uigtisfamen for inferiors— alms-takers, ready
to thank yoa for the air they breathe, as if it
were yours, or you might take it away.

As a iiteraiy performance, this work has no
decided merits except those of condemnation.
Dry, and sometimes vulgar details, make up
the sum of it, without any relief-touches of
humanity ; without any recognition that a
wMte ipan has any rights, any yirtues, any
duurities, but all as bad as the most perverted
specmen of the race. It may suit some
people to read it, in the same way that it
mi^t suit some to write it, but the id otnne
g«mc5, the rar^B aves, are exceptions ; that kind
of exceptions, too, which impart a lesson
through the perversion <^ what is good,
making that good so much the more admired
hy omtrast of what it is.

literarj anir Smntifit §mxf.

—The wood engravers for "Harper's Maga-
ane," if theyfiuiiish nothing very beautiftil,
can at least claim the merit of originality.
A few noonths ago they presented the readers
of the magashie with a sketch of Moses com-
ior down from Mount Sinai, carrying the
tables of the law, and having a post-and-rail
fence behind him, which the meek man has
JQit climbed over. It is said that this wood-
cut has given some ofienoe to our southern
Wethren, who contend (with some show of
probiiiiiity) that the Virginia or worm-fence
ihoold have been engraved { being prior in
I date to the post-md-rail variety. In the
I ^rii nomber is an article on the Mormons ;
I tte cats of whieh are taken from an Englidi
. vork l|to|y puUished. One of them repre-
•eats Joe amth, aoccnnpanied by his officers
lod his harem, reviewing the Nauvoo Legion
vho are drawn up in hne, presenting arms.
The rig^t band scHdier (the only cme seen at
ftiO iength and breadth) has his musket

turned with the htUt mttwardst and his hand
on the wrong part of the gun.

— The Harper's announce the twenty-second
thousand of "Villette." It is a pleasant
novel. Had it not enjoyed an antecedent like
" Jane Eyre," however, we think it could not
have so soon attained an edition of twenty
thousand copies.

— "Ella Muir, or Love and destiny," lately
published in London, has a peculiarity of
versification, which, as well as its pathos, to
match, may be best indicated by the specimen
given by the " AnthensDum :"

Here they must soTer, tbo* linger they may.

As all have linger*!! who love and most part ;
Tet, oh Uut BkomentI it will not delay*
When thor must each take their amamte way,
Ptom^ the Ibnd bosom where dwelleth thtir heart

— Negro literature is so much in vogue in
England, that writers are raking up all the
black heroes of history, and giving them the
benefit of every particle of romance of which '
their lives are capable. The last effort of
this kind is the '-Life of Toussaint L*Over-
ture, the Negro Patriot of Hayti!" Mrs.
Stowe must look to her laurels. The work
is thus spoken of hj the *' Athenaeum :"

*' Careless c<^ection c^ facts, slovenly treat-
ment, and apparent ignorance <^ all points of
local color, manners, &o., have here spoilt a
good subject and deprived a temporary appeal
of such powers as it possessed to arrest the
attention. <I am about,' runs the tune of
Mr. Beard's pompous prelude, < to teU a most
moring story — to wring the hearts of all and
sundry — and to excite the indignation of
every one save of those bom slaves, the mer-
cenaiT lovers of slavery !' But though Mr.
Beard may have fancied himself about to per-
form brave enterprises like thi*se, he does not
get beyond the merit which belongs to gener-
ous purpose in this book. Few persons will
be even deeply wrung or made bitterly indig-
nant by his narrative, which is meagre and
unreal. Panegyric without evidence, asser-
tion without authentication, digressions which
have the air of the sweepings of a sermon
portfolio, rhetoric that leaves us cold — are all
we find."

— The London " AthensBum" tries to be very
severe upon the works of our Spiritual Dia-*
logue correspondent, viz : *' Musings of an
Invalid," '' Fun and Earnest," and " Fancies
of a Whimsical Man." The editors are, evi-
dently dull judges of Fun, as most works
which amuse greatly with us, are pronounced
dull by them. The admirable '*Knick-
Knacks" of Knickerbocker Clarke, they did
not fancy ; and now our friend of the *' Spir-
itual Dialogues" comes in for a poke of their
goose-quills!

— Thirty-three pages ci the April number of
Brownson's Quarterly Review are devoted to
a criticism on Theodore Parker.

BIZ ABBS.

— T. B. Peterson, No. 98 Chestnut street,
has lateljr published " Llorente's History of
the Inquisition of Spain ;" three volumes of
the English edition being compressed into one.
It is a record of fearful doings ; and will be
read with interest. The translator well says :
" The curious will be amply gratified by the
perusal of the history of this secret tribunal ;
the man of leisure cannot fail in finding occu-
pation and amusement in the pages of Llo-
rente; and the philosopher wUl discover in
them ample scope for reflectioui on the aber-
rations or human reason, and on the capabil-
ity of our nature, when under the influence
of fanaticism, to inflict, with systematic in-
difference, death, torture, misery, anxiety,
and infamy, on the guilty and the innocent."
And all these atrocities were committed under
the name of the blessed Saviour ! There are
people who think they see tendencies abroad
leading to renewed persecutions on account
of reUgioua opinion. God forbid that these
tendencies, if they do exist, should take any
decided form or substance.

— Notices, of Brown's "Yusef—- a Gmsade
in the East," published by the Harpers, —
'* Dr. Aloott's Lectures on Life and Health,"
from Phillips, Sampson & Co., — " Clara Stan-
ley," by the author of •* Aunt Edith," from
Bob^t Carter & Brothers, through Martien,
of our city, vrill Itppear hereafter. Apropos :
we are preparing a notice of " Coleridge's
Works," lately published by the Harpers, —
will these very liberal gentlemen please send
us the second volume ?

— The story of the "trunk full of docu-
ments," said to be in '< the possession of a
lady in New Oiieans," touching the Dauphin
question, as the papers say is " good enough
if true." We have a strong suspicion, how-
ever, that it is not true.

— The " Home Journal" says of the " Bector
of St. Bardolph's," Mr. Shelton's admirable
novel, lately published by Charles Scribner,
and already in its second edition ; ** the au-
thor has presented us with a vivid picture of
the varied annoyances and petty persecutions
to which a mimster of the gospel is too often
subjected in his parochial relations. The nar-
rative is given in an easy, colloquial style,
with evidently a thorough knowledge of cler-
ical trials, and a deep well of sympathetic
feeling, underlaying a vein of humor and the
light knguage erf sprightly description. There
is something peculiarly touching in the " Su-
perannuated." The pastor vfears out, not
with age, but with thankless labor. His im-
agined life of idleness is one of incessant anx-
iety and toil ; and when strength and spirits
fail firom over-exertion, he is supcranuated.
There have been many such cases. The Bec-
tor of St. Bardolph's is not an isolated exam-
ple."

— The " Bourbon Prince," lately published
by the Harper's, is intensely interesting.
We hope to give some extracts from it here-
after.

— The En^ish papers state that " Tentkyacm
has thoroughly revised, considerably added
to, and recently republi^ed his * Ode to Wel-
lington.'" "Considerably added to,*' and
recently republished !" Unmerciful acts, both
these, towards the reading public.

— Mr. (Jeo. H. Boker has a ballad in the Ajml
number of Bentley^s Miscellany ^ entitled *• The
Siege of Cabazon."

— A new edition, with improvements, of
Ghrimshaw^s History of the United States ^ has
been published by Lippincott, Grambo & Co.,
Pluladdphia. The additions include the Mex-
ican war, a brief chapter on the Discoyery of
America by the Northmen, population, titles,
&c. This work has been puolished for thirty
years.

(Mm Sans-Sottd.

-THE OPBf^A

— Has gone, and has taken heaps of ixKmey
with it. The prices were high, and, despite
an army of dead-heads. Count Bossi and his
accomplished lady have added largely to the
new fortunes which they are building up in
our country, and with which they propose to
renew their old-time splendor at the Austrian
court. Madam Sontag is, unquestionably, the
artiste of all who have visited us, — that is,
when we consider her as both singer and
actress, — and those who have seen her will
ever remember the impression she produced.
Second thoughts convince us, that tne part to
the performance of which we thought her least
adapted, is decidedly her greatest — ^we mean
Lucrezia Borgia. The effects she produced in
this character, especially when aided by the
superb Badiali, were oppressively great.

It is said we shall not soon, if ever, have
Madam Sontag with us again, ^lould she
return, we hope she will bring along a good
company, and put the prices down to a re-
publican stan<£ud. If, in order to do this,
she destroys dead-headism, editors and all,
very well. We can willingly submit to our
share of the sacrifice for pubUc good. During
the late season, only two or three operas did
BizABRB enjoy, and for these small slices of
pleasure, he gave a quid pro quo.

Madam Sontag goes to Boston, where she
has promise of another brilliant harvest. The
Bostonians pay liberally for amusei^nts of
all kinds, especially when you coax them into
an auction furore. Madam Sontag's smart
little agent keeps his wits ever whittled off to
a keen point, and he will nnquestioniMy
there, as elsewhere, avail kimseu of every in- I

EDITOBS' SANS-SOUOI.

fienoe calculated to
imD."

'bring grist to the

—TiiiB ctonposition was repeated on Sunday
ercBing, at St. Augastine's church, and with
increased effect. It is a work indicating a
high order of genins, and its author will here-
after he known as a composer claiming a place
amoog the first in our land.

XHK BLJNO OONCafTT.

—A Tocal and instrumental concert of blind

popils of the Pennsylyania Hospital, was

giren, at Musical Fund Hall, on Tuesday

evening. The orchestra, conducted by Mr.

E. Pfeiffier, — late of the Germanian band, and

A Tery clever artist, — consisted of twenty-five

biind pofnls ; while the programme embraced

setectKms fi-om Robert le Diable, Masscmiello,

}Bdsummcr NigkVs Dream, Emoaiiy and other

classical compositions. In the course of the

evening there was an interesting exhibition

of reading the scriptures in raised letters ;

and, upon the whole, the entertainment was

one of peculiar interest. We shall probably

I recor to it again. Certainly, the impression

I made upon our mind cannot be easily removed.

1 One does not regret that one lives in an age

when even those deprived from birth of the

! priceless blessing of sight, are still enabled to

1 oeguile their dark hours with music, and re-

I fresh their souls with draughts fresh from the

foontains of the Gospel of the Saviour.

LA PBTl-r OL^e BU1.I.

— This very promising young violinist, the
son of Mr. R. L. Goodall, a weU-known artist,
is givinga sense of concerts at Musical Fund
M. We heard him, in private, a week or
two since, and with unequivocal satisfaction.
He comes at a time not altogether favorable
for a musician, and a performer on the violin.
Still, he will attract gratified, if not full au*
diences. His father has taken great pains with
him ; indeed, he shows elements of decided
pre-eminence.

WHO 18 MSP

—Br. Moriarty made qnite a fiowery lecture
oa Senday evemng last, at St. Augustine's
Cbuch, when he did full justice to the genius
<tf Meignen, c<Hnpo8er of the new Mass, per^
finned with so much efiect on the occasion,
ind gave a glowinr outline of ^e impressive
^Muty of some of the chants and hymns by
Koiniii, Mosart, Beethovan and others, as in-
corporated in the service of the Roman
Chordk. He did something more: He told

I tht fast ooiigie|;ation, that a Protestant cler-
gmaa of oar city, who had lateljr returned

!i DMnai^iir in Europe, visited while on the
^xatiBent, a cdebrated Roman Cathdio Oath-
«dnl;aodhe asauied Dr. M. thai hewasso
meh impressed by the a^rices, the swellings
of the «rgaa, the serMhic beauty of the
chuito, the murmurs of prayer, which

from the worshippers, the streams of light
gushing in frcnn painted windows, the upris-
ing of incense, the ensemhUy indeed, of the
moment that he prostrated himself in the
dust : moreover, that on this occasion, he, for
the first time in his life, felt the true inspira-
tion of worship. Dr. Moriarty added, after
relating this circumstance, that the reverend
gentleman who made the confession to him,
was periiaps, while he (Dr. M.) was speaking,
telling quite a different stoiy in his own
churdi. Many protestants heard this charge
of Dr. M.'s agamst one of their own clergy,
with indignant emotion; and particularly the
closing sneer. Who could this Protestant
d^^gyman have been? Will Dr. Moriarty
enlignten ns ?

OOT-reOHAL K.

— This Pianist, has had very brilliant suc-
cess in his native city, New Orleans. The
Picayune speaks of a sea of upturned heads,
ril enthusiasm. He was callea for after everjr
piece. "At the end of the first part, hw
father thanked the audience for their kindness,
and introduced the son, who, in a few happy
words in Fi-ench, expressed hi^warm affection
for this city (New-Orleans) and his native
country, and his gratitude for the warm wel-
come given to him." The opinion we formed
of Gottschalk, on hearing him lately in our
city, was unexceptionably good. He will
doubtless be hailed, on his return to the
North next month, by ardent friends and ad-
mirers.

QOOD. If? 1~RUB.

— The following anecdote of Franklin may or
may not be true. We eet it from a friend : —
Franklin, when he was Ambassador to France,
being at a meeting of a literary society, and
not well understanding the French when de-
claimed, determined to applaud when he saw
a lady of his acquaintance express satisfaction.
When they had ceased, a Uttle child, who
understood the French, said to him — " But,
grandpapa, you always applauded the loudest
when they were praising you!" Franklin
laughed heartily and explained the matter.

•■ALJNO'WAX.

— Respecting the sealing of letters and docu-
ments before the invention of wax, good author-
ity states that impressions in gold, silver and
lead, oocnr in Tnyan and other Rcmian empe-
rors in Ficoroni; among the Christian emperors,
bishops, kc ; in the l^tft, Spain, Sicily, Italy,
and in the south, but not the n(M*th of France.
The Terra Sif^iariSf or sealing-earth, which
was rather a bitumen, was brought from Asia
by the Romans, and was first known, says
Bedcmann amon^ the £g3rptians, and the spe-
cimens are seemingly Si enclosed in leaoen
oases. Pipe cUy was also used, as well as
Maltha— a cement of pitchwax, jdaster and
hi; iqpfdied likewise to make pipes waters

nSABRS.

tight. The Etroflcans even sealed treaties
with blood ; and dough, or paste, has beun
used. It does not appear that sealing-wax, as
we know it, was mvented eariier than the six*
teenth century. 'Ithas been conjectured, 'says
Beekmann, '<that as the oldest seals came
from England and France, and as the inyention
is called ' Spanish wax,' it originated with the
Spaniards ; but this is doubted. The first no-
tice of sealing-wax occurs in a work by Garcia
ab Orto, or Horto, entitled 'Aromatum et sim*
plicium aliquot Historia,' &c., first printed in
1563, and afterwards at Antwerp in 1574, 8to.,
in which latter edition it is mentioned at p. 33.
The oldest printed receipt for sealing-wax is in
a work entitled <Nea Titttderbuch, doc, Durch
Samuelen Zimmerman,. Burger zu Augspurg,
1579,' 4to p. 112." Gluten is supplanting
sealing-wax, and indeed wafers ; It is quickly
arranged, and hence up to the standard of our
business days.

The time will unquestionably soon oome
when we shall see neither wa^ nor wax,
unless it be on the desks of maiden ladies and
bachdors.

— Speaking of Mazzini and the continental
polk^, the London " Ttmcs" says : — " With
a price set upon his head in half the kinfi;doms
of Europe, and with a &ce so remarki^le as
never to be forgotten when once seen, he, nev-
ertheless, traverses the whole continent, passes
in and out of cities under the strictest surveil-
lance of Martial law; visits Milan, Vienna,
Naples, Rome, crosses and re-crosses the chan-
nel, where spies are always upon the watch,
and issues his proclamations fearlessly every-
where."

KIR. aBNJAMIN fS/10RAN.

— This kind-hearted and talented gentleman,
whose travels through England, — entitled
"Footpath and Highway," — have been so
well received by the reading public, leaves
us in a few days for London, where he pur-
poses to settle himself as a correspondent of
several American newspapers. We shall
miss Mr. M. in the editorial ranks of Phila-
delphia, to which he has been attached since
his return from abroad, and of which he has
been a member. He came here, howerer,
tied bv heart-oords to Albion ; and, return-
ing to her shores, is therefore quite a natural
consequence. Apn^xM : the London AtkeiuBum
of l»te date, has a notice of Mr. M.'s *' Foot-
path and Highway," where it says the author
'' appears to be full of that enthusiastic curi-
osity concerning the haunts of our authors
and poets whicn so generally distinguishes
the American in Eng^d. IBte may well say
that few of Shenstone's Gountrymen have
made pilgrimage to the burial-place, in Hales
Owen Churchyard, of tiie suthor of <The
Schoolmistress,' and the adomer of tlie Lea-

sowes. But from his boyhood upwards, Mr.
Moran appears to have loved the high places aa
well as the by-paths of Britishvimaginatioo, —
since he recalls early years in which he read
'Clarissa' by moonlight. In En^and, he may
be assured, such a feat is not of firequent occur-
rence. — A further flavor of individuality is
given to Mr. Moran's book by the Socialist
opinions which, it may be gathered, he eater-
tains. But wiUiout an^ reserve or paltering,
the expression of these is kindly, not rabid : —
poetical rather than practical. Like other
W(Mrks of the kind, his sketches were origi-
nally addressed to a Jransatlantic Journal, —
and the compensation for them auppears to
have furnished him with means sufficient for
travelling amons the people of England in his
modest fi^ion.'

OO OYS-TBRO "rURNP

— The Home Journal states that when oysters,
not interfered with, or transplanted by man,
take a natural position, and adhere to rocks
and other substances, their deeper shell touches
those substances ; and the flatter, thinner* or
smoother shell, is presented to the water. It
adds, however, that *< oysters, undetached,
and loose at the bottom of the sea, lie with the
round shell down, as the tide flows in, bat
turn themselves on the flat shell on its reflux."
Now, we would give something to see an
oyster turn, would not you reader? It ap-
peared to be as helpless as a newly-born babe,
as we bdK>ld it super-sea; but according to
the editor of the Journal — who dives down to
the depths of all subjects which he discusses —
it is quite another individual sub-sea, or at
home. We have our doubts, nevertheless, on
this subject ; and being in this state of uncer-
tainty, we would gravely propound a new
query, viz : Do Ofstebs tubn ?"

— According to the coirespondent ci a Boston
paper, the Empress of Russia, who is now an
invalid, and threatened with an attack of pa-
ralysis, takes every morning a milk bath. A
large number of cows are kq)t for this purpose ;
they are all milked at once, as hastily as pos-
sil^, mto wann pails, the milk thrown into a
marUe tub, heated to a little above blood heat,
and in this the royal invalid is placed to^lie tili
it cools. The correspondent adds that her
majesty has been a woman of most exem^ary
character, and is nrachbdoved. Herresideaice
in the summer is at Tsarskoe Selo, a palace
some eighteen miles from St Petersbiu^
The Emperor has, in many instoBoes, since
her long illness, displayed the wanaest at-
tachment to her, and is as unremitting in his
attentions as the cares of state will permit.
He goes to St. Petersburgh every day but al-
ways retama to spend the nigfat with hk
tauly.

EDITORS' SANS-SOUCI.

OF LTTKRATUPtB/*

— We hare leceived from Messrs. Derby k
Milkr a reply to ** Amenities of Literature,"
wlach appeiured in No. 25 of Bizab&b, and
berewith present it to our readers. There
are certain reflections on Dr. Schodcraft,
in this communication, which we do not
like, and to which we cannot subscribe ; but
we hare giv^i the attack and aj?e bound also
to offer the defence. Dr. S. can take care of
himself, doubtless. It is proper for us to say
here, that we never harbored any ill-feelings
towards Messrs. Derby k Miller, as the fact
of the ready offer to them of our pages for
their ddence fuHy evinces.

Aubwm, N. y.. April 6th, 1853.
Mnnts. J. M. Ohuboh St Co.

Gentlemen : — Our attention has been called
loan article in your Magazine (the * Bizarre,')
of March 19th, under the heading of *< Ame-
nities of LitenUore," which bears evidence of
a malicioas intention to injure us, by exhibit-
iag a business relation with certain parties in
a nlae H^t. Tou will oblige us by giving
publicity to the following statement of the
facts, — after which a diainterested public may
draw its own conclusions concerning the grie-
Tifices of Messrs. Schoolcraft and «kmes.

About the first of January, last, we pur-
cbsicd, firom the administrator of the estate of
the late Qeo. H. Derby, the stereotype plates
tod copyright of a work bearing the title,
'' Ameneui Indians, their Ckmdition and Pros-
pects, bv H. R. Schodcraft ; with an Appen-
ds, Ac^* Having been made aware that this
title was obnoxious to Mr. S. and his publi^-
ers, Messrs. Lippincott & Ca, on account of
its amilari^ to that of the large work in
oovrae of pablication by them, under author-
ity of Coi^resB; andb^nff desirous of paying
doe respect to ** publishers^ rights,** as wcdl as
tnthors', we decided to alter the title of our
book before issuing a new edition. The new
title we UKmght proper to submit to Mr. S.,
who had before made public complaint of an
alterattOQ of the work oy its late owners. In
K|iiy to a letter on this subject, from our house
it Bofialo, Mr. S. says, in effect, that he will
give it a new title, and an introduction, for
/our hundred dollars I Not feeling disposed to
accede to Utaa very tnodtst demand, and pro-
bably not having a just appreciation of the
writs of the wori£, we offered to sell him ste-
reotype plates, copyright, and all, for that

hi the meantime we had issued our semi-
amnial ** Trade List,*' and in it placed the
fropoted new title, not dreaming that by so
doing we were treroassing on Uie rights of
Mr. Jones, or any other partv. In filet, if we
bid ever seen his book at all, it had entirely
fiNaped our reooUection, until the receipt of
Us ktter of Fetmary 1st.

The letter which Mr. J. fbniished yon for

nublioation diners from the one we received ;
ne having omitted puldishing the postscript,
for reasons which will appear on perusing it.

** P. S. — I have just fimshed wnting a local
romance, which wiU make some 250 pages,
12mo. It has not been as yet offered to any
oi the publishers. Would you Mke to treat
for it ?^ (Signed,) J.B.J."

How Mr. Jones can reconcile the above
with his implied accusation of literary piracnr
on our part, is a riddle we are wholly unable
to solve. That a person who conceives him-
self to have been unjustly deprived of his
property should make complaint, and seek
restitution, is not strange ; b^t it is *' passing
strange," that, smarting under a sense of in-
justice, the injured part^ should offer, volun-
tarily, to place himself m the power of those
whom he professes to believe would willingly
do him wrong.

In the letter of Schoolcraft to Jones, under
date c^ February 2, '53, is a charge of '' fraud
and misrepresentation" demanding, from us,
a prompt refutation.

Mr. S. writes,— "the firm [D. & M.] to
whom you [Jones] allude, having purchased
the stereotype plates of the ** Indian in his
Wigwam" of a person who had no ridit to dis"
pose of it, procured a copyri^t by fraud and
misrepresentation,^^ &c.

This statement contains two ddiberate false-
hoods, known to be such at the time they were
penned. We have already stated the manner
in which we came in possession of this work.
In the ** Literary World," of Sept. 13, 1851,
we find a certificate signed by Wm. H. Gra-
ham, setting f<»ih that he (Graham) " being
the lawful owner," did sell it to Geo. H. Der-
hy & Co. We have ascertained further that
Ciraham purchased of a Mr. Benedict, who
first issued portions of it in pamphlet form,
seriaUy, and, as we are informed and have
reason to bdieve, neglected to secure a copy-
right for it. Portions of it appeared ongi-
ndly in the columns of some of the New T<mc
papers, and one article, at least, was contri-
buted by the author to a leading " Monthly
Review.'^' The serials, together with these
fugitive pieces, were afterwards collected and
published under the title of " Oneota." (The
author, who has credit for being somewhat
versed in Ab(»ri^nal literature, can proba-
bly see some relation between the title and the
stAject,) Bearing this name a single edition
was issued, whi(£ in course of time found its
way to the street stalls and auction rooms,
and the work was finally considered dead.

At the instance of Mr. Benedict, its author-
parent re-baptised it, (for a less sum, we pre-
sume, than ** four hwuhred dollars,") and the
"In^an in his Wigwam" was bom d «* One-
ota."

From this time Mr. Schoolcraft is guilty of
the most cruel ne^ect of an offspring for

BIZARRE.

which he noiv professes snch anxious solici-
tude. Sold from one party to another, in some
cases almost given awaify made to wear another
name, (^*The Red Race of America/*) the
work had finally hecome as destitute of value
as it was originally of merit. In its transfer
from one to another, the unfortunate possessor
was in each case made aware that it was not
originally copyrighted. Had this been othe]>
wise, the author evinced a total disregard of
his pecuniary interests, as we cannot ascer-
. tain he ever asked for a single cent from either
of three publishers who issued it prior to its
purchase by the late G. H. Derby. In his
hands and under cmother title, the work soon
reached a third edition. Suddenly Mr. School-
craft discovers that for this book, whose sale,
finally, was owing entirely to the enterprise
of its publishers, he had never been Mid !
Instead of seeking legal redress of Mr. Bene-
dict, the original publisher, or of Mr. Graham,
his successor, he comes before the public (vide
Lit. World, Aug. 30, '51,) cautioning them
ag»nst harboring his offspring, evidently be-
cause fixmi its respeetable appearance,, there
is room for a doubt as to its being legitimate.

More rec^itly, fiuling to sell another title,
he threatens us with a suit for " larceny, in
altering my (his) title," unless we surrender
to him the stereotype plates !

So much for the first specification. In rda-
tion to the second, we have only to say— -our
copyright is not for ovmership in any matter
of which he (S.) is author, but for our arrange^
ment of it; — and had we been disposed to
stoop to what he has the meanness to think us
capable, there was no necessity for it. The
title of a work, and the arrangement of its
contents, we believe to be as legitimate sub-
ject for copyright, as the material of whidi
it is made.

From many parties we should not quietly
submit to the libellous accusations contuned
in Mr. Schoolcraft's letter. He, however, who
has spent most of his life in studying the
manners, habits, and customs of the savage
tribes, may be somewhat excusable if, in the
meantime, he has forgotten what pertains to
the ''amenities" of civilized life. We take
the Ubcrty of expressing the hope that the
more recent business intercocirse with his
gentlemanly Philadelphia publishers, may
teach him some of the courtesies of Modem
American society.

In conclusion, we believe that ** Western
Scenes and Reminiscenses," if the title which
a new edition of the work renrred to bears,)
oonflicta with no work of Mr. Jones's ; and if
objectionable to Mr. Sdioolcraft, his fiune is
secure from any damage arising from its cir-
o^riation^ as we have Uken his name off 1^
title-page, Very respectfully.

Tours ic,
Derbt & MiLunt.

FATMER OAVAeSI.

— The Home Journal editor, has hevd Fathef
Gavassi, and describes his harangues as beii^
furious enough. He is " tall, well formed and;
vigorous, his &ce not unlike the rounded and
joviid one of Mr. Burton, with hair black and
glossy as a raven's wing. He wears an ample
black gown reaching from his neck to his feet,
upon the breast of which is a large red cross,
and anoUier smaller one to the left of it. His
mode of speaking, as we have intimated, is
extremd^ violent. He ranges freely all over
tiie spacious platform of the Tabernacle ; —
sometimes rushing forward, like Badiali to
the footlights of the theatre, and stretching
his long person as far over as the inexon^le
laws of gravity permit, he ejects a volley of
denunciation witn more than Badiali 's vehe-
mence. Then he will start back a few feet,
and, lifting up his hands as high as he can
reach, invoke the Diety, or perhaps seize an
unoffisnding chair, and dash it down upon the
ca^t, as he would dash down the poor Pope,
if he could as easily be got hold of. His ges-
ticulations are all of the same extreme char>
acter. His English is consideraUy Inroken,
and not always understood/; but he occasioa-
ally delivers a passage with an approach to
eloquence, which is rewarded by long contin-
ued appliuise. He has a singular way of mak-
ing very little words very prominent, the pre-
positions for example. We heard him deliver
the humble word *to' as though he were
hailing the mast-head in a gale of wind."

UNOLB TOfVI IN OOU^-r.

— Mrs. Stowe has prosecuted P. W. Thomas
for publishing a German translation of her
book. The ground taken by her, is that she
is the author of the original work, and that
she has caused a German translation of it to
be prepared and published ; with the sale of
which, as well as with her essential woperty
m the book, the trandation of Mr. Thomas is
in conflict.

NSW voRK orrv PA-ri-iKAe.
—A Boston paper thus stirs up the New York
City Fathers, by a parody M the (Ad song,
" Gaily the Troubadour :"

Vainly the Alderman

Fumbled his key.
As he was stt^gering

Home from his—** tea :'*
Smgin^, <* from City Hall

Keelmg I come ;
Good Mrs. Alderman

Let me (Mc/) home!"
Poor Mrs. Alderman

Soblnngly prays —
Thinking how sober he

Was in old days ;
Ere from the City Hall

Drunk he did come
Hiccoughing, *' Dearest (Hie!)

W^coine(Htc/)home!"

THE SUCCBSSPUL FORGERY.

WHJit SAT Toc, MAwapf"— /TarywAar.

mxxt.

Ttm, THx WEEK xxunto
SAT17RDAT, APRII. 30, 1§53.

THE

SUCCESSFUL FORGKRY.

SBCOND PABT.

In oor first paper we gave some occonnt of
tbeexecHtioQ and snccess of the various forge-
ries of Shaksperian documents^ perpetrated
hj Mr. William Henry Ireland ; and we now
ialend concluding the subject.

After the play of " Vortigem and Rowena"
had been condemned, the young author, ftir
from being discouraged, determined to write
another drama, entitled "Henry IT." Ten
wedcs were consumed in its composition ; but
it WIS never re-written in a disguised hand,
on old paper, because circumstances forced a
oonftasion from Mr. Ireland, before he had
time to copy it. The original manuscript of
this play is now before us. It belongs to the
libniy of the gentleman who owns the curi-
008 Bible, described in ** Bizarre" several
weeks ago. At the conclusicm of the folio,
are the words " Huzza, huzza, huzza !" indi-
cating tike rascal's exultation at having com-
pleted the work. The following lines are
ai|i^»06ed to be spoken by the King, when
deeiiiming his passion for the fair Rosamond :

• Hemry Y«s nreet 1ot«I but Veniu wati too bn«T i
4»A wfaOct abe did bedeck thee wHh her ehanns,
WuiloMed K) viih Uie work, tb«t she ne'er thouirht
Ho* Phe berfelf hud rtrlpp'd. giving thee all I
Ai I kiMtbe*, BMthinks, sww»t Lore bimrelf
8te«i thj front, pod wavee thy tkWty b«ir.
Ai JMlouf, be would keep me firom the theA."
•••••••••

The speeches put into the mouth of Becket,
were much admired by persons who consid-
ered themselves competent judges of Shaks-
peare's style and mode of expression. We
▼ill quote a few lines from one of these :

'' ^•^et, Man hath h]« day of joy and misery.
How thort the onat bow la«ting \b the othcrl
jnth M, the ftmt in long Mown o'er, and now
JM Mcond conie«, to mork my tortur'd ttool
jnth Uky| laufchter, ringhig to mine ears
■ J loM of power, B^ fiuled glorjr 1

^••••a««a
Tub. tnch! the ileep of death will cure all thoogbts.
Jod yet, nn^t thla my wholesome goodly flenh
Rot and wrra to fced the crawling earth-worm,
Wbo nothing aaTOurtbnt of duit and day?
Jt»«ible at tha Uumght I And een but now
They wind aboat my fleeh. and to the feel
^ dan^ ami oold as that nme hnmM aweat
"bicfa beta from oat the front of dying manl

A passage in the Bcognniftta Dramatiea,
tended greatly to strengthen Wief in the ori-
gmility of the drama. The writer referred
to the jdaya of Henry 1. md IL , by Wlliam

Shakspeare and Robert Davenport, and sup-
posed they were destroyed in the Are at Mr.
Warburton's. The scorched appearance of
all the manuscripts, caused by drying them
in too great haste, was attributed to their
having suffered in the same conflagration.
The number of visitors to Mr. Ireland's house
increased so rapidly, that it became necessary
to have printed cards of admission, entitling
the bearer to inspect the papers, with either
one gentleman, or lady, on Mondays, Wednes-
days and Fridays, between tfae hours of
twelve and three.

Much anxiety was expressed for the publi-
cation of the numerous papers ; but against
this, young Ireland strongly protested: saying
that the unknown donor was unwilling to
have them made public. At last, to rid him-
self of constant importunitiesy the gentle-
man *s consent was announced as obUiined ;
and the prospectus of the work was printed,
Mr. Malone, m the meantime, published a vol-
ume of nearly 500 pages, to prove the forge-
ry ; and, of course, ni^y incensed the guilty
author, who dreaded the effect of this work.
In order to increase the number of papers,
young Ireland ^introduced about 80 tracts,
acrostics, &c., with notes in Shakspeare's
writing, and with his name on the title-pages.
The Prince of Wales was desirous of inspect-
ing the curiosities : and a day was ajmointed
when Mr. Samuel Ireland repaired to Cariton
House, in order to give his Hi^ness an oppor-
tunity of examining them. He displayed a
surpriang knowledge of anti(|uity, and asked
numerous questions which evinced a depth of
penetration remarkable for one who had not
particularly studied the subject. The Prince
did not, however, pronounce decidedly upon
the authenticity of the papers ; but expressed
himself gratified at the proposed publication.

The interest felt regutling the mysterious
gentleman, increased to such an extent, that
attempts were made to discover his residence
by following Mr. Ireland when walking in the
street. Little did they suspect, that when
alone in his chambers, the whole was exe-
cuted. Ritson, also, examined the manu-
scripts; his silent scrutiny, piercing gaze,
and laconic questions, caused the young im-
postor to dread his verdict, particularly as he
left the house without delivering any opinion.
Some of the visitors stated, that if a descend-
ant of Sliakspeare could be found, he might
cbum all the papers. To prevent such a mis-
fortune. Mr. Ireland resorted to a most d&ring
expedient He composed several documents,
proving that Shakspeare had been closcAy con-
nected with a person of his name, and even
of the same Christian name^^WiUiam Henry.
Among these was a deed of gift to this indi-
vidual, who had saved Shakspeare^s life, when
almost drowning in ihe Thames. The un-
known gentleman who so generously gave the

BIZABRB.

papers to Mr. Irdaxid* had done so, it was
now stated, because he was ccmvinced of his
being a direct descendant of the man to whom
the bequest was made in the deed.

Not long after this a storm arose around the
daring impostor, which rendered his situation
far from enviable. Mr. Samuel Ireland was
regarded, by many, as the fabricator of the
manuscripts, and much odium was thus un-
justly heaped upon his character. Deeply
mortified at such suspicions, he constancy
entreated his son to reveal all that he knew of
the concealed donor, who was called Mr. H.

A committee of gentlemen was, at last,
assembled, in order to investigate the matter
thoroughly, and to demand answers to certain
interrogatories. Mr. S. Ireland also wrote to
Mr. Talbot, requesting him to communicate
all Ins information on the subject; but his
letter met with no response.

At the first meeting of the committee,
Toung Ireland was asked, if he would take
his oath that he believed the papers to be
genuine productions of Shakspeare. He re-
plied, that as it was their business to investi-
gate his father^s concern in the affair, he
would swear that he knew nothing whatever
of their origin. A list of names was then
made out, from which Mr. H. was to select
two persons, to whom he would confide every
fhct respecting the manuscripts; and these
individuals could then declare their opinion
to the world, without revealing his name.
This was agreed too by young Ireland ; and
as his mind was now in a dreadful state of
anxiety and perplexity, he reserved to make
a full confession to two gentlemen from whom
he anticipated leniency. When the list was
returned to the committee, however, these
persons declined receiving the important se-
cret Mr. Ireland then informed the com-
Saxy, that he thought he could prevail on
r. H. to confide it to Mr. Albany Wallis,
who was then {n^esent. This gentleman ac-
ceded to the prcMMsal; and a day was
appointed for the disclosure so ardently de-
su^. After summoning sufficient coura^,
Mr. Ireland detailed to Mr. Wallis every cir-
cumstance connected with his forgeries ; and
was heMrd, as we may suppose, with the
greatest astonishment. He also delivered into
his hands, the r^nainder of the ink, some
unfinished manuscripts, and the plans of sev-
eral plajrs, which showed the identity of the
hand-writing. Mr. Wallis recommended per-
fect silence, as before ; and promised that he
would answer no questions as to the validity
of the papers.

Paragraphs Booa ilppeared in the daily
prints, Utterly censuring the impostcH: for
allowing hia father to appear in such a dis*
graoeAil lieht before the world: and this
gentleman himself wrote a most toudiing let-
ter, entreating his son to clear up the myiiei^.

Rather ihxn make such a disdosure, yoang
Ireland determined to quit his home forever ;
which he did before his &ther*s return to
London. This conduct did not mend the
matter; and Mr. Samuel Ireland continued
so distressed, that his son wrote to him ac-
knowledging himself as the author of the
manuscnpts, and begging his pardon lor hav-
ing caused him so much trouble. The old
gentleman positively refused to credit this
statement ; saying it was utterly impoesiblo
for any set of men to produce the evidence he
possessed with regard to their genuineness ;
and so obstinatd^ did he adhere to this opin-
ion, that Mr. Wallis could not even induce
him to examine the papers written in a shnilar
disguised hand. This being the case, Mr.
Ireland published a pamphlet of forty-three
pages, confessing the trutn. Those who had
credited the manuscripts, now denied that
this volume could be from the same pen ; as
the style was so totally different Mr. Ireland
replied, that he had only attempted a plain
statement of facts, and had written it too
when his mind was unusually agitated. The
Morning Chronicle contained a paragraph
nearly to this effect: "W. H. Irdsnd hks
come forward, and announced himself author
of the papers attributed by him to Shaks-
peare; which, if true, proves him to be a

His &ther dreaded lest the worid should
suppose that he countenanced his aaa in any
way, and he therefore published a statement
that he had had no intercourse with, the cause
of his domestic misfortunes, for neariy three
years, except on one occasion, in the presence
of Mr. Albany Wallis.

Far from expressing any penitence on ac-
count of his guilty conduct, young Irdand
considered all who refused to bdieve the forge-
ries, as his persecutors ; and towards Mr. Ma-
lone he showed the most resentful feelings.
It was even a matter of sdf congratulation
that he had successfully deceived so many
scientific men : and he thought no blame
whatever would have attached to him, had
not these persons felt instated at the imposi-
tion exercised by a mere boy. He also assert-
ed that, as those who credited the papers were
delighted, and those who did not, flattered
themselves that they could not be deceived ;
therefore, in either case, no injmy was done !

In a newspaper published at the time of Mr.
Ireland's death, we find the following notice
of him:

*'' This strange and unfortunate person died
the other day in an obscure lodging in town,
in great want and suffering. We do not know
that sufficient interest survives about him to
warrant even this word of public mention ;
but his fate 1^ been instruotiTe enough to
call for it on other grounds, ffis inanity
was considerable, and would unqnestionab^

ROMANCE OP BLOCKLEY.

hmwt earned faiin 8afi3ly and honorably throngli
life, bat that its first exhibition was A Lis.
The indulgenee of such a singular ambition
was fiilJd toeveiy other. May it neyer be in-
dnlged in any ivalk of life or literature with-
out a result as &taL"

The forgeries ?rere pm>utrated in 1795 and
1796, and the guilty author died in 1834.

ROMANCE OF BLOCKLEY.

NUKBEE SLEVBN.
TUB Bu&SJERT.

If there is any biped whose general appear-
aace, when nniifiMrnied in his working habili-
me&ts, creates i^easurable cmoticms in the
nind of the beholder, that biped is the one
indept baker. We look at the butcher with
bia slnrt, upcm which sundry red drops take
the place of spangles, and our incipient Uiought
ia wat of tl^ slau^ter-honse. Fan^ takes
to herself wii^, and pictures the unoffending
OK, or quiet, passiye lamb, led from the mea-
dow green by a redoubtable cord, which
presses, rather too closely to be comfortable,
aramd the sinews of the neck, and domicili-
ated, temporarily, in the execution fabric.
Theo we hear the bleating and the lowing, a
blended symnhony of sounds which strUces
Iflce a dei^-knell on the tympanum of the
ear, and finally, we haye a distinct yision of
the uplifted Iniife, riyalling, in sharpness of
ed^ the Turkish cimetar, as it gleams for an
OBtant in the sunlight, and then comes down
Vke a levin bolt into the yitals of the poor
aahnal. Eyen the epicure, who dreams of a
airkin, and goes into raptures at the sight of
a atandiiig rib, sometimes looks upon our
frimd — the butcher — as though he were a
liaeal descendant of Robespierre, Danton, or
Marat, and internally sighs that no Charlotte
Oordaj can be found, whose puissant arm,
clothed with masculine energy, would des-
patdi the man of blood, and send him head-
ian^ into the throng of the shades, where the
manes of sheep and cows would haunt him
through an interminable duration.

ToUlly dissimilar are the feelings of the re-
fleeting man, as he turns his gaze upon that
other estimable functionary, who conyerts the
floor into the broad wheaten loaf, or luscious
rolL Sadi an one excites only pleasurable
emotions. He is a bloodless man. He has
nerer eyen gone the same length in actual
cruelty as the farmer, for the latter has
threshed the grain at a most merciless rate,
while the former has but metamorphosed the
p ow dery contents of the barr^ into i^mme-
trieal eompoonds ci yeast, water, and flour.
Tbe milier has exceeded him in seyerity of
treatment, for he has put the anoffineiding grain
into the mill, and amid its eternal clickHdaok

has drowned the cries of his yictim, as the
Jews did those of their children, when they
placed them in the glowing arms of the brazen
Moloch, (Tophet, as the Hebrew has it,) and
brought out their rascally drums to neutralize
the yocal utterances of the youthful crew.
He, on the other hand, has nnrely subjected
the lifeless remains of the grain to the action
of a temperate fire, which sayors no more of
cruelty than would the transfer of an Eg^t*
ian munmiy to the grate, thousands of years
after its vitality was extingmshed.

We love to look at our alms-house bakery.
There they are, a neat, jovial band of fdlows,
hard at it in the huge cellar immediately be-
neath the centre building. Descend the stairs
and survey them. You perceive that each
head is encased in a white paper cap, a little
a la turban. Let not this, however, lead you
to think that they are at all inclined to Islam-
ism. That delicate head-gear is only put on
to keep up the analogy wMch exists betwe^i
white flour, white aprons, and a snowy coro-
net. On one side of you can be seen a dozen
barrels, perhaps, of the most excell^it flour.
They stand together with an unanimxty whidi
might impart a salutary lesson to a discOTdant
band of politicians. They constitute the
tangible exponents of good eating. They
whisper in the ear of the sentimentalist a
ditty of the staff of life. They assure the
grumbler, who would have the world believe
that a board of managers have hearts like the
upper and the nether millstone, that he is al-
together on the wrong scent, so &r as our
Blockley supervisors are concerned ; and they
tell the flour-merchant that aome brothjar in
his line has had a good pull from the treasury
department, in thus catering to the wants of
the million. Immediately in front of you can
be espied that formidable board, extending
fvcm east to west, upon which the dough is
kneaded by a dozen of as lusty arms as ever
Hercules dould boast of. While thus mani-
pulating the dough, their owners sing, in bold
and manly accents, of the Faderland. If you
look a little closer at the knights of the dou|;h,
you will find a few drops of crystal, which
well up from that deep fountain of hidden
sensibilities, the heart. That stem man,
shoulders huge enough to sustain a couple of
fifty-sixes, is thinking, perhaps, of his little
cottage on the Rhine, as he sings, with falter- '
ing accents, the good old ditty —

'*ners meln horz warum so traurlg."

That young fellow who is drawing out a
fresh loaf from the oven, and wiping it off
with the capacious piece of flannel, to remove
any stray ashes which may determine to
amiere to its smooth and shining crust, is re-
calling the home where, in boyish wayward-
ness, he stole firom his mother's side and
oroeaed the main, as a saitor, before the mast.

BIZARRE.

That old man, who has just completed his
task of filling a hamper with fine fresh loaves,
and is now intent upon perusing the German
newspaper, the " Botschafter," which weekly
unfolds to him its fund of good religious in-
tdligence, goes hack, in memory, to the
Wartburg forest, where he rambled on a ho-
liday with his little troupe of younglings, who
withered one by one, some in youth and more
in manhood, till, scathed and blighted, he
owns no kindred here on earth.

But our alms-house friends do not give too
free a vent to those softer emotions which be-
speak for them the tender interest (^ the con-
siderate. Look yonder, and you will see a
young black rascal, who, because he has
nothing else to do, is tumbling into the dough
with his Ethiopean digits, as if he was bent
upon the task of amalgamation. Pomp, or
Pompey, td use his full classical designation,
loves to pass a stray hour in the cellar among
the wortny functionaries of the yeast. One
moment his frizzled head is bobbing so dose
to the furnace Uiat you anticipate the singeing
of his wool ; the next, and he has upset a
hamper of bread on the floor, and drawn upon
his poor trembling heart a profuse shower of
the Dutchman's ever-handy, ever-potent, yet
harmless malediction of "Bonder und Blit-
zen." Anon, he is half immersed in a keff of
water, and assumes the appearance of a
drowned rat, while the risible faculties of the
Overman fraternity are in full exercise at his
expense. Thus he capers about till some one
of the crew, getting a little vexed, helps him
up the stairway with a certain application of
boots and muscles, which enables the little
black fellow to rise without the puissant in-
tervention of yeast or salseratus.

If there is on earth an embodiment of mis-
chief and glee, it is to be found in a young
descendant ef Canaan. Roll him in the dust,
or crack him on the back till he winces, and
the next minute, if your back is turned, his
comical grimaces and ludicrous gesticulations
attest the fact, that although he has been
sadly belaboured, you have not yet knocked
out o( him that fimd of drollery upon which
he is continually drawing, when others, of a
temperament more choleric, are at the lowest
point of mental dejection. There is not, how-
ever, much affinity between the stem Teutonic
characteristics and the buoyant and effervesc-
ing gaiety of the young African. They may
for a few minutes laugh at his pranlLS, and
even help him on with a few of his hair-
brained capers, but it will not be long bdbre
the gravity of the Heidelburgers will suggest
the cessation of all such Merry-Andrewism.

Now, the bread is being piled upon the
wheel-barrow for speedy and sure oonvejrance
to that citadel, the storehouse. Did you ever
put your eyes on m(»e capacious loaves?
Why, their jovial circumfiereDce almost makes

one merry. They are none of your meagre,
milk-and-water ccmbinations, whidi look aa
starched, and demure, and prim, when they
emerge firom the oven, as if they were desUned
for some rascally miser, who would chip them
off by the inch, and only cut them when his
stomach cried ** rations." No, they look Ukc
stout honest yeoman ; admitting that there is
yeomanry among the bread, real sdid Dutch
Hamburgh burghers. They bring up the
shade of old Peter Stuyvesant, when he sat in
his porch and ate his bread and molasses,
flanked by pork and redoubtable sourcrout ;
in a word, they call up the recollections of
those sunny hours when our grandmothers
silenced the clamours of our appetites by
cutting us an entire slice across the continent
of an eight-cent loaf, and sprinkled it with
that blessed quieter of noise — ^the light brown
sugar. Such are our reflections as we watch
the bread being wheeled over to the store-
house.

One barrow is being wheeled by our friend
Josey — he of the green spectacles — ^who has
figured in a previous paper. He is taking
the allowance of the children's asylum to its
destination, and many a little hand will soon
part the broad ^des of those lusty loaves
wlien they reach the kitchen. Nothing so
invigorates an urdiin as the sight of bread,
especially if it be fresh. Its strengthening
fragrance is to him like sales from Araby, the
blest ; and if, by a oomDination of felicitous
events, he can get between his teeth a piece of
the smoking hot, he asks no collateral recom-
m^dations of butter to make him the happiest
of human kind. Oh ! for the halcyon hours
when the height of the writer's ambition was,
like that of the alms-house children, to get a
slice of bread, real home-made bread, fresh
from the oven ! Stem realities of actual life
have now usurped the place of innocent en-
joyment ; and grief and care sit, in a fearful
brotherhood, by the portals of a heart once
gay and bounding as the birds of spring.

SPIRITUAL DIALOGUES.

niALOOUB XIV.

Julius Cjesab— Zaohart Taylor.

CiBs. I beg your pardon, General, I covi-
sider myself the honored party on this occa-
sion.

Tatf, No, no, no ! dont't talk so ; the idea
of putting an old-&shioned Yankee Scddier,
like me, on the same platform with the great-
est fighter of all antiquity ; I —

Cos, Your too modest, by half. I tdl you
again, nothing I ever did in Gaul, or Parthia,
or AfHca, is to be named in the same eemtuiy
with that affair at Buena Vista.

Joy. Oh, you're joking.

SPIRITUAL DIALOGUES.

Ccs. I am nof joking; nor am I alone in
the opinion. Twas but yesterday that I
beArd Epaminondas and Marlborongfa both
saying the Tery same thing. Leonidas, too,
who oaght to know what good fighting is, ex-
pressed himself most emphatically, on the
subject : and also concernrag the capture of
Monterey. He looked upon both performances,
be said, as among the very happiest military
hits on record.

Toy, Well, well ; after snch authorities,
it wotdd be sheer a^ectation in me, to say
othenriae, I certainly tried to do my duty on
that occasion.

Ctfs. Ton did it, too, most nobly, glorious-
ly, my old friend ; ay, and on all other occa-
mim&, civil and military. I have been longing
tar an opportunity to tell you so. I know all
aboot you, you see.

Toy. Through what channel, may I ask ?

Ccts. Well , the military part of your career
was recited to me, not long since, and with a
ddigbtfiil enthusiasm, by your gallant bro-
flier. Worth, the American Murat, as we all
caS him ; while the civil portion of it, was
rendered ample justice to, let me teU you, by
that choicest of choice spirits, £[ekrt Clay
bimselC.

Ta*t. Indeed? That was very magnani-
moQs in brother Hal, considering tnat I, (most
innocently, it is true, nay reluctantly,) stood
so in the way of his earthly ambition. He
alluded then, did he, to the Presidential cam-
pMjpi?

Ctts. He told me the whole story : and so
&r as I could judge, with perfect frankness
and good-humor. He wound up his narra-
tive, I remember, by remarking, with great
emphasis, that he w(mld rather be right than
Preadent or Em^t>r of the best star in the
universe. A glorious sentiment, Zachary!
Ah, dear ; I wish I had acted up to it in my
little day on earth. I should be in much bet-
ter spirits this very hour, I assure you.
That all-grasping, guilty ambition of mine
was a terrible corse, both to me and to Rome.
Candidly, now. General, don*t you think, it
would hiave been far better for the world, if I
had never been bom ?

Tciy. The Lord saw fit to send you here,
JoHos, and ^lat I conadera sufficient answer
to yoor question.

Cets, A most soldier-like one, certainly.

Toy. Why he permitted you to raise the
old boy, as you did, is another matter. But
Pve no doubt the mystery will be cleared up
an in good time. I*m but a novice yet in
tilings spiritual, and should rather seek light
fhxn jrou on these points, than venture on
any opinion of my own. But be that as it
may, I can't hdp fiking you, anyhow, CsDsar,
wiui an yoor imperfections.

CtBs. Ditto, ditto, with an my soul! Yes,
I was quite in love with yon, Zachary, at the

very first blush. And so I was telling our
earthly friend here, before you came, while
studying that tip-top bust of yours. Hum-
bug apart, I consiaer it worth a journey
across a score of milky-ways, to shid^e such
an honest old fellow by the hand.

Tay. Well, it certainly is most gratifying
to be talked to, in this style, by so illustrious
a spectre : so, so, —

6<gs, Brilliant alike in the bondoir and in
the cabinet, on the stump and in the field.
That's what you were going to say, General,
is it not ?

Tay, Precisely ; only you have put it in
as many words as I should have used sen-
tences. I was going to add, however, by one
whom I can't help thinking, (asking Plu-
tarch's pardon,) a far greater Commander
than Alexander himself.

Cos. Inter nosj Zachary ; I don't think
much of Plutarch.

Tay. I'm sorry to hear you say that ; —
Why so?

CcBs. Oh, he's such fk superstitious, senti-
mental old twaddler. And, then, so inaccu-
rate, and, above all, so full of his (Grecian
prejudices! Confound the fellow: do you
know that he actually accuses me, in that lie
of a life vf his, of cutting a million of men to
pieces, in my time ? I was bad enough, hea-
ven knows ; but not quite such a wretch as
that comes to.

Tay. I remember the passage. I dropped
a cypher, mentaUy, when I read it, as being
probably nearer the truth : and, as you say,
bad enough at that.

C(ES. Too true, too true : and yet I can't
help regretting, now and then, General, that
I had'nt a little of your flying artillery with
me in Gaul. I should have dearly loved to
have given Ambiorix, and Vercingetorix, and
the rest of those gallic rascals, an occasional
shower of that same grape that you threw
in, to such purpose, among those trumpet-
blowing Mexicans ; eh, Zach ?

Tay, Fie, fie, Julius; don't talk so. —
These are no themes to be trifled with. I say
again, you made quite havoc enough, in your
day, without resorting to the murderous con-
trivances of modem times. That one afiair
with the Nervii, alone ; what a terrible, terri-
ble day's work that was! Think of those
sixty thousand brave fellows that bit the dust,
between sun and sun! Fighting for their
own friends, too, at that ! Bad, bad business,
Caesar ! I almost wished, when I first read
about it, that you had shared their fate : but
perhaps another cypher ought to be dropped
here, too : how is it ?

Ca,%. No, no; the statement is quite too
correct. Tou'U find the same figures in my
Commentaries.

W, the Elder, Here is the volume, ri^t
by, if you would like to refer to it.

BIZARRE.

C<ES Never mind, never mind, old gentle-
man. (After a short pause,) Yes, yes, take
it for all ; that was the hardest day's fight,
and the narrowest escape, that I ever had.
The old Tenth, too ; Jove hless *em : how
they covered themselves with glory on that
day. Your own Kentucky volunteers, Gen-
eral, could 'nt have done greater wonders.

Tay. As a mere specimen of [duck, I grant
you, it was a brilliant affair; the prettiest
thing you did, perhaps, in all your Gallic Cam-
paigns ; unless the putting up of that fiunous
bridge —

W. the Elder, Oh, General, don't speak of
that infernal bridge, if you please. It recalls
altogether too many sound thrashings, I as-
sure you.

Cos, Thrashings ! what does the old gen-
tleman mean by that? You smile. General.
What is the mystery ? Explain, explain.

Tay, You are not aware then, Cseaar, it
seems, that these same Commentaries of yours
have, for many centuries, been a text-book in
our schools ?

C(Bs, Indeed ! You surprise me.

Tay. Even so ; and that same passage,
wherein the construction of the aforesaid
bridge is described, being a right down tough
one, has caused a great many lazy boys a
great many severe whippings. IVe had a
taste of the hickory, myself, more than once
on that score.

C(Bs, Ah ! that's it ; is it ? I am heartily
sorry that I should have been the cause of
any such suffering on your part, General ; or
on that of our old friend, here. So much for
being a Classic !

Tay. Oh, don't mention it, CsBsar. I be-
lieve in thrashing, myself. Boys need it as
much as grain ; depend upon it.

Cccs, (Aside to Tay.) But what a queer
old customer this seems to be of ours !

Tay. An eccentric person, very. Soesk
out, landlord ; there is evidently something
on the tip of your tongue, that you, want to
get rid of.

W. the Elder. An absurd fancy, nothing
more. This old noddle of mine is quite too
full of them.

C<w. Out with it now ; out with it.

W, the Elder. Oh, I was only thinking
what a tremendous army Caosar would now
be commanding, this very day, could he get
together all the individuals that have been
flogged on his account. All Gaul would hard-
ly hdd them. And were he to add thereto,
lul the n^roes, dogs and horses, that have
been christened after him, he might prescribe
terms to the Holy Alliance itself.

C<es. Well, tlus is &me, with a vengeance !
But is'nt our old friend here quizzing, Gener-
al?

Tay. Not at all. He speaks within bounds.
I myself left at least a score of Cffisars in my

service, when I died. Yes, Julius, I have
straddled Csesars, hunted with Caesars, been
shaved by Caesars. Both you and Pompey
have been amazin^^ useful to me, all my Hfe,
in the way of blackmg my boots, driving my
teams, getting in my sugar-crc^, etc., etc.
But we are frivolous. To revert to Plutarch.
I was right down sorry, my fnend, to bear
you spei^ (^ him in the way you did. He
always struck me, as being a most amiable
old philosopher and moralist ; and I think
that s his reputation amongst most readers.
At any rate, he has made many a long day
seem short to me, in camp and on the fron-
tier^ with those lively biographies of his.
Commcm gratitude, therefore, will not allow
me to say anything disrespectful to his nM-
mory.

CcBs. My dear €Jeneral , had I known ihst —

Tay. Never mind, never mind. He cer*
tainly has not done you justice, however.

W. the Elder. No, indeed ; the theme was
altogether beyond his powers. Ah, Your
Highness ; if we only had your autobiogra-
phy, now : that would have beoi a Tolume
for the auctioneers to keep knocking down by
the tens of thousands ! IsW there such a
work somewhere, hid away under one of those
seven hills of your's ? If so, pray let us into
the secret. I should make a fortune by it in
less than no time. Are you sure you did'nt
write such a book, and stow it away in some
place that has never been found out ?

C<Es. Indeed, indeed, my old friend, I did
not. I fully intended to liave done so, how-
ever, had I lived. Confound those rascally
assassins, they caused me a world of disap-
pointments ! i,

Tay. By the way, Caesar, haver you seen
much of Brutus, since th^ affiur ?

Cos. A good deal.

Tcy, And did he explain it at all to your
satisraction ?

C<ES. Perfectly, perfectly. A glorious fd-
low, Zach ! No lortier spirit ever breathed
on earth. As to the other conspirators, how-
ever, they were a miserable set of wretches.

Tay. What, not Caasius ?

Cas. Well, I never had much &ith in his
integrity. A bitter creature. General, and
a fri^tened mercenary one; and as for the rest,
they were little better than mere money-muj^

d6l*61*fi

Toy. While I think of it, Caesar, I should
hke to ask you a question or two, on points
that somewhat interest me.

CiBs. Name them, name them, my dear
friend.

Tay. Well, then ; suppose you had lived
out your days, and died quietly in your bed.
how would things probably have gone ? How
would your own career, and that of Rome,
nay, of the woild, have been affected by it ?
What were your plans and fedings, at tbe

SPIRITUAL DIALOGUES.

time tiiat yon were thus crnelly taken offt
I eonfess I should like to have some exi^aiu^
tkoB on these p<Miit8, if f^reeable to you.

C«». Your questions. General, are certain-
ly somewhat difficult and embarrassing : es-
pedally when we reflect how deceitful all
MTtii, how doubtful all futures, have ever
been on earth. I will endeavor to answer
them, however, and honestly. That I had
a foolish, guilty passion for the name and
power of Kiz^, I mav not pretend to deny.
The evidence is overwhelming against me on
ihai pmai, Tes, I should have left no stone
unturned, to have secured the throne. Well,
mppose the people had succumbed, the con-
spTOtors been thwarted, and the coronation
had duly taken place, how would King Julius
I, have behaved himself? That's t& ques-
tion. Well, if I know myself at all, Zachary,
I flfaould have been guilty of no small acts of
meaiiDefla or of treachery. Overbearing and
imperious I should have been undoubtedly ;
Imt as for staining my name with any of
those deeds of beastly debauchery and dia-
b^c cruelty, that have made forever infam-
ooSy some of my dependants, I am sure, my
dear friend, you will believe me, I was utterly
nncapaUe of them. That I should have un-
dertaken to enlarge my Parthian and German
acquisitions, and have made more Gallic con-
qiiests> and invaded Britain aeain, it is of
ooorse unnecessary to add. Nor should I
have Deflected the gentler arts and emidoy-
ments of peace, nor the strengthening and em-
beUidnng of the imperial city. I had already
arrangements, indeed, for the erection, on a
grand scale, of several buildings, both useful
and ornamental ; such as a Grain Depot, and
Iferdiants' Exdiange, and Oustom-House ; a
new Library on the Esquiline, and a School
for Architects, the design of which I furnished
mjaelf, and had given to mv friend, Servilius,
ttte mdile, the very day be/ore my assassina-
tion. A superb theatre, too, hardly inferior
in size and el^ance, to the Colosseum itself;
and a Grecian Opera House ; but, above all,
a magnificent Observatory, on the Coelain hilL
Tliat, my dear General, was quite a hobby of
mine-— the perfecting of our Roman Astrono-
my ; a subject, indeed, which I had spent a
good deal of time and money on, while in
fjgypt. I had also planned the construction,
on im^yroved principles, of several new roads
in various piuis of the empire ; some modifi-
cation also, in our system of draining and
sewerage, a branch of engineering, you know
for wh»ch we Itomans were always famous.
The great subject of Rivers and Harbors, too,
occupied my thoughts a good deal, at that
time : and the founding of a Military Hospital
for my brave dd legionaries. I actually made
arrangements for laying the comer-stone of
this last structure, in person, and with appro-
priate ceremonies» on the very morning of

my taking off. But I must not weary you,
General, with all these details.

Toy. Not at all, not at all ; go on. I am
quite interested, I assure you.

C(Es, Well, I might add, that the subject
of the Currency was one, in which I was also
deeply interested. Some six months before
my E^rodus from the flesh, I had drawn up
and submitted to m^ friend, Dolabella, the
plan of a grand National Bank, both of cir-
culation and discount, with a capital of twen-
ty-five millions of sestertia, and branches, of
course all over the empire. D. approved of
it, I remember, with some slight modifica"
tions, and was, in fact, to have been its first
Presid^it. Anthony, too, liked the idea, and
would, no doubt, have been a leading Stock-
header. There was another matter, too, Zach-
ary, that I had quite at heart.

Toy. Ah. what was that ?

CcBs The immt>vement and enlargement
of our Common Scho(4 System.

Tay. The deuce you nad ! Why, Julius,
your brain seems to have been perfectly crowd-
ed with grand and noble ideas. What a pity,
what a pity, that you had no opportunity to
carry them out !

CcBs, Well, I was certain, General, after
the above statements that you would give me
credit for some good intentions, at least. But
there was {mother thought, stiU granaer and
nobler, mj* friend, that crossed my mind oc-
casionally ; though, I confess, I doubt whether
I should have ever had moral courage enough
to have acted up to it ; if, indeed it had been
at all practicable.

T(hf, And what thought may that have
been?

Ccts, That of voluntarily resigning, after
a few brief years of prosperous rule, the im-
perial crown and pur^e, and of recommend-
ing to the Senate and People, the re-organiza-
tion of our glorious repuolic, on newer and
better principles. Yes, Zachary ; a republic
somewhat like your own, though, of course,
far, far inferior to it, as a piece of legislative
workmanship.

Tay, What! a federal government, based
on representation, and with a written Consti-
tution ? You amaze me.

Can. Even so ; as I said before, however,
I fear I should hardly have had magnanimity
enough to carry out the idea, when the time
came. But suppose it had been so, my fnend,
and the people had accepted the proposition,
and pernaps have chosen me for thdr first
President — ^would'nt it have been ^orious?
How it would have read in history ! Julius
CsBsar, first President of the United States of
Italy ! After a term or two, perhaps, of peace-
fiil and beneficent government, under the Con-
stitution, to have retired and spent tbe evening
of my days in quiet, and have oied, at last pla-
cidly in my bed, and with an approving con-

40 ^

BIZABRE.

science, as you did, my friend, and haye been
followed to the tomb by millions of loving,
weeping countrymen! Ah, dear, on how mncn
pleasanter a footing should I have then stood
with posteritv ! How different probably would
have been the fate of dear Rome, too ; nay,
as you said, of the whole world itself.

Tay. Would to heaven that it had been so
decrc^ ! But really, Julius, had you matured
this same idea <^ your^s, so far, as your re-
maricB would seem to imply? And, pray,
how was the Executive Department ofVour
government to have been organized ? Would
you have had a corps of Constitutional ad-
visers about you, or would you have been
your own Cabinet ? Between ourselves, my
friend, that was altogether the most trying
part of my whole public life, the selection of
that same Cabinet. I would rather have
fought twenty Buena Vistas over again, than
to hAve had a second one to construct.

C«f, Ah, you were too honest for your
own good- That was your trouble. If you
had been more of a rogue, Zachary, I have
no doubt you^d have been in the body this
very hour. But to reply to your question ;
I should have had a Cabinet, by all means ;
nay, I had even gone so far as to pitch upon
thepersons who were to compose it.

lay. Ah, who were they, who were they ?

Cms, Well, Brutus, of course, would have
been Secretair of State, Dolabclla, of the
Treasury, Sulpitius Rufus, of the Interior,
Anthony, dissolute dog that he was, IHn afraid
I should have had to have made Secretary of
the Navy, while Calenus would have presided
over the War Department. As for the Attor-
ney General — but, holloa; what's our old
host so busy about ?

Tay, Why the old gentleman seems to be
taking notes right smart.

W, the Elder. To be sure I am. Do you
suppose I am going to let such startling dis-
closures as these, go unrecorded ? No, indeed,
— positively must and shall he informed of all
these things. But, really, Caesar, I must say
that I have been a good deal startled, I might
add bewildered, by some of your statements.
I had not the remotest idea, that such things
as Banks and Bank Notes, were known to
you classical boys, any more than penny
papers ; or that you were familiar with tele-
scopes, or lorgnettes, or librettos.

(Jsa. And yet, my aged friend, I am giv-
ingyou the naked, unvarnished facts.

Aoy. But, come, Julius : if we*re going
to see that Washington Exhibition, I was
speaking to you about, it's high time we were
off. Daylight is going fast.

C«s. True, true ; I would'nt miss it for
worlds.

Tay. And suppose we get our (Ad friend
here to act as cicerone.

W. the Elder. I am quite unworthy of such

an honor. Toull be delighted with the pic-
tures, though, I'm sure.

Tay. I am told that there are no less than
a dozen heads of the Pater Patriffi there, and
all by artists of note.

W. the Elder. Even so ; heads by Staait,
Pine, WertmuUer, Carrachi, Houdon, Powers,
and others, to say nothing <^ Leutze's magni-
ficent composition, the Crossing of th€ Rubi'
con.

Tay. What, what, what ?

W. the Elder. Pshaw ; I'm alwajrs making
6uch blunders, — Delaware, I should have
said.

CaEs. I'm afraid, my old boy, that was
meant for a sly cut at me, if the truth were
known.

W. the Elder. Oh, how can you ?

Cscs. No matter; I deserve it. In fitct.
General, I almost shrink from being, confront-
ed with the great patriot. The contrast incur
careers here bdow, was so painfully marked*
that—

Tay. Oh, don't be so squeamish. Besides,
you'll find plenty of other attractions there.
WiU he not, landlord ?

W. the Elder. Yes, indeed ; quite an assort-
ment of fancy pieces, and some ^orious land^
scapes. Gignoux^s Seasons ^ saoong the rest;
and, above all, the ever-charming Course of
Empire.

Cos. Indeed ! I was somewhat of a land-
scape painter myself, in my early days.

Tay. What were yoii not, Csesar? Poet,
wit, nne gentleman, orator, statesman, war-
rior ; and, moreover, unless Suetonius b^es
you, a terrible fellow among the girls.

Cos . Well, I was somewhat (m a pet among
the petticoats, it must be confessed.

2 cm. A sad do^, I fear. Csesar, allow me
to ask you one plain question.

Cws. Certainly.

Tay. Suppose now, after this same imagi-
nary coronation of yours, that you have had
so much to say about, that that wicked and
bewitching syren, Cleopatra, had come over to
your Courts, would you had have the courage
to turn your back on all her fascinations?
Would you have been a faithfVil husband to
your loving Queen, Calpumia ? I fear not.

Cii s. \\ ell, well , General, those were wick-
ed times : there's no denying that. I was
surrounded by pretty hard characters during
most of my stay on earth. But, oh, what a
comfort it is to know that all these things
have changed, since !

Tay. Rather sarcastic Csosar, that last
reniark. But come, let's be off. I shall insist
however, on our old host's accompanying
us.

W. the Elder. As you will, Coounanders.

CsES, Bene andiamo.

[Exeunt.]

LITERARY AND SOHSNTinC GOSSIP.

Jittrarj anb Scientific Gossip.

-AK4ErMI-neS of UTERATURB,' Nn.S.

—A third draught of "Amenities," and
AS will be seen, a reply on the part of Mr. J.
B. Jones, to the letter of Messrs. Derby & Mil-
ler, pahlished in our last, has been sent to us,
and is as follows :

Messrs. Editors :— Will you permit me to
suggest to those who have not seen Nos. 1 and
2 of this correspondence, the necessity of pro-
caring them, if possible, that they may be
cnaUed the more perfectly to comprehend the
merits of No. 3 ?

No. 2 contains a certain P. S. which will
be likely to attract the reader's attention;
lod which, if interpreted as Messrs. Derbv &
^filler interpreted it, will be apt to make him
anile. Let me copy it here :

** P. S. I hare just finished writing a local
romanee, which will make some 250 pages,
12 mo. It has not as yet been offered to any
of the publishers. Would you like to treat
ferh?'*^ (Sifrned) J.B.J.

And this P. S. Messrs. D. & M. say was
omitted in the very remarkable corre^xmd-
enee, designated as No. 1. Admit it. It was
foRign to the sul^t. But since it has been
deecned worthy of preservation, it is humbly
submitted that a true version ought to l>e
transmitted to posterity. A sli^t omission
must be sof^ied, for the benefit of the mil-
lions unborn. The last sentence of the P. S.
most be read as follows: " WouWnt you Uke
to treat fbr it?''

Mr. J. may safely own to some degree of
shame for making use of so vulgar an eipres-
aen to such grave and high-minded gentle-
men; but it is strictly vernacular, and not
without signification. It may be presumed
that the one uttering it does not look for favors
at the hands of the party spoken to. And
1 what are the favors grantoi by such publish-
ers to aatfaoTS ?

Refer to their statements ('* Amenities'' No.
2,) in the Bizabrb of last week. A Mr. Ben-
edict eoQects some of Dr. Schoolcraft's pro-
ducdona, and sells th^n to a Mr. Graham ;
Mr. Qraham sdls them to G. H. Derby ; and
Derby k Miller purchased them of the admin-
istrauvr of G. H. D. Derby k Miller bestow
upon them a new title, make up a table of
contents, and procure a copyright. They say
in No. 2, " The title of a work, and the ar-
nu^gement of its contents, we believe to be
ts lM;itimate 8ul:ject of copyright, as the ma-
tenalof which it is made !*'

CSood. Did Mr. J.^reveal his title in the
P. S. ? And wiU he not be certain to make
sn ^* nrrmngement of its contents" himself,
Ufore Messrs. D. k M. shall set their eyes
upon it!

Messrs. D. & M. do not deny that the sub-
stance of the book is the production of Dr.
S. But cm bono ? Did they not " arrange its
contents," and does not that entitle them to
the copyright ? They say, fiirthcr, that the
book was "originally destitute of merit."
So, then, their new 'title — ^which in truth was
our's — and "arrangement of its contents,"
made it what it is, and made it sdl; and
hence, they have the exclusive right to the
profits of it.

The author (say thev,) " never asked for a
* single cent' " until his book " reached a
third edition." What impudence, then, to
ask for a " cent !" Messrs. D. & M. exclaim :
" Suddenly Mr. S. discovers that for his book,
whose sale, finally, was owing entirely to the
ehterprise of its publishers, he had never been
paid .^" The admiration mark (!) was placed
there by D. & M. Who does not admu-e it ?
Is it not admirable ?

We cannot too often recommend Nos. 1 and
2 to the reader. They are to be sent to the
committee in the Senate having charge of the
copyright treaty, and will be preserved for-
ever in the arcmves of the government. Pub-
lishers can frown upon authors dumg their
lives ; but when both are dead, and money
and bargains are no longer taken into consid-
eration, justice is awarded impartially. There
may be those, however, who would prefer an
ounce of gold in life, to an eternity of fame
after death. But who would be infamous ?

The conclusion of Messrs. D. & M.'s candid
confession in No. 2, is almost exciting. They
say : " In conclusion, we believe that * West-
em Scenes, etc." [the last edition was enti-
tled * Wild Western Scenes,'] conflicts with
no work of Mr. J.'s ; and, if objectionable to
Mr. S., his fame is secure firom any damage
arising from its circulation, as we have taken
his name off the title page

Yours RcSpectfullv,

Debst & Miller."^

Very well, and so be it It is to be hoped
Mr. S. will derive comfort from the assurance.
He wrote the book. That is not doubted.
He did not ask for ''a single cent" until a
third edition was issued. This is admitted.
Alas, it was then too late ! And nowffis name
is to be stricken off the title page of his own
bocdc!

Is it surprising that Mr. J. wrote that Pv
S. ? Might he not have had a presentiment
that the Auburn publishers were destined,
** by hook or by crook," to get his local ro-
mance. Any deficiency of merit in the work
could form no obstacle, — an ** arrangement
of its contents" would secure the sale of three
editions.

Seriously, an humble, dependent, indigent
author, must be the most miseraUe creature
in existence! It is to be hoped Dr. S. is
comfortably provided for, aside firom the pro-

BIZARRE.

ducts of his labors. Pcmt our own part, for-
tunately for us and for those dear to us, we
have no reason to apprehend any evil conse-
quences flowing from the injustice or tyranny
of the Auburn publishers.

J. B. J.

— Our New York correspondent thus notices
Grahain's Marine for May, a copy of which
we have received from the publisher :

" Graham^s Americcm Monthly j for May, has
been received here hy the enterprising Agents,
Messrs. Dewitt & Davenport. The recent im-
provements made in the general appearance <^
that popular work, especially in reference to
its literal^ character, is as creditable to the
public spirit and taste of the proprietor, as it
IS acceptable to its numerous fri^ds and pa-
trons. The present number contains many
interesting articles, both original and sdectcd,
and the illustrations in proper keeping with
the ^irit and design of this favorite Magazine.
We are pleased to learn that the future num-
bers will be occasionally embellished with
a fine Steel Engraving and Mezzotint from the
accomplished artist, Sartain. They will be
an agreeable aid to the very attractive wood
cuts which have become so popular with pe-
riodical publishers.^'

— Godeyt for May, is on our table, and main-
tains its well-known character.

— The Pen and PencHt published at Cincin-
nati, is a handsomely printed and tastefiilly
conducted journal, — the best, decidedly of thle
kind at the west. We hope it may prosper.

— The City Ittm^ conducted by the indefa-
tigable Fitzgerald, is going on swimingly us
usual. The editor has lately installed mmself
into a new office, where he looks fresher and
brighter than ever. He is one of the ** hand-
some," they say, of Philadelphia. Now this
" they say" we are not disposed to gainsay.
We coula'nt do it if we would ; for we are
no judges of masculine beauty, readily as we
think we can appreciate feminine charms

— Mr. Putnam ar^es in favor of an interna-
tional copyright with great enemr, in a letter
published in the last number of Norton's Lit'
ercary Omtette, and addressed to Mr. A. Hart,
of this city.

— In Norton's Literarif Gazette we learn that
the World's Fair, in New York, in addition
to its display of art, will embrace the esta-
blishment of mineralogical and chemical de-
partments; the former intended mainly to
illustrate the products of our various mines
and quarries, the specimens being geographi-
cally arranged, and the other being designated
to show to what extent and with what success
the preparation of drugs and chemicals are
prosecuted in this country. Prof. Silliman,
jr., and Mr. Wm. P. Blake, have been ^>point-
ed to the charge of these departments.

— The London Literary Gazette^ expreeses the
Opinion that the literary remains of Napoleon
Buonaparte, preparing for the Press in Paris,
will embrace a large number of literary
productions among them : for Napoleon, when
young, was not unambitious of a literary
reputation, and employed his pwi in writing
sundry essays and tides, which have been
preserved and vrill now be pnUished.

— A collection of specimens of Book Binding,
from the earliest days of thetirt, is to be formed
in the Louvre at Paris. M. MotUey, recently
deceased, has started it by bequeathing a large
collection which he himsdf had gathered.

— Grote's eleventh volume is about to appear.
The Speeches of Sir. Robert Peel are reprint-
mg from Hansard, Those of the Duke (£
Wellington are to follow. A Translation of
Mr. Auicaulay's Essays, etc., in 6 vol., has
appeard at Brunswick.

— Wellington Autographs — ''original and
characteristic" — are advertised in Lond<m, at
five guineas each. An autograph of Shi^
peare is said to have brought, in Paris, at a
recent sale, £111, and one of Sir Walter
Scott, thirty-five pounds.

— The following new books are on our table,
and will be noticed hereafter: From J. S.
Redfield, New York, '* Notes and Em^ida-
tions to the Text of Shakspeare's Plays^ by
Collier.— From Lij^ncott, Grambo & Co., of
Philadelphia, <' Simon Kenton," an histori-
cal novel W James Weir, and *' Travels
in Egypt and Palestine," by Thomas,-— From
A. Hart, (Ute Carey & B[art,) of PhiladV
"The Year Book of Facts for 1853," and
"Essavs and Miscdlanies," by Graee Agui-
lar,r— From Charles Scribner, of New York,
" The Old Man's Bride," by T. & Arthur,—
From J. W. Moore, of Philad'a, " Chambers'
Repositorv," (Vol. 2) and "Pictorial acetoh
Book of Philadelphia. The last work is pub-
lished by William Bromwell.

gi^arw ammt0 \\t |tfl0 Joofes.

— Mr. J. Ross Browne, an author who has
made himself known by man^ tales of romantic
adventure, among Califomians and whalers,
as well as among the haunts of the veritable
Crusoe of De Foe, is the ftither <rf this book.
He is a daring, aye, and a clever Browne : an
honor, in many good points, to the whole
family of Brownes. A desire for scenes, and
scenes of various latitudes, seems to have taken
possession of him a fev^years ago ; and he has
gratified that desire, Uiough opposed by ob-
stacles which to most other men would have
been insurmountable. Ba says :
" Ten years «go» after having rambled all

BIZARRE AMONG THX NEW BOOKS.

orcr the IJiitted Statses — nx hundred miles of
tfe disUnce on ibot, and sixteen hundred in a
flM-boai — I set out fiom Washington with
fifteen dtflars, to raakea tour of the East. leot
isfiureast as New York, where the last dollar
tad the prospect of reaching Jerusalem came
toa conclusion at the same time. Sooner than
retnm home, after harinff made a good hegin-
mfig, I shipped before uie mast in a whider,
and did some senrice, during a voyage to the
Indian Ocean, in the way of scrubbing decks
and catdiing whales. A mutiny occurred at
the Island St Zanzibar, where I sold myself
out of the yessel for thirty dollars and a chest
of old clotbs ; and spent three months veiy
pleasantly at the consular residence, in the
vkimty of his Highness the Imaum of Mus-
cat On my return to Washington, I labored
brd for foor years on Bank statistics and
Treasury reports, by which time, in order to
take the new administration by the fore-lock,
I determined to start for the £ast again. The
ody chance I had of getting there was, to ac-
cept of an appointment as third lieutenant in
the Berenue service, and to go to California,
lod thence to Oregon, where I was to report
for duty. On the voyage to Rio, a difficulty
occurred between the captain and the passen-
gers of the vessel, and we were detain^ there
neaily a mcMith. I took part with the rebels,
becaasel belieyedthemtoberight. Thecap-
taia was deposed by the American consul, and
the eommand ci the vessel was offered to me ;
hot having taken an active part agunst the
late captain, I oould not with propriety accept
tbeoffier. A whaling captain who had lost
kis vessel near Buenos Ayres, was placed in
the command, and we proceeded on our voy-
age round Cape Horn. After a long and dreary
passage we miade the island of Juan Fernandez,
m oompany with ten of the passengers, I left
the ship seycnty miles out at sea, and went
ashore in a small boat, for the purpose of
gathering up some tidings in rewa to my
old friend Robinson Crusoe. What befell
ai oo that memoraUe expedition is fidly set
fcorth in a narrative recently published in
""Harper *s Magazine. ' * Subsequently we spent
fione time in Lima, the ''City of the Kings."
It wars my fortune to arrive penniless in Cali-
tanUy and to find, by way of consolation,
tiiat a reduction had been mtAe by Congress
ia the number cf revenue vessels, and that my
ttrvices in that branch of pohlic business
were no longer required. While thinking
serkm^ of taking in washing at six dollars a
<)ozen, or devoting the remainder of my days
to muie-driTing as a profession, I was unex-
pectedly elevated to the position of post-office
(gent ; and went about the countiy for the
forpose of making post masters. I only made
OQe--the post master of San Jose. After that,
tike Convention called by Qeneral Riley met at
)(«lcrey, and I was appended to report the

debates on the formation of the State Consti-
tution. For this I received a sum that enabled
me to return to Washington, and start for the
East again. There was luck in the third at-
tempt, ibr, as may be seen, I got there at last,
having thus visited the four continents, and
trayeUed by sea and land a distance of a hun-
dred thous and miles, or more than four times
around the world, on the scanty earnings of
my own head and hand."

There, you have the whole story of the
roving Browne, done up in brevity ; or rather
an epitome of his desire to see the world, and
the struggles he made to accom^dish that de-
8i;«. Ifyou would possess yourself of the
details of his Eastern trampings, of course yon
must appeal to '* Tusef," the book in notice.
It will well repay you for your trouble, im-
parting no little information, in a rather loose,
out at the same time pleasing, style. Our
author travelled with pencil in hand, and
giyes us drawings of persons and things which
are very spirited, and which the publishers,
Messrs. Harper, of New York, have presented
in a series of very well executed wood-cuts.

Mr. Browne truly says, he has not made a
desponding pilgrimage through the Holy
Land. Other travellers have gone over the
whole road with solemn emotions, probably
the most natural for such a journey : but he
has tripped along, whistling or humming
merry tunes—as it were, determined to laugh
and grow &t. He does gloom, a little, as he
stands near Jacob's well, and Joseph's tomb ;
he is serious in the Garden of Gesthemene,
where Saviour was agonized, or on the hill of
Calvary, where he died.

Touching Jerusalem, he says, —

" It is deplorable and melancholy to see how
pro&ned are the precepts of ffim who preached
peace and good-will toward all men in this
very spot ; whose voice still lingers upon Zion
and the Mount of Olives ; to witness in their
worst form envy, hatred, and malice practiced
in his name, and the outward worship of God
where sin and wickedness reign triumphant.
Perhaps upon the wh(Ae hce of the globe there
could not be found a spot less holy than modem
Jerusalem. All the fierce bad passions that
drive men to crime are let loose here in the
struggle for immortality ; all the better traits
of human nature are buried in fanaticism ; all
the teachings of wisdom and humanity are
violated in brutish battle for spiritual so*

" In Uie Holy Sepulchre the hatred between
the sects is fierce and undjring The Greeks
a^ Roman Catholics, the Copts, Armenians,
Maronites, have each a share in it, which they
hold bysufRBrance of the Turkish Government ;
but this union of proprietorship, instead of
producing a corresponding uni^ of feeling,
occasions bitter and constant hostility. The
QredoB and Romans, who are the two largest

BIZARRE.

sects, and in some sort rivals, hate each other
with a ferosity unparalleled in the annals of
religious intolerance. The less influential
sects hate the other because of their power
and repeated aggressions ; the so-called Frank
Catholics hate the Copts and Armenians,
whom they regard as mere interlopers, with-
out any right to ei\joy the Christian mode iji
worship ; all hate each other for some real or
imaginary cause, and each indulges in the
self glorification of bdiving itself to be the
only sect that can find fayor in the eyes of the
Creator. Such is the bitterness of this sec-
tional hostility that for many years past it has
been impossible to keep the building in a state
of repair. The roof is dilapidated, and the
rain pours in through the windows ; yet so it
remains. The Latins will not permit the
Grcdcs to undertake the necessary repairs, lest
the mere act should give an implied ascendency
of power ; the Greeks refuse to give the Latins
permission for the same reason; theCo{>tsand
Armenians are too feeble to contend with the
more powerful sects ; and the more powerful
sects refuse to grant them the liberty which
they do not alr^y hold in despite of them
through the Turlush Government. During
the ceremony of the Holy Fire, which takes
place once a year, the scenes of ferocity and
violence that occur are indescribable. Reli^ous
insanity, and all the horrors of blood-thirsty
fiinaticism, destroy many of the devotees.
Crimes of the darkest character are committed
with impunity. Half -naked men and frantic
women stru^e madly through the crowd
with live coals of fire pressed to their breast :
bodies of the stabbed and maimed are dragged
out dead ; the chanting of priests, the howling
of the burnt, the groaning of the crushed,
fill the thick and suffocating air ; and fix>m
the swaying mass arise dying shrieks of Im-
manuel ! Immanud ! Glory to God I Sickened
with the disgusting and humiliating spectacle,
the bdiolder turns away with startling words
of Ferdinand upon his Hps —

' Holl la empty and all th« derils are here* "

Mr. Browne commences his notes in Sicily,
and he closes them at Beirut, on the Mediter-
ranean, whence he started for Jerusalem.
He has for his chaperon a Syrian dragoman,
named Yusef Sinum Badra, and it is this very
peculiar individual who furnished him with a
title for his hook, as well as with a large
amount of its interesting materiel. Upon
Yusef is hung many a good story ; whether
true or not is quite un autre chose. Marvel-
seekers are apt to be marvel-makers; and,
therefore, if we pronounce as pure romances
many of the adventures of our author, we do
a most natural thing under the circumstances.
His book is, nevertheless, a very pleasant one;
making up in dieerftilness and humo)* what it
lacks in pr(^undity. If it were more reliaUe,
it would probably be less engaging ; if it wwe

more scholar-like, it would be leas adapted to
the million who read in our country. The
&ct of the author bdng a contributor to the
pictorial department of'' Harper's Magagine/'
IS an evidence that he knows how to ** spin a
first rate yam," We do believe there is xik»«
romance about the biographical, historical,
and voyage and trav^ writers of that Tcry
entertaining monthly, than was ever before
concentrated in one spot.

OL^RA STANL.O'.

— Robert Carter and Brother, New York,
have just published a prettily bound volume
with this title. It is from the pen of " Aunt
Edith," embraces the incidents of a summer
among the hills, and contains nothing but
what is calculated to improve the mind and
heart, while it ^ratifies the imagination.
Such books as "Clara Stanley," we cannot j
too highly commend ; not as specimens of a
high order of literary attainment or striking
^nius, but as a combination of simple natural
incident, bearing in its bosom that whi<^ is
calculated to develope the better impulses of
the human heart. " Aunt Edith" is a lady
very much to our taste ; good and sensible,
full of substantial wisdom, and yet sugaring
up the pill of counsel with enough of romance
to make it grateful to the palate.

KilA-rmMONV^

9v fsAmm, OAua-no.

— This is the title of ft neatly-printed volume,
of 316 pages, which comes to us from M. W.
Dodd, New York. It professes to tell of love
affairs in the author's village twenty years
ago, which it does well, as a matter of course,
or the book would never have passed, as it
has done, to a second edition. Matrimony is,
Mrs. Caustic informs us, not a novel ; but a
series of sketches of private life, with just
enough fiction to *' set them off." It bears a
good moral, certainly, and, call it by what
name you may, if read attentively, will be of
decid^ service to all, and especially to such
as are entering what is denominated ** so-
ciety ;" in nine cases out <^ ten, an organiza-
tion fair without, but within, fiill of dead
men's bones. The writer handles her pen
with great adroitness ; and the use which she
makes of fiction is a most beneficial one.
She has figured, heretofore, in good fields as
book-maker, and if appreciated, as we incline
to think she is, will be encouraged to labour
still longer in the useAil sphere she has se-
lected.

OI.O--rifS^K TRAVBLXJNO

— In the third volume of the ** Documentary
History of New York," a work which does
honour to the state wtdoh planned it, and to

EDITORS' SANS^OUa.

tfat editor (Dr. O'Callagfaan) who execnted it,
m tbe foUowing copy d an adyertisement,
dftoving the style or trayeUing between New
Tork wskd Philaddphia in the year 1776, see-
JDg *' the market days ^ was then one of the

: oli^ects of m visit to Philadelphia. Elm street
vas what is now called New street, in that

I part between Second and Third streets.

I " This is to give notice to the Pnblick, that
the Stage Waggons kept by John BurrowhUl,
in Elm street, in Philadelphia, and John Mer-
seremx, at the Blazing Star, near New Tork,
intend* to perform the journey from Philadel-
phia to New York in two days, also to continue
seven Months, viz : From the 14th of April
to the 14th of November and the remainmg
frre months of the Year in three Days— The
I Waggons to be kept in good order, and good
I Horses, with sober Drivers. They purpose
to set off from Philaddphia on Mondays and
Thursdays punctually at sunrise, and to be
tt Prince- Town the same Nights, and change
ftifisoigcrs, and return to New York and Phi-
ladelphia the following days ; tbe Passengers
ire desired to cross Powlass Hook Ferry the
Evening before ; the Waggon is not to stay
tibo' sunrise; Price each Passenger from
Powlass Hook to Prince Town, Ten shillings,
from thence to Philadelphia, Ten shillings
also ; Ferriage free : Three Pence each Mile
any Distance between. Any Crentlemen or
Laities that wants to go to Philadelphia can
SD In the stage and be home in five days and
be two Nights and one Day in Philadelphia
to do business, or see the Market Days. All
Geatlemien and Ladies who are pleased to fa-
vow Qs with their custom, may depend on
doe Attendance and civil Usage by those
Homble Servants

John Mbkseebax,
johk burbowhilu
Jnie 23, 1776."

—Puil Julien's troupe were to give a second
ooneert in Richmond on Tuesday fortnight.
The Examiner speaks thus of the professional
aid he conveys with him :

** As to the people who are advertised as
hta assistants — they can neither sing nor play.
Valtentini has not made her appearance at all;
hot she. is no great loss. Signer Amoldi re-
joices in the voice of a cow and the vocaliza-
tion of a cow. Herr Charles Becht is equally
odioQa in his grand piano-forte solos and his
icoompaniments to the boy's violin — around
whose neck he hangs like a mill-stone. His
trip thus iar has proved a failure, owing to
the bad management of his father, and will
end, we fear, not only ^sastrously for his
poeketf but his repntation."

•7k0i^bmMm9i%

ROVnriOikl. OfFKMINO.

— A friend sends us the following, which he
thinksr as do we, contains very simple
thoughts. The author is Miss Fanny John-
son.

SUMMBB NIGHT.

Calm, beantifu], glorious night,

Quiot and iweet ia the stOl twilight;

Ere the rise of the moon o*er the silvorf lake,

Ere the twinkling liars are up and awake.

h09tij and pure la the twillgfat boor,
Whan a soft r«fk«shlng sommcr ahower,
naa mdataned the peUU of crery flower;
When the bloeaoms aradoaed and gone to deep,
When gnardian^angelfl their Tigilc keep, "
Oh, how sweet is the shadowy light.
Ere the moon has arisen in beanty so bright

Bat solemn and deep Is the midnight boor I
Tis then that the fairies exert their power,
Tis then the tUw dance in their airy bower;
Bathed in a flood of the moon's silvery ray,
They revel In Joy till the dawn of now day.

How potent the oharms of midnight deep,
When thonaands are looked in the arms of sleep.
Some peacefully ratting in cottage and hall.
Others gaily enjoying the summer night balL
When rw4^ solemn music sounds on the still air,
(Not from the wing*d songsters, who dally are there,)
^ben lovers proclaim, by their serenade strain,
Tis the hour their goddess devotion doth claim.

Midnight 1 Oh, tis a magic sr«11I

VThat *tlfs let its enchantments tell.

The heavens, the stars, the moon so bri^t,

Shfddlng a halo of softened light.

When all save tha sephyr is quiet around.

And hearts In sweet unison eloaer are bound —

When the flowers are dosed, and tha birdUngs cower,

Thaaa mn tha«pella of the midnight hour.

NEW/ VORK Aa aMS WAa. AND Aa BMK la.

— When Peter Stuvveeant, the renowned
Dutch Governor of the colony of New York,
left with his army for an encounter with the
Swedes, who settled at an early day below us
cm the Delaware, he bade his subjects an af-
fectionate farewell from the stem of the ves-
sel that bore him off to the wars. He told
them *' to comport like loyal, peaceable sub-
jects :'* to go to church regularly on Sundays,
and to mind their business all the week be-
sides. He nrged that the women should be
dutiful and affectionate to their husbands —
loddng after nobody's conoems but their
own; eschewing all gossiping and morning
gaddings— and carrying ^ort Umgues. That
ih% men shcHild abstain from intemieddling ill
public concerns, entrusting the cares of the
government to the proper officers — staying at
home< like good citizens, making money, and
and bi^iging up numerous families for the
benefit of the country. Above all, he ex-
horted one and all, high and k>w, rich and

BIZARRE.

poor, to ** conduct themsehts mwdl as they

How far this oonnsel was observed by Pe-
ter's subjeots we do not know ; but judging
from present doings in New York, we should
think not to any great extent. The people in
primitive Knickerbocker times, the times of
cocked-hats and swelling short-breeches, had
their bouts ; their drinks of Schiedam, their
boisterous hilarity midst the fumes of many

Sipes ; but then, all was accomplished during
aylight and eariy evening hours. At ten
o'clock, P. M., every body was in bed> and
nothing could be heard in the streets but the
slow, deepy tread of two or three watchmen,
varied, perhaps, now and then, by the crow-
ing of a cock, or the barking of a dog. Nieu
Amsterdam was, as it were, drugged, and
snored away the whole night long, wrapt in
perfect obliviousness.

Come down two hundred years or so, and
what a change one encounters ! The city has
run oflf north some six or seven miles, while
it fills the whole space, east and west, be-
tween the two rivers, by which it is flanked.
Half a million of inhabitants it now contains
instead of a few thousand ; and every thing
is in keeping. The old^ stolid, pipe-smoking
Netherlander has become nearly extinct ; you
rarely see his heavy dull features, among the
people who jostle you. The principal ex-
pression is that of the cute, calculating Yan-
kee, mingled with a large dash of French, Ger-
man, and Italian. The Yankee it is, though,
who now holds New York between his thumb
and finger ; he it is, who has imparted to its
business the nervous activity which charac-
terizes it. So &r as pleasures are concern^.
New York is eminently Freneh. There is an
intense fondness for fantastic and extravagant
dressing, and light, profitless pastime <H all
kinds. The streets and squares are filled
with loungers ; the theatres and amusement-
halls of all kinds, are amply patronized,
and with a people who loodc as if they had
nothing else to do. Restaurants and cafee
swarm with both sexes, even to the latest
hours of the night We have seen young Mid
delicate girls, and beardless striplings, par-
taking of their champagne and oysters to-
gether at Thomson and Son's, or Tayl(n*'s,
and after having eaten and dnmk to the fru-
ition of desire, we have observed them
throw themselves into luxurious carriages —
which have been awaiting th^ooi — and t3i off,
in by no means an enviable state of sobriety,
where, we will not say. One can readily
guess what may be the results where two
young people, of opposite sexes, are thrown
together, under such circumstances !

We think Peter iStuyvesant, could he rise
iq> and look upon "New York, as she now is,
would dart back into his grave again as if
sent there by a thimder^bolt. ** Doi^er ! vat

ashaag^! yat % peepiigh ?" he would gxd«m>
in the auocessors, too, of good substantiai
Dutch progenitors such as he governed. Not
al<nie Peter, — some hundreds of years dead —
may open his eyes with astonishment, on re-
visiting the glimpses of the moon, as she
throws her rays upon the city of Manhattan.
We, who go there as oftcsi as cmce a fortnight,
are oblig^ to stare and exclaim on each suc-
cessive visit. Some striking changes always
confront us. We have, indeed, now b^un
to say to ourselves, as we sail up the beauti-
ful bay in the John Potter, or dart across the !
Jersey marshes at the tail of the fire-horse,
and the spire of old Trinity tells us that the j
great Gotham is at hand, " What now ?"

RBV. UANISa W OOOKS.

— The Rev. James W. Cooke, a native of
Providence, R. I., died in New York on the
12th, of disease contracted on his way from
Chagres to New York. Mr. Cooke had been
to Central America, for the purpose of making
investigations in regard to missionary opera-
tions. He was Secretary of the Episcopal
Board of Foreign Missions, and a most efficient
laborer in the vinyard of the Saviour.

NOT'ABL.sa IN *rowr4.

— Hon. Henry B. Anthony, late governor tX
Rhode Island, and editor of the Providence
Daily Joumdj has, with his accomplished
lady, been passing a few days at Jones' Hotd,
in our city. The governor never looked
better.

Lewis Gaylord Clarke, editor of "Old
Knick," has also been with us for a short pe-
riod, during the past week, stopping at the
Washington House. Mr. C. came to our city
on the ^A errand of attending the (nneral of
the only child of his lamented poet-brother,
the late Willis Gaylord Clarke ; and, as might
be expected, had not his wonted vivacitjr and
happy-heartedness. Consigning to the cold
earth the only survivor of the idolized " 01-
lapod," was well calculated to renew the sor-
rows which the death of the latter excited.

HOTBUe IN NBW VO«K.

— Of the many excellent hotels in New York,
we think the "Irving," under the direction
of Mr. William H. Borroughs, late of the
Franklin House in our city, is one of the best.
An evidence, too, of its prosperity with the
travelling public is, that it is always crowded.
Great fbss is made over some of the later built
hotels of Gotham, but there is not one of them,
which, in aU the comforts and elegancies pe-
culiar to public houses of our times, surpasses
the "Irving."

"BCLA," AND OTHBM OORRBaPONDBNnTS.

— We have another beaotifbl article from our
(dd and valued correspondent "Eda," which
will appear in our next. Other favours, from

EDITOBS' 8ANS-S0UCI.

lanoiis Teiy clerer frienda, await a pIa<^ in
l^*ft»T ; amoDg them» a tale of deaded ex^
otQence.

MAP«R>'INO FOR MON8V.

— There arc hundreds of idle young men who
expect to keep themselres out of the work-
boose br marrying a fortune ! They don't
caie for "beauty nor mind, but they idolize mo-
nqr. Beauty, mind, and money make a rare
oomhination ; yet what are they worth when
associated with a small spirit I Very, ver^
seldom is it the case that women have a combi-
oatiOD of alL A proposition for you, reader :
Men who are men, will not marry for money,
and hence, there being many such men, there
are many poor but pretty and intelligent
ladies who get husbands, and good husbands.
Only think of a man planting himself down,
tod 1<Mifing on a wife's money. What a thing !
Are there any in Philadelphia ? A few, they
^. Note tnem, as thev shuffle along Chest-
not street What is their standard among
sabsUntial, true men ?

CXJi'SL/LJ.*a OOL.ONY,

—In Potter County, is, we learn, coming on
▼ay well. One of these days it may be a
great feature in our state. The intention of
Ole Bull is to have it emlmice two villages,
between which there shall be a handsome
wide avenue. This avenue was commenced
last Ml. For a time bears and panthers may
occasionally be seen promenading there, but
in good seas<ni there may be fast horses, driven
by Cut young men, ana aU the appointments
of adyancement in civilization. Ole Bull's
coDcerts throughout the coimtry, we under-
stand, have been veiy wdl attended, and he
bis, by them, added largely to his fcnrtune.

—Of the Pittsburgh Saturday Visiter y pays a
verj pt^ty compliment to Bizajuub. She
ttys it has commenced its new career *' with
great spirit, and in the best possible manner.''
Thanks, madam ; Bizarre is most happy to
return compliment for compliment; indeed,
be fecfe as if he could, in the fullness of his
gratitude, pat dear little baby's cheeks, and
cffi it '* b^utifhl," even though it might be
—which is not probable — any thing but beau*
tifid. We love babies, particularly good ba-
bies. The tender little stranger who gladdens
the borne of the lady in notice, though, we
bciieve, a late comer, wrought out the most
maiked good results ; not the least of which
GcenM to be the restraining of its mother from
tfaoK nnfeminine displays which clever wo-
men, unblessed with young folks, are disposed
to make in the world, as moral reformers;
and in which, but for the darling little baby,
3fra. Swisdidm herself might have indulged.
lloir, the little charmer occupies the main
tkn^t : nay, gives a tone to all the thoughts
ad acts. It is a chord which binds the mo-

ther to the hearth-stone, a willing prisoner *
it is a priceless gem, which lies locked in her
heart,

**'Br\gbt M a dew^rop when U first deso^ods.
Or as the plumage of an angel's wing,
Where eveiy tint of rainbow beauty bl^ids.**

OAVAZZI ON -rSMPaRANOE, apo

— Father Gavazan, in a late address to the
Italians of New Yerk, at the Tabernacle, de-
clared himself as to the Temperance move-
ment. He also spoke against women-preach-
ers, and gave a side-long hit at politicians.
Hear him on the cause of Temperance :
'' Do not take me for a temperance orator ;
that would be a mistake. [Laugh.] I mean
only justice. I do not intend to preach against
temperance in America. Total abstinence
has the approbation of a large amount of peo-
ple and some legislatures ; and Paul tells us
not to take wine if mv brother would be
scandalized. But now 1 speak to the Italians,
and I do not disapprove or wines and liquors.
I must preach the whole Gospel, and not as
some do, only those portions which please
them. Christ says, it is not what enters into
the mouth that defiles a man, but that which
Cometh out of the mouth. Also, the first
miracle he performed was turning water into
wine, and not wine into water, — [laughter,] —
and it was really good wine. Paul directed
wine to be taken as a means to keep out of the
doctor's hands. How, then, could I preach
the Gospel and prohibit wine."
Now of women-preachers hear the Padre.
"All the texts of Paul are not so rigidly
adhered to, for the Apostle wrote some strong
remaiks respecting women which zre not paid
great attention to. I would not speak against
the women, but they certainly are to be seen
here in the present day in situations very dif-
ferent from the position marked out by the
Apostle. We have even Curates — a Reverend
Antoinette. Well, they will doubtless take
good care of their flock."
And now mark what he says of politicians :
** In England I was told, politicians preach
peace snd tolerance. And why? Because thej
expect the votes from Romanists. This is
really strong self-independence ! And I also
find in America some public writers — some
members of the press, some editors and pub-
lishers of newspi^rs, who speak always with
great deference for Romanists, but who keep
silence upon all Protestant subjects. They
are ever anxious to get all the information
respecting the consecration of every new
Catholic Church. This is great independ-
ence ! They fear to lose some four or five
cents from their avarice. But my dear Amer-
icans, why are these editors and politicians so
subservient to the Papist system ? I do not
speak about wUticians^ because they have not
iiuth or religion at all ! [Laughter.] Chris-
tians, Turks, and Mohammedans, are all the

BIZARRE.

same to them. The religion of politicians is
only their pfcice— $20,000 if they go on an
emoassy to London or Paris."

THe l_AIM~rSRN.

— This very clever American Punch comes to
us with great regularity. The last number
has some very hard digs at Uncle Tom, among
which is the following :

" We see announced on some hundreds of
booksellers* signboards, * The Ke^ to Uncle
Tom's Cabin.' Now all t^ese Keys cannot
be real. There must be some false Keys
among them. But even allowing that one
among them is the real original Key, then is
there danger. There have been enough dis-
gusting objects already let out of * Uncle Tom's
Gabin.^ and we therefore hope that the holder
of this Key, whoever he may be, will lock it
up, and throw the Key were Solomon threw
the wicked genii — as told in the Arabian
Nights."

The following Conundrum should consign
its maker to the &te of a man convicted of
wilful murder :

"When does a young lae(y wish to win
more than seven beaus at once ? — ^When she
tries to fascinate (fasten-eight.)" Well may
Diogenes exclaim, " Oh, my !

Another hit, nalpable, and we are dcme for
the present, with our lively cotemporaiy ;

" A rumor is in circulaticm that the Empress
Eugenia of France is about introducing Bull
Fi^ts into the sports of the Hippodrome, at
Pwis. This wiU certainly be a novel enter-
tainment for the denizens of the gayest city
in the world ; but the fights a Frenchman
takes most especial delist in, are the battles
of the barricade — that is me only truly nation-
id sport, and perhaps before very long the
Empress may have the pleasure of seeing them
indulge in that time-honored pastime."

FREISIOH ViKWa OF OUR aRSAT IS^BN.

-In a late numberof the Revue des deux Mondes,
M. Ampere continues his American " Prome-
nade," having returned from Cincinnati to
New York by the Erie Railroad. The Tribune
translates a few of his rapid sketches of men
and things in New York :

" Bryant.— Mr. Bryant is the Democratic
poet of New York, as Mr. LongfeUow is the
Whig poet, and the jjoet of Boston. Each of
them has his enthusiastic partisans, and are
sometimes uigust toward the rival of their fa-
vorite. I shall endeavor to avoid these pre-
posessions, and to remain impartial. Like
Longfellow, Bryant is an English poet, bom
in America. 1 should say thAt, in regard to
poetic form, Longfellow is the more European,
and Bryant the more English. The first has
received the imprint of all the literatures of

Europe, and especially of the German lit
ture. The other is more exclumvely und
the influence of E^lish literature. He i
not that kind of originality which gives
rival a familiarity with the most diffei
classes of poetry. Mr. Bryant, although
has translated poems from the Spanish, Pa
tuguese, French and G^erman, has before I
eyes only the models of the nK)ther countr
It would seem as if he had wished to vie wi0
the cotemporary poets of England, and \
his place amoi^ tnem as an American \
In his poem of The Agesj he has employe
the old Spenserian stanza, as reproduced b||
Byron in Childe Harold; but if compare!
with Longfellow, Bryant is the more excld
sively English in form, he is perhaps the inoa
American in substance. He oflener treats d
national and patriotic themes. • * * ♦ <
** I met vri th Mr. Longfellow and Mr. Bryani
under vexy different circumstances, hoii^
fellow received me with a graceful hospital]^
in an elegant abode, in the midst of works ol
art and souvenirs of every country. I found
Mr. Bryant in the office of his newspaper,
covered with dust, and with the busy air of i
man who is engaged in a struggle. This aC"
cidental circumstance describes to destiniec
and two poetic tendencies — the Whig a pro-
fessor ana a man of the woHd, preserving
in the bosom of a quiet life the serenity whici
breathes in his verses — the Democrat, an
honorable and decided public man. minglinj
in action, in strife — the one more European,
more complete — the other more American,
more concentrated : the one original in th(
diversity of his inspirations, the other pow*
erful by the intensity of a small number d
sentiments, thrown into a mould not so new
but in fact, perhaps, more individual ; the first
cosmopolite in some degree like a German, th(
second national like an Englishman: botl
Americans at heart and in popularity."

WAsmNGTON Irving. — "I also visiiec
Washington Irving. • • • Like Long
fellow he is half jSaencBJi, half cosmopolite
Like him, he represents that alliance witl
Europe which is the most predominant trai
in the manners and the literature of the Unit6<
States. I found him in a beautiful hou»
which has almost the air of palace. His con
versation, like his style, is easy and polished
Already of an advanced age, as have beei
told, he still appears ^oung, an spoke wit)
animation of his excursion among the prairies
which circumstances obliged him to tenninat
sooner than he had wish^. 'Once launched,
said he, 'I should have gone to the end.
Thus, excited by the recollection of ttie desert
awoke the adventurous instinct of the Ameri
can in the writer formed by European culture
and the diplomatist accustomed to our man
ners."

THE PBIGE OF LIFE.

Bn*iBf, WHAT lAT Tov, UAJtcAFV-^Foo^iukar,

i^arrt

RTB THS WKEX BSHirO

SATHRDAT, MAT 7» 1853*

THE PRICE OF LIFE.*

▲ TALK.

Joseph, opening the door of the saloon, in-
finned us that the post-chaise was ready.
Mj mother and sister threw themselves into
ST arms. '* It is not yet too late/' said the^ ;
"^ bh ! do renounce tms journey, and remain
with us."

^ My mother, I am twenty, and bom a gen-
tkman: I must win renown — ^I must gain
£stiiictioii, either in the army or at court."

^And when thou art gone, Bernard, what
win become of me ?"

" You will be happy and proud in learning
the success of your son."

"But what if thou art slain in some
battle r

^ What of that ! what is life ! who values
it? One thinks only of glory when he is
twenty, and bom a gentleman. Fancy me
returned, my dear mother, in a few years,
cokmel, (mt lieutenant general, or with a fine
charge at Versailles."

" And what will result from that ?"

** I shall be esteemed and honored."

"And what then 1"

" Every one will take off his hat to me."

"And then— "

" And then 111 marry my lovely Henriette,
Bid make good alliances for my sisters, and
we will live with you, tranquil and happy, on
my lands in Brittany."

"My son! what hinders thee from com-
mencing now 1 Has not thy father left thee
the finest fortune in the country ? Is there
in ten leagues around a richer domain or a
finer chateau than Roche-Bern^ ? Art thou
not honored by thy vassals 1 When thou
nasest through the village, is there one that
kils to take off his hat f Do not leave us,
my son : remain with thy friends, with thy
listers, with thy old mother whom on thy
return thou wouldst perhaps see no more.
Do not expend in vain glory, or shorten, by
cares and torments of all kinds, the days
which fly so swiftly ; life is sweet, mv son,
and the son of Brittany is so beautiful !"

Saying this she showed me, from the win-
dows of the saloon, the beautiful vistas of my
park, the old chesnut trees in blossom, tlte

lilacs, the honey-suckles, embalmmg the air
with rich perfhme, and sparkling in the
sun.

In the antediamber was the gardener, with
all hk fiunfly. Sad and silent, they also^
seemed to say, " Do not dqiart, my young
master; do not leave us.'^ 'Hortense, my
elder sister, pressed me in her arms : and my
little Amelie. who had been turning over tlie
engravings ai La Fontaine's fables, approach-
ed, and presenting the book, " Read, read, my
brother," said she, weeping. It was the fiibfe
of " The two Pigeons !'' I rose>bmptly and
thrust them aade.

"I am twenty, and bom a gentleman, I
must win glory, renown, — let me depart;"
and I darted into the court.

I was entering the chaise, when a lad^ ap-
peared in the doorway. It was Hennette;
she wept not, she spoke not ; pale and trem-
bhng, she could scarcelT support hersdf.
With her handk^t;hief she miule the last
sign of adieu, then fell without consciousness.
I ran to her, raised her, pressed her in mjr
arms, vowed love while life lasted, and the
moment consciousness was returning left her
to the care of my mother and sisters, and ran
to my carriage, not daring to turn my head.
If I had looked at Henriette I could not have
gone. In a few minutes the carriage was
rolling over the great rcMul.

Awhile I thought only of Henriette, of my
sisters, of my mother, and of all the happiness
I was abandoning, but these ideas were^Btu^
in proportion as the turrets of Roche-Bernard
faded irom my sight, and soon the dreams of
ambition and of ^my alone had possession
of my mind How many projects were ^
formed ! how many castles buut m the air !
how many fine actions performed in my post-
chaise ! Riches, honors, dignities, success of
all kinds : I denied myself nothing, I merited
and accorded all, in mie, elevating mysdf as
I advanced on my route, I was duke, governor
of a province, and maraud of France, when I
arrived in the evening at my inn.

The voice of my servant, who modestly
called me Monsieur le Chevalier, recalled me
to mysdf, and forced me to abdicate; but
each day I enjoyed the same dreams, and m^
journey was long, for I was goinff to the vi-
cinity of Sedan, to the house of the Duke de
0—, an old friend of my father, and patron
of my family. He would take me to Paris,
where he was expected soon, would present
me at Versailles, and obtain for roe a com-
pany of dragoons. I arrived at Sedan too late
m the evening to go to the diateau of my pa-
tron ; so, deferring my visit till the morvow,
I went to the Armes de France, the finest
hotd in the fdace, and rendezvous^ (^ all the
officers, for Sedan is a garrisoned city, a
strong place ; the streets have a military as*
pect, and even the citizens have a martial air

BIZARRE.

which seems to say, "We are fellow-citwens
oi the great Turenne.'*

I supped at the table d'hote, and asked
some questions respecting the road to the
Duke de C— 's chateau, three leagues from
the city. " Any one can direct you," said
they ; *' it is \frell known — there died a great
warrior, a celebrated man, the Marshal Fa-
bert. ' And, as among young officers was
very natural, the conversation fell upon the
Marshal Fabert. They spoke of his battles,
of his exploits, of his modesty, which caused
him to decline the patent of nobility, and the
colhu- of his order which Louis XIV. offered
him. Above all, they spoke of his inconceiv-
able good fortune, that though only a private
soldier, he had attained the rank of Marshal
of France ; he a man of no family.

This, the only example that could then be
cited of such success, appeared, even during
the life-time of Fabert, so extraordinary, that
the vulgar confidently assigned his elevation
to supernatural causes. They said he had
been occupied, from his infancy, with magic
and sorcery, and had made a compa^ct with
the devil. Our host, who to the stupidity of
a Champerois joined the credulity of our
Breton peasants, averred, with the utmost
sanfT'froid, that at the chateau of the Duke

de C , where Fabert died, a black man,

whom no one knew, had entered his chamber,
and disappeared carrying with him the soul
of the Marshal, which he had formerly bought,
and which therefore belonged to him: and
that even yet (in the month of May, the epoch
of Faberts's death,) a little light was seen to
appear in the evening, carried by the black
man. This recital enlivened our dessert, and
we drank a bottle of Champaigne to the fa-
miliar spirit ci Fabert, and prayed him to as-
sist us m gaining such battles as Collioure
and LaMaHee.

I rose early on the morrow — and soon was

on the way to the Duke de C 's chateau,

an immense gothic manor, which at another
time would perhaps have scarcely attracted
my attention, but which I now regarded, I
acknowledge, with mingled euriosity and
emotion, while recalling the recital that our
host of the Armes de France had given ns the
evening previous.

The valet to whom I addressed myself, re-
plied that he knew not whether his master
was at home or would receive visitors. I
gave him my name and he went out, leaving
me alone in a large hall, decorated with relics
of the chase, and fiunily portraits.

I waited some time and no one came. This
car«er of glory and honor, of which I have
dreamed, commences then in the antechamber,
aaidltomysdf; and, a discontented sdicitor,
impatience took possession of me. I had al-
ready counted, two or three times, all the
family portraits, and all the beams in the

ceUing, when I heard a slight nmse m the
wainscot. An unlatdied door was blown half
open ; turning towards it, X saw a very pretty
boudoir, lighted by two laige windows and ar
glass door, which overiooked a magnificent ,
park. I took several steps into this apart- j
ment, and stopped at sight of a spectacle that
at first X had not perceived. A man, whose
back was turned towards the door by which
I had entered, was l^ng under a canopy.
He rose, without perceiving me, and ran ab-
ruptly to the window. Tears streamed down
his fiirrowed cheeks, and a profound despair
was imprinted on all his features. He re-
mained some time immovable, with his &ce
buried in his hands, then turned and strode
rapidly across the apartment ; seeing me, be
stood trunbling.

Mortified and confused, I attempted to re-
tire, stammerine some words of excuse.

"Who art thou? What wishest thou?"
said he in a loud tone, holding me by the
arm.

'* I am le Chevalier Bernard, de la Roche-
Bernard, and I have just arrived from Brit-
tany."

** I know, I know," said he, and pressed
me in his arms ; then, seating himself beside
me, talked with animation of my father, and
all my family, whom he knew so well that I
doubted not he was the master of the cha-
teau.

" You are Monsieur C ," said I.

He rose, and regarding me with deep emo-
tion, replied, "I was; I am no more."

Seeing my astonislmient, he cried, ** Not a
word more, young man ! Ask me no ques-
tions."

'♦Having, sir," said I, "unintentionally
become the witness of your grief, if my devo-
tion, my friendship, can ameliorate—

"Yes, yes, you are right; you cannot
change my lot, but you can at least receive
my last wishes, my last vows, it is the only
service you can render me."

He closed the door and resumed his seat.
Agitated, and trembling, I listened to his
words; they were grave and solemn; his
countenance had an exmression that I had
never seen in any one. His face, which I ex-
amined attentively, seemed marked by fatal-
ity. It was pale, his dark eyes darted light-
ning, and, at times, his features, worn by
suffering, were contracted by a smile, ironical
and infernal.

"What I shall tell you," said he, "will
confound your reason. You will doubt ; you
will not believe. I myself often doubt, at
least I wish to, but there are proofs; and
there are in all that surrounds us, in our or-
ganization even, many other mysteries that
we are obliged to acknowledge, though unable
to comprehend."

He stopped an instaot at if to cdlect his

* ftn^riwi

THE PRICE OP LIFE*

passed his hand over his forehead, and
ooBtiimed, * I was horn in this chateau. I
have two brothers, my seniors, to whom
wodbi rerert the weidth and honors oi onr
kanae. I had nothing to expect but the gown
and bands of an abbe ; yet thoughts of ambi-
tion And glory fermented in my brain, and
laade xny heart beat faster. Unhappy in my
ebecori^, eager for renown, I dreamed only
of means to acquire it, and thus rendered my-
sdf insensibie to all the pleasures and sweets
of yfe. The present was nothing to me, I
existed only in the future, and the future pre-
sei^ed itsdf to me under the most sombre
lapect.

** I was nearly thirty years dd, and had
jet done nothing ; then, xrom ail sides arose,
m the capital, those literary characters, the
music of whose fame resounded eyen through
oar province. Ah ! sighed I often to myself,
if I oould but win a name in the career of
kUers, I shoidd at least gain renown, and in
it akpe is there happiness. The confidant of
ray grief was an ancient domestic, an old nCf
gro, who was in this chateau before my birth ;
he was certainly the oldest person in the
bouae, for no one could reooUect when he
came; the people of the neghborhood asserted
even that be had known the Marshal Fabert,
and bad been present at his death."

At this instant, my interlocutor seeing me
make a gesture of surprise, stopped, and in-
quired what was the matter with me.

^Xothing,'' said I. But inyoluntarily I
thought of the black man of whom our host
had spoken the preceding eyening.

Monflienr de C continued;

«« One day before Tago, (this was the name
of the negro,) I gave way to despair at my
<^Mcurity» and the uselessness of my days,
and cried, * I would give ten years of my life
to be idaced in the first rank of our authors.'
* Ten years,' said he coldly, * is a great deal,
it is paying yery dear for a trifle, neyerthe-
kss I accept your ten years, I will take them :
remember your promise, I will keep mine.'
I cannot describe to you my surprise at
hearing him speak thus ; I thought that years
had enfeebled his reason; I shrugged my
iboulders and smiled, and some days after I
kft this and went to Paris. I was introduced
into the society of literaiy men ; their ex-
ample encouraged me, and I published seyeral
worn. I will not detain you by relating
their success. All Paris was eager to see
them> the journals resounded my praises, the
aame I had assumed became celebrated ; and
eren yesterday, young man, you would haye
admired — "

Here * new gesture of surprise interrupted
hia recital: ''You are not then the Duke de

C r cried I. .

" No," replied he coldly.

And I said to myself, ''A oelebmted man

of letters, — ^Is this Marmontel? is this d'-
Alembert ? is this Voltaire ?"

My unknown «gfaed ; a smile of regret and
scorn passed oyer his lips, and he resumed his
recital.

''This literary reputation that I had so
much desired was soon insufficient for a soul
as ardent as mine. I aspired to a more noble
success; and I said to Tago, who had fol-
lowed me to Paris, and who never left me,
there is no real glory, no true renown, but
that which is acquired in the career of arms.
What is a literary man, a poet ? He is a no-
body. Talk to me of a great captain, of a
general of an army; that is the destiny I
wish ; and for a military reputation I w<Mild
give ten of the years which remain to me.'
* I accept them,' re^^ed Ti^ ; * I take them,
thev b^ong to me ; forget it not."

At this part of the recital the unknown
stopped, and seeing wonder and perplexity
depicted in my countenance, remarked, *'I
have told you, young man, that this ' would
seem a dream to you, a chimera-^it seems
even so to me — and yet the rank, the honors
I have obtained, were not an illusion; the
soldiers I have led to the combat, the redoubts
captured, the colors, the victories with which
France has resounded, all this was my work,
all this glory was mine."

While he marched back and forth, speaking
with warmth, with enthusiasm, surprise
seized all my senses. I said, " Who then is
he? Is he Coignyl is he Richelieu? is he
the Marshal de ^e ?"

From this state of exaltation my unknown
had fallen into dejection, and approaching toe,
said with a sombre air,

'' Tago was right ; soon disgusted with the
vain smoke of military glory, I aspired to
what alone is real and positive in tiiis world ;
and when, at the price of five or six years of
existence, I desirfd riches, he accorded them.
— Yes, young man, yes ; I have seen fortune
second, even surpass, all my wishes: lands,
forests, chateau. Even this morning all was
in my power, and if you doubt, doubt me,
doubt Tago; wait, wait, he is coming and
you will see for yourself, with your own eyes,
this which confounds your reason and mine,
which yet is unhappily but too real."

He approached the chimney, observed the
clock, made a gesture of fear, and said, in a
low voice,

** This morning, at day-break, I l^t so de-
jected and feeble that I could hardly rise : I
rang for my valet, and Tago appeared. * What
is this that I feel V said I to him. * Master,
nothing except what is very natural; the
hour approaches, the moment arrives. ' * What
moment?' said I. *Do you not know?' he
re];died ; ' Heaven had destined to you sixty
years of life, you had passed thirty when we
made our compact' 'Tago,'saidIinaffiright,

BIZARBK

' dost thou speak serkmsly ?' *Tes, master,
in ftre ye&rs you have expended in g^ory
twenty-nve years of existence; yon haye

S' ren them to me, th^ are mine ; and the
ys of which yon are depriyed wiU be added
to mine.' ' "What ! was this the price of thy
seryices?' 'Others haye paid dearer for them:
witness Fa\)ert, who was also m^ prot^e.'
' Silence, silence/ cried I, ' this is not pos-
sible, it is not true.' * Prepare, without de-
lay, for there remains to you but half an hour
of life.' * Thou sportest with me, Tago, thou
deoeiyest me.' *Not at all! calculate for
yourself: thirty-five years you have actually
jived, and twenty -five years you have lost —
total, sixty. Am I not correct?' He was
going out ; I felt my strength diminish. I
felt life leaving me. * Tago ! Tago !' I cried,

* give me some hours, some hours yet.' * No !
no ! ' he replied, ' that would now be to 8h<vten
my own account, I know better than you the
value of life ; no treasure could pay for tv*o
hours of existence.' I could scarcely speak ;
my eyes became dim, the coldness of death
fi*oze my veins. * Ah !' said I, making a last
effort, *take back this wealth for which I
have sacrificed every thing. Four hours
more, and I resign to you my gold, my riches,
all Uiis opulence that I have so much desired. '

* Be it so ; thou hast been a good master, and
I wish to show some &yor to thee ; I consent
to it.'

'* I felt my strength return, and I cried, —
'Four hours! that is very little! Tago!
Tago ! four hours more, and I renounce my
litmry glory ; all my works, all this which
has placed me so high in the esteem of the
world.' 'Four hours for that!' cried the ne-
gro with distain ; ' It is a great deal, still I
will not refuse thy last request' 'No, not
the last,' said I, joining my hands. ' Tago !
Tago! I supplicate thee, give me till Uiis
evening, the twdve hours, the entire da^, and
let my exploits, my victories, my military
renown, let all be forever effaced from the
memory oi man, let naught of them remain.
This day, Ti^, this entire day, and I will be
content.' ' Thou abusest my bounty,' said
he, ' and I do a foolish act : yet I will give
thee till sunset Ask me nothing more ; this
evening I will come to take thee.' He is
gone !'''^ cried the unknown in despair, " and
this day is the last which remains to me."

Approaching the glass door, which was
open, and commanded a view of the park, he
cried, " I shall see no more these bsautiAil
heavens, thi» velvet turf, these sparkling wa-
ters. I shall breathe no more the balmy air
of spring. Fod that I was! These gifts
whicn God has given to all, these blessings to
which I was insensible, and of which only
now I comprehend the sweetness, I mi^t
have ei\joyed twenty-five years longer. I
have wasted my days, I have sacrificed them

: for a barren glory which has not rendered me
I happy, and which dies with me. See, see,"
I said he, pcMnting to some peasants who tra-
, versed the park, sindi^ as diey returned fimn
i work, " what would I not give to share their
I labors and their hardships. Bot I haye«o-
I thing more to hope for, not even misfortmie."

At this moment a ray of the son, a mm oi
the month of May, shone upon his face, pale
and haggard, fife seized me by the arm with
a kind of delirium, and said, " Bdiold, be-
hold how beautiful is the sun ! And must I
leave all ! At least let me ayoy it yet : let
me relish this entire day, so pure and beaati-
ful ; for me there will be no morrow."
I He darted into the Pfu-k, and disappeared
I before I could follow him. In truth, I had
no strength ; I threw mysdf into a seat, be-
wildered, confounded by all I had seen and
heard. I rose, I walked to convince myself
that I was awake, that I was not under the
influence of a dream. At this moment the
door of the boudoir opened, and a servant
entered.

" My master, sir, the Duke de C-

A man of sixty, of distinguished
nomy, advanced ; and presenting his
asked pardon for having detained me so long.

" I was not in the chateau," said he, " I
have just returned from the dty, where I have
been to consult for the health of the Count de
C , my younger brother."

" Is his life in danger ?" said I.

"No, thank heaven," replied the Duke;
" but in his youth Mb imagination was ex*
cited by projects of ambition and glory, and a
serious illness that he has lately h&d, in which
he came near dying, has affected his mind
with a kind of delirium, or alienation, causing
him constantly to think he has but one day
more to live.

All was explained to me.

" Now," continued the Duke, changing the
subject, " I will see, my young man, WMt I
can do for your advancement We will co,
at the end of the month, to Versailles, and I
will present jrou."

" I appreciate your Grace's kindness, and
though I must decline it, am most gratefiil."

" What ! will you renounce the Mlvantages
you might expect at court ?"

" Yes ! My views have recently changed.
I will live, useful and hi^y, on my paternal
domain."

"But think that, by my assistance, yoa
can rapidly attain distinction ; and that, with
a little assiduity and patience, yoa may in
ten years — "

" Ten lost years /" cried I.

"Indeed I''' replied he with astonishment;
" is that pavine too dear for glory, fortune,
honors ? Think asain, my young man ! Let
us be off to Versailles P'

" No, your Grace, I will return to Brittany ;

SITING WUISFUUNGS FROM ELLA.

I I pty ym wccJTe my flianka md those of my

is feB^," cried the Duke.
And I, tlimkniff of wb«t I had just heard,
mad to aiiyBelf, « It is wisdom."

Tke BCKt day I set off. and with what de-

Kgiht I saw again my fine chateau of Roche-

^ Bcnaid, the iM trees ef my park, the sun of

I BrittanT. I regained my yasBals, my sisters,

mj- Bkouier, ana happinesss ! which since has

neT«r 1^ me— lor eig^t days after, I married

SPRING WHISPKRS FROM
ELLA.

P *ne oMmmoaiUi, and from tlMdM]>hMTon(/eraM

f' Tbm foldm lUi^Usbi ftreanu;

^ 3I7 beut in we^rj tnd It pineib fbr thee,

J Tfao« Holy Load ot Dreou.**

' I often wonder what one class of day-
j dreams are, and where they come from, and
! ttie end of my wondering, generally, is an
.; aiua iice that they are hrwiyit by the dream*
' aacd to the heart ready to receive him. It
is he who supplies the heart with the Ian-
raage it has need of : he, who, taking the soul
hom the visible, and what we call the real,
giTCS it glimpses of the unseen, and of the im«
aginative. As gentle roan is made better by
cSerisfaing the dream-angel, though exactly
the reverse if he indulges in dreams woven
by hia own restless nmid and over-heated
bram; the dream-angel takes us a little while
from tiw practical, to send us back to it
strengthened for the conflict. He keeps the
heart young, the fedings simple, and when
the ittteOeot is soaring above ev^-day things,
and mar philosophy is scouring simple things,
he tcOs us of the prime wisdom, while revaid-
iag tlie ftitore^ our gaze . he whispers that
ample things are the most beautiful — ^that the
cfaflfHah heart is the purest — ^while he brings
imauB of our childhood's home to us, and
reminds ns of our former happiness.

Heased dream-angel, who comest to all who
win receive thee, and addest a glory to their
kiy. or pourest a balm on their sorrowing
Mafia, and pointest to a g^rious future:
eeme to us often ! Thou who teachest the
irae vahie of what the worid most prizes —
that removest the gilding from base things,
and dottiest the amplest things with a garb
of beauty; ccnne to us often! Come to us:
if we ^ not always appear to welcome yon ;
bear with us, but, oh, do not desert us.
WHhoot thee, bright-eyed visitant, comforter,
consoler, what wcmld Moome of us ! Thou art
like the flower that gladdens the earth : thy
voiee is Hke the sweet singing of birds ; thy
wiaga drop light; — surely, surely. He wlio
snt thee is gowL

There are times— every one has known them
—when we are visited by bright and glorious

visicma— visions of angels* tuning thdr harp-
strings to such dehoious music, that when it
comes floating to our enraptured senses, we
die away to idl shrrounding objects, and are
borne away from the earth tiy a very flood of
melody, and then we hear :

** Dtrlnely warbled Toloe,
Anawariag tb« atrlnged uoIm.**

And at other times we wander forth into
green valleys, and we walk there in <* the light
of a sunless day," where flowers are, bright
and glorious ; but these are not of unearthly
hue ; they are our own sweet flowers we see
— the flowers that a>angle our fields and beau-
tify our homes; than which, Fancv herself
cannot present us with more beautiral. But
there they never die. Death, nor decay, ap-
proach our dream-flowers ; and the songs of
the birds are never hushed in those green val-
leys ; nor the tin^e of the stream ceaseth ;
nor the bellii^ dreamy sound of the waterfidl :
nor the murmuring of the bee ; neither do the
colors fade from uie butterfly*s wine. The
lark, upspringing from his green embowered
home, chants a lay of most unearthly music ;
and, though the ^ow-worm's lidit seems
needless, the nightingale still sings her thanks
for it. The tindd hare fears not to come forth
from his fbrm and eat the sweet-soented clo-
ver : and the cuckoo builds her own nest, and
watches over her young ones. In those val-
leys many a weary foot has trod and forgotten
its &tigue ; and many a weary heart has found
rest.

At other times, friends we once loved and
cherished — ^friends that we still love, and that
love us, although they are dead — come to us :
and, of all visions presented to our souls, none
are more purifying than those in which de-
parted friends talk with us. In their pre-
sence all sorrow passes from our hearts, as a
dream passes from the mind: then we feel
how utterhr vain are all earthly aspirations.
Hope and fear cease from their wild combat-
ting — all is calm and holy peace. Over their
graves the blue dome df the sky bends lov-
ingly, and the sun calls into life and light the
flowers we planted there : and the birds chant
no longer their requiem ; but, instead, they
sing of the time whoi the spirit shall le-clothe
itsdf in its cast-off garment that now lies in
the grave. But, if wordly feelings sleep at
the graves of our loved ones, our souls live
there; they soar away to a brighter land
than earth^ lovliest spot can give us a fore-
taste of; and, entering throu^ the gate that
death has opened, fed that there is a place
where all our desires for the good and the
true can be more than realized; where the
truth of the feeling we sometimes have is
proved— of our apparent life heins but a
dream, and of there oeing an inner life, which
is the onlv reality.

We all have sQch visions sometimes, and the

BIZARRE.

fHirer our souls are, and the more ehast^ied
our imadnations, the more frequently we hare
them, les, we all dream sometimes. If the
dream-angel does not Tisit us undor the coyer
of the dark shroud of night, or hidden be-
neath the grey mantle of twilight, he comes
in the day-time, and uses his magical spell
to banish all our surroundings from our sight,
to drive all thoughts, all speculations, from
our minds, and to substitute for them his own,
sometimes i^ild and weird-like, sometimes
simple and beautiful, suggestions. The dream-
angel comes to every one,— or he has come, —
from every soul he is willing to remove the
veil of worldly feelings; to every heart he
would fain present bright visions of ddight.

Memory and Hope are his companions.
When M^nory comes with him, his sugges-
tions are of the past ; his pictures are brought
from the home of ibe dreamer — the home
where he first learnt to syllable affectionate
words, to win a kiss from his mother — the
home where he was danced on his father's
knee — his home, from which he is now far
away, on which he may not hope ever to look
agun.. No more to gladden his eye, runs the
streamlet down at the end of the rich mea-
dow — ^no more bunches of flowers, picked in
the woods, to ornament his- vase — no more
greeting voices, nor fond clasping hands for
him. The home of his childhood — ^his home
— ^wherever he may live, is far away. Its
walls echo to the voices of strangers — ^its halls
are trodden only by strangers' feet. Long ago
it was not so. It was not so when he left it
with buoyant hopes of success in the imtried
. world of action.

He was happy and light-hearted ; he wan-
dered in other lands — Gleamed to doubt — to
look in the heart of the brightest blossom of
hope for some canker — to expect disappoint-
ment under the fairest seeming. He learnt to
talk as other people talk — to still the beating
of his heart — ^to suppress the ri^g tear — to
be a man, calm, cold, and unimpassioned.
But to him — to Jiim, even, the di^eam-angd
comes hand-in-hand with Memory; wMte
Hope waits patiently to get admission.

In a spacious room, surrounded with all
luxuries for both mind and body, sits the
world-worn man, to whom the dream-angel
has come with Memory : a book is on the ta-
ble before him, and on its opoi leaves rests a
dried "forget-me-not."

A flower is a sacred thing. Yes, a flower
is sacred ; and especially so, is the blue " for-
get-me-not" In the pleasant Rhine-land
wasit linked with the words •* forget-me-not,"
the last words he spoke who, winning the
flower for his beloved, gave his life as its price.
What the name of the flower was before that,
I dont know : I do not care to know : none
can be more beautiful than the name it has,
— ^none more fitting, — and many a time since,

has its l^ue petals aobbed forth the words —
** forget-me-not." And now it was this little
flower proved the spell to open the doeed
heart m Memory ana the dream-an^L

Then came bright visions to his seared
heart, and tears came into his eyes : for he
was clasped in his mother's arms, and his sis-
ter's vcMoe was calling him fond names. He
was happy, for he trusted and loved. A
change came. He was away from home when
sorrow and trouble visited it, and its gentle
hearts had to go into the strife of the world,
when the strong heart fafled; and gentle and
strong were now reposing quietly in the
church-yard, though nor son, nor brother,
planted a flower on their graves. Absent firom
them in life, he had not gone to them in death,
but now they were come to him, and be re-
membered how many wasted years he migh<
have devoted to them, and perhaps (oh, the
agony of that thought,) saved their lives as
well as gladdened them.

Ah! who disbelieves in ghosts, let him
come here and watch them thronging into the
room where sits that mwi — ghosts of dear
friends neglected-— ghosts of talents wasted —
ghosts of hours misspelt, than which no ghosts
are more terrible.

The dream-angel took pity on the haunted
man, and wove a poppy-wreath for his brow :
80 he slept, and Hope took the place of Memo-
ry, and with a soothing voioe told how he
might yet meet his friends in a glorious coun-
try and a bright, where angels are, and harp-
music, and where sorrow is no more, and ne-
glect is forgotten.

Far away on an Irish green hill-sido dwelt
a poet, unappreciated even in that land of
song, because unknown. To him the dreaai-
angcl went, and told him of a time when his
songs should become household words, axid
the heart of the boy-poet was gladdened.
The words of cheer inspired him, and for his
country's sake he toiled on until the echo of
his word-music resounded fW>m other lands.
For his country's sake he toiled — ^well might
he win ; for it was she who inspired him, and
it was her beaut f rewarded him. His poems,
as well as almost all Irish poetry, bears evi-
dence of an exceeding love of country ; and.
when it was his sad fate to dwell amon^ [
strangers, the visits of the dream-angel in- '
spired him, for Memory helped him to weave I
lAight visions. They well loiew what Iroland
was to the poet. !

It was the glorious fields on whidi tibe snow j
descended to keep the grass always green ; in
which bright birds were ever singing ; gay ^
butterflies ever hovering ; lovely flowers, cow-
slips, and prim-roses, and daisies, ever spring-
ing. It was the hawthorn hedge: the old
diureh ; the consecrated burial-n^d, whore
his fore-fathers lay interred. It was the

MOMENTS OF LEISURE.

mills <^ nMe ftbbies ; the oaitellated rook ;
tfae eainis : the pathways across the mea-
dows ; the hrooks, shaded with trees. It was
riorkmssiiiisetsaiidloTeiTsaBrisnQgs. It was
3ie beath-eoToed hill ; the river whose course
is m beautified bj Nature and by Art, Uiat
Imagination, in her wildest flight, falls &r
short of the reality. It was the lakes, whose
beauty is world-wide. It was the warm
ga sp ing of hands ; the festivities of the Holy-
ude ; the time-hoeored customs ; the ancient
rdifpoQ. It was the old home in which gen-
cfstkiBshad been bom, and lived and paised
aw^. It was the May-pole, garlanded with
flowers — or in the city — the streets hong
with gre^i boughs* It was the grandeur of
former days to be restored ; the harp whose
nmaic bad ceased to be reawakened. It was
ttie bjid of his birth, beautifbl and love^;
Ms oountry; the birdi-place of great men,
whose memories the world would not willing-
ly let die : his country, whose sons are brave,
whose daughters fair, whose language is poe*
try— ^e bright and beantiAil green-robed
Enn: loved all the same by that poet-soul,
I whether the thom-eatwisted coronet of sorrow-
was placed on her brow : or whether it was
decorated by a bri^t coronal of roses and
laard-flowers of hope, and type of victory.

MOMKNT9 OF LEISURE.

NUMBER ONE.
THR NEW EMFKBOR OF FRANCE.

One of the most striking illustrations of
tte mutability of human affairs, has been re-
eaUy di^layed to the world, in the change
of tlie fcHTtunes of Louis Napoleon Bona-
parte. Equally instruetive was the unexpect-
ed ftU Off his predecessor, Louis Phibppe.
Bfsigiriitg power, ahnost without an effort to
leteiB his sceptre, we behold the mighty king
**• a lacittve upon the £ftce <^ the earth ;'* and
lo I as Dy magic, the needy adventurer assumes
tbeTaoaat throne, and surrounds himself with
a toger power, and with |preater splendor !
We BOW seek, with great mterest, to know
nope than we have done of the former life,
«, to use a favorite word at present, the an-
tesedents, of this individual, whose daring
atls have <hrawn on him the gaze of the world.
it is especially interesting, now, to peruse the
ti^flvle elicited by the new Monarch's former
ttloHipts at empire. Some writo-s, a|^n,
even then thought highly of his abihties.
From an article in the £onaon Review^ re-pub-
^Aed m " LitteWs Musmm,'' for July, 1839,
we shall make some extracts, wliioh can hard-
ly fiul of being aoceptaUe to the reader.

"Bonapartiam is dead— ^one, we believe,
forever: but among all the dead and dying
flf 1S30, who, thanks to Louis Philippe, are
striving hard to revive, this is, incontestably,

the one most deserving our attention. * * *
Amongst, all the pretenders, too, we must ad-
mit that Napoleon Louis is the one who, to
our certain loiowledge, combines the greatest
number of the personal qualities calculated
to win over any man who should not have de-
voted himself, in heart-felt worship, to some-
thing greater than all names<-tmkt is, to a
princi]Se. He is, evidenUy, a man of courage
and capacity. Far different from the men of
the Bourbon race, whether of the elder, or the
younger, branch, so orrteres, so ineorrigiMe,
he has learned something in his exile. He
unites in himself, so fetr as it is possible, the
modem ideas oi liberty, with the ambition
of hereditary power. Before he turned his
thoughts to France, he thought of connecting
his name with the struggles c^ the nationid
cause of Italy, andof the Polish insurrection ;
and we feel ourselves warranted, while retrac-
ing his past conduct, in giving to the man a
mention, which, perhaps, we should not have
yielded to the pretender.^*

Charles-Loms Napoleon Bonaparte was bom
in the year 1808. He was baptized by Car-
dinal Fesch ; the Emperor and Empress, Ma-
ria Louisa, being his sponsors. Napoleon
Louis was a great favorite with his uncle.
When Napoleon returned from Elba, his little
nephew stood beside him during the holding
of the Champs-de-Mai, and was presented to
the deputations from the people and the army.
When his uncle embraced him for the last time
at Malmaison, the child displayed much feel-
in|^; he was andous to follow him and
oned out in tears, that he would go and fire
oS the cannon. It is to be noted, that he is
now, according to the provisions of the sena'
tus consuUum, (1804) the eldest son of the
imperial family, and heir of the tlnrone.

At Augsburg, he pursued his classical stu-
dies, which luul been commenced at Paris
under the cdebrated Hdlemst, M. Hage. He
applied his mind to the study of the German
language, natural philosophy and chemistry,
engineering, and artillery. The latter, under
Gen. Dufour, a Colonel in the grand army.
In one of his letters to Hortense, (Sept. 2,
18^, ) he speaks of being engaged in ** military
reconnoitring in the mountains, widking ten
or twelve lei^es a day with his knapsack at
his back, and sleeping under a tent, at the
foot of a glacier." At the occurrence of the
revolution of 1830, he folly believed that
Louis Philippe would perform the promise
which Hortense declared he often maoe, only
a year before his accession to the throne, —
that he would recall the imperial fimiily to
France. Louis Ni^Mleon wrote a letter to the
king, asking permission to serve in the French
army, as a common soldier. The reply to
this petition was a fresh act of banishment.
Jan., 1831, he took part in the movement in
the Papal States ; (tether with his brother)

H|7,A|HtTC

and aided in establiahmff the line <^ defence
firom Foligno to Civita CSstellana. When this
insurrectioii was suppressed, he was in immi-
nent danger ; — ^to quote the words of the arti-
cle to wUch we are indebted for these £Mts,
'* Tuscany notified to Hortense, that he would
not be received into its territory : King Je-
rome and Cardinal Fesch wrote fr<Mn Rome,
that should the Austrians lay hxAd of him, he
was lost : an Austrian flotilla, the same which
in contempt of all law, captured and seised
seventy Italians and General Zucchi, (stiU
confined, notwithstanding the famous amnes-
ty, in a Hungarian f<»ir«3s) was cruising in
the Adriatic : and all this came upon the poor
mother [Hortense] while in the Palasao at
Ancona, where she was keeping her sick son
concealed: two rooms only, separated her
from the Austrian Ck>mmander-m-Ohief, to
whom she had been obliged to ^ve up some
of the i^rtments. In these circumstances
she took a resolve, worthy of Napoleon him-
self, and determined to save her remaining
son, by means of that very France, which on
pain <» death, the meml>ers of the fiunil^
were firbidden to enter. In a state of trepi-
dation which she has simjdy and afifocttngly
described, she travdled across the Italian
Peninsula to Genoa; and from thence, by
means of a passport furnished her by an Eng-
lishman, she boldly entered France, arrive
at Paris, drove to the Hotel d' HoUande, and
wrote with her own hand to inform Louis
Philippe of her arrival, on the very day that
M. SBoastian, that finished statesman and
diplomatist, of insight unerring into the course
of affiurs, announced 'positively in full council,
that ^ehadjust landed at Malta.'* But the
new kins would '' brook no brother near the
throne," and sent marching orders to the en-
ergetic mother, and the still invalid son.
They left Paris on the 5th of May, and on the
8th arrived in London : and then left again
for Switaerland. On their arrival, the envojrs
from Warsaw, General Kniasewicz and Count
Plater, invited Louis Napoleon to embrace
the cause of Polish freedom. *'A youi^
Bonaparte, appearii^ on your shores, with
his tri-colourea flag in his hands, would pro-
duceamoraleffectofincalculableimportance."
The Prince accepted the invitation, and was
on the very point of departure, when he heard
of the fkll of Warsaw. On what slight events
sometimes depends the &te of an individual,
and a nation ! Had the courier been up an
hour earlier in the morning. Napoleon might
have finished his day« in Siberia, and France
have had an Knperor the less !

An Emperor, doubtless, Napoleon always
intended to be : Ibr it is a curious fkct that,
in his Reveries PoHtiques Mb proposed consti-
tution (although democratic) expresses, in the
first artide, uiat the republic shdi have an
Empsbob ; and in the last, provides that the

iMPBBiALGuiSD shall be re-^atablished. Kot
only so; but some sabre blades seised at Stnw-
bttig, before the movement of 30th of Ootober,
have upon them the eag^e, and the words,
<« Garde Imperude.^* The attempt of Sb-as-
burg was not * hasty extempore affiur. It
had been planned, and laboured for, during
two or three years before the moment of ac-
tion. In 1833, it is asserted, Lafayette ad-
vised the Prince, to seise the first opporiunity
of presenting himself in France. Strasbim
was hostile to the ^vemment ; its natioiial
guard was no longer in existence; it had some
12,000,000 in its treasury; and ten thousand
troops, whom, it was expected, were not io-
corruptiUe. This was the door of France
for the ambitious Prince. But before he raised
his standard, he determined to mingle with the
lAtitary chiefs, and gather some opinions of the
prospects of success. '* One evening, after one
of those brilliant /efes, common to a place of
sudi fofihionable resort, he mounted his horse,
in company with a friend, and traversed in a
few hours the distance between Baden and the
French frontier. He entered Strasburg, just
after night-foil. There in a spacious apart-
ment* one of the Prince's friends had assem-
bled together, on some pretence or other,
twenty-five officers, belonging to various de-
descriptions of force, and whoot honor oould
be relied on, although they were not bound
by any engagement. On a sudden it was an-
nounced to them that Prince Napoleon was
at Strasbui^, and was about to present ym-
self before them ! They all received the m-
telligence with transport, and in a few mo-
ments the Prince was in the midst of them.
The ofiicers all respectfblly gathered round
him ; a solemn siloice was preserved, more
eloquent than an^ protestations of devotien ;
and when the Pnnce had overcome his first
emotion, he delivered himself in these terms :
— *' Gentlemen, it is with fhll confidence that
the Emperor's nephew entrusts himsdf te
your honour : he comes before you to learn
your sentiments and opinions from your own
lips. If the army be yet mindful of its great
destinies — ^if it feel fcr tiie miseries of our
country — then I bear a name which may be
useful to yen : it is i^beian, like our gloryjC^T
the past ; it is glorious like the people. The
great man, indeed, is ne more : but thecanse
remains the same: the eagle, that sacred sym-
bd, renowned by a hundred battles, repre-
sents, as in 1815, the disregarded rights o^ the
people, and the national glory. Exile, gentle-
men, has heaped upon me many cares and
sorrows ; but as I am not aotii^fVom motives
of personal ambitkm, teQ me whether I am
mistaken as to the sentiments of the anny ;
and if requisite, I will resign myself to living
on a foreign soil, and awaiting better times."
<«No," replied the offioers, «*you shall not
languish in exile ; we ouradves will restore

MOMENTS Oft LEISURE.

vM to joor coontrj ; all <mr iyiiip«thie0 have
Mtg been with yen ; we, like yonnetf, art
wemry of the inaciwity m v&idk oi«r wmtk is
left; we are adkamed cf the part which the ar^
B9 foade to pby."

Ilie Prince left them to await the formida-
Ue moment. The attempt waa made <m the
30lh of October. We shall not Ihiger orer
the particulars of this, as it proved, prema-
ture moTemeot. It will be remembered, that
a moat ingemous trick was put in requisition,
to stifle the enthusiasm which followed the
PriBDe's harangue to the 4th regiment The
CTf was raised that it was not the Emperor*s
nifk i W j but an impostor, a eonnecticni of C6I.
Ttndrey^s, who was excitinc the rebellion.
The bnef triumph, was ended by capture and
ifi s aum ent ! We must not forget that he
bad Btnmg encouragement from great authori-
ties* in his ambitious aspirations.

Chateaubriand wrote mm (Sept. 1832,) :—
'^ P i i n ee : I have read with attention the
pamphlfi which jon were so kind as to put
uto my hands ; and have set down in writ^
ing, as you desired me, some reflections na-
tanlhr arising from vour own, and which I
had aheady submitted to your consideration.
Tott know. Prince, that my young Ring is in
Seotiand, and that, while he lives, I can deem
BO other to be sovereign of France. But
dieald God, in his inscrutable designs, have
rgected the r%ee of St. Louis— should our
cooftry cancel an election which she has not
s ame tion ed — and should her manners be found
to resder it impossible for her to become a
repuUiC — then, Prince, there is no name bet-
ter har mon i wn g with the glory of France,
your own. I shall retain a deep im-
m of your hospitality, and of the gen-
reception given me by the Duchess of
SLLea. I Deg you to present to her the hom-
age of niy respectful gratitude. "

Lei, us turn now to Lafayette. He sought
la interview with the Prince ; received &m
with great cordiality, and avowed his repent-
laecef his agency in the revolution of Julv,
1830. He urged Louis Napoleon to seize the
fiiBt fiurorable opportunity of returning to
FkiDce : «* for this rovemment cannot stand,
sad jrour name is the only one that is popu-
lar. ''^ He promised to do all that he oould
to assist the Prince in his designs. The an-
ther of the article to which we have been in-
debted, indulges hi the following sage ratio-
nn a ti o ns ; which, perhaps, he would not wh^
tochumjust now. '* We do not believe in
the future destinies of the Napoleon dynasty,
hi oar opinion, as we have already declared
at the outset of tins notice, Bonapartism is
DO more : it passes away with the comple*
tiflB of that task of fusion and eoualisation,
whidi was Napoleon's mat wonc, both in
France and Eimpe ; at this day, France has
^ to expeet firom Bonapartism, and En- i

rope would have every thing to fear. • •
Wnen she [France] shall one day lift up
again her degraded head, it will not be for
the expulsion of a man, but of a principle,
that or a finandal and tradmg anstoOTScy.
It will be to organize, through national insti-
tutions, a continuous exercise of ner liberty
and sovereignty ; so secured, as not again to
be lost by any mistake she may commit as
to an individual, or a dynasty. In short, it
will not be to repeat expmments which have
cruelly disappmnted her, but to try a new
one ; the stnime for which, indeed, she has
already gone £rough, but hss never yet real*
ized its peaceable enjoyment We believe
Napdeon Louis deceives himself, when he
thinks of affecting a revolution in France by
means of the army.

In France, especially, a Pnetorian revohi*
tion, is no longer pra^icaUe. There, for the
last twenty jrears, the army has been subor-
dinate to the nation ; and a movement begun
by the army, in the name of any indivi(ktal
whatever, would excite suspicion and ap*
prehensions of another tyranny. * * The
nation is not Bonapartism, except tovrards
him who erected tM grand column. Napo*
leon Louis might have succeeded at Stasburg ;
he may yet gain over a few r^;iments, and
besuccessfm atsomeotherpoiBt: but the in-
surrection cannot grow to a revolution ; and
all the effects of Bonapartism will end in no-
thing beyond ruining Louis Philij^, by un-
dermining the fidelity of his army. Is no fii-
ture career, then, open to this young man,
possessed, as he has shown himself to be, of
a vigorous intellect and a noble disposition ?
Is no career a worthy one, it may oe asked
in return, but the pursuit of supreme power ?
Here we gladly avail ocurselves of the words
of Carrel, who by dint of reflection, and by a
thorough knowledge oft he spirit of his time,
bad conquered in himself an original tendency
decidedly Bonapartist ; and who resisted iht
overtures of N^xdeon Louis's emissaries. * If
this young man,' said he, * can comprehend
the real interests of fVance, — ^if he can forget
his title of Imperial Witimacy to remember
only the sovereign^ of the people, then, and
only then, he may be destiiied to pli^ a dis^
tineuished part.' "—J. M. »

What the future of France shall be, who
will venture to predict ? That the new £m-
pMoror now sits firmly on his throne, we con-
sider certain. Has he the wisdom of preser-
vation, as well as the craft of acquisition?
This subject we may consider in a future
paper.

Lewis Cass, Jr^ our consul at Rome, is not
recalled, as has been reported, but will re*
main at the Papal Court, at least during the
administratian of Gen. Fierce.

BIZARRE.

§i^arre among tje |leio Joob.

NO-reS AMO BMBNOATlONa TO T>4B
TEXT OF •MAK.ePKARB.

— For this book which Redfidd has just pub-
lisl^ed in a handsome 12ino. of 533 pages, the
pnblic are indebted to Mr. J. Pajne CoUler, a
distinguished English 8hakspearian commen-
tator and annoti^tor. It is a masterly work,
come from whence it may have done originally.
It dears up doubts and surmises whidi have
forever hung over oertain passages of the
great bajnd. Readings of a peculiar class,
wiiich have been always received as orthodox,
it annihilates; while passages whi<^ have
hitherto been shrouded in darkness, it illumi-
nates with palpable daylight.

We imd«*8tand that the commentators of
England are, some of them, down upon Mr.
Ck>llier ; indeed, he himself, in a letter to a
London literary paper, speaks of certain gen-
tlemen — editors and would-be-editors — ^who
are vehemently whetting their knifes to cut
him open for a carbonado. One of th^n has
already '* rushed into print," and the others
are preparing to follow up tiie first blow. He
adds, *' I shall soon have so much ink spilt
upon me, that I expect to be bladder than my
own name."

A reasonable man has, we think, only to
examine Mr. Collier's book to pronounce it
the best, of its kind, ev^ issued. It bears,
every where on its pages, the strongest clauns
to authenticity. We can readily imadfie
that those gentlemen who amuse themsdves
but puQish type, by making vasUy obsourer
the obsQurities of Shakspeare, through end-
less Hotiss and comments, should war upon
a darkness-dissipator like Collier's fdio. It
reduces the per{»exities of years to plun A B
C ; andy so far as it goes, leaves them '< not a
loop to hang a doubt on." They might just
as wdl print folios to elucidate the fact that
two and two makes four, as longer to indulge
in donbtff as to any points trei^ed of on its

n^.i

r. Collier gives, in his tntnxiucti(m, par-
ticulars as to the procuring of the sin^lar
volulne from which his materials are derived.
It was a copy of the folio of ** Mr. William
fihakspeare's Comedies, and Histeries, and
Tragedies," first published in 1632, and a re-
print of a previous impression, in the same
form, in 1623. It was again reprinted in
1664, with additional plays ; and again, for
the fourth time, in 1685. The volume is not
perfect. It wants four leaves at the end of
** Cymbeline," and there are several defi-
ciencies in the IkmH' of the work. The entire
volume consists of 900 pages, divided between
36 plays. Besides the correetion of literal
and verbal errors, the punctuation has been

set right throoehoot There is no page with-
out ten to thii^ emendations ; and their a^
grqnrte does not fall short of 20>000 !

The volume also contains considerably
more than a thousand chiinges, where letters
are add^ or expunged, whore words are sup-
plied or stricken out, car where lines and Ben-
t^ioes, omitted by the early printer, have
been inserted, together with all the emcnda*
tions of a similar kind. Mr. Collier does not
adopt all the changes suggested by the volune,
and plainly states his reasons why he docs
not.

The history of the manner in which Mr.
Collier's rare folio came into his hands, ho
thus gives :

** In the spring of 1849, 1 happened to be
in the shop of the late Mr. Rodd, of Great
Newport st^^eet, at the time when a package
of books arrived fit)m the country : my im-
pression is that it came from Bedfordshire,
out I am not at dl certain upon a point whidi
I looked upon as a matter of no importanoe.
He opened the pared in my preseoce, as he
had often done before in the course of ray
thirty or forty years' acquaintance with him,
and looking at the backs and title-pages of
several vdumes, I saw that they were ckkAj
works of little interest to me. Two folios,
however, attracted my attention, one of thea
gilt on the sides, and the other in rou^ calf:
the first was an excellent cppy of florio'i
" New World of Words," 1611 , with the name
of Henry Osbom {whom I mistook at the mo-
ment for his odebrated namesake, Francis)
upon the first leaf; and the other a copy of
the second folio of Shakspeare*s Plays, much
cropped, the covers dd and greasj, and, as I
saw at a glance on opening them, miperfoet at
the beginning and end. Conduding hastily
that the latter would complete another poor
copy of the second foho, which I had bought
of the same bookseller, and whioh I had for
some years in mypossessioB, and wanting the
former for my use, I bought them both, the
Florio for twelve, and the Shakspeare for
thirty shillings.

As it tum^ out, I at first repented my
baigun as regarded the Shakspeare, beoaose,
when I took it home, it appeared that two
leaves which I wanted were waiit for my pur-
pose, Qot merely by being too shcMt, but
damaged and defaced; thus disappointed, I
threw it by, and did not see it again, until I
made a sdeotion of books I would take with
me on quittii^ London. In the mean time,
finding that I could not readily remedy the
defidencies in my other oopy of the folio,
1632, 1 had parted with it ; and when I re-
moved into the country, with my family, in
the spring of 1850, in order that I might not
be without some copy of the second folio for
the purpose of reference, I took with me that
which is the foundation of the present w<»k.

BIZARRE AblOmO THE NEW BOOKS.

It was whik fwUiar my books together ior
nmanl^ that I first obfieired some max^LS in
in the »aigui of this folio : bat it was subse-
qnMBlly placed npon an npper shdf , and I did
Bot take it down until I hul oecasimi to eon*
sidt it. It then struck me that Thomas Per*
kins, winee name, with Uie Addition of '< bis
BedDe»" was upon the cover, might be the old
actor who had perfimned in Marlowe's '' Jew
of Mait^" OQ its rerival shortly bdore 1633.
At this time I fimoied that the binding was
of ahavt that date, and that the volume might
have been his ; bat in the first place, I foimd
that his name was Richard Pcnrkins, and in
the next I became satisfied that the rough
catfwaanot the orinnal binding. Still, Tho*
mas Perkins misht haye been a descendiant of
Bidiard ; and uiis circumstance and others
iadDced me to eiamine the rolume more par-
tieolarly : I then discovered, to my surprise,
that there was hardly a page which did not
praeBt, in a hand-writing of the time, some
eoiflDdatioiis in the pointing or in the text,
while en most of tnem th^ were fi-equent,
and on many numerous.

Of cooise I now submitted the folio to a
most carnal scrutiny : and as it occupied a
coBsiderabk time to complete the in^>ection>
how much more must it have consumed to
make the alteratioas ? The ink vras of vari-
oisriiades, difiering sometimes on the same
page, and I was once disposed to think that
two distinct hands had been employed upon
them: this notion I have since a^mdoned;
and I am now decidedly of opinion that the
Mae writing prevails from beginning to end,
botthat the amendments must have been in*
trodaeed from time to time, during, periiaps.
the course of several years. The changes in
pasotoation alone, always made with nicety
and patience, must have required a long po-
lioA, considering their number; the other
alliratkos, sometimes most minute, extending
em to turned letters and typographical trifies
of that kind, from their v^ nature could not
hare been introduced with ra^^ditr, while
maiiy of the errata must have severely tasked
the industry of the old corrector."

The cause of these numerous errors in
Shakspeare are explained — we use the lan-
guage of the Tribtme reviewer :

**The first edition of his plays was not
poblisfaed until seven years after his death,
which took place in 1616. The copy was
made for the printer, in the first instance, by
penons who wrote down the dialogue as they
iieavd it on the stage. Instead of receiving
the last touches of Sxe author, it was in fact
the crude sketch c^ a reporter. K was diffi-
cak to obtain a play for the press. The ort-
ginals were sidd to theatrical managers, who
didtheb utmost to prevent them from ap-
pearing in print, and when they were brought
out, it was usually by sorr^titious means.

During the life time of Shakspeare, nearly
half df his productions remained in manu-
script, and not one can be pointed out in the
publication of whidi he was coneemed. He
seems to have lost all interest in his works
after his retirement to Stratford, and no doubt
thought they were beyond his controL Under
these drcumstaneest it is remarkaUe that the
text is not disfigured by a greater number of
errors than even those with which it bow
abounds."

We have no space at present to give speci-
mens of the character of these enuendations ;
indeed, a few disjdnted extracts hardly suf-
fice to show the admirable diaracter oif the
book, as a whole. It most be exunined page
by page to be fully appreciated. The great-
est excitement has been caused by its appear-
ance in England, while lovers of Shakspeare
in our own country are all on the qui vive re-
garding the same. We learn that many dis-
tinguished dramatists with us have already
adopted its suggestions. One of them. Miss
Kimberlv, the clever tragedierme now or lately
at the Chestnut f has been solicited to read one
<^ Shakspeare's plays for the benefit of a cha-
rity in New York city, and we are asMired
that if 1^ does so, she will adopt the text of
Collier's old folio. Charles Keam, it is added*
has adopted it at his theatre in London ; in-
deed, we hazard nothing in prophecying that
it will, eventually, be unexcepti<«iable and
everywhere approved authority.

TRAVBUtt IIM BQVIPT- AMO RAl-BO"n|sJ«.

— Messrs. Lippiiusott, Grambo A^ Co., of oar
city, are the publishers of this workl It em-
braces 172 very handsomely printed pages,
and is fi^m the pen of Dr. J. Thomas. It
possesses the merit of being a ver^ modest
record of travds, done up in the familiar style
of letters, and oSeTS many very sensible views
and impressions.

The writer was fortunate in being among the
first to witness the lately discovei^ and sin-
gular ruins of Hadjar Khem in Malta, as well
as the vast subterranean halls, near the site
of the ancient city oi Memphis. He also vis*
ited Palestine at a season, when the beauties
both of cHmate and country were exhibited
to the greatest advantage, and writes of all
he saw briefly and sensibly- He seems to
avoid any thing like extravagance; indeed
his matter-of-fact way of telling a story, which
his predecessors have related with so many
flourishes, is yery striking. He goes from
Jaffii to the Dead Sea, indeed, with apparently
as much ooolness and composure as we would
foot it to West Philadelphia or Man^nk.
This is worthy of mark, as an originakty in
this book. We are inclined to note it as a fea*
ture, indeed, demanding attention.

But let us give a specimen or two. Here
we have the autiuyr's first sight of Jemaalem :

'* Our road to Jerusalem, lay through the

BIZARRB.

soQtb part of the i^un of Sharon. Rarely, if
erer, haye I seen a more fertile or delightifal
region. On every side were orchards of fig
aid apricot trees, and pomegranate grores, in
Inxnnant bloom ; although to the right d us,
plain in sight, was the desert which separates
Palestine &om Egypt, with scarce a solitary
shrub to relieve the wide and dreary waste
6i ydli>w sand. That afternoon we passed
an extensive field or meadow, in which we
saw upwards of a himdred camels, of all
ages and sizes, grazing ; as for the herds of
donkeys and flocks of Uack goats that we
met, they were not to be numbei^. After a
ride of about three hours and a half, we ar-
rived at Ramleh, and put up at the Latin con-
vent, there being no inn or hotel in the place.
This town contains a pretty good fruit mar-
ket, and a number of palm-tiecs. We saw,
just as we were about entering the place, sev-
eral exceedingly fine fields of tobacco, such
as would have been no discredit to the most
fertile districts of Old Virginia. But what
most interested me, was a remarkable and
somewhat extensive ruin, the base of which
was perhaps eight or ten feet below the sur-
hce of the ground ; the roof or ceiling was
formed by a series of fine arches, and sup-
ported at the points between the arches, by a
number of columns of mason work. The
building, as we afterwards learned, was con-
structed by the Crusaders as a storehouse for
grain. Ramleh has probably from one to
two thousand inhabitants, and although it
now presents a miserable dilapidated appear-
ance, the character of its different ruins, show
that it was once a place of considerable wealth
and importance. Early on the following
day we passed the eastern line of the plain <»
Sharcm, and the rest of our way lay for the
most part through an exceedingly rugged and
hilly or rather mountainous country. Ehiring
this journey, we saw great numbers of storks,
both on the plain of ^aron and after we had
Altered the mountains. They appeared to me
to be about the size of our wild geese, though
their legs are much longer. Their wings are
dark, but the neck, breast, and the greater
part of the body is white or light colored.
The hills between Jaffa and Jerusalem are
composed chiefly of solid-lime stone rock, the
strata of which vary exceedingly in inclina-
tion; sometimes they are neany horizontal,
and not unfirequently exhibit an undulating
or wave-like appearance. As we apjHroach
Jerusalem, the hills or mountMns present a
very singular aspect. It would seem as if the
whole country had been furrowed by vast ai^l
deep ynXLeys running nearly parallel to each
other, and that other valleys, also nearly par-
allel to each other, had crossed the first at an
oblique angle. The mountains in the vicinify
of Jerusalem present, at least at this season
of the year, an arid, sterile, and forbidding

aspect. In fiict, their summits are eenerally,
if not always, nothijEjE bnt a naked mass of
stones or rock* The hills are so steep,
and the stones so abundant, that one is alinost
at a loss to conceive how chariots could ever
have been used in this region of country.

At length we saw the walls and towers of
Jerusalem in the distance, but tilie appear-
ance was far less nu^estic and imposing than
I had imagined. It should, however, be ob->
served, that the ap{M*oach from Jafia U not
favOTable for seeing the city to the best ad-
vantage. I have little doabt that, had I
first viewed it fn»n the Mount of Olives,
all my expectations would have been real-
ized.'*

He does up the Dead Sea in a few para-
graphs, as follows :

'* The next morning, having a long and ar-
duous journey before us, we rose at dayt»«ak
and took our break&st by torchlight. We
then directed our course south*eastward to
the lower part of the Jordan, about three
miles from its ^itrance into the Dead Sea.
Our road lay across a level plain, partially
covered with a variety of shrubs, among
which a peculiar species of thorn was most
conspicuous. Just as it was becoming light
enough for us to trace distinctly the dark
outlines of the mountains of Moab — who«e
utter barrenness and desolation seem still to
bear witness <^ the wrath of Heaven, from
the time when the Lord rained upon Sodom
and Gomorrah *' brimstone and fire," and the
** smoke of ihe country went up as the smc^e
of a furnace ;" — a black cloud, which had been
gathmng on the neighboring hills, suddenly
overspread the sky and discharged several
dazzling streams of lightning upcm the moon-
tains ami the sea. The deep booming aoiind
of the thunder as its reverberations swept
across the vast and desc^te valley, combined
with the fearful associations connected with
this region, added an indescribable charm to
the magnificence and sublimity of the seene.
There was soon after a dight eaower, the <uily
rain that we saw while in Palestine.

After a ride of rather more than an hour
firom the site of our previous encampment,
we arrived at the banks of the Jordan. At
this place the stream is no more than fifteen
or twenty yards wide, but it is deep and
flows with a great deal of force. The w^er
though turbid is entirely fresh, notwithstand-
ing, such quantities of salt are found boUi on
the plain aod on the banks of the Dead Sea,
two or three miles farther south. As all those
who viat the Jordan at this season, bathe in
its waters, it is not necessary to say that we
did so. This operation, I diould think,
would be attended with some danger to such
as are not good swimmers, as the current is
not only deep, but very strong and somewhat
irregular, sometimes producing eddies, and

LITERARY AND SOIENTIFIO GOSSIP.

MMetnnes mshiiig from one side of tbe ohan-
ad to the other. After gathering a few peb-
bftei from its shores as mementos for oar

'frioidsathome, and taking a specimen or two
tf the reeds with which the banks, of the

I rirer sffe lined, we rode southward to the Dead

: 8ea. As the son had now become exceeding*

; ]j hot, it was thon^t scarcely prudent to
ba^e in these (as deemed by some) deadly
waters. I had» howerer, a fancy to test the
leoemd statements respecting their nature
and quality. A single mouthful was abund*
mtly sofBcient to satisfy my curiosity. Their
bfttemess and pungency rally equalled my
most sanguine expectations. The water is,
nerertheless, most beautifully transparent,
the pebbles at the bottom appearing exceed-
io^j distinct at the depth of several fret.
Dvmg our short stay, some pieces of bitu-
mea were picked up on the shore, justifying
the name formerly giren, of Asphaltic Sot."

I The book is well worth a perusal, which
can be accomplidied in an hour or two. We
reeonmend it just for what it is — plain, brief
matter-of-fact, and, we question not, rdia-

I Ue. The author nerer expected to set the
rirer on fire, it is evident, when he sent his

' maonscript to his printers ; and, hence, nei-
ther he nor his fnends will be surprised if
wqA an erent should not follow the publica-
tioB of the same.
mmmtcrm and MiaosLLJMMiaa -bj onet Ac«iiw.

— Ifr. A. Hart, of this city, has lately pub-
liAed a very neat Tolume — 12mo., 310 pages
^aabracing choice cnllings from the nusoel-
laiMDOs writings of Grace Aguilar, author of
the "Women of Israel," " Vale of Cedars,"
"Mother's Recompense," "Days of Bruce,"
ie. They were selected from the author's
uMMcrip ts by her mother, and comprise a
▼aritty of subjects. Some of them are her
ewtter eompositions, And lack the ferror,
itmgth, aiul finidi, which characterize her
kle ^tiductions, while others are in her very
best style. The Tolume must command the
U^ faror which has been awarded to its pre-
deeewDfs. Grace Asuilar stands in the lead*
i9g naks of the brilliant writers of the 19th
c«t«iy, though called to another worid at a
p«ied of youth when her full genius could
not have iknreloped itsdf.

VBAR BOOK OP PAOTa FOR 1KX

— This is a reprint of a London book, which,
like Hs predecessor, is filled with the most
rahiable materiel, bearing upon science and

1 art. Mr. A. Hart, of this aty. is the pub-

! liflher. The author is Mm Tunbs, editm* of

the Arcana of Science and Art, His facts are

gadwred fit>m all quarters of the ciyilised

vorld, and especially from such a powerful

as tibe " UniTersal Yankee Kation."

Moore, Anderson, Wilstach and

Keys, <^ Cincinnati, hare puUiriied a lif^ of
Dr. Chahners, — 12mo., 435 pages,— a copy
of which they have sent us tnmigh Messrs.
Lindsay and Blackiston, of our city. It is
edited by the Rer. James C. Moffat, Professor
of Latin, and Lecturer on History, in Prince-
ton (N. J.) College, and embraces but an out*
line (^ Dr. Chalmer's career. The best au-
thorities hare been consulted, howerer, in
makine it up ; among them, the Memoirs of
Dr. Hanna. Compressed within the limits
above noted, but an outline of Dr. Chahner's
career, of coulee, could be given ; but enough
is offered, with abridged extracts from his
journals, letters, and speeches, to ccmrey an
excellent idea of the man.

mOT-OmAl. aKB^OH^OOK Om fBBNMaVI..
VANIA.

— This is an admirable work, a second edi-
tion of which has lately been published by
William Bromwell, No. 195 Chestnut street.
It treats of Pennsylvania, her scenery, inter-
nal improvements, resources, and agriculture ;
all of which are described in a most pleasin||^
style ; and emanates from the pen of Mr. Eh
Bowen, a gentleman of research and talent,
until recently connected with the general post
office department, as Washingtcm. It is il-
lustrat<ki with over two hundred handsome
engravings, and, altogether, is got up in a
very beautiful manner. We notice, by the
way, that it is dedicated to John Tucker,
Esa. , President of the Reading Rail-Road Co.,
and a gentleman of enterprize and worth, to
whom Pennsylvania is indebted for much of
her present prosperity, certainly so fhr as the
devdopment of her coal interests is concerned.

THm ^O^ULAR BDUOA-rOR,

— We have the first number of a wwk with
this title, puUished by Alexander Moot^
menr, in New Yoric, and sold by C. J. Price
t do.. No. 7 Hart's Building. The pUn of
the work — an admin^le one--i^pears to be
to give information in a popular style, as to
language, natural history, matheniatics, all
matters, indeed, whether of science or the
arts, and to fhmish it, handsomely printed,
at a low price. The number before us is em-
bellished with a portrait of Washington.
Such a work as this was wanted in our ooun-
try, and certainly ought to succeed.

f ittm^ anb Smntific §mxf,

— We are indebted to Messrs. Getz, Buck &
Co., for the May number of Harper.

— A New Toik journal in the course of an
article on the prominent newspapers which
have existed in the ooon^ since the fbrma-
tion of the government, wui speaks of the
old Jiirora of PhiUdelphia: ''This Gaaetta

BIZARRl.

9t one time was the Democratic Bible <^ its
party. Its circulation, the times considered,
was immense. Its hostility to Federalism did
not pusilanimoual^ wait till the death of
Washington, but it bearded even the noble
lion in his den. When Washington's term of
service expired, Tke Aurora said *Naw,
Lord, let thj servant depart,' so great was its
joy over the close of the * anti-French' Admin-
istration. The accompanying rhetoric to this
text, so exasperated the Spring Garden Butch-
ers, who were Washingtonian Federalists,
many of them veterans of his army, that they
^tted The Aurora office, pitched the types
mto the street, and wreaked Uieir huge mus-
cular indignation on the printing materials
which had blackened the nero of their wor-
ship."

— A new work by Lamartine, a History of
the age of the Medicis is announced. A good
theme is this for the sparkling poet-historian.
The work will be published in the feuilleton
of the PeySf a Parisian journal.

— Putnam for May is capital. We shaU be
compelled, we think, to pronounce this new
monthly, the Blackwood of America. The
** Railroad Lyric" is good ; so is " Vilette and
Ruth ;" so, in ^t, almost every article in the
number before us. There is nothing about
the Dauphin, nor yet a single "pictur." —
Strange, this !

— Color-blindness, quite'a common infirmity,
consists of the inability to distingush one co-
lor from another. Professor George Wilson
has an article in a London journal on the sub-
ject, wherein he states many interesting facts.
One doctor declares, that it occurs in one
male among twenty ; another found five cases
among forty youtlus in Berlin. Prof. Wilson
has long suspected its prevalence from the
errors which he found the students of his
chemistry classes making in reference to the
colors of precipitates a;^ the like, — and on
making more imeeial inquiry he has found his
suspicions rerined. Among his puf^ls he has
encountered two marked examples of <K>lor-
blindness, — and five other subjects of this
affisction hare made themselves known to
him. One of the two pupils has fonrrela-
tires who have the same peculiarity of vision
as himself. Prof. Allen Thomson, of the Uni-
versity of Glasgow, states that about ten
years ago he made some investigations into
the frequency of color-blindness, and was led
from the number of cases he encountered to a
conclusion similar to Prof. W.'s, — ^namely
that it rendered the employment of colored
signals on railways perilous to the safety of
the public. Prof. Kelland, of the Unirersity
of ^inburg, has found among some 150 stu-
dents, three examples of marSsd color-blind*
ness :— one, however, of the cases winch he
encountered occurs among these 150t but was

not made known to Prof. Kellaiid. So that
amcme the Edinburg students, so far as they
have been examined this winter, 1 in S7 or
38 is defective in appreciation of coknr.

— The New York Review has been placed on
our table by Mr. Wm. Brewster, agent for
Philadelphia. It is admirable ; and we shall
take pleasure in noticing its contents hereaf-
ter somewhat more particularly.

— Dr. Hooker has justpublished a handsome
pamphlet, entitled **Tne Church of Rome,
or the Babylon of the Apocalypse," embrac-
ing a portion of the well-known Hulseian Lec-
tures of Dr. Wadsworth, Canon of Westmin-
ster.

— Our table is loaded down with new works,
which we shall notice as fast as we can read
them. Among them is Arthurs latest tale,—
" The Old Man's Bride," published by Charies
Scribner; several books from the Harpers,
Stanford & Swords, and other New York pub-
lishers, as wdl as several from Lippincott,
Grambo & Co., Moore and others of our own
village.

— A new v(dume— the ninth— of the great
edition of the works of Galileo Galilei, pub-
lished by order of the Grand Duke of Tusca-
ny, has just nmde its appearance at Florence.
Its chief interest consists in the doc^unenbuy
history of the celebrated Gahleo process,
drawn from the original records preseved in
the Vatican. It contains also, a large mass
of correspondence, including letters to or fixwi
Castelli, Cavalieri, Cesi, Campanello, Gassen-
di, Micangio, and Torricelh. — This makes
the forth volume of the Galileo Corr^pon-
deuce.

— The '' Correspondenu of the Revohtion,^*
to be edited by Jabso Spabks, is amxHCOced
at Boston. It will oontain letters fix>m more
than a hundred individuals, who acted a con-
spicuous part in our revolutionary drama^ and
who were among the oorrespondents of Wa^
ington.

— M. Nbstob Roqttxplan, the manago* of the
Grand^pera of FHsiris, has publish^, uhder
the tiUe of La Vie Parisienne^ a ccdlection ef
theatrical reminiscences, sketches of trav^,
literary fragments, and such other intoUecta-
al baggage as he has judged would interest
the universe.

(Mm Smrs-Smtd.

TH4« K/ioo««-r>r Of hAmm, vto>a/k.
-^ The London Athenaum doses up its second
notice of Mrs. Stowe's ** Key to Unde Tom "
thus:

<< The modesty which leads the writer to
assume that her great success is exdusiTely
attributable to the cause in which she labored

EDITORS' SANS-SOUCI.

is «lao worthy of remark. Aitogether, we
most prcmounce the 'Key to Uncle Tom's
C^m^ a most efiective book. The abettors
of drnveiy hare not been wise in their genera-
tioQ, in proToking a reply from HIm mere
nOTclist ' so condusiye aini so crashing on
all the really important parts of the contro-
rersT in which they have engaged.'^

"The modesty" — ahem! " provoking a re«
1^ from the mere novelist'* — ahem again !
1%e anihar of "Unde Tom's Cabin" is, at
least, not consistent in her modesty, else how
is it that Ae goes three thousand miles away
from home to be lionized; among Englishmen,
too, the bitterest enemies of her native land.
We shall take leave to qnesti<Hi at least an ex-
e«sj<jf modesty in the author of " Unde Tom's
Oabm** for many reasons ; but principally be-
canse she makes hersdf the oljgect of feastings
and janketings all over EnglaiMi and Scotland,
and accents gratuities — ^puroperly speaking,
ahnB — of fifty pounds at a time ; JudM money
— earned, as we maintain, by standers on her
own country, her own home and fireside,
bought by oceans of blood and tears, through
the struggle of the RevoluUon ; wrested at a
sacrifice of heart-breiUdngs, hunger, thirst,
wearying toil, violent agonized death, from
the enislaviilig hands of those who are now
toasting, fee£ng, and rewarding the modest
author of " Unde Tom's Cabin.^' " Provok-
ing a reply !" Nothing provoked a second
book from the author of *' Uncle Tom," we
suspect, but the success of the first One
lartane had been made ; another was wanted.
It is our opinion Mrs. Stowe will be " pro-
voked to reply" just so long as the people are
disposed to buy her slanders on her country-
men ; just so long as she can enjoy the de-
tightfnl benefits arising from English ovations,
and abns-givings of f^glish gold.

V MjummtM Au-rooRAPMflk

— Lord Nelson's correspondence with Lady
ftnmlton, was latdy sold in London. The
lettrarB in Nelson's own hand writing amount-
ed to about 300 in number, and brought sums
v«yiTC from lOs. to 23/. The treasure of
the collection was the last letter which the hero
of Trafalgar lived to write. The papers say
it ia written on thick grey-blue letter paper,
and was found in his cabin unfinished titer
the battle in which he received his death-
shot. Sir Thomas Hardy and Dr. Scott in-
closed it to Lady Hamilton in a sheet of Ibols^
cap, and sealed the envelope with their seals.
This treasure brought 23/.,— and was bought
by the British Museum. It runs as foltows :
" Victory, Oct n, 1805, noon,
Cadis, £.&E. Id leagues.
^ My dearest b^oved Emma, the dearfHend
«f my bQeom.*-4he signal has been made that
thftentmr'aoombfaied fleet ar« oonung out of
port. We have very little wind, so that I

have no hopes of seeing them before tomor^
row. May the Qod of battles crown my en-
deavors with suooeas: at all events, I will
take care that my name shall ever be most
dear to you and Horatia, both of wbomllove
as mxicAk as my own life. And as my last
writing, bdbre the battle, will be to you, so I
hope in God that I shall live to finish my let-
ler after the battle. May Heaven bless you»
prays your Nblson and Bbonte.

" Oct. 20th. — In the morning we were close
to the mouth of the Straits, but the wind had
not come far enough to the westward to allow
the combined fleets to weather the ajhoals elf
Trafalgar ; but they were counted as far as
forty sail of ships of war, which I suppose to
be thirty-four of the line, and six frigates.
A group of them was seen off Cadi^ this
morning, but it blows so very fresh, and 'thick
weather, that I rather believe they will go
into the harbor before night. May Qod Al-
mighty give us success over these felloe,
and enable us to.ge^ a peace."

It bears the following words in Lady Ham-
ilton's penmanship : — " This letter was found
open oh his desk, and brought to Lady Ham-
ilton by Captain Hardy, Oh, miserable,
wretched Emma — Oh, glorious and happy
Nelson !" ^

The letters most cagerl v contended for were
those, of course, in which, in the language of
journalists, "the Nelson touch" was most
characteristically exhibited; — such as, his
thirst for battle — his burning desire to be up
with the French and at them— or his calm
and modest confidence that victory would not
fail him. Others again, were eagerly sought
—and these chiefly on the first day — which
bore for their seal the large and beautiful pro-
file of Lady Hamilton. Some which alluded
to the hero's house at Merton, and to his de-
sire to be on shore, were much in request,
and brought good prices. 4/. 10s. were given
fbr a letter written 1799, in which he says —
** I long to be at the French fleet as much as
ever a Miss longed for a husband, but pru-
dence stops me. They will say, this cried-up
Nelson is afraid with eighteen slups to attack
twenty-two. The thought kills me." The
sum of 8/. was well laid out in obtaining a
long letter, with this Nelson-like writing in
it : — ** John Bull, we know, calculates nothing
right that does not place the Brtish fleet along-
side that of France. I have now traversed a
thousand leagues of sea after them. French
fleet, Vrenoh fleet*-is all I want to have an-
swered me. I shall never rest till I find
them — and they shall neither, if I can get at
them." *

The total produce of the sale, including the
breakfost service, was 5011* Gs. 6(i.

There is more than one of our Sanctum vis-
itors who would very much liked to have
dipped into these Ndionian rdi^M. P«r-

BIZARRIl

haps, some fciture explorings abroad, may
bnng a specimen or two m>m the mine of
treamires. Never did any creature watch for
its prej more unceasingly than do those <^
our Sanctum autographiafiats for an old man-
nscript or an eminent signature ; and when-
erer one of them obtains a treasure in this
way, it is fbnny to see with what delight
he announces tiie fact to his fellow-chiffoniers.
T'He coiMOER-re o^ "vm Rm-rrr oim mutjw

— Have been, in point of credit gained by
him, as a performer on the violin, very bril-
liant. He certainly is a lad of rare musical
penius ; and we have every reason to believe,
if he continues on as he has begun, there will
be, fiveyears hence, few violinists to surpass
him. He executes the most difficult compo-
sitionf of the masters, and with both ease and
grace. His performances of '< Artot's arrange-
ment of " Sonnambula," De Beriot's, ** Tre-
molo,'* and the famous "Carnival," of Paga-
nini, were surpassing fine. He has had Qie
best of teaching, at the band of his excellent
father, Mr. J. Goodall ; himself, not only a
superior pianist and violincellist, but also a
very fine performer on the violin. Mr. G.
sings, we would add, very tastefhlly, and
treated the audiences at his son's soirees with
exquisite ballads. The entertainments were
also enriched by the vocalism of Madam Ju-
lien, a new but wdoome artiste. A compli-
mentary ben^t to Mr. Goodall is talked of,
when his brilliant son and Madam Julien will
again have an opportunity of appearing. Some
of the leading gentlemen of tne press are en-
gaged in this movement, as creditable to them,
by the way, as it is also one highly honorable
to the beneficiary. Apropos : one of the cri-
tics talks about yooi^Goodall's violin being
a poor instrument. The ear, we think, mu^
be at fault with this knight of the quill. Got-
tain it is, that the very violin in question, is a
genuine Cremona, and oas been in use upwards
of half a century I For sixty years, at least,
it was the property of young Goodall's grand-
fiither, a tmormer who enjoyed high repute
abroad. It is indeed a gem of an instrument :
an old Cremona, friend critic ; do you hear ?
an old Cremona ! Rayed upon so {ong has it
been that its every pore is filled with delicious
melody.

A OANOIO OONF««»IOM.

— BiZABEB had occasion the other day to
wait on a bustling ^booksdler of our city,
when he had the pleasure (jf holdine » confab
with him, touching a multitude or suhjects,
among which that of magazines and newspa-
pers wa# included. Our fHend was candid in
all he said— very candid ; and we heard the
wisdom which dropped from his lips, with
pleasure, if not profit. He spared no one, not
even oursdves, in his censures. He conld'nt
endure Harper*s Magatine ; bat he ^oricd in

Putnam. He revelled in the pages of the Ltf-
erary World; "but he never read Bizabsb!
*« Pbancy our feelinx !" Did we get up and
leave the presence in a huff, when uiis candid
confession was made ? Not at all. We atill
sat, quietly sat, toe to toe, &ce to face, with
our plain-speaking fHend, loddng him anxi-
ously and earnestly full in the eye. We ra-
ther think he set us down as a person who
could listen to disagreeable— truths shidl we
say? — announcements, about ourselyes, as
cooly and philosophically as any man liv-
ing. After a time our magnifico oondnded ;
and, — ^what really did hurt our fodings,— he
did'nt give us an advertisement. Booksellers
may call Bieabrb *'weak," <* stupid,'' any
thing they like ; nay, they may pronounce oar
little dariing as big a humbug as Harper:
only let them give us their advertising, for this
very nicely makes the pot boil. What do we
care if they do not like our catering. So feng
as the aforesud pot belongs to us, we ^all
fill it with meat or vegetables, just as suits us.
Send along your tad, and cul us what you
please.

A VAL-UASLJI WAHTOH.

— At a soiree ^ven by Mr. Weld at the apart-
ments of the RojmI Society in Londcm, ihe
<< Newton Collection," h^V bequeathed to
the Society by the Rev. C. Turner, was eidii-
bited for the first time. Among the arddes
is the philosopher's gdd watch, in a richly-
chased ease, bearing a medallion with New-
ton's likeness, and uie following inscription :
"Mrs, Catharine Conduit to Sir Isaac New-
ton, Jan. 4, 1708."

New K/iueio

— We are indebted to J. E. Gould, saocessor
to A. Fiot, for the following late music : " Les
Fleurs des Dames," a brilliant waltz, ocnn-
posed by Ma^am Hertz, and dedicated to
Mens. £. R. Scherr,— «« Adonis Polka»" de^
cated to Sfiss Harriet Taylor, b^ Herman L.
Schriener, — " Les EtinceUes," six melodious
fantasies, variations and rondos for the piaao,
by Frederick Burgmuller,—'< Yalsede Salem,"
dedicated to Madam Franklin Peale, by Kraa-
cis Groebel,-4md «< L'Entree au Salon," a
collection of elegant meiceauz from favorite
operas. All these pieces are beautifiiDy
printed.

— CoL. WiLUAJc H. Maubioii has remored
his stationary establishment from the old and
time-honored stand at 108 Chestnut stitek» to
a store bdow Fourth, on the opposite ^e.
He has a beautiful place, and it is fitted up
with Megant taste, peculiar to the Cokmel, as
well as with that re^ud for utili ty, with wlOch
he always makes ms business arrangemeats.
Cd. M. enjoyed an immense trade at 108, and
it will, doubtless, be greatly increased where
he now is.

SPIRITUAL DIALOGUES.

»*—***■ BraAKKK, WHAT SAT Tou, Mabgap?**— FarTuAoT.

limn.

rOft THE mtBK KXDIXO

SATVROAT, MAT 14, 1853.

SPIRITUAL DIALOGUES.

DIALOGUE XV.
TiMOK — SWIPT.

Tim. (aside.) Confound this old fool of a
fdlow, for disturbing me in this way ! {toW,
du EMer.) Well, mortal, here I am, and be
hanged to you ! What, in Pluto's name, do
you want of m« ?

IF. %he Elder, (somewhat agitated,) Really
I — I— 4eel — profoundly —

Ttm. Bah, bah ! None of your humbug.
I ask again, — what do you want, and why
bare you invaded my spiritual right, in this
most unwarrantable manner ? A plague upon
yoa!

W. the. Elder. I beg ten thousand—

Tim. Pshaw ! Curse your impudence !

IF. the Elder. But, my dear friend,—

Tim. Friend, say you? How dare you
oame that word, in my presence ? I have no
friraid ; no, not in the wide universe ; and you
know it, you old coxcomb.

W. the Eld' r. Come, come, Mr. Spectre ; I
am not used to such language as this. A lit-
tle more civility, if you please. I should
think you were talking to Apemantus.

Tim. Apemantus be , and you with

kim I (Here one Judy^ a pet terrier, entereth
amd barketh veheinently.) -

W. the Elder. Come away, Judy, come

sway* H^^ ^*''® y^" —

Tim. This is your yankce hospitahty, is
ifef Ah, if I had only served my guests in
tkftt way ! Never mind, though, old fellow ;
]0i her Ulk— let her talk.

W, the Elder. You ytmng hussy ! I am
pecfeeUy a^iamed of you.

/wiy. Bow, vow, vow, vow, vow, (contin^
ueth her vocalization till put out.)

W. the Elder. You must excuse the slut,
Tiwfi ; she's not well to-day.

T'im* Poh, poh ! what made you turn her
oal ? I pr^er oer munc to your s, any time.

W* the Elder. Wdl, you are, by all odds,
the crabbedest ghost I ever encountered.

JtM. Bat what made you send for me ?
QooMy come, explain yoursdf, without further

*Sf-,

\ the Elder. Oh, only for a bit of spirit*
iri rhat : nothing more. Besides, I thought
A Eltle change might be agreeaUe to you.

And then, brother Swift's society is always
remunerative, you know.

Tim. Swift, Swift ; who's Swift ?

W. the Elder. What ! don't you know the
ghost?

Tim. Not I ; by Cerberus.

W. the Elder. Indeed! You must have
been having a pretty quiet time of it, since
death, not to have heard of him.

Tim. That may be. Meanwhile, I know
no wretch of that name.

W. the Elder. Wretch, say you ? Many,
come up ! What I the brilliant Dean of St.
Patrick's, the wit, the moralist, the classic,
the—

Tim. He might beidl that, old man, and
yet be supremely wretched. But, I say again,
I have not the pain of his acquaintance.

W. the Elder. Fie, Timon, how perverse
^ou are ! The pain of his acquaintance ? Is
it possible, then, that your nature is so com-
pletely soured as this, that you must twist the
commonest expressions of civility into their
opposites ? Do you really mean to say, then,
that you still harbor, at the distance of more
than twenty centuries, the same horrible feel-
ings that you died with ? Have you, indeed,
turned vour back forever and ever on all the
sweet charities of the universe ? I can't be-
lieve anything so shocking as that.

Tim. And who the deuce are you, pray,
to presume to cross-question me in this style,
and to pry thus into the misteries of eternity ?
You had far better be minding your own little
earthly business, let me tell you. The idea
of a shallow mortal's pretending to compre-
hend spiritual experiences, or to measure tneir
duration by the paltry time-pieces of earth !
Bah!

W. the Elder, Well, well, old rapper and
tipper, you need'nt be so infernally crusty
about it. I meant no offence.

Tim. Who cares whether you did or not ?
But where is this same waggish spectre,
whom you consider such valuable companv !
Is this the way he keeps his appointments f

W. the Elder, Wdl, he certainly ought to
have whizzed in sight before this time. Hol-
loa, by Jupiter, there he is now. (Enter Swift.)
Ah, my dear brother Jonathan, I am delight-
ed to see you. I was afraid you were going
to give us the slip.

Sufift, Brother Jonathan ? What do you
mean by that ? Do you take me for a yan-
kee ?

W. the Elder, Well, what do they call you
in spirit-land ? Doctor, Dean, Lemuel, la-
hoo, perhaps ; eh, old fellow, how is it ?

Svnft. You are mighty familiar on short
acquaintance, I must say. But who, in the
name of Heraclitus, is that M sour-krout ?
Of all the vinegar^isaged -^osts that ever
set schoolboys scampering, he certainly bears
the bell. Who is he^who is he 1

BIZARRE.

W, the Elder, Quite an historical charaoier,
let me tell you.

Swift, I dare say : but who, who ?

W, the Elder. A famous giver of good din-
ners, in his day. But he overdid the thin^,
poor fellow, got cornered, had to sell out his
Athenian Fancy Stocks, at a frightful sacritice,
hoisted the red flag ; in short, Doctor, the old
story.

Sunft, Yes ; but you have'nt told me who
he is, all this time.

W. the Elder. And instead of facing it,
like a man, or turning Diddler, in self-defence,
fell to cursing, made for the woods, peeled off
his garments, and went about, for the balance
of his stay on earth, in naturdibuSf and blas-
pheming every man, or beast, that came with-
m bow-shot of him.

Stinft, Come, come; what nonsense is this,
and why do you tease me me in this imperti-
nent style ? If you don't introduce me forth-
with, I'm off; that's all.

W. the Elder. Why, Dean, Dean, how dull
you are this morning.

Tiin. {aside.) What are those infernal old
fools chattering about, I wonder.

W. the Elder. Not to know, after all these
broad hints ! Why, who should it be, but the
great Timon, himself.

Swift. What! Timon of Athens? You
don't tell me so.

IF. the Elder. Even so ; the mighty mon-
arch of misanthropes ; he, whose magnificent
imprecations will live and glow, through all
time, in the pages of the divine Inrd : whose
epitaph will be shuddered over, while a grave
is left to dig on earth.

Swift. Well, you need'nt be so grandilo-
quent about it. Come, come, introduce me.

W. the Elder. Allow me, dear Timon, to
make you acquainted with that most exemnla-
ly friend and pitcher of a ghost, Jonathan
Swift, Ex-Dean of St. Patrick's, and author
of the famous Drapier Letters, The Tale of a
Tub, Gulliver's Travels, and other pious vol-
umes ; composer, moreover, of some of the
very finest, perpetrator of some of the very
filthiest verses in our languarge ; —

Swift. What's that— what's that?

W. the Elder. He who humbugged Vanes-
sa, who mal-treated St^a, who —

Sift. Lies, Timon, — most infamous lies.

Ir. the Elder. In short, a tip-top good fel-
low, and a ghost after your own heart.

Swift. Out upon YOU, for such an absurd
presentation as this .' I -say, old fellow, I'm
right glad to see you. How are you — ^how
have you been ?

Tim. You be hanged !

W. the Elder. Timon, Timon ; do be civil.

Tim. I shall do no such thing. I don't
like his looks. I never saw a worse eye in a
head, in all my spiritual days.

W. the Elder, But he's my guest, remem-

ber. Come, come, now, Timon; do foiget
yourself, for once, and be decent; that's a
good ghost.

Tim. Well, well, as you will. What have
I got pleasant to say, though ? I'm no com-
pany for any body ; no, and never shall be
again, I fear, through all eternity.

W. the Elder. Why; what a dgh was
there ! Cheer up, cheer up, old boy. Come,
brother Swift, can't you manage to make
yourself agreeable to our old Athenian friend
here ? Suppose you preach us a sermon, now,
by way of a change. You used to be a ffood
deal of a wag, you know, in your time, ooth
in and out of the .pulpit.

Swift. Why, you pix>fane old wretch ! I
Joke in the pulpit ? I never did such a thing
in all my life. '

W. the Elder. You never did anything else.
Oh, you need'nt stare so, ghost ; 1 have your
own biographer's word for it, on the shelf
yonder. j

Swift. What, Mat ? Hang the felfcw :—
he was terribly given to fibbing.

W. the Elder. Sir Walter throws out the
same idea, too.

Swift. Well , perhaps I was somewhat flip-
pant and frivolous, at times ; but I had'nt so
bad a heart, after all, as some of my tra-
ducers have ascribed to me. But that's nei-
ther here nor there. Come, brother Athenian,
and king of good haters, do brighten up.
You actually look as if yon had b^ dining
on unripe persimmons, for the last fifty centu-
ries, and washing them down with red ink.
Surely you must have a bit of spiritual news
to tell a ghost.

Tim. Not a thing — not a thing.

Swift. Why, wfa^ro have you been all this
while ? Why have'nt we stumbled over each
other before ?

Tim. Plato knows.

Stcift. But what luminary do you hail
from, anyhow ?

Tim. Fogie.

Swift. Fogie, fogie ? What coostdlation,

prays

Tim. Hardscrabble.

Swift. Fogie, Hardscrabble? Are yon
sure, Timon, you've got the right names f I
never heard of any such part of the universe
before.

Tim. What signifies it ? You need'nt
trouble yourself to inquire or to calL I shall
certainly be out, if you do.

Swift. What an incorrigible old crab you
are, to be sure ! There's no getting anything
out of him, landlord.

W. the Elder. So I see. (aside.) Catch me
asking such a ghost to tea again, m a hurry !
But, what route did you take, Timon, in thus
honoring my invitation ? At what point did
you cross the ecliptic, if it is a fair question I

Ttm. Bah, how should I know 1 All ~

SPIRITUAL DIALOGUES.

ronember, is that when your infernal planet
hore in sight, I natnrallj made for Athens, of
ooone, ami from there, blundered along, as
best I oould, to this dast-hole of a town of
joora.

W. the Elder, But why didhit you come
direct to Qotham ?

Ttm. Gotham? What the deuce did I
know about Gotham ? Was'nt it all America,
terra ino^nita, when I had the dyspepia on
earth?

W. ike Elder. True, true. Well, you
finmd some charming improyements, in and
about Athens, did ^ou not, and a correspond-
ing rise of prices, smce your last visit ? How
were aU your old creditors ? You stopped at
the Themistode House, I suppose ; or, at the
Reverey may be ?

Ttm. You*re sarcastic, old gentleman.

W. the Elder. Well, then, in plain Eng-
lish, you were delighted, were you not, Ti-
moQt to see the filth, misery, degradation,
nnn of the city, that you died cursing ? It
did year bitter old soul good, did'nt it, to be-
ll^ Bach a complete realization of aU your
maledictions?

Tim. It certaiidy was gratifying; though
not 80 much so as I expected. '

W. the Elder, [aside.) What an old sayage !

Swift. But, IS Athens really in such a
Bfaodang condition ?

Tim. It is so ; a thorough wreck, alike in
trade, architecture and morals ; the old town,
indeed, where I used to keep house, as dead
as a ^k>or*nail, and its modem name-sake is a
Tery dog-hole, presided over by a pig-headed
Bavarian, plundered (under the name of pro-
teetioii,) by a set of beer-swilline Austrian
mereenarie^, and inhabited by Uie veriest
tosfere and chicken-thieves.

Swift. What ! no art there, whatever, or
sdcDce, or literature, or prospect of any ?

Tim. Bah! But hang Athens ! Whythe
devil did you introduce the subject, land-
krd?

W. the Elder. Well, well, let's change it.
But, brother Jonathan, where are you from
last, yourself?

Siwtft. Oh, I've been knocking about
Ancffica here, for the last three months.

W. the Elder. Indeed! You must have
frequented many of our best rapping and tip-
pm circles, then.

Swift. Yes, all over the Union.

W. the Elder. Well, Dean, how do you
fike mm Yankees, on the whole ?

Swift. To be candid with you, not over-
■nck. The old country for me — ghost or
■Hrtal.

W. the Elder. But, surely, you see some-
ii^h% agreeable and commendable in our man-
■Ki and institutions ; some bonafide improv-
iiiiBti, do you not ?

8w^. Preeioui few, old feilow.

W. the Elder. What, not in our unterrified
democracy — our universal suf&age— our vd-
untary system^— our —

Svnft. Oh, you need'nt run over the list ;
I consider them, one and all, mere high-sound-
ing humbugs, that will never stand the test
of time, or of a crowded population. Bub-
bles, bubbles, just as sure to burst and to give
way to the old regime again, both in govern-
ment and religion, as they imiformly have, in
all past ages.

W. the Elder. Why, you hardened old
Tory, you ! But, politics and theology apart,
you certainly like our climate, doctor, don't
you — and the scenery, and the women, and
the oysters ?

Swift. Out upon your climate! No lan-
guage can express its caprices. As to your
scenery, I have been most fearfully disappoint-
ed in it There are some nretty girls scat-
tered about, I confess ; and nere and there a
healthy, well-developed oyster.

W. thf* Elder. You do condescend, then,
to admire our shell-fish, do you ? ( Asid e. ) The
old crab !

Svnft. Yes, your oysters are as good as
your manners are bad.

W. the Elder. What?

Swift. I repeat it. Wherever I have been,
I have fbund a very low style of manners,
alike in the social circle, the sanctuary, the
parliament, and the halls of justice. Nine-
tenths of your young men, that I have seen,
have been swaggering and dissipated : and of
your young women, hoydenish and extrava-
gant ; while the old,people have, almost inva-
riably, been thrust aside, like so much crack-
ed crockery, or broken down furniture. There
is a terrible lack of reverence among you ; aye,
and of truly reverend objects. Nobody seema
to look up to anybody or anything. Dollars
and cents— dollars and cents; they are, at
once, your peerage, your art, your science,
your religion.

W. the Elder. You atrocious old libeller,
what do you mean ? You'll be saying next
that Niagara is a humbug.

Swift. I don't see much in it: — a good
enough cascade for unwashed democrats : but
the scenery about it is terribly flat and insi-
pid.

W. the Elder. What the deuce would you
have there? Mont Blanc? How absurdly
you talk, doctor! As if moimtain scenery
would'nt only injure the effect ! What other
arrangement could half so well set off the
beauty and majesty of the cataract? Ah,
you're evidently bilious, Dean, and out of
humor ; or perhaps you have'nt been received
with that eclat, that you think was due to
your genius.

Swtft. Oh, no, no; I have been pretty
wdl received, upon the whole.

W. 1h€ £Uer. S(Mnething sticks in your

TStZABBE,

crop, I'm sure. Somebody has been giving
yon a rap over the Knuckles. Is it not so ?

Swift, Not Sjt all, not at all. To be sure,
I heard some pretty plain talk about myself,
a few evenings since.

W. the Elder. Ah!

Sftift. Yes, I was abused in good sound
terms, for a full hour and a half. /

W. the Elder. Indeed!

Swift. And, what*s more, I had to pay a
crown, at the door, for the privily of hear-
ing it all'. Think of that. Master Brook.

W. the Elder. Why, is it possible that any
yankee could be so —

Swift. Ah, that's the vrorst of it. It was
no yankee, but a countryman of my own,
confound him ; let's see — what the deuce was
his name? Whack — ^Whack — Whaek-away ;
an individual who has been going about, lec-
turing in these parts, of late. You must
know all about him, surely.

W. the Elder. Whack-away ? Poh, poh ;
yon mean Thackeray. He does whack away,
sure enough, and in magnificent style, too, at
the follies and vices of his brethren. Thack-
eray, Thackeray : a large ruddy man, with
a white head, and spectacles, standing some
seven feet six, in his stocking ? No !

Swift. The very fellow, and be hanged to
him!

W. the Elder. A capital lecture, that, Doc-
tor.

Smft. You heard the libel, did you ?

W. the Elder. To be sure I did, and
would 'nt have missed it for a good deal. Ra-
ther hard on you, old boy, though, I must
say : and as it struck me, most unreasonably,
savagely so.

Swift. Curse his impudence! Why he
would'nt allow me a solitary virtue ; no, not
even that of filial piety; whereas, Heaven
knows, if I was nothing else, I was, at least,
a good son.

iV, the Elder. You were so. Doctor ; and,
more than that, — you ^ve away a large part
erf" your income in chanty every year, if I re-
member rightly.

Swift. Indeed I did.

W. the Elder. Oh, well : perhaps the lec-
turer, if the truth were known, had a little
lurking jealousy of your superior reputation
and vigor, as a satirist. He certainly spoke
most handsomely, though, of some of your
cotemporaries, Doctor ; and, above all, of
Fielding. A most delicious tribute, that. I
could have hugged him for it.

Swift. What, Harry Fielding. A broth of
a boy, was'nt he ? '

W. the Elder. One of the most glorious
geniuses Qod ever sent to bless the earth.

Swift. And yet, do you know, that when
I ventured to introduce his name at a recent
spiritual maniiestation, nearly every morti^
{^resent protested against him, as altogether

too gross a writer for this pore and <
ened age?

W. the Elder. What a set d phtfriflBioal
coxcombs!

Sivift. I thought so, and away I flew^ in-
stanter. But we are rather neglecting our
Athenian friend, here. Heavens, how i^om
he looks ! He's in the brownest kind of a
brown study, evid«itly.

W. the Elder. Yes, indeed. Oh, how I
should love to secure a daguerreotype, luyw,

Sttfift. Holloa! my merry Greek, — ^wliat
are you brooding over ? An obolus fat your
thoughts. ^

Tim. Bah, bah, bah!

Swift. What's the matter? Do]
group of ghostly creditors in the
What is it that annoys you thus ?

Tim. Oh, let me go — ^let me go.

W. the Elder. Whither away, old friend ?

Tim. Back to my den. Don't keep me
here, in torment. Out upon it, that we spinta
should be compelled to dance attendance tlras,
on a set of paltry earth-worms !

Swift. Come, come, Timon ; now we an
here, let's make a day of it. MiUions of iAjn^
paids may elapse, befbre another such ^ea8>
ant little party gets together again.

Tim. I hope it may, with all my heart.

Strift. Oh, don't be so infemaUy acid. —
What entertainments have you to ofier, old
host? What is tiiere at ^e theatre to-
night?

W. the Elder. Let's see. Ah, here's a
pleasant little piece ; it would suit Timon to
a T, I should say.

Smft. What do they call it ?

W. the Elder. The Six Degrees of Crime.
By the way, old ghost, how many degrees
must a fellow go through, before he comes out
an A No. 1 Devil ? You ought to know, by
this time.

Tim. Only keep on in the road you are
now travelling, and you'll bo pretty sure to
find out.

Sunft. You had better let him alone, land-
lord. But what's this? Ptmlinei Pai^ine;
that certainly has a far more cheerful sonnd
than the other.

W. the Elder. Cheerful, say you ? A per-
fect raeout of horrors: some exquisite acting
in it, though.

Swift. What do they do in it?

W. the Elder. What don't they do? <^iop
each other up, shoot each other down, bury
alive, and all the other little delicacies of the
season ; and all in such a comme ilfaut, qmet,
lady-like way. The hero of the piece is the
most infernal, and at the same time, weQ-
dressed, gentlemanly, scoundrd, I ever saw
on the boards.

Ttm. Let's go. I think I could relish an
entertainment of that sort, amaringly.

W. the &dir. WeU, its pteasant to aee

COMPLETE GONCOBBANOB TO SHAKSPEARE.

ym^ Wigfatening up, ftt last. Bf the waj— »
its too iMe, though, to-daj.

!IVm. Howl

W. the Elder. I (ftd think, for a moment,
of aakh^ you for a sun-paintcKl copy of those
leatares of yours. They would look so nicely
akmside of that Flora, yonder.

Ttm. Get oat, you infernal old —

Swift. Come, come, friends ; do he decent.
Let^ be off. I'm tired of sitting.

W. the Elder. Whenever you say, Gulli-
ver. Come, Timon ; why can't you he socia-
hie, JQSt for this once ?

Tim, Well, well : I supppoee I must hu-
mor you. [Exeunt.]

COMPLETE CONCORDANCE
TO SHAKSPEARE.

No writer, we may safely say, is so gener-
tily quoted as Shakspeare. iktracts from
his wofks, are to he found both in sermons,
and lawyers' speeches, in newspaper editori-
ala, as well as the contributions to magazines ;
aad we bear the sayings of the great poet ap-
plied to the most solram, and most joyous,
occasions of life. With some of these we
are aU fiuniliar : while the aptness of others
■ibiJo; new delight, when met with on the
title page of a volume, or quoted in conversa-
tion, ** to p>int a moral, or adorn a tale." —
If socb be the universal application of the
wiffds of the immortal bard, how can we ade-
qoatelj estimate a work which gives us the
means of finding apt quotations, without dif-
ficuhj ; and enables us to refer, instantly, to
ov ikvorite passages ? Such a book is " The
Cw^pfete Concordance to Shakspeare, being a
T«rM index to ^ the dramatic works of that
poet, by Mrs, Cowden Clarke." We intend
giviiig some account of this wonderful monu-
BKBiof female industry and patience, with a
aoliee of the testimonial presented to the au-
thoress by some Americans, who i^preciated
herpersevering labors.

we Concordance contains 860 pages, of
% gft^itwmg each ; each column containing 120
lines, or 360 lines on every page . and the en-
tire work has the astounding number of 309,
6d0 fines! There is not a word throughout
Sbakspcare. which is not alphabetically ar-
imged. The whole line is given in which the
wmd occurs, and at the end of the line, we
iU the name of the play, the act, and the
SMBe. Twdve years were spent by Mrs.
OmkAb in writing this volume, and four more
iseorrecting the proof sheets ; besides read-
iig it over Suree times, and comparing it with
Ike HKMt correct editions. Even with all this
cafe, we might expect to find a long list of
tnala; but out of the 309,600 lines, there
9n but twelve errata ; and these, more pro-
perly, omissions. It is interesting to refer to

various words, and see how much space they
occupy. The little word " love, ' ' for instance^
fills sixteen columns of 120 lines each : so
that it occurs (without counting any of its
modifications) nineteen hundred and twenty
times in the plays of Shakspeare.

Robt. Babmanno, Esq., of Brooklyn, an
enthusiastic admirer of Shakspeare, and of
Mrs. Clarke's efforts to make him still better
known, drew up a circular, soliciting sub-
scriptions for a testimonial to be sent to that
lady. The circular stated. *' It has been pro-
posed to present to Mrs. Clarke, a handsome
rose-wood library-chair, with writing and
reading desk attached; and it is hoped the
lovers ^ Shakspeare in America, who are
constantly deriving benefit from Mrs. Clarke's
labor, will have sufficient gallantry to present
a testimonial, while it can be enjoyed, rather
than wait, as is too often the case, till the
lapse of time shall render it unavailing." * *
**It is not expected that any subscription
shall exceed five dollars ; but the carving and
decorations of the chair will be in accordance
with the amount received." This circular
was sent to various well-known lovers of lite-
rature, and met with a cordial response. —
Most delightful letters were received in reply
by the committee appointed for thispurpose,
from Hon. Daniel Webster, Henry W. Long-
fellow, and numerous others. Mr. Geo. Tick*
nor says : " I feel that I owe it to her to add
that I have used her Concordance to Shaks-
peare unceasingly, from the day when I first
saw a copy of it, and that it has never foiled
in a single instance to satisfy my wants ; that
I have recommended it in every way that I
could with propriety, and have received only
thanks, wherever I nave made it known ; and
that, from its exceeding fullness and accuracy,
I am convinced that it will never be super-
seded. Twiss, Agscough, Dolby, &c., which
I have long had, are entirely useless, and will
necessarily remain so."

Mr. Webster wrote : ** I shall most heartily
concur, my dear sir, in a testimonial of ap-
probation to the lady to whom you refer, and
am quite ready to sign the subscription, first,
last, or any where. Her work is a perfect
wonder, surprisingly full and accurate, and
exhibiting a proof of unexampled labour and
patience. She has treasured up every word
of Shakspeare. as if he were her lover, and
she were his." The five dollar gold piece
contributed by this great statesman, was sent
to Mrs. Clarke, with his letter, and the auto-
graph letters of many of the contributors.
In acknowledging this package, she says,
referring to the coin, ''It seemed hardly a
piece of money, but rather some valuable
medal, and tc^en c^ national and individual
esteem. I fed inclined to have it mounted
as ao ornament to a bracelet, or some such
article of wear, that I may keep it about me.

MZABRB.

♦ * Looking at Bfr. Webster's golden gift,
and reading his letter, and those of the other
subscribers who have taken such a kind in*
terest in an unknown stranger, quite orer-
powered me ; I could not read them through,
without weepine tears of mingled gratification
and tenderness. '

To return to the testimonial chair. In the
centre of the top, there is a head of Shaks-
peare; beautifully cut in ivory, from the
monumental bust at Stratford, encircled by a
wreath of laurel and oak leaves, carved in the
wood. The head w placed between two
swans, in alto relievo, with extended wings
meeting in the centre. On the lower rail, be-
low the cushion, are masks of Tragedy and
Comedy which, together with all the other
parts, are most elaboratdy executed. The
material covering the chair, is ^lendidly
figured satih brocade. The inscnption on
the silver gilt plate, which is immediately
under the head of Shakspeare, is as follows :
" To Mrs. Mart Cowdrn Clarke
This Chair Is Presented,
As a tribute of gratitude for the une-
qualled INDUSTRY

Which gave the readers of Engush,

Throughout the world.

Her Concordance to Shakespeare.

New York, 15 July, 1851."

Accompanying the printed copy of a letter
to the sixty-four donors, there was sent to
each, an autograph letter of thanks. It is
proper to state, that the chair was transmitted
to Liverpool, freight free, by Mr. Collins, and
by the like generosity of Messrs. Edwards,
Sanford & Co., the duty was paid, and it was
conveyed to London gratuitously.

It has been erroneously stated, that each
line of the Concordance was written on a se-
parate slip of paper, and put into baskets, al-
phabeticidl^ arranged! It would be very
gratifying if Mrs. Clarke should ever publish
a full account of her method of proceeding in
her arduous work, and of which we have a
sketch in one of her autograph letters before
us, together with twelve pages of the original
MS. In concluding, we would advise the
readers of Bizarre, who do not own the
Concordance, to procure a copy immediately ;
and they will soon acknowledge, that the
praise here awarded to it, is justly merited.

GONZALMO.

A fable.

GoNZALMO, in early life, was strongly im-
pressed with the importance of the trust con-
fided to him, of securing a happy, perpetual
residence for an immortal spirit, of wbich
he was the recipient. His labors and re-
searches were stimulated by the magnitude

and duration of the object to be attaiaad.
He studied the scriptures ; and consulted the
opinions and productions of the wise and the
ptous. He acquired a knowledge of the <»i-
ental languages; and thus arrived at the
fountain ttom which Christianity flowed, to
direct the probationers here to future blisa, in
the region beyond the ** Valley of the Shadow
of Death. ' ' Having acquired a oorrec t knowl-
edge of Christianity, by ascending to its
source, he practised its duties with underia-
ting constancy. Alive to the fatal effects of
error in the momentous acquirements of reli-
gion, he felt anxious for the happiness of pri-
mogenitors ; as ignorance might produce dire-
ful consequences. Stimuli^ed by pious BoAid'
tude and filial affection, he prayed for a corpo-
real resurrection of his forefathers, that he
might examine them personally. An angel
descended and addressed him :

" Gonzalmo ! your prayers are heard, and
your petition is granted. To-morrow voor
race snail be arranged at your right hand."

Gonzalmo directed his descendats to place
themselves on his left hand.

When Qonzalmo^s fbrefothers were arranged
in a line, he was astonished at their grotesque
appearance: he beheld a turbaned Turic; a
red cross Knight; with a group of nonde-
scripts ;— but his object being to ascertain tlie
safety of their souls, he began an examina-
tion. The Turk vociferated, <* Praise to Qod !
I am the slave of Ali." The Knights declared,
that he who gave neither money nor personal
services to rescue the Holy Land from the
Infidels, was himself an Infidel. A Priest
held up a cross, exclaiming, <' You deny the
real presence,— and although you are my de-
scendant,* for this heresy I would txMisign
you to the sUke." A Doctor of the Sorbomie,

five him a severe lecture for his aposta(^. —
y another he was vehemently denounced for
denying the doctrine of Election. Knowing
that they were wrong, and being certain that
ke was rieht, he felt irritated ; but S3rmpath7
soft^ed his resentment. He informed them
that since their time, researches had enabled
sincere Christians to correct many errors and
replace them with truth: new light had
arisen, and dispelled the obscurity in which
Christianity had been shrouded. Although
they did not agree among themsdves. they
agreed that he was an heretic, and regretted
their having an apostate descendant. Grieved
at the fatal errors of his line and race, he
turned with joy to his posterity, to whom he
had imparted the unchangeable doctrines of
Christ in their purity; but he was over-
whelmed with sorrow, to find that they bud
abandoned the saving doctrines he had tanght

• In ft oounca held ftt Rome, In tho year lOTi, it wu
deddod that the eacredotal order iboold thereafter abetaln
IWnn marriage.

BIZARRE AMONG THE NEW BOOEa

To his remooBiraiices they rejplied : —

*^ Researches ktwe enabled sincere Ckrutians to
mrrect many errors, and to replace them with
Cfcf trmih ; new tight has arisen, and dispelled
At obscurity in which Christianity has been
dkfWttM." Cbieyed and agonized at the
thought of being the parent of an apostate
nee, «Dd at the awful consequences of their
fii^ errofs, he was inconsolable: but thej
were his offspring ; and* notwitstanding their
stertling aberrations, he desired to rescue
them. He therefore offered up a fervent
pntTer for their admission into heaven ! The
ngd i^gaiQ descended and announced to him
tfa& his prayer had availed: "Your chil-
dren are accepted; had your prayer been
ceDeral, yoursdf would have be^ included ;
out as it was confined to your own descend'
aUSj you are excluded. The selfish and un-
tkantable ar^ not admitted into Paradise. ^^

Ji^arre anuritg t^c |tchj §oolis.

MBMOIRS, UOURKJAI. ANO CORRSSI»ONO-
OF THON^AO K400R«.»

— The third and fourth volumes of the Me-
moirs, Journal and Correspondence of Moore,
edited by Lord John Russell, have lately been
pabbshed by Longman, of London, and pos-
sess unusual interest. The^ embrace the
restless, rapid-moving experience of Moore,
dormg a period of three years, when
he visited mnce, Italy, Ireland, and Scot-
land ; and contain all the particulars relative
to Lord Byron's fiunous autobiography, with
tbt reasons for, as well as the circumstances
of, its sale to Muny and ultimate destruction
\f Lady Byron's friends. Byron, it seems,
hsiided the document to Moore in 1819, during
a 'Visit the latter made to him at Vienna.
Ba broo^t it in, says Moore, in a white
ktAer bag. Holding up the bag, ho said,
*^Look here ; this would be worth something
talfnrry, though you, I dare say, would not
pt a sixpence for it." *' What is it 1" quoth
Maoie. "My life and adventures," replied
^fioa; " it is not a thing that can be pub-
ined daring my life-time, but you may have
it» if you like, — there, do whatever you please
with it" In giving me the bag, adds Moore,
h^ continoed, ** You may show it to any of
anr friends you think worthy of it."

Moore, in his diary, further records the gift
of the document and subsequent circum-
itanoeB, under date of May 28th, as follows :

"28th. Received a letter, at last, from
IqrI Bpon, through Murray, telling me he
had io^med Lady B. of his having given me
Ms Meokoirs for the purpose of their being
published alter his death, and offering her the
peraaal of them in case she might wi^ to

* A pabliMtloD of the third part oomn to ui from the
iyfinimM, ^knaagh Hradenon 4 Oo.

oonfutrB any of his statements. Her note in
answer to this offer (the original of which hd
inclosed me) is as follows : —

< Kirkby Mellory. March 10, 180^

* I received your letter of January 1, offer-
ing to my perusal a memoir of part of your
life. I decline to inspect it. I consider the
publication or circulation of such a composi-
tion at any time as prejudicial to Ada's future
happiness. For my own sake I have no rea-
son to shrink from publication ; but, notwith-
standing the injuries which I have suffered, I
should lament some of the consequences.

'A. Byron.

*To Lord Byron.'

His reply to this, which he has also inclosed,
and requested me (after reading it and taking
a copy) to forward to Lady B., is as follows :

'Kavennft, April 3, 1820.

*I received yesterday your answer dated
March 10. My offer was an honest one, and
surely could only be construed as such even
by the most malignant casuistry. I could
answer you, but it is too late, and it is not
worth while. To the mysterious menace of
the last sentence, whatever its import may
be — and I cannot pretend to unriddle it— 1
could hardly be very sensible, even if I un-
derstood it, as before it took place, I shall be
where * nothing can touch him further.' ....
I advise you, however, to anticipate the pe-
riod of your intention ; for be assured no
power of figures can avail beyond the pre-
sent : and if it could, I would answer with
the Florentine, —

£t io, (die poeto ton oon loro In croce

e certo

Lft flera mogUe, pin ob' altro, mi nnoce.

*Bteon.

*ToL»dy Byron.'"

Notwithstanding his wife's remonstrance,
Byron continues his *' Menunrs," and sends
continually to Moore.

Moore now essays to sell the manuscript,
and finally finds a purchaser in Murray, who
gives him two thousand guineas, on condition
that should he survive Byron, he (Moore)
should be the editor. Murray takes an as-
signment of the manuscript, as security from
Moore for its printing when the period for its
publication arrives.

Lord Byron soon after dies, and the family
of Lady Byron at once take steps to ^t pos-
session of the ''Memoirs.'' Mr. Kinnaird
moves actively in the matter, and offers to
pay back to Murray the money he has ad-
vanced ; the ostensible purpose being to get
possession of the documents, to give Lady
Byron and her family an opportunity " of de-
ciding whether they wished them published
or no."

The result of the business must be given
in the language of Mr. Moore's diary :

"May 15, 1824.— A gloomy wet day.—
Went to D.Kinnaard's. Told him how mat-

BmABBE.

ters stood between me and Muiraj^ and of
my claims on the MS. He repeated his pro-
posal that Lady Byron should advance the
two thousand guineas for its redemption ; but
this I would not hear of: it was I alone who
ought to pay the money upon it, and the
money was ready for the purpose. I would
then submit it (not to Lady Byron), but to a
chosen number of persons, and if they, upon
examination, pronounced it altogether unfiit
for publication. F would bum it. He again
urged the propriety of my being indemnified
in the sum, but without in the least degree
conyincing me. Went in search of Brougham ;
found him with Lord Lansdowne ; told them
both all the particulars of my transactions
with Murray. B. saw that in fairness I had
a claim on the property of the MS., but doubt-
ed whether the delivery of the assignment
(signed by Lord Byron) after the passing of
the bond, might not, in a legal point of view,
endanger it Advised me, at all events, to
apply for an injunction, if Murray showed
any symptoms of appropriating the MS. to
himself. No answer yet from Murray. Call-
ed upon Hobhouse, from whom I learned that
Murray had already been to Mr. Wihnot
Horton, offering to place the ' Memoirs' at
the disposal of Lord Barron's family (without
mentioning either to him or to Hobhouse any
claim of miile on the work), and that Wilmot
Horton was about to negotiate with him for
the redemption of the MS. I then reminded
Hobhouse of all that had passed between
Murray and me on the subject before I 1^
town (which I had already mentioned to Hob-
house,) and said that whatever was done with
the MS. must be done by 7ne, as I alone had
the right over it, and if Murray attempted to
dispose of it without my consent, I would
apply for an injuncti')n. At the same time, I
assured Hobhouse that I was most ready to

Cthe work at the disposal, not of Lady
Q (for this we both agreed would l>e
treachery to Lord Byron's intentions and
wishes), but at the disposal of Mrs. Leagfa,
his sister, to be done with by her exactly as
she thought proper. After this, we went to-
gether to Kinnaird's, and discussed the mat-
ter over again, the opinion both of Hobhouse
and Kinnaird being that Mrs. Leigh would
and ought to bum the MS. altogether, with-
out any previous perusal or deliberation. I
endeavoured to convince them that this
would be throwing a stigma upon the work,
which it did not deserve; and stated, that
though the second part of the * Memoirs' was
fhll of very course things, yet that (with the
exception of about three or four lines) the
first part contained nothing which, on the
score of decency, might not be most safely
published; I added, however,' that as my
whole wish was to consult the feelings of
Lord Byron's dearest fiieod^.his lister, the

manuscript, when in mj power, should be
placed in her hands* to be di^oaed of as abe
should think proper. They asked me thou
whether I would consent to meet Murray ftt
Mrs. Ldgh's rooms on Monday, and there,
paying him the 2,000 guineas, take the MS.
from Lam, and hand it over to Mrs. Leigfa to
be burnt. I said that, as to the burning,
that was her affair, but all the rest I weuld
willingly do. Kinnaird wrote down this
proposal on a i»eoe of paper, and Hobhooee
set off instantly to Murray with it. In the
course of to-day I recollected a circumstaaee
(and mentioned it both to IL and K.) which
independent of any reliance 9h Murray's fiHr-
ness, set my mind at rest as to the validity of
my claim on the manuscript. At the tioBe
(April 1822) when I converted the sde of
the * Memoirs ' into a debt, and gave Muiraj
my bond for the 2,000 guineas, leaving the
MS. in his hand as a collateral security, I» by
Luttrel's advice, directed a clause to be inserted
in the agreement y giving me^ in the event of
Lord Byron^s deaths a period of tiuree montha
after such event for the purpose of raising
the money and redeeming my pled^. This
clause I (uctated as clearly as possible both
to Murray and his solicitor, Mr. Tomer,
and saw the solicitor interline it in a roogh
draft of the agreement. Accordin^y, <m re-
collecting it now, and finding that Luttrel
had a perfect rec(^ection of the circumstance
also (i. e, of having suggested the clause to
me), I felt of course confident in my claim.
Went to the Longmans, who pronused to
bring the 2,000 guineas for me on Monday
morning. * * 26th. Called on Hobhoum.
Murray, he said, seemed a little startled at
first on hearing of my claim, and, when the
clause was mentioned, said ' Is there such a
clause ?' but immediately, however, professed
his readiness to comply with the ajian|;e-
ment proposed, only altering the sum whK^
Kinnaird had written, * two tibousand j^ounds,'
into * two thousand guincasy^ and adding *■ with
interest, expense of stamps,' &c. &c. Kin-
naird joined us, being about to start to-day
for Scotland. After this I called upon Lut-
trel, and told him all that had passed, adding
that it was my intention, in giving the manu-
script to Mrs. Leigh, to ptotest againai its
being whoUy destroyed. Luttrel strongjly
urged my doing so, and proposed that we
should caU upon Wihnot Horton (who was to
be the representative of Mrs. Leigh at to*
morrow's meeting), and talk to him on the
subject. The utmost, he thou^t, that could
be required of me, was to submit the MS. to
the examination of the friends of the family,
9LDd destroy all that should be found objeo*
j tionable, but retain what was not so, for my
I own benefit and that of the pMic Went oif
I to Wilmot Horton's, wh(»n we luckily fbund.
I TM him the whole history of the MS.

BIZARRE AMCUro THl NSW BOOKS.

I po^ it inlo MnrTftj's haads, and nKiitNiied
tlMB ideas that had occurred to myself and
Laitrelwith reapect to its destruction; the
i o f ust iee we thou^t it would he to Byron^s
memory to condemn the work wholly, and
without even opening it, as if it were a pest
bag ; that eveiy ohject might be gained by
our perusing it and examining it together (he
on the part of Mrs. Leigh, Frank Doyle on
tlie part of Lady Byron, and any one else
wboai the fiunily might think proper to 8e«
kei), umI, rejectiiig iSl that could wonnd the
fe t to ga of a sin^e indnridnal, but preserving
what was innoxiotis and creditable to Lord
Bynn, of which I assured him there was a
oooaiderable proportion. Was glad to find
tlwt Mr. YFilmot Horton completely agreed
with these views : it was even, he said, what
he meant to propose himself. He undertook
ate to see Mrs. Leigh on the subject, pro-
pasng that we should meet at Murray's (in-
stead of Mrs. Leigh's), to-morrow, at eleven
o'do^, and that then, after the payment of
Ae money by me to Murray, the MS. should
be placed in some banker's hands till it was
decided among us what should be done with
it"

Lord John Russell, editor of the work in
notice, sums up the noatter thus:

** I have omitted in this place a long account
of the destruction of Lord Byron's MS. Me-
moir of his Life. The reas(Hi for my doing so
may be easily stated. Mr. Moore had con-
seoAed* with too much ease and want of re-
action, to become the depository of Lord
l^mi*8 Memoir, and had obtained from > Mr.
Minray 2,000 guineas on the credit of this
wvk. He speaks of this act of his, a few pages
osward, as *the greatest error I had com-
mitted, in putting such a document out of my
power.' He afterwards endeavored to repair
tins error by raying the money to Mr. Mur-
ray «nd securing the manuscript to be dealt
vitli as should be thought most advisable by
hbttelf in concert with the representatives of
Lord Byron. He believed this purpose "was
aaott^ by a clause which Mr. Luttrel had
aMsed should be inserted in a new agree-
■■Bt with Mr. Murray, by which Mr. ]m)ore
was to hare the power of redeeming the MS.
for ikste months after Lord Byron's death.
But neither Mr. Murray nor Mr. Turner, his
soBeHor, seem to have understood Mr. Moore's
wish mod intention in this respect. Mr. Mur-
ny^jm his side, had confided the manuscript
te jfr. Gifford, who, on perusal, declared it
too gross for publication. This opinion had
beeome known to Lord Byron's friends and
w i rtioM . Hence, when the news of Lord
Byron's unexpected death arrited, all partte8»
vitt the most honorable wishes and consSet*
Ml vicwrs, were thrown into perplexity and
af^arent diaoord. Mr. Mocnre wished to re-
Ma the raannaeripit and submit it to Mrs.

Leigh, Lord !^r^on's si^r, to be destroyed
or published with erasures and omissions.
Sir John Hobhouse wished it to be immedi-
ately destroyed, and the representatives of
Mrs. Leigh expressed the same wish. Mr.
Murray was unUing at (mce to give up the
manuscript, on repayment of his 2,000 gui-
neas with interest. The result was, that
alt^ a very unpleasant scene at Mr. Murray's,
the mumscript was destroyed by Mr. Wilmot
&rton and Gd. Doyle as the representatives
of Mrs. Leigh, with the full consent of Mr.
MocMre, who repaid to Mr. Murray the sum he
had advanced, with the interest then due.
After the whole had been burnt, the agree-
ment was found, and it appeu^ that Mr.
Moore's interest in the MS. had entirelv
ceased on the death of Lord Byron, by whicn
event the property became absolutely vested
in Mr. Murray. The details of this scene
have been recorded both bv Mr. Moore and
Lord Broughton, and perhaps by others.
Lord Broughton having kindly permitted me
to read his narrative, I can say, that the
leading facts related by him and Mr. Moore
agree. Both narratives retain marks of the
irritation which the circumstances of the
moment produced; but as they both (Mr.
Moore and Sir John Hobhouse) desired 'to do
what was most honorable to Lord Byron's
memory, and as they lived in terms of mend-
ship afterwards, I have omitted details whidi
recall a painfhl scene, and would excite pain-
ful feelings. As to the manuscript itself,
having read the greater part of it, if not the
whole, I should say that three or four pages
of it were too gross and indelicate for publi-
cation ; that the rest, with few exceptions,
contained little traces of Lord Byron's genius,
and no interesting details of his life. His
early youth in Greece, and his sensibility to
the scenes around him, when resting on a rock
in the swimming excursions he took from the
Piraeus, were strikingly described. But, on
the whole, the worid is no loser by the pacri-
fice made of the Memoirs of this great poet."

TMe IS/IOTMBR AISIO HBR OFFS^WNO.

— The Hupers have just published a book
with this title, emanating from the pen of
Stephen Tracy, M. D., a gentleman who has
had no little experience as a practitioner at
home and abroad. Dr. Tracy dedicates his
book to the ^oung mothers of the United
States; and its pages contain much, very
much, thftt it is valuable for them to know.
He advocates no " new or old theory, -ism, or
-pathy;" nor does he seek to teach his readers
to become self-dosers, but he does seek to lay
out a plaa or jsystem which shall enable them
to avoid -flbany of the '* ills that flesh is heir
to." ' The doctor tiiiinks the necessity for a
work of this kind has increased of late, by
the introducticni of i^ysiology and anatomy
into aehoolst and by the frequent oconrrenoe

BfyiARRK

of popular lectures on the sa):ject of both, all
of which haye their evil as wdl as their good

eroducts. We leave his book witfi this out-
ne statement of its character. It maj be
productive of great good ; while it also may
create the very evil to which, in certain
points, it takes exception. We have little
confidence in universal guides to health ; little
confidence, too, in books professing to pre-
scribe a cure for all diseases. The best me-
thod of keeping well is to live as naturally as
possible; that is, plainly, temperately, and
with abundance of exercise. If these do not
conduce to health, then we advise the consul-
tation of a good physician. Books are great
inventions to give one general knowledge,
whether it be of science, art, or literature ;
but you can no more write one which shall be
an unfailing reliance in avoiding or curing
disease, than you can make a coat or a pair
of boots which shall fit everybody.

OHAN/IBER'a RSPOaiTORV.

— J. W. Moore has sent us the second vo-
lume of this delightful melange of amusement
and instruction. It is printed from the Edin-
burgh plates, and got up, altogether, in very at-
tractive style, withits pretty pink blue-lettered
cover^ its handsomely designed and executed
embellishments, and its neat typography.
•irwioN KSN-roN.

— We alluded to this historlbal novel when
it was passing through the press of Messrs.
Lippincott, Grambo £ Co., and predicted for
it a favorable reception. It is from the pen
of Mr. James Weir, and, we believe, is his
first — we cannot say maiden, when speaking of
a pantaloons weiyrer--effort as an author. That
it contains very stirring passages, is certain ;
that it promises brilliant things for the future
of its author is equally clear. We hope he
will persevere in the neld he has sdected.
There can be no doubt of his ultimately
achieving the most brilliant results. His
ability for characterization is excellent; he
also lias no little skill in arranging dramatic
positions and effects.

— The Home Journal slates that Mr. Henry
T. Tuckerman is engaged in collecting and

greparing for publication the writings of the
imented Horatio €h*eenough. Mr. Greenough,
besides being an eminent artist, was an origi-
nal and fluent writer, and he left many papers
of great interest and value. The contemplat-
ed edition of his works will be aiseotnpanied
by a memoir from the pen of the editori who
is well fitted, by his interest in art and his
literary talents, to do justice to so attractive
Mr. Tuckerman has been in BoiUKi

for lonie 4i^, coUeoling tke nquiaite uifentt*
ation.

— Mr. Henry P. Anners, of this city, an-
nounces a " Child's ffistory of England, hy
Miss Comer." This is an attempt to Comer
Dickens. Will it not prove an attempt,
merely?

— Mrs. Stowe created an unusual excitenoent
at <<Edinboro' town." Gaping people fol-
lowed her along the streets, and nearly upset
the carriage in which she rode. A banquet
was given in her honor, and for the promotion
of the anti-slavery cause, when about 1500
persons were pesent The Lord Provost
(Mayor) occupied the diair, supported by a
band of clerg3rmen, mostly " dissenters. " The
"Uncle Tom Penny Offering" was, in the
course of the entertainment, handed to Mrs.
Stowe m the shape of £1000 steriing, with a
request that she would expend it in whatever
way she mi^t consider best to advance the
abolitionist cause. The money was presented
upon a silver salver, a gift to Mrs. Stowe per-
sonally from the Edinburgh ladies. This
further instalment <^ Judas money, was> <^
course, gratefully accepted, and will be ap-
propriated for the benefit of the '' poor n^gro"
— over the left.

— Among other articles of antiquity lately
sold in London, was a silver watch j)re.sent eld
to the Whalley family by Oliver Cromwell :
£5 10s. An episcopal ring, of the tenth cen-
tury, found at Armagh, engraved and orna-
mented, which was purchased for £17. A piece
of ring money, ornamented, £4. A silver
book-case or cover, very finely worked, £17.
A Persian seal, inscribed, '* Joseph bees the
grace of the most high and mighty C5d for
everlasting happiness," and three others, in
onyx, 128. A stone " celt " from the cousty
of Meath, Ireland ; 10s. 6d. A pair of ancient
spurs, £2 7s. Eight flint arrow heads, found
at Clough, 10s. An ancient Irish drinking
cup of wood, from Cavan, Ireland, 12s.

— The GtueUe MusicaU states that MdUe.
Marie Labladie, daughter oi the incomparable
60550, has made her first appearance at the
Court Theatre of St. Petersburgh, in *« La
Fi^a del Reggimento." with great success.

— It is stated that Mr. James H. Hackett,
j the comedian, has at last closed an engage-

i ment witji Grisi and Mario, at the tune of
I $2500 the night, and that they will visit us
early in the autumn. Immense price— alto-
gether too much.

— The Lantern states that the Messrs. Har-
per are about publishing a ** EQstorf of Be-
nedict Amdd,'^ by John a 0. Abbott, author
<^'* History of Napoleon Bonaparte." It adds,
" Mr. Abbott, we understand, takes an ortgi-
nd view of the chmuster of AnMdd/*-a view

EDIT0B8' SAKS-SOUCI.

Tfl

iahied: he maintains that the General was
actu at ed to his treadieiy bj the purest and
moat heneficent motives, and that a desire to
span the effusion of innocent blood lay at the
root of the < Great Commander's ' life/'

— A sale of the costly effects of Mk*. Lumley,
late lessee of her Majesty's theatre, latdy
took place in London. Amongst many articles
of recherche character in the collection was
the (Higinal bust of Jenny Lind, from the
crush-room of her Majesty's Theatre, where,
during the season of 1849 and 1850, it excited
ereat notice, both as a work of art, and faith-
ful representation of the Nightingale. Some
paintings and drawings, including works by
Croikshank and Count d'Orsay, toimd ready
purchasers, although at low biddings. A
water-color drawing of the Pas de Quatre,
with groupings of the most celebrated dan-
srases, Tagliona, Cerito, Lucille Grahn, Car-
k)tta Grisi, ^., was knocked down at £40.
£1000 might coyer the total produced by all
the principal articles in the sale, including
the wine and furniture.

— Mr. Thackeray, we learn, is commin^ back
next autumn for the purpose of continuing
bis ooone of lectures — taking up, in all pro-
bability, the Georgian Era, and sketching the
Johnsons, Walpoles, and Miss Bumeys. The
New York Albion sUtes that Mr. T.'s trip
^deared" $12,000.

— A correspondent of the Boston Evening
Gazette J writing from New York, under late
date, states that <* certain American authors
luiye been notified, through an American

. agent* that they were empowered to draw
open Messrs. Clarke, Beeton & Co., publish-
er8» London, for yarious sums, as thetr right-
foi instalment upon the sale of their books in
I London." The English house, it is added,
I do this of their own accord, and they intend
to carry out this principle in regard to aU
American works issued by them. Any body
win see, with half an eye, that Messrs. C. tf.
k Co. can lose nothing by this stand, which
they haye taken in beludf of the rights of pro-
perty, which are the same, we presume,
whether yested in cotton-bales or books.

— (liaries Knight's new and improyed edition
oC the Penny CyclopsDdia, under the title of
ths "English Cyclopaedia," commenced on
the 30th of April, in weekly numbers of 36
pages, 260 of which will complete the work.
It win be arranged in four separate diyisions,
Geogr^hy, Natural Histoiy, Science and
Arts, ffistory. Biography, Literature, Sec.

--^Br. Alexander Mayer, a French physician,
has written to the Presse, announdnff that
hs had met with an intelligent and ^dlli\il
who has sdysd the problem (^ ob-

tsinuBg heat for all the purposes for whiofa
Ibel is now employed by tae means of f rictioa
and that he will soon be able to exhibit to
the poblio an apparatus by which any quan-
tity c^ heat may be obtained by friction, with-
out toA of any kind, for the purpose of dfl^
mestic use, or for the generation of steam for
steam engines.

— Punch puts the following excise question
to the rappers. Is Mrs. Hayden, the lady
"medium who attends parties wishing to
communicate with the other world — is she
duly licensed to sell spirits ? Answer — No ;
she only sells the dupes, who pay for what
they don't get.

—A letter from Madrid of the 13th of April,
states that water has become so scarce in the
fountains of that cit^ that the carriers can-
not obtain the quantity required for the daily
supply of their customers. A Madrid journal
states that at Cordoya, on the 8th of April,
the heat was excessiye, 28 degrees of Reau-
mor (95 Fahrenheit).

— Mr. Collier's recent publication has stirred
up other of the Shakspearian editors. Mr.
I>^ce is said to be ready to issue a ** yariorum
ecution," in 10 or 12 yols. ; and l^fr. Moxon
announces another (of the text only, we pre-
sume,) in six.

— A green and gold prospectus is out, in
London, announcing a *<New and Splendid
Library Edition, to be published by suoscrip-
tion, 01 the Popular Poets and Poetry of Bri-
tain." The publisher is Mr. James Nichd,
of Edinburgh ; and the work is to be '' edited
with biographical and critical notices by the
Key. George GilfiUan, author of the * Gallery
of Literary Portraits,* * Bards of the Bible,'
&c.

— Messrs. C. J. Price & Co., of our city, an-
nounce in press, " The Mind and the Emotions,
considered in relation to Health, Disease, and
ReUgion ; by William Cooke, M. D." 1 voL
small 8yo.

— Mr. James Roche, well known as a most
learned and cofHOUs contributor to the Gentle*
man's Magazine y under the signature of '' J.
R.," died at Cork, in his eighty- third year.
In ' The Prout Papers ' he was called '* the
RoficoeofCork."

debitors' Sans-Soud^

ERpwzs won iNSTRUO-riOISI AMO I '

— An effort is about to be made in this oitj
to establish an Institution for Scientific, lite-
rary and Artistic entertainments ; which will
oomlnne instruction and mental culture with
aarasement. Theaidof thebe8tintdlect,ajid

KZARRX.

learning, as well as artistic talent, will be se-
eored, in or^ to present the wonders of
science, the beanties of art, and the refine-
ments of literature, in a Hiannflr calculated to
charm the senses while they instruct the
mind. It is intended to make eloquence, poe-
try, painting and music, the adornments as
well as the illustrations of sober science : so
that those who desire mere amusement will
find such entertainments as will make the
time pass pleasantly, and at the same time ex-
ert a refining influence upon the mind and
heart, while they will afibrd the most agreea-
ble and interesting themes for after reflec-
tion ; and those who desire solid information
in any, or every, department of science and
art, will receive it in its most pleasing
ibrm.

The projector of this Institution has been
engaged for ten years past in designing and
perfecting a course of illustrations calci^ted
to make science and literature attractive and
interesting, and to create a taste for polite
learning.

Among the novelties which will first be of-
fered to the public, will be a course of lec-
tures on En^sh Philology, which will be
made interesting by a variety of original and
amusing illustrations ; and will give a much
better idea of the philosophy of words and
the structure of our language, than can be
got from the ordinary method of teaching.

If this effort should meet with encourage-
ment, arrangements will be made for the es-
tablishment of a permanent Institution, in
which instructive amusements will be pre-
pared upon a scale of magnificence which nas
not been heretofore attempted in this coimtry.
No one can doubt of the refining influences of
a taste for the fine arts ; nor of the beneficial
effects upon the society of our city, which
must result from the estaUishment of an insti-
tution which will occupy the leisure time of
our citizens agreeably, and cultivate a taste for*
scientific recreations.

There is ho element of human character
which exerts a more powerful influence in its
promotion than the amusements of a commu-
nity: and when these are n^lected or im-
im)perlyprovided, the effect is most perni-
cious. We cannot, therefore too highly recom-
mend, as matters of amusement, ** those pol-
ished arts,'* which, as the poet says, " hiave
harmonized mankind."

The lover of science, the man of learning,
the accomplished artist, will rarelv be a dis-
orderly citizen ; and it cannot be denied that
Oiuch oi the disorder which is so rife in all
our large cities, arises from a want of mental
eolture. Let us have amusements which will
soften the asperities of our nature, r^&ne our
feelings and elevate the moral sentiments. —
The fine arts a£ford the most proper and the
attiactive amusameDtSt when pit^peily

exhibited ; and it n by such memos tfaa* w»
skoold endeavor

«<To w«k« tiM Krai Ij ttndtr strokM of alt.
To rmJJM Um genius and to mcod tbe heart."

There is ambiti<m enough in the heart of
every individual to make s<Hnething respecta-
ble of him, if it be properly developed ; an^
it should be the aim of public entertainments
to stimulate a proper ambition in the minds
of young persons, as well as to enable them
to perceive that the fields of science and art
afford the best, as well as the most agreeable
recreations.

There are very few who will not find grati-
fication and instruction from a good course of
lectures on the "philosophy of language;"
and the novd manner in which this subject
will be illustrated, will give it a charm which
under ordinary circumstances it does not pos-
sess.

We shall have occasion to speak of this
matter again.

"-THB SAII.OR'a L.OVB"

— Is the title of the following very pretty
stanzas which we have received from Cluurles
Albert Janvier, of Philadelphia :

(Son badda tha haarinc btUoir,

lirtening to tbe aMrUrd'a atnlii,
Xrar aite a gontla maiden,

Gaaing on tha boondlew main;
Erer, aver iadly gadng

On tiba surging rolling main.

At each taU that aha beholdetb,

Swiftly coming to the shore,
From her &oe tbe sorrow ftdeth.

Bat too soon her joy is o'er;
For, alas I the ship she widteth,

Neyer, nerer! comath morel

Where the bright^yed, long-haired merauUti

Sing within the coral eayos.
While the eyer restless ocean

Barges round with ceaseless waTtat
There, aflur, beneath the waters,

Find her crew their quiet grayai.

But tha maiden erer sttteth,

Qaiing on the boundless sea.
Fondly i^wildly, madly hoping

That each saU her lore's may be :
All in vain ; for him she walteth

Calmly sleeps beneath the sea.

0IAM0N08.

— A work, entitled *' Sketches from the Min-
eral Kingdom," gives us some very interesting
facts, touching £amonds. Those of a quai^
ter of an ounce weight are extraordinarily
costly, but still larger are met with ; and one
of the largest known is that of the rajah of
Muttun, in Borneo, which weighs nearly two
ooneesandahalf; that of Oie Sultan of Tur-
key weighs two ounces ; one in the Russwrn
sceptre more than aa ounce and a quaitsr.
The greatest diameter of the last is one iwchy

EDITOBS' SAKS«SOnCI.

tiM tUddM)88 SIX fines. The Empren Cathe-
rine n, purchased H in the 3rear 1772, from
Amsterdam, and for it was paid £75,000 and
an amraity of £650. Diamonds weighing an
oonoe exist also in the French and Austrian
regalia. One of the mostperfect is the French,
kMwn as the Pitt or Regent diamond. It
was bought for Louis XY., from an English-
mn named PiU, for the sum of £135,000
sterling, but has been valued at half million.
One of the stones most renowned in the East,
is the K<^i-noor, or mountain of Light, now
m possession of the Queen of England. It
came from Golconda to Persia, and while un-
eat weighed more than five ounces. It is
Tahied at more than £2,000,000 sterling. If
we look only to the common mode of estima-
ting the Tfliue, a perfect brilliant weighing
hi^ a pound, would be worth £20,000,000.
Some have stated that such a diamond exists
unong the luyal treasures of Portugal, as
large as a hen^s egg ; according to others this
is «il7 a topas. By the way, late foreign pa-
pers state tnat a quantity of diamonds of the
ralae of 20,000 florins, was stolen a short time
ago from the Boudoir of the Countess Clary,
in her residence at Vienna. There was no
traee of yiolence, and the robbery was com-
mitted hi the day-time. Although it was
endent that the thief was wcill acquainted
with the house, no suspicion fd\ on any of the
domestics on account of their high character.
Bvt the police, after making an investigation,
cfisoovered that the thief was a woman em-
l^oyed as a nurse in the family, and the dia-
moDds were ibnnd in her possession.

NSW MU^tO.

—Mr. Gould, successor to A. Fiot, Swaim's
Buildings, sends us the following new music,
whidi we particularly recommend to our lady
mders: — ''I cannot live without thee," a
UUad adapted to a favorite air, by Paganini,
sad dedicated to Mrs. Harvey Smith, by Chas.
JiTTia,—*' First Rate SchotUsche," by Fred.
Winter, dedicated to Mrs. Mary Jane Smith,
-^ Heed not the idle Tales," a ballad, sung
by Madam Thillon, composed by Thomas Ba-
ker^—" For love of Thee,'' a ballad sung by
Vnoer, written and ctwnposed by Geo. Linley,
— ^The Vocal beauties of Flowtow's new
Open of Martha, translated and arranged for
tfaft liDglish stage by Chevalier Bochssr— since
tht paSioation of Madam Bishop's Travels
ai tM land of MoDtezeuma, one of the heroes
el Maxiool We find also in the budget
:'0 famous '« Dance Ossianique."

—A correspondent has called out attention to
tttyartgragh copied from a New York Jour-
iMBpal hito the last number of Bizarre, (p. 61)
a TCtation to the Philadelphia Awtora, and
iirihfs to have some errors therein noted. —

a*tV« fSntA rtT "Wmm-ntrkiwi^^ r«ifiivnMknl>. fmm

the Presidency there WW no district of Spring
Garden, and consequently no Spring Garden
butchers, and as to the butchers of Philadel*
phia city and ooonty in general, they were a^
most to a man members of the l^puUican
party, as every old citizen <:^ Philadelphia
knows. There is not a word of truth in the
statement that the Aurora office was attacked
by any one, in consequence of theprovocation
referred to respecting President Washington'^
retirement from the Presidency. It is a piece
of pure fiction. An attack was threatened at
another time, but Benjamin Franklin Bache,
editor of that time, armed all the hands in
his office, and the attack was indefinitely
postponed. The piece " Now let thy ser-
vant depart," Ac., which was in very bad
taste, was written by Dr. Michael Leib. —
Philadelphia has enough riots to answer for,
without the addition of imaginary ones.

OMAWFiaM, TO -TMB COITOR.

— We received, a day or two since, the fol-
lowing letter, with inclosures which are ap-
pend^. Write again, good Christopher.

Mr. Editor — There are some people in this
world who have an invincible propensity for
punning, and it is not a little remarkable that
such persons seem to enloy bad puns quite as
much as good ones. Your humble servant
has a taste for such things, and sometimes
ventures to perpetrate something desperate
in this way. Being recently reproved, by a
pious old lady, for reading your paper on Sun-
day, he replied that he thought it no harm to
read a paper that had so recently come from
Church. You may imagine the sensation
which this effort caused.

I send you enclosed some of our most recent
attempts : should they prove acceptable, we
may feel encouraged to make more energetic
essays in future.

Respectfully yours,

Christoper Crawfish.

If Louis Napoleon knows which side of his
bread is buttered he will not be too greedy
for Sandwiches,

General Lane, it appears, has placed him-
sdf in an awkward attitude. If we may be-
lieve iEsop or La Fontaine, it is not the first
time that Vane (the*ass) has done so.

A hundred years ago Boston would not
have patronised Sunday (Sontag) operas.

The Duchess of Sutherland has recently
received two magnificent presents; viz., a
lock of Mrs. Stowe's hair and the key to Uncle
Tom's Cabin.

Poly Gamy is Brigham Young's wife.

The lonrat fishing-line we have yet heard
of is the mnm line, from Philaddphia to Sa-
vannah.

A Uack tragedian has recently caused a
vrPULt MnMtion in Hum garf. The literati and

BCBABRS.

histriones of Pesth bftre mm him ft grand
diiiner and a valuable album. The dinner
was certainly an appropriate oompliment to
a Hung{K)ry actor; but as for the album, it
certainly would have been more apropos if it
had been a nigrunL

The Sloo Treatt.— Santa Anna has had a
big blow out in honor of his return to Mexico.
They say the whole party, got sloo^d on the
first instalment from the Tehauntepec com*
pany.

The Stowe ovation in England ap^ars to
have turned out rather a sXeepish affair, es-
pecially on the part of the masculine Stowe.

Emblekatig. — The rays on the new (quar-
ters are significant of the efforts sometmies
made to raise a quarter, when a fellow is
thirsty; and the arrow-heads are indicative
of the rapidity with which American money
flies to England.

Ex-Senator Tallmadge is out in &vor of
spiritual rappings. Congress men are very
apt to favor spiritual manifestations.

AOAOEN/IY OF AfTTa.

— The/Academy of Arts opened in our dty
on Monday, the 9th. The collection of pic-
tures is good, and will be noticed hereafter.
Ne>A^ aooKB

— The following new books await notice at
our hands: — ^From Ticknor, Reed & Fields,
Boston, *« ThalaU, a Book for the Sca-Sidc ;"
fix)m M. W. Dodd, New York. ** Rachel KeU :"
from Lippincott, Grambo &> Co., Philadelphia,
•* Hart's Gredc and Roman Mythology."

eoHooL. OP oesioN for won/ien.

— The connection of this institution with
the Franklin Institute has been dissolved, and
it has passed into the hands of a committee of
prominent citizens, among whom are John
Gri^, Judge Kelley, John W. Claghom, J.
R. '^son, Robert Hare, Elliott Cresson, and
the firms of Howell & Brothers and Cornelius
& Co. This committee have received the
furniture and propertv of the school, and as-
sumed its debts. They publish a card an-
nouncing the fact, and urging a co-operative
action on the part of their fellow-citizens, in
order that the School may be placed on a per-
manent footing. They say : —

*' The School had its origin with Mrs. Sarah
Peter, who, with characteristic discernment,
perceived its great public importance in con-
nexion-^with the benefits it would confer upon
women, and upon the arts and manufactures
of the country. It has now been tried for
about four years, and the experiroait has jus-
tified the high promises which its first esta-
blishment excited. Patterns are produced
of such excellence as to secure handsome re-
turns to the pupils. Some younff women,
whose knowledge has been acquired and skill

formed at the schocd, obtain above thirty del*
lars a month from the sales. The compensa-
tion will be increasedas higher skill is attained,
a^ the inventive power is strengthened by
longer practice and study.

* * • • «

<' It opens to females a new and lucrative
emf^oyment, requiring for its exercise those
qualities in which they are peculiarly fitted
to excd. It will raise the character of our
fabrics, in imparting to them the aids of ori-
ginal, tastefiil, and beautiful designs. In all
that relates to useful, elegant, and omamoital
art, the school possesses distinguished advan-
tages firom the presence of such institutions in
our midst as the Academy of Fine Arts and
the Academy of Natural Sciences. We may
add to this, the facilities which abound among
us for every varietv of manu&cture, and the
duty which these impose of making all rea-
sonable efforts for its improvement. In short,
it requires but that aid to female ingenuity
and taste, which the cultivation of drawing
and designs confers, to make this community
excel in aU the arts which appertain to utility
and ornament."

Schools of this kind have been established
in New York and Boston since our own ; and
already have they advanced far beyond it, so
liberal has been the aid which they have re-
ceived from the citizens of those cities. These
schools, we are told, are numerous in En^iu^
and France ; so much so, that in the former
2000 pupils availed themselves of their bene-
fits in 1847,— only twelve years after their
establishment, — while in the latter, the scho-
lars exceed 10,000 in number, from the work-,
ing classes alone. Our own school has num-
bered some 70 pupils, and unauestionably, in
the language of the address before us, with
ample funds '' it mav be made conducive to
the higher aims of oil painting ; to most bene-
ficial results upon the pecuniary conditi^m of
women, and to the best effects upon the main
ufiictuied fiibrics of tlie state and cottntry.**

We are assured that $50,000 well invested
will be ample to meet all the wants of tfaia
noble institution, even if the scholarB were^
ten-fold the number they now are. And sliaU
it die out for want of so small a sum ? We
trust not ; particulariy in a city where there
is so much liberality shown in matters of art,
and where charities <tf all kinds find a willktt
support. Boston gets time to attend to snob
enterprises. Even New York can cease its
cent-per-centabetracti(ni8, and lend a hand to
woman in her aspirations towards the acqui*
sition of an art which, while it affords hoaast
means of livdihood, does not cast her into
uncongenial associations. And shall I^iila-
delphia, with her wealth, her eneigy, bar
hearty and her universally acknowledged i9»
fined taste, be left behind in such a wofk ?
We earnestly hope not

EDITOBS* sAiasksonci.

^SDOw ev^ eyening brilliantly lUuminated,
aad with its noe military band, and otiier in-
miring proportieB, urgently inyites visitors.
1%e walks are in beautiful order, the shrub-
beiy and trees, in Uieir new spring green, im-
part the most refreshing odors, while the play
of tentains in ntariding jets of Schuylkill,
yields a {feasant humidity to the atmosphere.
Here is enjoyment for the senses of sight, hear*
ing and sn:^ ; the sense of feeling, of course,
win be well (leased if you are locked arm-in-
arm with your wife or sweetheart ; while as
for taste, may it not be regaled with many
luxuries, not the least of which, at present,
are rich, ripe, and juicy strawberries " smo-
thered incrame?"

msHioNAauK roAiv^ss.
—It is a noteworthy circumstance that hard-
ly ainr young ladies named Sarah or Eliza-
beth hare been married in Philadelphia for
seferal years past. To make up for this,
bowerer, a number named Sallie, Bessie and
liflEie, have been led to the hymeneal altar.
This new Bomenclature must please every
judieidds mind. It ought not to stop here.
Other names should be treated in the same
&d^on. Thus the name of Mary, the favor-
ite of the poets, should be dropped at once,
md PdUe or MoUie substituted for it ; Jane
^loold become Jinnie; Susan, Sookie; Ellen,
N^u; MarMret, Pegf^ie; Catharine, Kittie;
nd &nily, Emmie. Nor is there any reason
irty this brilliant innovation should be con-
fined to the female sex. How pleasant it
woidd be to read in the papers of Mr. Josie
JboM to Miss Tabbie Taylor ; of Mr. Dickie
IMggs to Miss Abbie Brown ; and Mr. Tom-
mie Snith to Miss Annie Tompkins! Let this
ddl^iftfnl system spread. Is not this the age
of pogiress?

nMLxre eoiREC

Mifintrn Perelli gave another soiree on Sat-
B iiaj evening last, which, we think, was the
■Mt brilliant of the season. The pieces ex-
•■liBd* taken from the most popular operas,
wmB given with fine ^ect, and the very se-
kofc and recherche companv present, testified
tMr admiration by the heartiest plaudits.
nwanch admired brunette-Contralto, gave
ik» ^ Bird-song" and a romanza from Beatrice
dlMlaJs," in her own exquisite style; while
i^wo less finished soprano^ and heroine of
CWBdcert's *< Swiss Song," performed her

e^te the admiration of all who listened to
bewitching notes. Several duetts, trios,
tttf cbivnaes were sung : increased effect be-
to them by the cultivated tenor voice
Potvili, the very fiiU rich bassos

of Messrs. D- — d and H tt,

fiHmii(i,i1ii iK>tes of the two ladies already
'^ * We fed bold in asserting that no
entertainment was ever ghrea in

Philadelphia to surpass the one in notice ; in-
deed, we think we may venture to add, that
very few concerts are got up by artists, having
a tithe of the artistic merits of this modest
re-union. *'Quanto Am(»re," from *<£iisire
d' Amore," by our prima donna soprano^ and
Mr. D — —d, won a warm round oi hands ; so
did the trio, "Te sol quest anima" by a

young lady, Mr. D d and Sig. Perelli. Es-

peciaUy fine, moreover, was the grand
" Schena," from * Robert,' by the stars. Miles.
Soprano and Contralto, Sig. Perelli and Mr.

H tt. We cannot omit noticing, too> the

romanza^ " vecchio cor," from '* 1 due
Foscari," the duoy from "Italiana in Al-
gieri;" that from Lucia; the romance from
the " Prophete," and the best rendering of the
famous " Infeh'ce,"from •* Emani," which we
have ever heuxl at an amateur concert ; and
for which the company were indebted to Mr.
Rainer, a late pupil of Perelli 's, and one of
the prominent artists of Sanford's Opera
troupe,

WMAT -THBV THINK OF UB.

— A correspondent of Moore^s Rural New-
Yorker j— a very capital paper by the way, —
published at Rochester, writes from Phila-
delphia under a late date. We give our read-
ers a taste of his notions :

** Philadelphia boast of romantic and beau-
tiful scenery. The majectic Delaware gives
it commerce and life. Around Philadelphia
cluster many associations of early colonial
history. Here is the old Independence Hall.
It heard the first discussions, which gave
America to the Revolutionary issues, and to
Independence. Its walls hewrd the lofty elo-
quence of Adams, Hancock and of Jkfpeeson.
When the fullness of the time had come, it
saw the sublime faith — the heroic resolution
— of those men who gave the Declaration of
Independence to the world, and-their names
to immortality. Here is the bell which rung
the notes of freedom abroad to the world. —
Here is the chair which Washington occu-
pied, and all around the room are memorials
and associations which linger around the heart
and can never be forgotten. It is natural
when one visits a scene like this, that bis im-
agination should be roused, and his patriotism
receive new life. Whoever would visit the
cradle of American liberty without emotions
of more than an ordinary nature, has not an
American heart, and is less than a man, if
more than a brute.

" Philadelphia abounds in other objects of
interest, iftie Girard College is the most
splendid e^fice in the United States. The
building alone cost over one million of dollars.
The Girard Bank, the Merchant's Exchange,
the Custom House, are all fine buildings,
worthy of admiration. The United States
Mint is well wo*thy (rf a visit"

The following, touching our friends, Godey

BIZARRE.

md Graham, will cause these gentlem^ to
smile ; particularly as what is said about their
lists and glories departing, happens to be the
purest romance in the world. These maga-
zines were neyer more prosperous we learn.

" What young lady or sentimental young
man has not read or heard of * Graham and
Godey ?' Their Magazines, for many years
before the advent of Harper and Putnum,
were monarchs of the literary field. But now
their glory and lists of subscribers is depart-
ing. I was introduced, and spent a pleasant
social hour with Mr. Godbt and T. S. Ae-
THUK, veterans in the field of literary exer-
tion. May their days be long in the land."

^uskss anb pleasure.

— Wiser's magnificent panorama of the " Cre-
ation, Garden of Eden, and the De\uge" con-
tinues to attract crowds of spectators to Ma-
sonic Hall. The proprietor tninks the whole
of the half-dollar gift tickets will shortly be
disposed of, and that the distribution will
take place in the course of a few weeks.
Magmficent and costly artides make up the
prizes, which may be seen in the window of
Mr. J. E. Gould.

— Messrs. Klaudbr, DEGiNTnER& Co., No.
284 Chestnut Street, have lately mauufactured
some beautiful suits of furniture for the par-
lors and chambers of the new part of the Gi-
rard House, as well as for the superb drink-
ing-saloon lately opened on the lower floor of
the same. The materials used are rose- wood,
black- walnut, mahogany and oak: and all
fashioned after the latest, most beautiful, and
at the same time most unique designs. A set of
chairs, with polished frames and green moroc-
co backs ana bottoms we noticed particular-
ly ; they were intended for taking one's ease
in one's Inn. Considering that Messrs. K. D.
& Co., have got up a set of the same pattern
for the legislators at the capital of Texas, it
may be expected they will nave rather long
sessions there hereafter. The ware-rooms of
these gentleman are situated at a point in
(jhestnut Street where some of the most mag-
nificent &ftablishments of the kind in the city
are concentrated. They make a most impos-
ing stand there, likewise, and hence, one which
commands great attention. We hope they
may continue to enjoy the high fevor which
is now accorded to them ; yes, and with copi-
ous increase.

— Dbput, No. 41 North Eighth street, has
just added to his stock a beautiful invdoe of
light French goods. Observe his advertise-
ment.

— CoL. Ward, of the Santag i^^c^n', had his
head exumined the other ni^t by KUiott, the
Phrenologist, Chestnnt, bdow Eighth, who,
says the Colonel, ■" read him like a book."—
Elliott is certainly a master of the profiBSsion
he follows.

— Sliter has been re-engaged by Sanford, and
will, during the week, appear every evening
in his wonder^ dances. Signer Foghd, the
great violinist, is also retained, and will night-
ly execute one of his superb solos. New songs
are also added to the attractions of the pre-
sent week, in which Lynch, Collins, Rainer,
Kavanaugh and Sanford all take part

— The distribution of the gifts which Perham
has promised to all who buy dollar tickets of
admission to the Panorama of California will
soon take place. The Committee of Distribu-
tion, we understand, have already hdd one
meeting to make arrangements tlierefor, and
contemplate holding another during the pr»>
sent week, when the packages will be sealed
and placed in a box and deposited in the vault
of one of our banks to awiut the time when
Mr. James H. Farrand shall distribute them.

— Col. Maurice opened his new store on Sat-
urday evening last, with a very pleasant lit-
tle entertainment, when he was honored with
the company of Gov. Biglcr, Hon. T. B. Flo-
rence, Col. John Swift, Capt, Wylie, of the
City of Glasgow, Alderman Elkington, Ser-
geant Andrews, and several other gen^eman
of distinction, including many editors and
reporters. Toasts were drank and speeches
made by Gov. Bigler, Col. Swift, Col. Flo-
rence, Alderman Elkington, Sergeant An-
drews, and Col. Maurice, himself. The Col-
onel gave the following sentiment as a wind-
ing up of his remarks :

** Advertising. — ^What oil is to machinery,
and oxygen is to animal life. Judicious but
liberal advertising is to success in business."

The Colonel himself well knows 'the bene-
fit of liberal advertising, and this pithy senti-
ment should be regarded as having Delphic
sanctity. The Colonel's new place of busi-
ness is at 123 Chestnut, below Fourth.

— WiLLiAN T. Fry, 227 Arch Street, contin-
ues to receive beautiful articles of the Ton-
bridge Mosaic Ware, as well as other elegant
fancy and toilet goods. His own maauiOic-
tares, consisting of rose-wood and mafaogafi/
writing-desks, dressing-cases and work-boxes,
are hard to surpass.

— Whitb Hats, from the new Hat Con^^an/t
at Sixth and Chestnut, and Messrs. Billings
& Co., Girard House, are beginning to be a«
thick as— -as — spiles of brick and mortar oa
Chestnut street. Beaotiful, beautifiil S— the
hats»— not the hrioks and mortar.

THE HOFRAADINDE.

WHAX SAT Tou, MA3>0Ari"^Fttrqtthar.

SATURDAY, MAT 91, 1853.

THE HOFRAADINDE.*

A THRILLING TALB.

On the evening of the second of Augost, I
md a number of young people, assembled at
the house of a friend to celebrate the anni-
versary of his marriage. Our host possessed
that courtesy and gaietv of manner which
never &ils to promote tne mirth and enjoy-
ment of a party ; and as to his young wife,
whose joyous and blooming countenance spoke
the happiness of her lot, she was the first in
every scheme suggested for the amusement of
h^ guests. After having spent a most de-
lightful evening, we were just about to Wd
good-nigfat to our kind entertainers. When
we heanl a carriage roll down the street, upon
which I stepped to the window, and by the
light of the carriage lamps, I saw a splendid
chuioit stop at the opposite dwelling.

** Who comes home so late ?" asked one of
the party.

"That is our beautiful neighbor, the Ho-
fraadinde,^' readied our host, who seldom re-
turns before midnight from her fashionable
parties."

" Is she a widow ?" said one of the ladies.

" By no means," replied our hostess ; ** but
she finds little pleasure in having her husband
always by her side, who might almost be her
fiiUier from the disparity of their years, and
who would find some difficulty in keeping
pace with the dissipation of his young wife ;
while she is amusing herself with the gaieties
of the world, the old gentleman is shut up in
his stody, engrossed with his pen and his po-
litics."

Meanwhile the step of the carriage was let
down, and an el^ant female alighted, whose
eosUy attire showed the high rank to which
she bdonged. The important business of bon-
neting aiMl shawling being accomplished we
departed ; but hardhr had we got without the
door, when the window of the opposite house
WW violently thrown open, and a female voice,
m a tone of horror and anguish, exclaimed —

"Help! Murder! Help, for the love of
Be^enT'

'^ What was that ?" exclaimed our host, as
}» suddenly threw the light from his hand,
with which he had lighted us down stairs. —

• From the Bantoh.

" Some villains must have got into the house
of the counsellor — that is the voice of his
lady."

With the shriek of horror still ringing in
my ears, followed by my companions, I quick-
Iv crossed the street and knocked loudly at
tne door, which, after some time, was at length
opened by a female, from whom we in vain
endeavored to learn the cause of the disturb-
ance, as she was too much terrified to bring
forth a reply. We flew up stau^ and rushed
into the saloon, where we found the Hofraa-
dinde ; the flowers which had ornamented her
beautiful hair lay strewed upon the carpet ;
her dress was in the greatest disorder, her
countenance was pale as death, her hands
were clasped convulsively together, and trem-
bling with agitation, she motioned us to pro-
ceed to an adjoining department.

We hastily obeyed, and approaching the
bed, round which the curtains were careful-
ly wrapped, we quickly drew them aside, and
with horror beheld the strangled body of the
counsellor. A rope was round his neck, his
countenance was fearfully distorted and per-
fectly black ; his under lip was swelled and
covered with blood, and his eyes protruded
from their sockets. One hand hung out cf
bed, whilst the other appeared to have strug-
gled hard with the murderer, who in the con-
flict had torn open the vest of the deceased.

A cabinet, which stood near, was burst
open, the drawers of which were left closed,
and a strange hand seemed to have discom-
posed the papers. I instantly untied the rope,
while my friend ran for medical assistance ;
a vein was quickly opened, but all to no pur-
pose, life was totally extinct, he was past the
power of human aid. Just as I was about to
leave the apartment, my eyes happened to fall
on something steeped in Uood, which was ly-
ing near the bed ; I immediately picked it up,
it was a handkerchief. *' Has any one lost a
handkerchief?" said I. All replied in the ne-
gative, and I was just going to throw it aside,
when I accidentlv noticed the letters with
which it was marked.

"Now we will discover the owner," said
I ; it was marked D. L.

" You need not go far," said my fiiend, " to
find the owner ; these are your own initials."

"It does not belong to me," I rej^ed,
whilst I put it in a drawer of the bureau ; ** it
may remain there till some one claims it."

I now returned to the Hofraadinde. I
found her somewhat recovered, though still
much agitated : she warmly expres^ her
acknowledgments for the kind interest we had
taken in her distress, and her obligations for
the very prompt assistance we had rendered
her.

The officers of justice now ventured to in-
quire into the afiair, and the Hofraadinde hav-
ing again thanked us for our attentions, and

BIZARRE.

said she would no longer trespass upon our
kindness, we took our departure.

The streets were deserted, and a light only
occasionally glimmered here and there from a
window : the lamps burnt dimly, and as ray
shadow flitted along I felt as if a spectre were
pursuing me, and strode along at a more rapid

rate. In Place I was obliged to pass a

mile-stone, and as I approached, a man sud-
denly started from beside it, as with the inten-
tion of attacking me ; I started back — he
came towards me, and laying his hand gently
on m^ arm, and looking earnestly in my face,
said m a significant tone :

" It is not the shadow which follows your
footsteps, which ^ou need fear; but the
avenger of crime, if any lies upon your con-
science."

The countenance of the stranger made a
singular impression upon me, it is still as
vividly before me as that moment, grief seem-
ed to have altered its natural expression.

" What is the hour ?" said he suddenly.

" It is not yet one," I replied.

** The awfii stillness," he rejoined, "which
precedes the hour is dreadful, but still more
horrible is the tolling of that single one. I
wish I were deaf that I might never hear the
clock strike one."

He spoke as if his mind was wandering ;
but I felt as if there were truth and reason in
what he said.

** Qo home," he continued, " and pray to
God to give you peaceful slumbers— every
Uiing may become frightful in the midnight
hour."

He left me, but suddenly returning, he
whispered : *' he has breathed his last sigh,
poor man, and I was in danger of doing the
same — but tell this to no one.

At this moment the clock of the neighbor-
ing belfry struck one, upon which the stranger
— exclaiming, " Dio I che questa vita e fun^
esta, (0 God ! how wretched is this life,") —
hurried awa^.

On reachmg home I threw myself in bed,
and soon fell into a most disturbed and fever-
ish slumber. The strangled counsellor, the
agony of the Hofraadinde, the handkerchief
marked with my initials, the mysterious looks
of the officers of justice, and the wild looks of
the Italian, were mingled together in a con-
fused and horrible dream. J^ly the follow-
ing morning I repaired to my friend. " WTiat
do you think of this business ?" said I.

" What should I think of it ?" he replied,
" the murderer understood his profession too
well to leave the widow a spark of hope for
her husband's life. A physician has examined
the body, and declares that the deceased died
of apoplexy."

" You jest !" said I, m surprise, '* and the
Hofraadinde—"

" Even she," he rejoined ; " it was herself

who told me, and with the most perfect com-
posure too. It is incredible what this philo-
sophical age will accomplish. A woman who
yesterday was wringing her hands in the
deepest despair, can to-day talk so composed-
ly of the horrible adventure, and examines
her husband's lifeless body as calmly as if he
were some wax puppet. Louisa acknowledges
she never met with so active a housewife ; she
has already seen that every thing is prepared
for the funeral, and with the most praisewor-
thy composure, has given orders for her
mourning, consoling herself with the thought
how well her sable weeds will contrast with
her fair complexion."

I could not conceal my horror and indigna-
tion at such unfeeling conduct.

" Does that surprise you ?" said my friend,
— '' I have still more wonders to relate. The
money and bills which were in the bureau, as
also a valuable brooch and gold repeater, which
was set with diamonds, remained untouched ;
but the will, in which the counseller left the
whole of his fortune to his nephew, is no-
where to be found. It would appear that the
murderer had false keys to all the locks, as
there was no marks of violence having been
used, except to the bureau, the contents of
which the counsellor kept secret even from
the Hofraadinde."

** Who is his nephew?" asked I.

"You will be surprised," replied he,
" when I tell you it is Mastorf, our toother
soldier, who made the first campaign with
us, and was taken prisoner by the iVench at
Maresburgh."

" He !" I exclaimed in surprise, " as brave
a fellow as ever lived, and one of my dearest
friends. Has he been to the counsdlor^s ?"

" The poor fellow is ill," he replied, ** and
confined to bed."

" Where does he live ?" a^ed I ; " I have
a great desire to see him."

" That I cannot tell you, but I think I shall
be able to find him out ; but where do you
go from this?"

" To Conditor-street"

"Good," he replied; "I shall meet yon
there."

As it was early when I reached Conditor-
street, there were but few people in the oo£fee»
room : however, I remarked, m one comer of
the room, an elderly gentleman, who waa
busily employed in reading a paper ; and in
another, two young men, who were carrying
on a whispering conversation, in which they
appeared deeply interested. I knew not how
it was, but I felt myself irresistibly impelled
to approach them, and I placed myself at a
table close beside them. One of them was
a tall fine-looking man about thirty, his
features were more expressive than hand-
some, his eyes indicated a haughty and impe-
tuous soul, and the whole countenance bore

THE HOFRAADINDB.

traces of deep and violent passion ; his dark
mosUchios gave him a nulitary air, and al-
thoogh his German was both elegant and flu-
ent, yet from his foreign accent it was evident
it was not his native tongue. The sight of
the other surprised me, — ^yes, surely I had
seen that hce before ; he was younger than
his companion, and his appearance much more
fenrinine ; an eye of fire glared from under a
t pur of thick, shaggy eye-brows ; and 9S I
continued to examine him, I soon recognized
the strange apparition of the previous even-
ing. I now gave my whole attention to the
strangers, who appeared to have some secret
nnderstanding together, and while apparently
engrossed by my paper, I overheard a few
sentences which gave me a clue to the purport
of their conversatibn.

"Do you still keep your resolution?" said
tfaeltahan.

" The carriage is ordered at five," replied
the officer ; ** I cannot delay a day longer, the
earth seems to bum under my feet, and the
sooner I am upon my waythe better."

" You will reach it on Wednesday," replied
his friend, " and will lodge as agreed upon,
in Kralowna Unice ; she will not expect you,
and your arrival will surprise her." They
whispered afterwards, but from what I could
leam it appeared that their conversation re-
lated to a beftotiful daughter and an old father,
from whom something was to be concealed,

"You will know her at the first glance,"
SMd the Italian ; " but in case you make any
mistake, you may as well take another look ;"
and he gave the officer a box, on the lid of
which was the miniature of a lovely female.

" I would have no fears, but all might yet
go well," replied his friend, "were she but
pradent ; but who can have any dependance
upon a changeable woman ?"

"* Leave that to me," said the Italian, " ful-
fil joor promise ; my happiness in your hands ;
pn me only that, and I shall never forsake
yon; but remember, before you set oflf to
l^e oat the letter ; she does not know, and
^ not believe : tie a knot upon your hand-
kerchief to remind you of it."

"I shall not forget," replied the officer;
but to make certain of it" — ^he felt in vain
for the handkerchief; he reflected a moment
—then searched again, and betrayed a con-
«»derahle anxiety at not finding it " Yes,"
»Hi he, " yes, I must have left my handker-
chief at hofoe. Come, come with me rather,
wd I win give you the letter," and they de-
pirted.

My curiosity was roused, and I would have
6>&owed them, had I not promised to wait for
ay friend, who soon made his appearance,
^ to whom I related all I had heard and
neo: bat he thought I gave more weight to
^ behavior and conversation of the straneers
than the circumstances warranted. He had

been fortunate to procure MastorTs address,
which he gave me.

'* Have you had no opportunity," said I,
"of going over to the Hofraadinde.^"

" She requested me to call for this evening,
as she wishes to consult me regarding some
family affairs."

" Then I entreat," said I, •* that you will
obtain the handkerchief for me;" this he
promised to, do, and we parted.

Mastorf had just wakened from a short
slumber when I entered. I was shocked and
grieved at the change which illness had made
on his once robust and handsome counte-
nance ; he was pale, and so exhausted as to
be incapable of the slightest exertion. An
inflamation of the lungs had brought him to
the brink of the grave, and though all danger
was now happily past, yet his physicians
thought it would be long ere his health was
restored.

I asked him if his uncle had visited- him
lately, but he was so agitated as to be unable
to reply ; and his attendant informed me, that
not being aware of his relationship to the
counsellor, she had told him of the dreadful
occurrence.

" My poor fellow," said I, ** have you been^
so unfortunate as to leam this in your weak
state?"

"You may imagine," he replied, "how
much it shocked me. I thought it would
have killed me. But, tell me, is there any
thing of consequence taken ?"

" Nothing," said I, " except a brooch and
a gold repeater — ^the money is untouched."

"My lot is cast," said he, "I dreaded
what would happen ; what a malicious arti-
fice?"

Without inquiring the meaning of these
words, I consoled him by assuring him, that
we would do all in our power to serve him.
He looked calmly upon me, and answered the
pressure of my hand with silent emotion.

On reaching home, I found a small box, in
which was the handkerchief; and a notefh)m
my friend informed me that he had nent a
servant for it, as if one of his guests had
dropped it, — it was found in the drawei: where
I had put it.

I now formed my plans, and determined to
set out the following day, to endeavor to dis-
cover the murderer ; but circumstances pre-
vented me from carrying out my intentions ;
and after arranging matters with my friend,
on the fourth day set off on my journey. I
travelled day and nieht until I reached Dres-
den ; but as I could get no information re-
garding the object of m^ search, and after
resting a few hours, I agam setoff for Prague,
where I arrived early the following morning.
The first person I inquired for was a Mr.
Henneberg, a rich merchant, who, on my re-
turn from Italy, received me with great hos-

BIZARRE.

Eitality ; he had been some years a widower,
ut was now engaged to the younger sister of
his wife, and was just about to celebrate his
marriage.

"You could not have come more oppor-
tunely," said he, as he shook me by the hand.
** You must be my guest this evening, when
you will meet my bride, the musical com-
poser, Deedesdorf, whom you admire so much,
and another agreeable guest. We shall have
a very delightful evemng — ^which your pre-
sence will add to — but I wish to give them
a surprise ; do^nt mention to any one that we
are acquainted.

I promised to come, and we separated. I
made a thousand inquiries regarding the ob-
ject of my journey, but no one could give any
intelligence of the stranger whom I described.
I found it necessary to think of other means
to trace him out, and meanwhile sauntered
along to view the city. There was a consid-
erable crowd on the bridge, which forced me
to stop a few minutes before a toy-shop, from
which at that moment there issued an elderly
gentleman with a young girl leaning on his
arm, who was playfully patting his cheek as
if thanking him for some present he had given
her. She had a little lap-dog in her arms,
and as she turned to the shop-people to say
she would send for her pim;hase, I had a full
view of her countenance, and inunediately
recognized the original of the miniature I had
seen on the lid of the box, in the coffee-house.
Although not decidedly beautiful, yet she pos-
sessed that species of fascination which is
even more engaging than beauty itself;, ani-
mated and expressive eyes, and a smile so
irresistible, that it found its way to every
heart. She was dressed with great taste and
elegance, and her air and manner seemed to
inoUcate a cultivated mind. Astonishment for
some moments rooted me to the spot, but on
recovering mysdf, I determined to follow
them. They crossed the bridge, then bent
their way towards the nuuparts cmT the town,
where there was a pleasant promenade. —
When they arrived below the trees, the giri
put down her little favorite and seemed to
enjoy its gambols. They took several turns
up and' down, and the more I examined her
countenance, the more I was struck with the
power and fidelity with which the artist had
depicted her. At this moment a young man
approached with a greyhound, which ran at
the little spaniel, and though but in sport, it
hurt the little creature, which yelled 'njth
pain* The young girl looked round and &n-
cied her favorite wounded to death; the
stranger paid no regard to what was passing,
but coolly walked on I The opportunity was
a favorable one ; I ran to the cu)gs, and seiz-
ing the terrified little creature in my arms,
carried it to itg mistress* who was so over-
joyed at its escape, she could hardly find

words to lliank me. The old gentleman made
ample amends for the silence of \ds daughter,
he warmly expressed his acknowledgments
for the service I had rendered them, and I
was too anxious to improve my acquaintance
with my new friends to allow the conversa-
tion to drop, and accordingly made good use
of the adventure which fortune had thus
thrown in my way. I remarked how veir
attentive the young girl became when she
heard I had come from B — — . We had
not been long engaged in conversation when
a gentleman, evidently a man of high rank,
and who appeared to be intimate with mj
new acquaintance, joined us : he took the old
gentleman aside, saying he had some private
intelligence to give him.

"Are there many strangers in B— ?"
said my companion.

**A good many," I replied, " particulariy
Italians."

" Perhaps," she continued, with increasing
curiosity, ** you have met with one of that
country who gives lessons in Italian?"

" Oh ! yes," I replied ; ** we have met fre-
quently at the coffee-house, and had much
pleasant conversation together, but I never
thought of inquiring his name."

" Caesar Buenaventura," replied my cwn-
panion: but she suddenly checked herself,
and seemed provoked at having committed
herself thus far.

** Quite right," said I. " I now recollect
having seen a letter in his hand with that ad-
dress — she blushed deeply — "I think," I
continued, ** the poor man bears the traces of
great unhappiness."

*• Is that so very evident ?" she replied, and
she was just on the point of adding more,
when the return of the old gentleman inter-
rupted her.

" Excuse me, sir," said he, as he joined us,
** that was my brother-in-law, the president,
who followed me here on some particular bu-
siness connected with his office ;" and giving
his address and an invitation for the following
evening, which I gladly accepted, they de-
parted.

I found my fnend Henneberg waiting at
the door to receive me — he led me to the
drawing-room and presented me to his bride,
a lovely young creature. Leidesdorf was al-
ready there, and we soon renewed our ac-
quaintance.

** You will meet a very talented' and inter-
esting young man this evening," said my
host, " who is also from B — — . I think you
will be happy to make his acauaintancc ; his
name is Lionkowsky , he is hignly accomj^sh-
ed and draws beautifully."

*' So, we shall have some disciples of the
muses," said the bride. ** Here, Leidesdorf
reigns supreme in the kingdom of harmony,

BIZARRE AMONG THE NEW BOOKS.

ind I have already been indebted to him for
mMT a pretty song."

The loi^-cxpected guest at length arrived,
and with a beating heart I recognised the ob-
ject of my journey j he was most elegantly
dressed, his manners were extremely fascinat-
ing, and his behaviour to the ladies was so
completely that of the finished gentleman,
that they were all loud in his praise, and
with one consent declared he was one of the
most delightful companions they had ever met
with; ai^ I mnst confess that, under any
other circumstances, I too would have joined
in their opinions. I remarked how very at-
tentive he became when our host informed

him that I had lust come from B , a piece

of intelligence, however, which appeared far
from grateful. He could not recognise me
igiin, as I never uttered a word when I met
him in the coffee-house, and indeed hardly
once raised my eyes from the papers which I
held in my hands. He entertained us with
an animated account of the manners and
cn«toms of the different countries he had vi-
sited, and he appeared to have travelled
through roost parts of Europe. With e<jual
fidelity he described the most polished nations
and the most savage hordes, and related many
interesting scenes which he had witnessed in
Italy, Prance, Hungary, and Poland. He
gave us a most spirited account of the burn-
ing of a Polish village, which he had seen in
his childhood, the fewful countenances of the
incendiaries — the merciless plunderers — the
blazing roo& — the shrieks of the spectators,
and the screams of the terrified children, were
depicted with a vividness which made us
shudder ; he talked most of those countries
which none of us had visited, and it was evi-
dent be wished to turn the conversation from

I When the tea equipage was removed, the
^ bride, who had a great deal of wit and fancy,
opened the piano and said gaily —

** Come, here are you, three disciples of the
■ nrases, and I propose that each shall give us
a specimen of his different talents ; let a theme
be cboRen for the musician, the poet, and the
pointer, and while you are at work, I shall go
tod order refireshroents. As for vou, mv
lore," ^e added, turning to her husband,
"JOQ shall snuff the candles."

** A noble employment really," said Henne-
berg, with a smile ; " but come, what is the
theme to be, on which our friends are to ex-
errise their talents?"

"The choice belongs to our friend from

B ," she replied ; " he arrived first, there-

fcre he shall choose."

"Affreed," said I; "will you, gentlemen,
*cceptbf the theme I shall give 1"

"Ie8,"8*idaU.

(PoaUantA in mimbtr Qdriy-tlurM.)

^i^arre among t|t |teio ^Dob.

RAOHKl. KKLU^

— This is the title of a domestic tale lately
published by M. W. Dodd, of New York, the
reading of which has considerably interested
us. It embraces a net-work of tolerably en-
gaging incident, and exceedingly wholesome
moral. Sense is well blended with sentiment,
and the influence of the union on the heart
and mind should be decidedly health-giving.
Rachel Kell was bom in shame, and grew up
in its shadow. She entered the world doubt-
ing, desponding, unelastic, and imhopeful.
In the language of the author —

" Often she might be seen standing for a
long time in some lone place at nightfall, va-
cant and absorbed, and heedless of the dews
and shades that were falling on her. She
marked gloomy passages, sometimes misan-
thropic ones, in the books she read ; and at
midnight hours wrote sombre passages in her
album. The interesting pcnsiveness that,
from a child, had come and gone in her face,
like flitting clouds playing with the sunbeams
on a vernal day, now seemed to be perma-
nently there (or getting so), like the settled
gloom that overcasts the sky universally,
making the day rayless.

" Her grandparents did what they could to
make her cheerful. They contrived methods
to divert her ; they reasoned with her : they
encouraged her; they reminded her of the
many pleasant things with whicn a kind pro-
vidence had favored her, contrasting her con-
dition with that of others, in many points,
and by many degrees, less favored than hers.
They sought especially to impress her vrith
the cheerful sentimente of religion. But all
these endeavors were at best but very imper-
fectly relevant to the case, inasmuch as they
could not change the manner of society, or do
away the fkct of the poor girl's ostracism.
They were sometimes worse than useless, ag-
gravating the feelings they were intended to
relieve."

Rachel had the love of Hannah, her grand-
parent's housekeeper, who the author de-
scribes as a middle-aged woman, " hale and
rather fleshy," a fixture in the family. Han-
nah espoused Rachel's cause, and in her droll
homely style cheered her up under the slights
the world was disposed to extend her.
She would say : —

" * But never mind, Rachel : you are as
good as the best of them, and they will find
it out some day, the dunces. I do declare, it
is nothing in the world but envy. And I
don't wonder,' (in an under tone) — * things
suffer by comparison.' "

Yet Hannah never spoiled her pet " She
could not bear spoiled children."

BIZARRE.

Rachel grows older, yet the shadow still
fdlows her. She meets friends of her own
sex. and among them Rebekah Raymond.
Most delicate are the attentions she pays to
her, who still feels a sense of degradation.
Rachel is relidonsly disposed, but she is un-
blessed with uiat perfect communion with the
Saviour, which lifts one above the world.
She is *' still subject, at tiroes, to the depress-
ing feeling of loneliness. Next to homesick-
ness, which is similar to it, there is no more
desolate transient feeling known to the human
heart than that, — as some are constituted.
She cannot say to herself, as another may, in
a vacant hour, when work wearies and l>ooks
are dull, come, let us go look in upon such or
such a young friend. She cannot say to her-
self, at the coming on of a delightf\il evening,
when many are out enjoying it, I will go and
meet those cheerful voices yonder. When
the day is dismal, or the night dark, and the
rain is beating against her windows, she can-
not beguile the time by writing a loving letter
to some fond mate. Through many a slow-
pacing hour she is oUiged to pass, as drearily
as possible, for want of those rdiefs which
society alone affords."

An incident soon occurs which gives her a
living and breathing sense of her unhappy
position. It is thus presented by the author :

** A stranger called at the house, and asked
if Mr. KeU was in, or Mrs. Kell. Mr. Kell
was not at home, but Mrs. Kell was in ; and
the stranger was shown into the parlor, where
he was received by Rachel. He appeared to
be about forty years of age, was well dressed,
with a bland insinuating voice and manner.
He might have been called a tine-looking
man, decidedly, but for a certain equivocal —
almost sinister— expression in his counte-
nance, awakening sbght distrust. His dark,
unsteady eyes looked up obliquely through
their lashes at you, and then were averted to
the floor. This, with some might have passed
for diffidence, or modesty, but to a better dis-
cemer would have been the index of an evil
c<»iscience. Rachel herself felt at once that
sinister look, and was chilled by it. Still his
appearance was that of a gentleman.

**He did not give his name.

<*Mr8. Kell h^l lain down. Rachel pro-
posed to call her : but the stranger desired
tier, very emphatically, not to disturb her
rest, saying he would call at another time.
His hat was in his hand, and he rose imme-
diately, as if to go ; but still lingered, detain-
ing Rjkchel with varions indifferent inquiries
and remarks, and some that were not indiffer-
ent; all the while surveying her, in his
oblique, but scrutinizing way, from head to
foot, much to her annoyance. — with an inter-
est deeper, evidently, than ordinary curiosity ;
leas simple than complacency, too heartless
f(Mr affection, but whose real nature it was

difficult to determine. At times he looked
her full and intently in the face ; and then her
eyes, in turn, drooped and were averted. At
some of his inquiries, indirectly put, she co-
lored a little with surprise. They struck her
as betraying more knowledge of her history
than a mere stranger could be supposed to
have, and more than he was disposea to avow.
* What could suggest such inquiries to a mere
stranger, if he was one, or. if not, what oc-
casion, what business, had ho to make them?*
She was puzzled with the man and with the
manner.

"But the mystery was solved bj her
grandmother coming in. uncalled and un-
expectedly.

''He immediately addressed her, in his
blandest manner, hoping she was quite wdl,
and advancing to offer her his hand. * I was
just leaving my regards for yourself and Mr.
tCell,' he said, ' not being willing to have you
called from your rest.'

''Mrs. Kell made no response to this salu-
tation, except by a painful look of surprise,
which seemed to say, What assurance ! She
trembled visibly, though slightly, as she re-
mained on her feet, a step within the door at
which she had entered.

' You do not recognize me, madam — do not
remember me, I presume,' said the stranger,
in the same unabashed, bland tone and manner.

" ' Oh, yes,' replied Mrs. Kell, with a sigh.
*I do remember you,^-quite too well, Mr.
Wentworth, — and always shall. I cannot
hope to be so happy as to forget you— ever —
in this world.'

** A shriek, and a fall upon the floor, called
her attention to her grand daughter. • Went'
worth V That name, and her grandmother's
manner, had disclosed the secret to Rachel.
It was with her father that she had been
holding, so unwittingly, this mysterious,
strangely annoying interview.

" Hannah rushed in, in an agony of con-
cern ; the fainting girl was laid upon a bed,
and camphor-spirits and cold water were used
for her recovery.

" The unworthy man — irorsf , our tender-
ness for Rachel forbids our calling him —
taking advantage of this confusion, inntantly
left the house, no one knowing whither he
went, or whence he came.

" This was the first and last of Rachd's
acquaintance with him : the first and last,
probably, of his setting his eyes on her.

" He had seen his injured offspring for once.
He had seen how comely and how interesting
she naturally was; how much she might
have been a father's love, a father's pride, a
father's joy, and he hers ; but how shocked
she was at that father's presence! Whose
curse follows him ? Not hers ; not ours. Re-
morse, shame, and voluntary exile, are his
punishment. It needs no addition.

BIZAKRE AMONG THE NEW BOOKS.

** Eb wfts a nftUye of the place, — the im-
worthy scion of a better stock; and had
highly respectable -rdations there. They
were ashamed of him : and acknowledged no
kindred with his child ; except, indeed, indi-
rectly, by a more marked reserve towards her
than others ; which was bnt natural.

"Whether it was owing wholly to the
shock which Bachel receired on this occasion,
or in part to some oth^ canse^ she was fever-
ish and indi^x)sed, and kept her bed for a
week."

Bachel finally hUs in with a person with
die imrotnantic name o( Paddleford. They
meet by accident, at a time when her horse
"< Chamois" has just given her the benefit of
a fresh pond bath. P»ddleford is ci^tivated,
mipceeB marriage, and Rachel finall v rejects
him. Paddleford buries his griefs in a new
coortsh^, and before the gossips dream of the
thing, is ** published," as they say down East,
to Mss Mi^da Isabdla Pettigrew.

There are some passages hereabouts in the
siiB|de tale, touching the treatment young
ladies should give gentlemen who are address-
ing them, and upon whom they have made up
thor minds not to smile. It comes, evidently,
torn a lady ; — the author of Rachel Kell
must be of the feminine gender — and one who
talks very sensibly on this very important
flu^ect.

Rachel has another lover — ^if lover he may
be called — a bachelor somewhat advanced,
oae who has an eye to the more solid expee-
tatioDs. At once he essays to win, and com-
mences visiting her grandfather. This does
not seem to carry the point, so he employs a
Mrs. Fain, a neighbor and acquaintance — one
(€ those good, easy people to be found in every
community — ^to speak for him. Mark the in-
terview between this ambassadress from the
court of Avarice to Rachel : .

•* • Do you know, my dear, what brings
Mr. Morehouse to your grandfather's so often,
lately?'

" * No, ma'am, not very particularly. He
had some business with my grandfather, re-
lating to town affairs, I understood. I think
it might have been a question of repairs on a
bridge, which belonged equally to tneir town
and ours.'

'' * It wasn't that,' said Mrs. Fain, signifi-
cantiy.

"'Perhaps not,' said Rachel; * though I
heard the words, bridge, adectmen, costs, and
the like. However, I did not pay much at-
tention to what passed between them, as it in
no way concerned me.'

" « Perhaps it did concern you, Rachel.'

"«Me,ltos.Fain? How?'

** * Why, you canH be so simple, I am sure,
as not to commhend, or, at least, to surmise
what I mean," said Mrs. Fain, looking archly.

** '(Ml, and besides the town busmess, what-

ever it was, it occurs to me now,' said Raohd,
'that Mr. Mordiouse said something about
wanting a good 8addle-hoi*se : do you think
he was after Chamois ? For that would con-
cern me, in case he were sold to him.'

" • That is nigher to it,' said Mrs. Fain.

" ' But I have no idcA, Mrs. Fain, that my
grandfather would thirJc of such a thing,
without my consent.'

" * But now, Rachel, are you really so in-
nocent ; or do you afifect all this V

" * Excuse me, Mrs. Fain, I am really just
so obtuse. I have no more inkline of your
meaning than the man in the moon.

" ' To speak out plain, then ; what I sus-
pect, Rachel, and what I wanted to see you
about, as a friend, is, that Mr. Morehouse is
after — ^not Chamois — but Chamois' owner !'

" Rachel threw up her hands, and laughed
heartihr.

" ' Excuse me, Mrs. Fain ; [coloring] it is
my blunder that I laugh at But really your
surmisings are quite groundless.'

" * How do you know that V

" * Judging from the extreme improbability
of the thing in itself, and from his manner.
He has been at oiu* house three tim^ — on
town business, as I said, (the horse was inci-
dental) — and there may have been ten words,
possibly twice so many, passed between him
and me, on the most indifferent subjects (I do
not remember what) in the most mdifferent
manner. That is the total of our intercourse ;
and I am sure it looks quite the other way
from that which you imagine.'

" Mrs. Fain shook her head. ' The total
oi vour intercourse in words, Rachel ; and in
looks, perhaps, on ymtr part. But, mind, I
do not say that he is positively thmking of
you; but only that such is my suspicion,
putting his calls at your house and several
other things together. What I know for one
thing, and for certain, and from himself, Ra-
chel, (for he and I are old acquaintances) is,
that he is thinking of a wife, and looking
round to find one.'

" ' It is time, I should think,' said RacheL

"We shall not report this conversation
further. Rachel, half amused and half in-
dignant, forbore discussing the point with
l^ Fain, and heard her quietly for the half
hour or more that she had to talk about this
'rare diance for her, provided Mrs. Fain's
suspicions were well founded, and if it could
be brought about.' "

Next came, as a suitor, a young man named
i^mer, who had been sent into the country
by his parents — Bostonians — on account of
dissipated habits ; but Rachel dismisses him
with good advice, which he does not take.
Then foUows the addresses of Forrest Wood-
s<m. a young lawyer, regarding the treatment
of which Rachel finds difficulty in deciding.
He has a strong mind, but a coarse one ; is

BIZARRE.

possessod of no eensibilities, no ddicate per-
ceptions. Candid and hale, he yet lacks
deep sympathies. He brags that he has no
nerves ; and is indifferent to atmospheric in-
fluences. He considers refinement of manner
in men, effeminacy! Yet Woodson is po-
pular with the people, and makes eloquent
speeches at the bar. He likes to sit among
loungers, and amuses himself and such a
circle greatly. He has much in him to gra-
tify a woman, as well as much also to try a
wife.

Rachel hesitates when this new man ad-
dresses her ; then she soon turns the matter oyer
to her grand-parents, without coming to a
conclusion ; then she consults her friend, Re-
bekah ; then another neighbor, who tells her
an affecting story, embracing the particulai*s
of an unfortunate marriage. So she rejects
Woodson, seeing in him a counterpart or the
hero of this story.

Rachel finally becomes pious, is courted by
one William Geer well worthy of her, and
marries him, first, however, receiving the
wannest recognition as a relative from her
guilty fiftther^s family. Her story is a natural
one ; just, indeed, what every day happens ;
and yet, it is full of engaging incident. The
author has been an unquestionably close ob-
server of nature. Those who rtid Rachel
Kell may profit by it, if they choose. We
consider it, in the counsel it gives to those
who are coming up in the world, as posses-
sins inestimable value. It is not a great
book. No bold daring flights of genius does
it contain ; no feature calculated to make a
stir in the world of romance. Its great merit
is its naturalness. One sees in it a reflection
of the world in which the scene is laid. We
commend it cordially, as containing good les-
sons, happily presented to the reader.

OOCMER'S NOTBS ANO ElV/ISNOA-riONa
"TO TMa. TKXT OF SHAKaPSARS.-Seemid
Notice

— When the old folio, containing the notes
and emendations to the text of Shakspeare —
already noticed by BizARaE, in connexion
with the volume just published by Redfield —
first came in Mr. Collier^s hands, he says : —
" I imagined that the binding was the original
rough calf, in which many books of about the
same date were clothed ; but more recent ex-
amination has convinced me, that this was at
least the second coat it had worn. It is, ne-
vertheless, in a very shabby condition — quite
consistent with the state of the interior ; where,
besides the loss of many leaves, as already
mentioned, and the loosening of others, many
stains of wine, beer and other liquids are ob-
servable: here and there, holes have been
burned in the paper, either by the falling of
the lighted snuff of a candle, or by the ashes
of tobacco. In several places it is torn and
disfigured by blots and dirt, and every margin i

bears evidence to frequent and careless peru-
sal. In short, to a choice collection, no book
could well present a more forbidding appear-
ance."

The question arises, why were such extrft-
ordinary pains bestowed upon this paHdcnlar
copy, and are we warranted in crediting the
changes thus made ? To this, no enti rely sat-
isfactory answer can be given ; but there are
certain facts, which may partially ducidate
the mystery. It is most likely that the omis-
sion of many passages which are struck oat
with a pen, was for the shortening of the per-
formance of the pli^s, by some company,
about the year 1032. The numerous stage
directions, too, can hardly be accounted for,
except on the supposition that the folio once
belonged to some one connected with the the-
atre. Many of the corrections are so obvious,
that it seems most surprising that the plays
should have passed throu^ the hands of
learned critics, without the blunders being
detected. Such, for instance, is a passage fbom
the "Taming of the Shrew," Act. 1, Soene
1, where Luoentio is entreated by Tranio,
not to apply himself too closely to study.

** Only, Rood nuulor, whUo we do Mtmlre,
This rirttie, and this'inor»l discipline,
Lcfg be no (ttoicA, nor no utocltfl, I pnij.
Or M> devote to AristoUe'ti checks.
As Ovid'd be an ontcast quite aljur'd.'*

'< Such has been the invariable text from the
first publication of the comedy, in 1623, un-
til our own day ; yet it is unquestionably
wrong in the most important word in t^

a notation, as the old corrector shows, and as
tie reader will be sure to acknowledge, the
moment the emendation is proposed :

* Let's be no stoics, nw no stocka, I pny.
Or 90 derote to Aristotle's Ethics^
As Grid's be an outcajit quite abjnr'd.*

** In the manuscript from which the printer
worked, Ethics was no doubt written with a
small letter, and with he near the end of the
word, as was then the custom, and the care-
less compositor mistook ethickesy for * checks,'
and so printed it : * checks' is converted into
ethickes in the hand-writing of the emend&tor
of the folio, 1632 ; and it is hardly too much
to say that this misprint can never be repeat-
ed. " Another error of the same kind is found
in ** Coriolanus," where is a still more glar-
ing corruption :

< Vi^y in thi^ woolvish toge should I ftand here.
To beg of Hob and DIcii."

Johnson, Malone, Steevens, Douce and others,
have vainly puzzled their brains, and written
notes on this word, "woolvish;" but the
proper word was never guessed, until found
in tne margin of the folio :

** Why in this teooUen togo should I stand here,"

When popular dramas were printed, it was
generally done by cq)ying the manuscript ^
short-hMid writers, who took down every
word as it was uttored. This fact has been

BIZARRE AMONG THE NEW BOOKS.

proven by Malone, «Eid satiBfihctorily exjdams
mtjxy strknge mistakes. Actors were mnoh
aTerse to the publication of plays, fearisg
that the nnmber of readers would diminish
their audiences. It is well known, that about
half of Shakspeare*s productions remained in
manuscript, until seven years after his death ;
and of those pruited during his life time, not
one can be designated to which he, in any
way, contrilmted. (hie yery amusing proof
of the errors which thus crept in, is found in
" Coriolanus," where Menenius is talking of
himself to the Tribunes. " I am known (he
says in all editions, ancient and modem,) to
be a humorous patrician, and one that loves
a cap of hot wine, with not a drop of allaying
Tyber in it : said to be something imperfect
in favoring the first complaint. " The correct-
ed folio restores the true sense and humor of
the passage, by rendering ** first complaint,"
**tktrst complaint." Sometimes the change
of a angle letter, is of the utmost importance.
In Macbeth, Act 1, Scene 7, where Lady Mac-
beth reproaches her husband for not being
ready to murder Duncan, as he had determined
todo:

» What tMast watt then
That made tou break this cnterpiiM to me?
When 70a durst do it, then you were a mMn."

This seemingly absurd question, is made per-
tinent and clear, when we find that the print-
er substituted e for instead of printing, —
"What 6005/ was't then," Ac., thiL<? taunting
him with cowardly shrinking from his resolu-
tion. Whole lines are in some cases omitted ;
and in the following example, it is easy to see
what misled the printer: In " Coriolanus,"
Tolomnia is entreating her son to be patient :

" Prav be coun5cird.
I hare a heart •* little apt a« yours,
But yaC a brain, that loads my use of anger
lb better vantage.'*

We may well ask, to what is her heart as apt as
that oi Coriolanus? The sense is most in-
complete until the lost line is restored :

•' Pray be oounsell'd.
I have a heart a5 little apt as yours.
To brook control without the tise (ganger,**

The repetition of the words, " use of an-
ger," at the end of two successive lines, in-
duced the compositor to suppose he had print-
ed both, instead of one. We find in Act 4,
Scene 1, of the "Tempest," Prospero com-
iDendiug Miranda to Ferdinand, in these
WOTds:

"Fori
Hava Kiven yon a tMtd of my own life."

For the word thirds the corrected folio has,
tkrid (i.e. thread) in the margin. In Act. 5,
Scene 1, of the same play, all editions have

^'lloly Oonsalo, honorable man,
lOne^ae, eren sociable to the show of thins^
FaU feUowly drops.**

The folio of Mr. Collier gives :

'^NodU Oonialo, honorable man,
Mine eyes, eren Kidable to ibejlote of thine,
Ml feOowly drops."

The "Merry Wives of Windsor," Act 3,
Scene 3, contuns a printer^s blunder which
has occasioned much conjecture. ** It occurs
at the end of one of the Host^s speeches to
Dr. Caius : * I will bring thee where Mistress
Anne Page is, at a farm-house a feasting, and
thou shalt woo her. Cried game, said I well ? '
The difficulty has been how to make any sense
out of * Cried game ;' and various suggestions,
guch as tried game, cry otm, &c.f have been
made ; but the truth seems to be, that the
Host, having said that Anne Page was feast-
ing at a farm-house, in order still more to in-
cite Dr. Caius to go there, mentioned the most
ordinary objects of feasting at farm-houses at
that time, viz, curds and cream : * curds and
cream,' in the hands of the old compositor,
became strangely metamorphosed into cried
game ; — at least this is the marginal explana-
tion in the corrected folio, 1632." Some of
the stage-directions, omitted in all editions,
add much to the efi*ectiveness of the scene.
When Portia asks, " Are there balance here
to wei^ the flesh ?" and Shylock answer, ** I
have them ready," at this point the actor
should display the scales to the audience.

A comparatively insignificant error, is in-
jurious to a very l)eautiful passage in the part-
ing scene of " Komeo and Juliet."

*'I'U say yon grey is not the mominfr's eye,
*ns but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow."

^* Cynthia's brow" would not occasion " pale
reflex," and by the omission of one letter the
light is at once cleared :

" Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's bott,"

We find in "King Lear" a mistake of the
first letter in a word which alters the sense
entirely. " After Kent has spoken, Lear looks
at him doubtingly, and observes, in all im-
pressions:

'This is a dull sight ^Are you not Kent?'

The words, * This is a dull sight,' are not in
the quartos ; and Steevens parallels them by
* This is a sorry sight,' from Macbeth : while
Blakeway contends that, Lear only means
that his eye-sight is bedimmed. Lear has
previously stated that his eyes * are none of
the best,^ and here he means to complain of
the badness, not of his < sight,' but of the
light:

'This is a dull lifhf

is the word in the folio, 1632, amended. —
Lear would hardly call the sad spectacle be-
fore him * a dull sfght ;' but his eyes being
dim, and the light dull, he could not be sure
whether the man before him was Kent." At
the close of the play of ** Titus Andronicus,"
Lucius, speaking of his father, says to his
son:

" Shed yet some small drops from thr tender spring,
Because kind nature doth i^uire it so :
Friends should associate friends in weal or woe.
Bid him ferewell ; commit him to the grave;
Do him that Icindnesi, and talce leave of him.**

BIZARRE.

<* And take leare of him," besides marring
the rhyme, sonnds very tame, so that for both
these reasons, the amendment of the manu-
script is preferable :

" Bid him farewoU ; oomult blm to the gn,r9 ;
Do blm that kindness— ai< that he can have.**

We might quote many other similar passa-
ges, but enough has been given to show the
value and interest attaching to Mr. Collier's
book. This gentleman seems to anticipate
ridicule and opposition, but he claims to have
his folio judged on the principles of '* common
sense," and says he has been " anxious rather
to underrate, than overrate," the importance
of his manuscript. *' I shall probably be
told in the usual terms, by some, whose pre-
judices or interests may be effected by the
ensuing volume, that the old corrector knew
little about the spirit or luiguagc of Shaks-«
peare : and that, in the remarks I have ven- .
tured on his emendations, I prove myself to
be in a similar predicament. The last accu-
sation is probably true: I have read and
studied our great dramatist for nearly half a
century, and if I could read and study him
for half a century more, I should yet be far
from arriving at an accurate knowledge of his
works, or an adequate appreciation of his
worth. He is an author whom no man can
read enough, nor study enough ; and as my
ambition has always been to understand him
properly, and to estimate him sufficiently, I
shall accept, in whatever terms reproof may
be convened, any just correction thankfully.
. After this modest acknowledgment, we may
safely presume that critics will pause, before
inflicting condemnation on Mr. Collier's inno-
cent folio, and that the most violent champi-
ons of the old editions, will decline doing bat-
tle against so an enthusiastic admirer of
Shakspeare.

SVROtM'a AUTOBIOORAPtHV.

— We last week gave some extracts from
Mooters Journal and Correspondence—hi present
in course of publication, both in England and
America — which related particularly to By-
ron's &mous Autobiograpny, and its suppres-
sion by Lady Byron's friends, with the ooncur-
^nce of Moore himself. Touching the right
of Mr. Moore so to deal with a document en-
trusted to him for publication, there are vari-
ous opinions ; one of which — and as we think a
very reasonable one — will be found in the
fbl lowing extracts from the London Athe"
nmim:

'' We are not going to maintain the rights
of the public on the ground of any prurient
curiosity which they may feel to pry into the
scandals of private life : but the characters of
^reat men are the property of the public, and
m whatever degree that of Byron might have
been illustrated by this lost manuscript, with-
out offence to morals, in that degree the pub-

lic would have been wn»ged b^ Moore— who
was a trustee for them. Ev^ry inference leads
to the belief that the cause of morals was in no
degree endai^ered by the intended publica-
tion. Mr. Ii(foore, of course, knew well the
contents of the manuscript, — and no suspi-
cion seems to have crossed his mind that there
wafi any reason for withh<dding it from the
public until it was suggested. Aft^nvmrds,
ne expressly asserts the blamelessness <^ the
work, with such slight exceptions as came
easily within the management of that edito-
rial liberty which had been reserved to hhsL
Lord John Russell himself, who had read the
manuscript, and appears to entw into the
family view of the ease, does not rest his ar-
gument on any such ground. He speaks ex-
pressly of only " three or four pages of it,"
which were in the sense in question unfit for
publication. — ^Well, then, tnat obiectioo re-
moved, — we get at a party who had a Tital
interest in this publication oi which Mr.
Moore could by no right whatever dispose.
Mr. Moore's personality in the matter went
no degree beyond the 2,000/, which was its
incident, liberally assigned to him. The man-
uscript which was for this purpose the auto-
biographer's kind gift, was K)r other purposes
a sacred trust. When Moore received the
benefice, he took the duty. With the one he
might deal — with the other not. Even had
there been no beneficial gift, the duty would
have been absolute, — but the personal kind-
ness made it yet more binding, if anything
can add to the obligation of an absolute duty.
The autobiographcr's character had been heia-
vily assailed, — and if, as is understood this
document contained a portion of his defence,
to be uttered from the grave, — then, ke took
upon himself a solemn responsibility who sup-

Eressed it. It was the advocate destroying
is client's brief^ in the court of last appeal.
Would Byron have put this appeal to poste-
rity (supposing it to have been one) into the
hands of Moore, if he could have foreseen
that he was thereby providing for its inter-
ception on the way to that posterity which it
was never to reach ? The very nutter and
alarm which the news of Byron^ death occa-
sioned in reference to this document raises
painful suggestions that it might contain mat-
ter which, though unwelcome to others, it
was unjust to its author — and not morally
permitted to his friend — ^to withhold. We do
not think the public will ever be satisfied in
the matter. To bum the manuscript was the
last thing, it will be felt that should have been
done with it. There was no intelligible need
for such pressing hurry : — the question of its
publication then or in future— or at all —
might have been decided at leisure. The
ver^ haste to destroy the witness raises sus-
picions ; and if they be unjust, it might have
been convenient to tne parties themselves who

BIZARRE AMONG THE NEW BOOKS.

are answerable if that witness had been kept
in the backeronnd, and produdble, to confute
I them."
-Snce the abore was prepared, we have re-
ceired the London Athenaumy of April 30th,
obtaining a letter from the late Mr. Murray,
and addr^sed to Robert Wilmot Horton, the
frien^ of Lord Byron's family. This letter
was written shortly after Byron's death, in
answer to a statement of Moore rdative to
the sale and destruction of the autobiography.
It asserts that Moore offered the MSS. to the
Longmans before he took it to Murray, and
that when the document was destroyed he
(Moore) was not legally liable to repay the
two thousand guineas to Murray. Mr. Mur-
ray says, he paid Moore two thousand euineas
on the execution of an assignment of we Me-
moirs made by him (Moore,) and Byron, Mr..
Moore covenanting in consideration of the
said sum, to act as editor of the Memoirs, and
to supply an account of the subsequent events
of Lord Byron's life, &c. Some months after
the execution of this assignment, Moore re-
quested Murray, as a great personal favor to
himself and to Lord Byron, to enter into a
second agreement, by which he (Murray)
should resign the absolute property which ne
had in the Memoirs, and give Mr. Moore and
Lord Byron, or any of his friends, a power of
his redemption, during the life of Lord
Byron.

Mr. Murray adds, that under the impres-
sioQ there might be something in the Memoirs
of an injurious character to the friends of By-
ron, he did not hesitate to make the altera-
tion. Subsequently Moore, being pressed by
Murray to redeem the MSS. according to the
provisions of the last assignment, neglected
to do so, and at Byron's death, by these pro-
visions it became Murray's property. Mr.
Murray adds, in conclusion :

" As I myself scrupulously refrained from
kwking into the Memoirs, I cannot from my
own knowledge say whether such an opinion
of the contents was correct or not ; it was
enough for me that the friends of Lord and
Lady Byron united in wishing for their de-
struction. Why Mr. Moore should have
wished to preserve them. I did not nor will
inquire ; but having satisfied myself that he
had no right whatever, in them, I was happy
in having an opportunity of making, by a
pecuniary sacrifice on my part, some return
for the honor, and I must add, the profit,
whidi I had derived from Lord Byron's pa-
tronage and friendship. You will also be able
ta bear witness that, although I could not
presume to impose any obligation on the
iricnds of Lord Byron oft Mr. Moore, by re-
fimng to receive Uie rq>ayment of the 2,000
guineas advanced by me, yet that I had de-
termined on the destruction of the Memoirs,
without any previous agreement for such re*

payment, and you know the Memoirs were
actually destroyed without any stipulation on
my part, but even with a declaration that I
had destroyed my own private property, and
I therefore had no claim upon any party for
remuneration."

©owooi-ORAF-re ORSA-r work.

— The third volume of Mr. Schoolcraft's
great work on the Indian Tribes of the Uni-
ted States, contains a very interesting Jour-
nal of the Travels of Lewis Brantz of Balti-
more, through the western country, in the
year 1785, translated from the original Ger-
man, by Mr. Brantz Mayer. ^&. Lewis
Brantz, at the period of his death, in 1838,
was President of the Philadelphia and Balti-
more Railroad.

The people of Tennessee, at that early day,
are thus described :

" It is only about five years since this coun-
try was begun to be developed ; and in the
civilized portion of the Union, there are at

E resent but few who even know its name. —
during the war with the British, the inhabi-
tants of this remote station suffered greatly
from the inroads of the Indians, and were
almost exterminated, when the peace of 1783
released them at once from their dreadful suf-
ferings and horrid anxiety. The people re-
semble those whom I have already spoken of
in Kentucky ; but their reputation for some
time past, has been rather worse than their
northern neighbors'. It is said, however, that
since they have come under the laws of North
Carolina, their deportment has improved. —
Some official distinguished personages, whose
duty required their continuance at this post,
have in some degree polished those rough
dwellers of the wilderness, who in their come-
ly and distant fastness, had in truth began
to live very much like the Indians. Never-
theless I am sorry to learn that magistrates
are occasionally mnnd here with their ears
cutoff!"

The same volume contains a learned article
from the pen of Peter A Browne, L.L.D., of
this city, upon the hair of the Indians. It
is wdl known that hair and wool have been
Mr. Browne's peculiar study for several years
past. Comparisons are instituted between
the hair of the aborigines and that of the
white races, and cuts are given of both. Mr.
Browne says :

*' I have not in my possession any sp^-
mens of very long liair of the head of the
oral-haired species. I have wm» of the beard
of the Hon. Kichard Yaux, presented by him-
self, which measures one foot eleven inches."

Truly this is a formidable beard! Had our
wortJiy ex-Recorder lived in the middle ages,
he would have been claimed by the Long-
beards, or Longobardi, called Lombards by
the modem.

BIZABRE.

"rt-»Ai_A-r-rA.

— Charming book this— just the thing for the
sea-side relaxation season, which is last ap-
proaching. It comes to us from Ticknor,
Keed and Fidds, of Boston ; and the idea sug-
gesting it. unquestionably, originated with
the accomplished junior partner of that
thriving and popular firm. We see his re-
fined poetical taste in every selection ; the
style and execution of the book are his : in-
deed, to be brief, Fields reigns supreme every-
where, both in manner and matter.

" Thalatta" is mainly a gathering of the
thoughts of some of the best poets, American
and English, touching the sea and its associa-
tions. Now and then Schiller, and Heine,
ahd Ruckert, and Muller, and GoDthe, and
Stolberg, are drawn upon for tributes, but
generally speaking, the selections are confined
to the inspired numbers of those who have
written in the language of Shakspeare.

The reader doubtless desires a taste of the
contents of this volume, so we furnish a few
extracts. They have been seen and admired
before, yet they lose nothing by repetition,
especially when given in a group.

**Tbe ocean looketh up to beaT«n,
As 'twere % liring thing;
The homa^ of it6 waves is given.
In ceaseless worshipping.

"They kneel upon the sloping sand
As bends the human knee,
A beautiful and tireless band.
The priesthood of the sea.

"The sky is as a temple's arch,
The blue and wavy air
Is glorioas with the spirit-march
Of messengers at prayer."

J. O. WoirrasR.

THE LBE-SnORB.

<< Sleet, and HaU, and Thunder I
And ye Winds that rave
TUl the sands thereunder
Tinge the suUen wave —

''Winds that like a demon
Howl with horrid note
Boond the toiling seaman
In his tossing boat—

^^From his humble dwelling
On the shingly shore;
Whore the billows swelling
Keep such hollow roar —

'*Fiom that weeping woman
Seeking with her criea
Snooor Bupeihuman
Fxom the fttnming skSei—

" From the urchin pining
For his father's knee —
From the lattice shining^
Drive him out to sea f

'^Let broad leagues dissever
Him Ihnn yonder Ibam; —
GodI to think man ever
OoBiaa too near Us Home r*

Tbomas Hood.

fisheb's song.

** Up and down, all day long,
Life glides by us, like our song;
In our little fisher-boat,
On the restless sea we float,
T7p and down, all day long,
Li& glides by us, liko our song.

<* Far fh»n care, fkr from pain.
Fur from thoughts of graedy gaSn,
Calmly, cheerfUly we ride
Over life's tempestuous tide.
Far from care, fer finm pain,
Fw from thoughts of greedy gain."

Fbox tek QnMAS*

ORKKK AMD ftOK/IAN K^VTHOUOOV.

— Messrs. Lippincott, Grambo & Co., of onr
city, have lately published in a neat and sub-
stantial style, an Epitome of Greek and Ro-
man Mythology. It is accompanied with ex-
planatory notes and a vocabulary, and was
prepared by Professor John S. Hart, of the
Philadelphia High School, a gentleman whose
classical attainments are of a high order.
The volume is, we are told, a brief but com-
prehensive epitome of classical mythology,
and written in the purest Latin : the diction
being taken mostly from Ovid and Virgil. It
is adapted to schools, each page containing
questions calculated to bring out the facts of
the text. Notes, explanatory of poetical and
historical allusions, are given at the end of
the volume.

— The London papers have a rumor of an
opera, just finished by Otto Qoldschmidt, ac-
companied by expectations that Madame Ciold-
schmidt f Jenny Lind) will return to the
stage for tne purpose of introducing her hus-
band ^s music.

— The French papers announce the death of
M. Louis Emmanuel Jadin — patriarch anoong
French musical composers. M. Jadin was
eighty-six years of age.

— The Emperor has bestowed upon, the obese
and dinner loving Signor Rassini, a comman-
dership of the legion of Honour.

— John Farrar, LL. D., late Hollis Professor
of Mathematics in Harvard University, died
at his residence in Cambridge, on Sunday last,
the 8th inst., aged 73. Prof. Farrar was a
native of Lincoln, Mass. He graduated at
Harvard C<^ege about fi^ years since, and
after holding the office of Tutor for two years,

OUR WEEKLY GOSSIP.

was appointed to the Chair of Mathematics
and Natural Philosophy in 1807, which he
filled with eminent ability for twenty-nine
years. Since 1 836 , when he resigned his Pro-
I fessorship, he has been a martyr to a protract-
I ed and excruciating form of puralytic disease.

I — The delegates to the different Temperance
' oi^ganizations of New York, held a meeting
one day last week, to take suitable measures
I for calling a World's Temperance Convention
I during the Crystal Palace opening. A com-
I mittee of Bloomers, representing the female
I Temperance people, ajad headed by Rer'd
' or Dr. Lucy Stone, applied for admission as
delegates but were refused. Thereupon they
became furiously mad, and called a meeting
which took place last Saturday evening,
when they gave full vent to their wrath. We
do not know which is most offensive, the in-
temperance of liquor or the int^nperance of
woman Vrightism.

— The London papers state that Jullien, had
gone to the continent to engage some first-rate
solo instrumentalists to accompany him on his
American expedition. He has already secur-
ed M. Reichert of Brussels, who comes from
the same band as the eminent clarinetist, M.
Wuille, and intends fortifying his orchestra in
all solo departments, so as to render it impreg-
nable and impossible to attack.

'* Jullien has also engaged two eminent
basso pilfers, and a horn player of high
repute. He will be shortly at Berlin to close
a treaty with a celebrated performer on the
ophideide " He sails for this country in
June. His agent in New York has engaged
Dodsworth*8 band and little Paul Jullien.

— Several books lie upon our table unnoticed ;
among them ** Poetry of the Vegetable
World" from Messrs. Moore, Anderson & Co.,
Cincinnati ; " Old Neighborhoods and New
Settlements," *« The Slave Trade Domestic and
Foreign," by Henry C. Carey, from A. Hart
of oar city ; ** The Last Leaf from Sunny-
side," from Philips, Sampson A Co., Boston.

— M. Alexandre Thomas is about to deliver a
course of lectures in London, which he enti-
tles *• Confireiues^* on French histonr. The
prospectus embraces the large field of French
society, poUtical, religious, and literaiy, dur-
ing tOQ reign of Louis Quaterze. The lectur-
er will take the correspondence of Madame
De Georgne for his text.

— We learn from Rome, that the Minister of
Peru in that city hag invited sculptors to send
in proposals for the execution of an eques-
trian statue of General Bolivar, and twelve
other statues, in marble.

— A London paper says that among the
oddities of musical performance employed ad
copfofKltim, must be signalized the exhibition

mlade the other day in Paris at the benefit
concert of M. Henri Herz. Every one remem-
bers the * Hexameron,' or six variations on
* Suoni la tromba' from ' I Puritani,' which
M. Liszt used to play, and which were com-
posed by MM. Liszt, Thalberg, Chopin, Pixis,
Czany, and Hertz. At the entertainment in
question, each variation was played by a dif-
] ferent pianist,— the half-dozen executants
being MM. Ehrlich, Fumagalli, Goria, Mulder,
Ravina, and Herz. ^

— A paper was lately read to the London
I Asiatic Society '* on some Chinese Inscrip-
I tions on Porcelain Bottles foimd in Ancient
I Egyptian Tombs." This paper comprised an
examination of twelve such inscriptions on
' porcelain bottles brought from Egypt to Paris.
Tbe characters are rudely and roughly traced,
- and combine the peculiarities of the Tsao-shoo,
or abbreviated character, and those of the
I Hing-shoo, or running hand. The former
I was partially employed about 200 b. o., but
: both forms came into general use in the third
, century of our era. Four of the legends are
distinctly legible : and these consist of lines
from poems the authorship and dates of
which are well ascertained. The earliest is
from a poet who flourished in the reign of
Kao-yuen, a. d. 702-745 ; and the latest was
taken from another who lived about a. d.
1068. A still further criterion of their age
was found in the style of the poetry. The
i Chinese distinguish their poetry into two
schools, — the Koo-te, or ancient style, and
the Kinte, or modem, which came into vogue
about the seventh century ; and to this latter
the lines upon the bottles unquestionably be-
long. Another paper before the same society
embraced the announcement of a curious dis-
covery viz : — that the Northern Arabs about
the head of the Red Sea were really governed
by Queens, and that Solomcw's Queen of Sheba
no doubt came tnm this quarter, about tbe
Gulf of Akaba, and not from the Southern
extremity of the peninsular The proof of
this is found in the list of the Syrian tributar-
ies of Pul, or Tiglath Pilesar, where the last
name after Hnrim, or Hebron, is '* Sabibim,
Queen of the Arabs." * This list, which has
been made out by joining La^rard's fragmen-
tal inscriptions, is very curious. Eighteen
tribu£kries are mentioned, among which are
Kustaspa, of Comagene ; Rezin, of Damas-
cus ; Sibit-bel, of Gubal ; Menahem, of Sama-
ria; Salumal, of Melitene, &c. The list,
together with that of Sennacherib's Syrian
tributaries, and the conquests of Asur-akh-pal
and Satgon, give a complete tableau of the

Seat cities and provinces bordering on the
editerranean.

— A penny subscription was lately taken in
London by the friends of Kossuth with
which a copy of Knight's Shakspeare> bound

BIZARRE.

in mulberry-coloured morocco, stamped with
the great Magyar's bearings, and enclosed in
a case which is an exact model of Shakspeare's
house, beautifully executed in white hoUy
and black oak, was purchased, and was to be
presented to Governor Kossuth on the 6th
of tlie present month, at the London Tavern,
before a free meeting, of both sexes, by a
literary deputation. Mr. Douglas Jerrold it
was expected would be spokesman.

mrs-^mici.

— A few months ago, the New York Knicker'
hocker had some sprightly remarks upon this
subject. Some of the choicest specimens
were from the columns of the PubUc Ledger,
of this city. Few who read the article will
forget the unes about

"Sweet little Bfll J,
Wboee Iveatli wm m pure m a lily,"

whose friends added, that

"TlioQgta we put thy deftUi In the pApore,
8U11 we miM thy innocent oepen.^

The following verses often appear in the
Xiedger:

**Fare thee well my nhikl fbrerer,
In tbia world I've lout mr Joy ;
In the next we no'er shall ravor,
There 1*11 meet my uigel boy.**

If the writer and the deceased are never to
sever in the next world, the impropriety of
bidding farewell forei^er ought to be obvious
to the meanest capacity. Occasionally the
word girl is substituted for boy, at the end of
the last line, making it the blankest of blank
verses.

The following appeared in the Ledger for
May 7th:

"Dearert Huy Elizaboth, she is gone,
Her sister went before —
Mow they both meet in betren,
Kerer to part any more.
They liave a lltUe brother they left behind—
Nor do we know bow soon
They mny caU on their dear little brother
To play around the silver moon."

This theory of the locidity of heaven differs
from that of the Rev. Mr. Harbaugh, who
has suggested one of the Pleiades as the spot.

fBMII.I-IARMONlO. ^

— This old and very popular society, gave
their last concert, for tne season, at Musical
Fund Hall, on Wednesday evenine of this
week ; when Mrs. Emma Bostwick, Mr. Henry
Appy, Julius Siede, and Herr Thiller appear-
ed ; Mr. B. Carr Cross presiding at the piano.
We go to press at too early a day to say any-
thing especial in our present number of tne
entertainment. Possibly we may give a notice
in keeping with the merits of the subject
hereafter. This much we may now venture
to assert : the entertainment was of a very

pleasant character, like all those which have
preceded it. A crowded room greeted the
artists, and the applause was hearty, if not at
all times judicious.

A OUM^SB OF A -rSRRSaTIAl. PARAOieS

— Was afforded to us the other day. Wc by
accident found oursdves at a high point in
the Chinese Museum ; and, casting our eyea
across Ninth Street, we beheld the private
garden of one of our wealthiest and most re-
spected families, the ensemble of which, when
seen from such a height, and at this youth-
time of vegetatiim, is surpassin^y beautifuL
We looked with our whole eyes, we called
into action every particle of ^factory sensi-
bility which we possess. Both seeing and
smelling were charmed to an ecstacy. We
paused for a moment wrapt in a detirium of
pleasure. Thel^ were those fresh, clean plats
of grass, those flower-strewn shrubs^ those
lofty green-clad trees, those nicely-rakJed and
profusely-graveled walks — and then that de-
licious atmosphere which floated above all«
and which a gentle west wind brought over
to us, and which we kissed with the mad
rapture of a lover. We did not covet the
ownership of those bewitching grounds, — no,
no, with all our sins, we are not covetous, —
but we could not help wishing that Pro-
vidence had made us proprietor, in fee, of a
spot equally attractive.

How few of these choice oases in the city's
desert of bricks and mortar do we find ; and
how much more precious do they become on
that account !

TO OORRBaPONOBlSTTa

— " Spiritual Dialogues, *' we are soiry to say,
close with our next number. They have
been much admired. The author promises
us further contributions hereafter.

** The Hofraadinde " is a thrilling story. It
was translated from the Danish many years
ago.

OHANoea.

— Among the many changes which are takinc
place in Philadelphia, the additions to. ana
improvements of, the old Arcade, are decidedly
stnking. The squat old building is beginning
to look quite spruce by means of them. Im-
mense letters whidi defaced the front, indi-
cating the location of bath-rooms and billiaid
saloons, have disappeared under the stone-
cutter's chisel, and a clean, bright, smooth
face takes the place of a very dirty one.
Then the whole front has been oilivened and
humanized — ^if we may so speak — ^by a grace-
ful iron verandah running its entire width, so
that the insemble of the awkward looking

Sile is made quite agreeable to the eye. We
not know to what use the re-painted and
refreshed entire up-stairs of the building is to
be appropriated : out it is hinted that it is to
beccnae a hotel on the French plan of a bed

EDITORS' SANS-SOUCI.

and cmt wbere joo please. Possibly such an
esUbli^nnent, at such a point, might socceed.
A lady friend of ours, says she likes well
enough the appearance of the verandah ; in*
deed, it strikes hor as wearing qnite a poetical
air : bat " will it not," she adds, with an ex-
pression indicating an unpleasant taste in the
mouth, •• will it not become a lounging place
for cigar smokers and tobacco-chewers 1 " We
shall see. May the sense cf sight, too, prove
all the evidence vouchsafed us, in case the
smokers and chewers are admitted to such an
impending position.

•UBRAMV AND GU^ROSlSl.-'

— A very neat quarto, with this title has been
commenoed in Buffalo, (N. Y.) and promises
to be pt^polar. Its character is well mdicated
by its name. The editors are D. S. Manley,
Elbert Perce and William R. Manley, assisted
by A. L. tiomuse.

OMAW^I«M AOAIISI.

,1 —Christopher Crawfish, of Manynnk Ter-
, race, ftimishes us this week with the follow-
I ing budget: —

t^ GHRISTOFHKB IN SCHOOL.

p Chris. Geography Class, stand up! —
■1 What's the capital of Pennsylvania?
I UtBoy. Philadelphia.

Chris. Next.

2d Boy, Wissahiccon.
i Chris. Next.

ZdBoy. PillPigler.
j! Chris. That's right: go up to the head.
j What's the capital of New Jersey ?

1st Boy. Cfooper's Creek.
I Chris. Next.
I 2d Boy. Raccoon.
! Chris. Next.
\ Zd Boy. I know, sir !
' Chris. Well, why don't you tell it? and
I not stand scratching j'^our head.
:| Zd Boy. The Camden and Amboy Rail-
|! road.

I Chris. That's right. Now yon may have
I arecess.

I Why is it that a person travelling on a tum-
' pike very rarely loses his way ? Because he
IS toWd at every gate.

Which is the largest part of France ? Bo-
norparte.

The sentence of the law being executed
upon the murderer. Spring, will l^ likely to
make a short Summer, — because Spring and
FaU will come close together.

What part of Pennffrlviinia must be most
opposed to popular education? SchuyUkiU
coanty.

Philaddphia has three establishments to
Aunish the people with water; and three
^hmisand to ihmish them with ukiskcy.

Ai the Ixnxl Mayor's dinner, Mr. Dickens

had to make a speech for Mrs. Undetomscabin.
Now, what the Dickens is the matter, that the
lady who can write such killing negro ro-
mances, cannot make a speech. Could she
not give a Ucturt ? Perhaps Mr. Uncletoms-
cabin could tell ?

John Bull has declared that Turkey shall
not be dismembered. We doubt if John will
stick to his declaration longer than next
Christmas.

Santa Anna is begging Spain to protect him
against the fillibusters. Is not this going to
the goat's house for wool ?

3ft55-issippi is said to be the father of wa-
ters.

We laugh at a Dutchman when he calls a
a ship he ; and yet we call the John Stevens
she.

A* daily paper states that a police officer haa
secured $20,000 worth of counterfeit money.

We had no idea that counterfeit money was
worth so much.

In what case can a crab best express its
grief? In the genitive singular. Cancer (a
crab) can-cn*.

The address of the women of England on
the subject of American Slavery, it is said,
contains 571,000 names. Are there so many
women in England who can write their names ;
or did some of them make their marks ?
Hie-roRiCAi. eooie-r^r

— A report of the 170th celebration of the
anniversary of the Landing of Penn by the
Pennsylvania Historical £>cietj^» has been
placed upon our table. It contains besides a
mil account of the proceeding at the dinner

g'ven on the occasion at the United States
otel, Judge Conrad's oration—an able and
doquent effort

ef»tRi-ruAi. K4A^alP■e-rA'Tlo^ta
— We have received from G. P. Putnam & Co.,
through G. B. Zeiber " AReveiw of the Spir-
itual Manifestations," it comes from the pen
of Rev. Charles Beecher Pastor of the First
Congregational Church Newark, N. Y., and
appears to be a very learned examination into
a very great humbug.

* htmUR -THOes WOK/IKN."

— The ladies are getting up a Floral Fair for
the benefit of the Northern Home for Friend-
less Children. It will take place at the Chin-
ese Museum on the last day of the present and
the two first days of the coming month, and
will without question prove a brilliant enter-
prise.

f»i-HL..OLOGuoAt. umoTTVjmmm.

— We take pleasure in calling attention to
the course ot lectures on English Philology
by Mr, Bums, to be commenced on Thursday
evening next at the Fnmklin Institute. Tfate
novel feature of these lectures is the original^

BIZARRE.

and often amosii^, manner in which w<»rds
are illustrated, 'mthout seeing these illustra-
tions a person can hardly believe how much
may be made (Philologically) of the ox. We
have always had a high idea of the usefulness
of this valuable animal, but until we saw
some of these illustrations we had no idea of
his importance in a literary point of view.
For the rest of our life we shall look upon an
ox with more respect than we have done
heretofore. To all who have a taste for litera-
ture, or who desire to understand the philoso-
phy of lan^age, these lectures will be ex-
ceedingly interesting.

HIO NfOER KaT.

— The dramatis personm of Uncle Tom's
Cabin have been ** done up" in style by the
French lithographers, as may be seen in a
window up Chestnut street. Popular taste in
tuT day has decidedly a n^ro tendency, ^e-
gro music has been m vogue for some time,
negro literature has also been hestowed on us,
and why shall not negro prints prevail ? These
are great days for the cdored ' * populashum. ' '
White-washers, washerwomen, and boot-
blacks, will eventually be constantly found in
the atdiers of our artists ; nay the time may
come when our Raphaels and Vandykes will
set such a value upon elongated heels, pro-
truding lips, frizzy wool, and coal black skin,
that they will pay any price to secure as sit-
ters, those who are so fortunate as to possess
them.

^Msintss mH "^Immt

— Mr. Perham distributes his gifts on the
28th inst. They consist, as we have repeat-
edly said, of $12,500 valuable articles, in-
cluding the Panorama of California, a supurb
piano, gold watches, gold pencils &c. The
Panorama will be exhibited up to the time
that it passes into the hands of the fortunate
individual who secures the lucky package, con-
taining an order fbr its ddivery. Apropos of
manager P., he has arranged excursions for
the city of Washington the 23d and 24th
instants, when those who desire may visit
the Capitol the first day, and return the se-
cond, with only a damage to the pockets of
ten dollars. The fare itself for the trip will
be only six dollars. Those who are economi-
cal may enjoy the whole affair at an ex-
pense of between seven and eight dollars, nnd
include Mount Vernon in the trip.

— Sakford*s Troupe at the Concert Hall, is
unquestionably the best we have ever had in
the city,** The vocalism is admirable, solos,
choruses, trios and duetts being executed in
the very best manner. The dances, too, fbr
those who like that branch of the performance

are cai»tal. We should not forget moreover
in noticing the performance of Sanford's
Troupe, that there is a good deal of pleasant
jesting among the ** colorb gemplemen," in
which Ssuiford himself is prominent. Some
of the jok6s are rather old, but being very well
uAd, th^ go off with no little eclat.

— Wiser's Panqraita of the "Creation,
the Garden of iSen and the Deluge," at
Masonic Hall continues to attract crowds both
afternoons and evenings. It is a grand work,
and reflects much credit upon the artist who
executed it. The moving of the painting is
accompimied by music of the piano, from Mr.
Warden. We understand that this exhibition
will be removed to Musical Fund Hall early
next week, when a better effect will be given
to it, than it could possibly receive at the
place where it is now exhibited. It should be
remembered in connexion with the exhibition
that the purchaser of a fifty-cent ticket, en-
titles himself to two admissions and a chance
for one of the valuable gifts to be distributed
at an early day. These gifts may be seen in
the window of Mr. J. E. Gould Swam's Build-
ings.

— Col. William P. Maurice has got well
established in his new store at 123 Chestnut
street, and will we presume for a long time be
stationary there. His opening is every where
talked about ; and we have seen at least fifty
notices of the brilliant event in the papers.
He keeps as formerly, every thing in tne sta-
tioners line. His principle assistant, too,
now, as in times past, \s Mr. Kemble, a gen-
tleman who is wdl worthy of the distinguish-
ed name he bears.

— Mr. F. H. Smith, Arch street below Sixth,
and one of our most esteemed advertisers is
constantly getting up beautiful articles in the
way of portfolios, portmonnaies, pocket-books,
and dressing-cases, while his general stock of
fancy and toilet goods is of the best charac-
ter.

— Messrs. Burton & Lanino are daily open-
ing new styles of Parisian decorative papers
as well as hundreds of varieties, got up at
their own manufactory in the northern part of
the city.

— Mr. a. a. Jones, of the well-known con-
fectionary, Simes' Buildings, Chestnut above
Twelfth, has opened the old Parkinson stand.
No 38 South Eighth street in connexion with
the former place, and one may go there as for-
merly and enjoy luxuries of all kinds. Jast
now strawbeiTies and cream are in the as-
cendant.

THE HOFRAADINDE.

iT SAT raOf ilU)CArr*—Fiarquhar.

mxt.

FOR THB -WZEK ZSmXQ

SATXTB^DikYy MAT t28,

1853.

THE HOFRAADINDE.*

^ THBIUAHQ TALB.

My theme ^was & night-scene. A young
wife on returning home finds her husband
stitnded in bed. The companj appeared sur-
prised at the tra^c nature of mj choice, but
c^ttinly tlie subject was one which gave
great scope to the imagination, and even Lin-
kowskj, who thought it an unpleasant sub-
ject for company, was forced to acknowledge
it was one jmrticularly adapted for the pencil.
The bride quitted the room, and we com-
menced our occupations. No sound, save a
chord from the musician, broke the silence
which reigned. About a quarter of an hour
bad elapsed when Linkowsky suddenly gazed
It his sketch, then sprung from his seat, took
sereral harried steps through the apartment,
•gain hastily approached the table, and seiz-
ing the drawing, prepared to destroy it.

" Hold !" exclaimed our host, as he arrested
his hand. •• Whatever is done in this apart-
ment belongs to me. Is your drawing so
powerfblly executed as even to terrify your-
self?^ — ^But, by Heavens, one's very hair might
stand on end at the sight of it :'' and on say-
ing this, he handed me the drawing.

I shuddered as I looked at it ; it was the
Coimaellor just as I had seen him, as he lay
stranded on that eventful night.

^ You may stop your employment," said I
to LddesdoHT, '* and I shall throw away my
poi, for there is a power of deleniation in this
sketch which we can never come in competi-
U<m wi^ ; we are but bunglers — the drawing
has gained the prize, and whoever has seen a
strangled man most acknowledge its fidelity.
I admire your power of imagination, Herr
Lh^kowsky, but one mav readily suppose that
a genius such as your s must often be tor-
mented with extraordinary dreams."

** Not at all," he replied, " I sleep too com-
posedly to be so disturbed : it is only when I
take my pencil in my hand that my imagina-
tkm retains such mastery over me ; but that
dielch is not merely my own fancy. I saw,
■omawhere in my travds, I think in Geneva,
a pnintiiig, the remembrance of which guided
Bjfaand."

Alt these words he stretched out his hand

• OoultinMl ftom pggtt 86.

to take my handkerchief, which lay on the
table beside me, to wipe away the cold drops
of perspiration which started to his forehead.

"Pardon me," said I, "that is my hand-
kerchief."

"Excuse me,'' he replied, " if I have made
a mistake — but no — my initials are upon it."

" My name has the same," I replied.

" You are right," answered he, as he took
his from his pocket.

This occurrence drew us into conversation.

" Perhaps we may be namesakes," he con-
tinued, " and ' perhaps called for the same
person ?"

"Periiaps 80," I replied; "my name is
Daniel Lessman."

" It is then only our initials which are the
same," he rejoined, "for my name is David."

The entrance of the bride put a stop to our
conversation, and on finding that neither the
poet nor the musician had completed their
tasks, she asked Linkowsky what he had
done, and requested he would show it to her.

"You must pardon me," said he "that I
must deny your first request. These gentle-
men flatter me that my drawing is powei-ftdly
done — no, no, it is only the beautiful that this
art should have any thing to do wiUi, and
not the horrible. Away then with this sketch,
it shall no longer disturb our cheerfulness ;"
he drew the sketch over to him, and then
commenced another subject of conversation.

The attention of the lady being called away
to something else, she soon forgot her awaken-
ed curiosity, while our host seemed well
pleased that the amusement of the evening
had taken another tura. Herr Linkowsky
repeated some of his most entertaining anec-
dotes, but there was a total change in his
manner. In fact, the cheerful tone of the
company was evidently forced, and my at-
tempts to restore our gaiety met with but in-
different success. Linkowsky would, on no
account give up the drawing, and he several
times looked inquiringly towards me.

" May I ask," said he, " before we separate,
for your address ? — ^your acquaintance inter-
ests me more than I shall take the liberty to
express, and I shall be happy to pay you a
visit."

I assured him that I should be extremely-
happy to see him; and giving him my ad-
dress, he departed much sooner than the rest
of the party.

" That is a most singular man," said the
bride, as soon as he had disappeared, " and I
assure you, my dear bridegroom, were we not
already engaged, I know not what might
happen, for I admire him excessively."

On inquiring of my friend HemiebCTg, where
Linkowsky lodged, he informed me at Kra-
lowna Unice, but said he had forgotten the
number. The carriage having arrived for the
bride and h^ friends, the party broke up.

BIZARRE.

and Ludesdorf accompanied me part of the
way to my lodgings. On the following morn-
ing I began to reflect on the steps which I
should take to accomplish my object ; but in

the meantime sat down to write to B * I

had not been long engaged in this occupation,
when some one knocked at the door, a stranger
entered, and, stepping up to me, said,

** Are you from ^-- — ?"

On expressing my displeasure at this in-
trusion, and refusing to answer his abrupt
and impertinent question, he replied,

** I am one of the officers of justice, and
you must answer me. Are you Uerr Daniel
Lessman, from B ?"

" Yes," T replied.

♦* Then I have orders to arrest you ; and in
the name of the President, I command you to
follow me."

** Willingly," said I, and having arranged
my chamber, I quickly followed him to the
street, where a carriage awaited us. After
driving a considerable way, the carriage
stopped at a spacious court, and we alighted.
I followed my conductor along a vaulted pas-
sage, at the extremity of which we found a
jaUer awaiting our arrival ; and the oflBcer
naving delivered me over to his care, and
wished me a happy termination to the busi-
ness, took his departure. The jailer fixed
his eyes upon me as if he would impress every
feature on his mind, and then ushered me into
my apartment. The chamber would not of
itself have been disagreeable, but for the
prospect without : not a living creature was
to be seen — I had not even a glimpse of the
blue heavens — and opposite was a dead wall.
Though convinced of my perfect innocence,
still it was a sad thought that here I must
remain in this dreary solitude till the afifair
was inquired into. Except the jailer, I did
not see the face of a human creature the first
day of my imprisonment, and he looked so
sympathising that I had nearly requested he
would favor me with pen and paper ; but it is
so painful to meet with a disappointment
where one has encouraged a hope, that I re-
linquished my intention. I went early to
bed, and slept better than I expected. Next
morning, when my jailer entered my prison,
I remarked that his countenance was unusu-
ally cheerful; he desired me, in a friendly
tone, to prepare to receive some visitors, who
would be with me in the course of the day.
At an earlv hour the door of my solitary pri-
son was nastily thrown open, and the old
gentleman, whose daughters little favorite I
had protected, stepped into the room.

** It grieves me much, my dear sir," he said,
as he shook me warmly by the hand, " that
in place of seeing you at my house, I visit you
here. I beg to assure you how much both
my daufthters feel indebted to you for tout

politeness, and also how deeply interested we
are for your present distress. I

I thanked him for his kindness, but added,
" I cannot imagine how you became so soot
acquainted with what has occurred."

** It was my brother-in-law, the President,"
he said, " who saw you alight from the car-
riage, he instantly recognized you, and men-
tioned it to me in the evening. It surprised
me exceedingly — we must not, however, lose
hope ; all will yet go well."

" I suppose," said I, ** that from your re-
lationship to the President, he has told yon
the reason of my being here ?"

" He did so, indeed, and seldom has any
occurrence caused me more regret."

"May I entreat," I rejoined, "t^at jm
will iniorm me of what I am accused ? — ^it
will set my mind at rest to know the cause of
my imprisonment."

** It is very painful to me to be obliged to
tell it to you — but, how is it possible? — it is
little more than twenty-four hours since yon
arrived, and you have already — the longer I
look at you the less inclined am I to bdieye
it — they say that you issued bank-notes which
you have forged.

As the good old man said this, he looked
half inquiringly, half sorrowfully at me. The
accusation astonished me so much that for a
moment I was unable to reply : — but I quickly
regained my self-possession. Crime of any
kind was so far from my mind that I did not
allow it to make an impression upon me.

" I am too incompetent," continued the old
man, ** to give an opinion of the aflair at pre-
sent ; but what I can do for you, be assured
shall be done. Meanwhile, I have ordered a
more comfortable apartment to be prepared
for you : in the course of the day your lodg-
ings will be searched, and I have obtained
permission that you shall be present."

I thanked the old gentleman for his kind-
ness, and could not but think how strange
that the trifling incident of the fright of a
little lap-dog should be the means of softening
my present situation ; the old man wannlv
pressed my hand, and then departed. His
promise was fulfilled : a short time after he
left me, the jailor came and conducted me to
a chamber in the opposite side of the building,
the windows of which looked into the street,
and open view delighted me more than I can
describe. I now took courage to ask my
jailor for writing materials. He civilly re-
plied, ** that until my lodgings were searched
he could not comply with my request." Din-
ner being over, after pacing my apartments
for some time, I approached the window in
the hope of seeing some known countenance.

Many were the pedestrians and oarriagQ
which hurried past my window : and I conld
scarcely believe my eyes, when in one of than
I discovered David lankowsky seated beside

THE HOFRAADINDE.

my fisend and his daughter, to whom he
seemed to be addressuig some animated con-
Ttnatioii. He was quite as elegantly dressed
18 the erening I met him at Henneberg's,
bat there was some differenoe in his appear-
nee which I could not at lirst account for,
tin I discovered he wore no moustachios. I
had hardly recoTored from my surprise at this
erent, when one of the officers of justice en-
tered to conduct me to the examination of my

The moment you quitted your lodgings,"
be said, " your apartment and papers were
sealed up — and if you have a clear conscience,
jon will feel tranquil as to the event."

" He entered a carriage, and soon reached
my lodgings, where we found the officers of
jnstioe who had sealed my apartment, waiting
fer 08. The seals being broken, and nothing
being discovered to criminate me, they con-
gratulated me on the result of the search, and
Msored me I should be set at liberty the fol-
lowing morning.

I thanked them for the interest they seem-
ed to take in the matter, and said I was in-
dined to treat the affair as of no moment, and
pointing jestingly to a coat which hung on
the back of a chair, and which the servant,
tbe evening I was taken prisoner, had brush-
ed and thrown there, desired them to examine
it as strictly as they thought neccessary.
They examined it with the closest scrutiny,
tad drew from one of the side pockets two
papers carefully folded together, which, on
ounination, were found to be forged notes.
What I felt at this moment it is impossible to
deacribe ; although my conscience was clear,
I oovld scarcely stand the looks of the officers
of justice. Every comer of the apartment
via now minutely examined, but no further
proof of my guilt appeared. Some of my
dotbes were thrown into a trunk, and I was
led back to prison. The jailor, who was a
good hearted fellow, shrugged his shoulders
on being ordered to take me back to my for-
■era^partment. What had occured seemed
iWBdicable to me — was it possible that the
rascal could have put the forged notes in my
peekei at Henneberg's ; but no — suddenly a
^^ broke in upon me. On that morning in

wfaicfal sat writing to B , the servant

bnoght me a list of wares which he said a
pedlar had given him to show the stranger —
the man was unknown to him — was it not
pQssifale that it was the rogue himself? —
eoQld he not have hurriedly thrust the notes
iato my coat-pocket while the servant brought
M ia the list — ^yes, it must be so. I had
pMMd three days in my dark dungeon, when,
oa the morning of the fourth the door of my
ytitment was suddenly thrown open, and
m old gentleman burst in.

''Oh, my friend," he exclaimed, <<the
knr of your deliveraiice has arrived — ^yes,

you may look at me with inquiring eyes— yes,
you are free, but I stood on the brink of a
fearful gulph, and was unconsciously hasten-
ing my own destruction ; and had not some
good angel watched over the poor short-sight-
ed mortal, my happiness would have been de-
stroyed and the comfort of my old age lost
forever. But God be praised, who has dealt
so mercifully with the poor old man ; but in
place of standing here, I must go home, and
show my gratitude to Heaven, by giving
ahns to the unfortunate."

Seeing me about to interrupt him, he con-
tinued :

" Ask me no questions, I cannot tell you
what has happened, this business lies like a
stone at my heart. Farewell, I must go home
and see my happiness again with my own
eyes — but come to me in the evening, and
then you shall hear all. And now if yoa do
not, with me, fall down on your knees and
thank pod for your preservation, I shall have
nothine more to say to you," and with these
words he left me.

At twelve o'clock my door was again open-
ed — with a beating heart I approached it,
thinking I was free ; but no, it was only the
jailor with my dinner — ^he looked gloomy,
and my courage sunk again ; but this was
only assumed, for on taking another look at
him, I saw he in vain tried to conceal a smile.
Without uttering a word, be placed my repast
upon the table, and then withdrew to a cor-
ner of the room, where be could observe me,
I removed the cover from the dish where in
place of food I found a letter from the Presi-
dent, in which he expressed his regret that
his duty had forced him to treat me as he
had done : that he would not rest satisfied
until he done all in his power to obliterate
from my mind the recollection of the late un-
pleasant occurrence, but that he would defer
further explanation till the evening, when we
would meet at the house of his brother-in-
law.

** How do you relish your dinner ?" said my
attendant, as he suddenly approached vad
seized my hand. *'Do you think I would
treat you with common fare to-day? No
doubt you will have better food at the Presi-
dent's, but it will not be offered with a warm-
er heart; for although for five years it has
been my lot to lock up unhappy criminals
Grcm the light of heaven, my breast is not
locked up to pity and compassion ." Tears
stood in the poor fellow's eyes, who appeared
to have conceived an affection for me. An
officer of justice now entered with instructions
to conduct me to my lodgings. So bidding
adieu to my kind jailer, I returned to my old
abode, where I proposed to remain one night
before taking up my quarters at the old gen-
tleman's. <nist as the carriage stopped at my
lodgings, I saw two figures hurnedly ap*

TUTT

156

100

BIZARRE.

proachingt and the next moment I was press^
ed in the arms of Henneberg and Leidesdoif.

" My dear friend," exclaimed the latter,
" what anxiety have we not suffered on your
account — ^it was only l^tdy that we heard
any thing of the matter, and were too certain
of your innocence to fear the result."

" And yet," interrupted Henneberg, ** that
would not have prevented me from going to
the President's to assure him of your honour
and principle, had Linkowsky told me that
your imprisonment was occasioned by some
absurd mistake, and that you would be set
at liberty immediately."

** Have jovL seen him to-day ?"

" I have only seen him once," he replied,
''when he gave this intelligence respecting
you."

After talking the matter over for a while,
we separated, with the promise of meeting at
Henneberg's in the evening. On entering my
apartment, I immediately proceeded to exam-
ine my trunk, and found every thing there but
the handkerchief.

At an early hour the carriage of my kind
and hospitable friend conveyed me to his
dwelling, where I was received with the wel-
come of a son ; and the old gentleman waited
with impatience the arrival of his brother in-
law. In vain I looked for his daughter. My
hunger was soon appeased, and my curiosity
satisfied regarding this mysterious affair.

In Krowlina Unice there was a two-story
house, the entrance to which was by a flight
of steps ; the owner lived upon his means»
aud as he was fond of pigeons, he had built a
dovecot in the court, at the back of the hoiuse.
One evening as he was returning home, just
as niffht was closing in, he went to take some
remedy to one of the doves which was sick.
On entering the court he observed that the
ladder, which usually stood against the dove-
cot, was placed under a window ; the window
was not open, nor was there any light in the
apartment, which bclongnl to a lodger ; he
thought nothing more of the circumstance,
but took the ladder to the dovecot and brought
down the sick pigeon. As he was about to
quit the court he heard a window hastily
torown open ; he looked up and saw a man,
with a bundle in his teeth, just ready to spring
from the ledge of the window. Terrified at
this, the good man threw the pigeon from
him, and calling to the stranger to desist
from his purpose, he seized the ladder and ran
to his assistance ; but the man thinking there
was no great danger in the leap, and that he
would escape through the house into the
street, jumped down and ran into the house :
but here his progress was arrested b^ one of
the domestics, who instantly seized him, call-
ing outstep thief! Findine escape impossi-
ble, the poor wretch begged hard for mercy ;
tti0 laEDdioTd of the house now entered and

aeked him what he got in the bundle, he con-
fessed it was some artides which he had sto-
len from the apartment above, but dedaied
that necessity alone, and the ^ cries of hk
starving children had tempted him to this
crime ; he added that by means of the ladder
he had entered the stranger^ apartmentt he
had broken open his desk, and taken from it
what the bundle contained ; and also that if
they would have compassion cm his poor chil-
dren, he would willingly endure the severest
punishment they could inflict. The humane
master of the house was moved by these
words, and replied that had the stolen pt>-
perty been his, he would have instantly al-
lowed him to escape, but as it was his lodgers
who seemed to be a person of consequence, be
might be severely blamed for permitting any
one who had broken into his apartment to
escape without further inquiry and thereCore
his duty compelled him to send for the officen
of justice : but whatever his fate might be,
he might rest assured that his children would
be taken care of. This assurance appeared to
comfort the unhappy criminal, for whom the
kind-hearted landlord ordered a plentiful sup-
ply of fqi^d, but the wretched man was in do
situation to taste it. A servant was instantly
despatched after an officer of justice, who
were not long in obeying the summons ; they
strictly examined the prisoner, and remarked
that he had never been upon their list. They
now proceeded to examine the bundle, the
contents of which caused them no small sur-
prise.

" By my faith," said the officer, as he un-
folded something which was carefully wrap?
ped up in paper, *^ the gentleman above stairs
has not been bom in a fisherman's hut," say-
ing which he handed the landlwd a magnin-
cent brooch.

** This does not surprise me." replied the
latter, '' for at the first glance I said he was
a man of fortune."

The next article which they took from the
bundle was a small box, containing a gold re-
peater, which was still more splendid than
the brooch.

•* My poor fellow," said the landlord, turn-
ing to the prisoner, ** you made a valuable
capture, but you have not much luck with
your prize: but what is that ?" he continued,
as he i^aw the officer take a long flat etUi case
from the bundle.

"This." said the officer, *• certainly does
not correspond with the other articles, it .
seems to be worn away from constant use ;
but what the devil — I cannot open it — try as
I will, I can neither find clasp nor s^uin^."

** Let me try," said the landlord. His ef*
forts were for a time equally fruitless ; but at
length he accidently touched a small cross OA
the under side of the box, which turned
round and the box flew opm. ** Here is tho

THE HOFRAADIKDE.

101

riddle," exdihned the host, while the officers
came near to examine the contents. The^
looked at them, contracted their hrows, and
then hastily approached the lights on a side-
laUe to f>crutinize them more narrowly ; then
taroing to the landlord, said —

^'May I request that yon will instantly
send one of your domestics to the Dresden
Gate, to seek out the other officer who he-
longs to our district ? I shall write him a
note, which will bring him here in the space
of an hour ; therefore I request writing ma-
terials* 'tis a matter of consequence."

The master of the house complied with his
wish: the note was quickly written, and a
serrant instantly dispatched with it.

" Good heavens I exclaimed the host,
" what can be of any consequence in that lit-
tle case?"

"Fellow said the officer, . turning to the
eriounal, *• you have committed a great crime
in breaking into your neighbor's house with
snch mtentions ; but justice itself might al-
most forgive you, nay, regard you as being
the most honest man of the two. A flask of
wine, if you please, the rogue shall moisten
his tongue — 1 may venture to say that his
pomsfament will not be very great."

" As much wine as you will, but surdy you
win let me see the contents of the little
case?" said the landlord.

It was some time before he could prevail
wifli the officer to gratify his curiosity ; but
at length he reach^ the case to him, under
promise of the strictest secrecy. His curios-
ity was soon satisfied, but it was fbr some
tinieere he recovered from the shock of hav-
Bg harbored such instruments in his house.
Akog with a flank of ink, two pencils, and
nrenl very fine pointed pens, was a folded
bai& note, half executed. The thief learnt
with astonishment thstt he had stolen from a
inMer rogue than himself, and looked upon
hisKelf as an instrument in the hands of
ftwridence to bring him to justice. Mean-
while the servant who had been dispatched,
fcond the officer surrounded by several friends,
xtd he was in the middle of an animated
^Mcfa at the moment he delivered him the
oote; he opened it with an air of indiffer-
CBce, hot no sooner had he glanced at it, than
he started up and seized his hat and stick.

** I am exceedingly sorry," said he, to leave
thi« good company, but were one of my five
pU dianged to a boy, I would not be half so
Btf^ as the contents of this note have made
■K; I must now hasten away, for duty must
W minded."

Fdkwed by the messenger, the officer hur-
Hed (A, and scarcely paused to take breath
* ther reached the road, which stretched
krto ^ left <tf the Dresden Gate.

" What IB that ?" said the officer, ** sure*
If liiat ia a carriage under the trees !"

" I ^ink you are right, ' readied his com-
panion.

" Plague on the feUow," herejdned, ** had
he nothing to do but to drag us after him to
Kralowna Unice, that is no step.

They approached the carriage.

**Look, look." whispered the domestic,
" there is some one stealing away from the
carriage and hastening towards the gate !"

** Faith, you are right," rejoined the officer ;
it approaches the houses, there is a hght — ah,
'tis a woman, 111 venture my neck upon that ;
the carriage is there with no good intention,
that is certain'"

Hastily, but softly, they drew near the
earriage, it was a travelling one, to which
there was a large trunk strapped on behind.

''Are you asleep, coachman?" said the
officer, but no answer was returned. The
servant went close to him and tapped him on
the back.

"What do you mean by that?" said the
coachman, " get along, and leave honest peo*
pie in peace."

"For whom are you waiting?" asked the
officer.

** For whom do you inquire ?" was the re-
ply.

" Not 80 insolent, if you please, fellow, —
'tis an officer of justice who speaks to you,
and if you are not a little more civil, I must
teach you to be so ; turn round the carriage,
and drive me to Krawlowna Unice ; if you
comjAy readily you shall have some money
for drink, now mount and be off."

" Impossible, sir, I wait for someone here."

" For whom can you be waiting at this late
hour, and so far fitnn the gate too ?"

" For a young gentleman of the univers*
ity," rephed the coachman, " who is going
to his father, who is dangerouriy ill.'*

" Why not wait for him at his own lodg^
ings," said the officer, " in place of on this
distant spot?"

"Oh, one of his young friends gave an en-
tertainment to-day, which prevented him get-
ting away early, therefore he must steal quiet-
ly through ther gates."

** Your story does not hang very well to-
gether," rejoined the officer ; •* turn round
instantly, I command you, and do as I order
you."

The postilion was frightened, and obeyed*
The officer stepped in, the servant sprung up
behind, and the carriage drove c^. They had
not gone far, when thev saw a man running
at full speed : he was hastening past, when
he suddenly glanced at the carriage, and in-
stantly stopped : the postilion drew up.

" Is it you, Joseph ?" exclaimed the stran-
ger, panting, — *• in the devil's name," he con«
tinu^. not observing the servant behind the
carriage, " have you drank your five sensas

102

BIZARRE.

away? What could possess yoa to torn
back?"

" He is taking me to Krawlowna Unicc,"
said the officer from the carriage.

*^ What is the meaning of this ?" repHed
the stranger.

** He has my orders to do so," rejoined the
officer, «* and if you will do me the favor to
step into the carnage and accompany me there,
you can then proceed on your ioumey."

"What insolence is this?" rejoined the
stranger, " and what right have you, sir, to
take possession of any one's carriage ?"

** The pres.sing duties of my situation,"
replied the officer, " which gives an officer of
justice the right to make use of any carriage
he may encounter."

The stranger was silent for a few moments,
then turning to the coachman, he asked, in
an unsteady voice, if the young man had
come?

" Yes, and he is in the carriage," was the
reply.

** My dear sir," said he to the officer, in a
tone which had suddenly changed from fiery
vehemence to gentleness, " I implore you to
allow me to continue my journey ; my father
lies at the point of death, and T entreat you
not to let him long for the last embrace of
his only son in vain."

With these words he opened the door of
the carriage, in the expectation that the officer
would descend.

** Drive on," said the officer. " I cannot,"
he continued, addressing the stranger, " allow
you to prosecute your journey ; there is some-
thing suspicious in the whole affair."

At the same moment he made a movement
as if to let the stranger get into the carriage.

'* If prayers," exclaimed the latter, with
looks of despair, " are unavailing, I must try
what force will do."

Ho suddenly seized the officer, and drag-
ged him from the carriage ; but at this mo-
ment the servant leaped from the back of the
carriage, and threw himself upon the stranger,
who exclaimed,

"Turn, Joseph, and put your -horses to
their utmost speed."

And while the postillion prepared to obey,
he measured with his eye the strength of his
two opponents, and finding the servant the
most powerful of the two, he suddenly pulled
a pistol from his breast, and levelled it at him.

**0h, Heavens !* shrieked a youthfiil voice
from the carriage, as it drove off, but the ball
missed, and passed harmless by the side of
the servant, who, furious with passion, seized
the stranger, and before he could strike the
dagger, which he held in his hand, at the
breast of the officer, struck down bis hand,
and wrested the weapon from his grasp ; but
on looking attentively at the stranger, the
servant suddestfy exclaimed,

"Hdp, for the sake of Heaven!" 'tis my
master's lodger."

** Is it he r' said the officer, in surprise :
" is it he ? This is a fortunate occurrence ;
we must search him," he continued, **in
case he may have other weapons upon him.
Hold him fast, while I shall run after the car-
riage, which I think I shall be able to over-
take and bring back."

(To b« concladed in Number thirty-four.)

SPIRITUAL DIALOGUES.

dialogue xvi.

John Smith — Sidney Smith.

W. the Elder, Capt. Smith, how are you,
how have you been ? This is an honor of the
very firet water, I assure you. Indeed , I dont
know a ghost in all history, or in all space,
whose presence here could give me greater
pleasure. Come, sit down, old fellow, and
tell us all about yourself and travels.

John S, Do give a spectre time to breathe,

W. the Elder I beg your pardon. Captain.
Don't hiury yourself. I took it for granted
however, that an old and hardened traveller
like you, didn't mind a journey of this kind,
occasionally. But perhaps a wee drop of
Schiedam might —

John S. Nothing for me, I'm obliged to
you.

W. the Elder, Well, where are you from
last, and how are they all there ? You left
Pocohontas well, I trust, and the youngst^^s.
A ghost of your enterprise John, and roving
propensities, must of course have a good deal
to say for himself. Come now give us a little
of your spiritual experience ; that's a dear
spectre.

John S. Well, you are a free and easy old
fellow, I must say ; but what in the name of
aged Nicholis, do you want any of my yams
for ? "Why am I here at all, and how I What
is the reason of the present invocation?
Holloa, what old folio is this? And these
manuscripts too ? You are surely not roman-
tic enough old gentleman, to be bringing out
a new edition of my History of Ftrginia?
Eh, how is it?

W the Elder. Oh no ; I can't afford any
such luxury as that, I assure you.

John S, Well, maybe you are writing my
life, and want more copies and authentic infor-
mation, than your lying predecessors had, or
cared to have ? Ah, that s it, evidentlv. You
look guilty. Well, well, there's nothing like
going to head-quarters, certainly. Here I
am ; pump away. To be sure, it is rather
absurd for a ghost, to be giving his biographer
the particulars of his earthly eareer, two cen-
turies after it's idl over. Nevw mind that.

SPIRITUAL DIALOGUES.

lOS

thoii^: go ahead. While I'm here, too,
hadirt you better secure my likeness, and so
hare the genuine article, to &ce the title-page ?

W, the Elder, Why, Captain, how you
talk! I assure you, upon my honor, I am
not engaged upon any biography of yourself.
I would not presume to handle a subject so
entirely beyond my powers. And then again,
between ourselves, I cant' help doubting,
whether such a performance, however well
done, would begin to pay expenses.

Mn S. I suppose not. I'm altogether too
much of a fogie, and fighting character, to go
down, in these days. Is it not so ?

W, the Elder. No, that's not it; but
somehow or other, there don't seem to be a
rage, just now, for the lives of great benefac-
tors. Washington himself, rather drags in
the market, I'm told.

John S, The deuce he does !

W, the Elder, Jack Sheppard, Uncle T(my
The Wandering Jewy they are the boys to
make the money for the publishers! John
Marskallf on the other hand, is the veriest
lumber; he positively hasn't reached his
third thousand^ yet, though his memoirs have
been out, almost as many years ; while Monte
Cristo is already on his five hundredth thou-
svmdth. So, at least, I have been informed.
Ah IX), Captain, it was for no such selfish pur-
pose, that I presumed to ask the honor of your
company here ; but simply, because of my
most profound and hearty admiration of your
diiracter, and of a natural wish to profit by
uj litttle spiritual small-talk, that you might
tcA disposed to indulge me with. That, and
knowing besides, how wonderfully the facili-
ties for ghostly travel, have been multiplied
of late, aU over the universe, emboldened me
to— But I fear I have taken too great a liberty.

John S, Not at all, not at all.

W. the Elder, How fortimate, that my
dispatch should have found you at home, and
unoccupied ; a ghost of your restless nature,
too! But come now, my dear friend, open
yottr budget. What's the best news from
spirit-land ? Where have you been roaming
latdy? What new worlds have you been
exploring, what continents have you been
christening, rivers tracing to their fountains ?
What ruffians, robbers, pirates have you been
exterminating? What stronghold have you
been capturing ? What lovely creatures have
you been rescuing from captivity, or been
rescued by ? Come lei's have all the delicious
ptrtkulars.

John S, Well, well, well, I should think I
was a witness upon the stand, from the way
you pour in the interrogatories. Gently, gen-
tly, if you please. Besides, old gentleman, I
don't feel at liberty to answer questions of
this sort. Confine yourself to terrestrial top-
ics, if you please.

W, ike Elder, You needn't be so squeam-

ish about it, Captain. Seiferal of your spirit-
ual brethem, let me tell you, who have done
me the favor of a call lately, have discovered
no such unwillingness to speak on these sub-
jects, but on the contrary, have made some
very interesting disclosures

John S, I am sorry to hear it. I must
say that I consider all such statements, both
improper and injudicious. Still, I don 't want
to be unreasonable, or unsociable.

Sidney S. (Without.) Hdloa there! where
are you ? How are Pennsylvania Securities ?

John S. Why, who the deuce may this be ?

W. the Elder. A namesake of yours, and a
tip-top fellow, I tell you.

Sidneys, {without) Do you pay your in-
terest yet ?

W the Elder. To be sure we do. Come
in, come in.

Sidneys, (without) Are you quite certain,
that there is no requdiation left among you ?

W. the Elder. Concern your picture, no.
We pay up, like men.

Sidney S. (uithout) £nough said. (He en-
ters.)

W. the Elder. Well, I'm embarrassed, I
confess. I was on the point of saluting you,
in my prettiest and heartiest manner ; but
confound it, old boy, this arrogant dictation
of yours, as to the terms on which you ac-
cept my invitation, I didn't altogether like, I
must say. You are a ghost of business, with
a vengeance !

Sidney S. Pshaw, n^an, I was only quiz-
zing. Don't be so touchy.

W. the Elder. Oh well, that alters the
case. Putting your remarks, though, in con-
nexion with that saucy letter you wrote us
Yankees, on the subject, just before leaving
the body, I was misled somewhat, I con-
fess.

Sidney S. But you ought to know fun
from earnest, by this time. You look vener-
able enough, certainly.

W. the Elder. And you ought to know,
that that is one of the most difficult of all
branches of earthly knowledge. But it seems
to me that, for a ghost you are mistily in-
terested in our State Stocks. However, there's
the Money article of yesterday. Look for
yourself.

Sidney S. Oh, han^ the money article ?
Is it so strange, though, that I should be in-
terested in Pennsylvania Fives ? Haven't I
dear representatives left behind me, in old
England, who are large hdders of them, and
of Ohio 6's likewise ?

W. the Elder. Have you, indeed? Lucky
dogs they are ; that's all I can say. I wish /
had a plum or so, laid out in that safe and
pleasant way. And they always were good
stocks, too, let me tell you, Mr Reviewer:
and you made a most unjustifiable and absurd
onslaught —

104

BIZARRE.

Sidney 8, Conies come, o]d fellow, don't
undertake to apolc^pse for repudiation.

W, the Elder, I dout ; but recollect that
there are two sides to that story, if you
please. Recollect that jpn English capitalists
would persist in thrusting your surplus funds
upon us, Willy willy ; that you did all you
could to keep alive that speculative spirit,
that you afterwards cursed us for, so savage-
ly. Yes, I think you were about as much to
blame in that business, as we were, if the
truth were known.

Sidney S. Pshaw, don't talk in that un-
principled style. Speculation's one thing,
swindling anolher.

W. the Elder. Swindling ?

John S. Boys, boys, don't get excited
now, talking finances, or politics. Do change
the subject, I beg of you. Why, Sydney,
don't you know me ? , '

Sydney S, Why, God bless me. Jack, is
that you? My dear fellow, how are you?
{They hug most fraternaUy,) But, what in
the name of wonder, are you making a spirit-
ual manifestation here, for ? By the way,
Smith, what ever became of Jones ?

John S. Jones ? what Jones ?

Sydny S. Why, don't you remember, you
were talking very earnestly, with Paul Jones,
the last time I saw you ? He appeared to be
in great trouble, you know, about that hue-

John S. Hush, hush, hush. We musn't
speak of these things, before human beings.

Sydney S. True, true, I forget.

W. the Elder. Messrs Smith, you seem to
be old cronies.

Sydney S. To be sure, we are. Thank the
stars for it, too ! I consider the acquaintance
of John Smith, yes, the John Smith of the
billions and billions of the universe, one of
the most unqualified treats, that —

John S. Come, Sydney, none of your pala-
ver, now.

Sydney S. But, Jack, you haven't told me
what business brings you to Yankee land.

John S. No business ; I am merely accept-
ing the polite invitation of our old host here.
Nothing particularly engaged at the time,
and having moreover, received a similar kind
message, just before, to come and see some
descendants, at Monticello, I thought I
couldn't do better than to respond in person,
and in a word, here I am, en route for the Old
Dominion.

W, the Elder. What, are you actually go-
ing to old Virginny, Captain ?

John S. I am indeed.

W. the Elder. You will bo warmly wel-
comed there.

John S. I expect they 11 make a good deal
of fiiss with me. But come, Sidney, suppose
you go along.

Sydney S. No, I believe not. Besides, I

don't altogether like the idea of going amongst
slave-holders.

John S. Why, you old Pluaisee! Hoir
dare you put on any such airs aa those?
Slave-holders, indeed f

W. the Elder. We'll drop the slsvery
question, if you please, ghosts.

Sydney S. What, do you meui to stop my
mouth, old fellow ? No, indeed. I'm hi the
habit of speaking my mind, pretty freely,
wherever I go, let me tell you.

John S. Come, c<mie, namesake, joiir'e
wrong, quite wrong in this afiair. It oertam-
ly was not courteous in you, under the cir-
cumstances, to introduce a topic that you
know is a verypainful and exciting one.

Sydney S. Well, well, I ask pardon.

Jmn S. But what brings you to America,
old Edinburgh ?

Sydney S. Well, I came here expressly,
and by invitation, to spend a week with tMs
Yankee medium ; but if he's going to flare up
so, at every little word I say, I l^ink I had
better be returning forthwith.

W the Elder. Oh no, no, no : we,ll get
along well enough, I reckon, after we've found
each other out. Besides, if we do flare up
somewhat, and break a dozen or two of crock-
ery, occasionidly, I shan't mind it. Any thing
but your sulky people ! Yes, Captain, I dm
invite the great reviewer here, expressly to
let him see some of our Yankee improvements,
and what giant strides we have been makii^,
in all the honorable walks of life, since hb
used to write those biting, merciless criticLsms
about us, some thirty years ago.

Sydney S. Well, I don't think I was so
very merciless. I gave you credit for many
good points.

W. the Elder. Not merciless ? And do
you pretend to have foi^tten that outrageous- |
ly impertinent string of queries, that yon
tacked at the end of that grossly inaccurate |
article of yours, in the year 1820 ?

Sydney S. Inaccurate, say you ? Qospel
trutn, every word of it, when I wrote it ; and
by George, I doubt whether you can answer
many of those very questions, nov^ at all
satisfactory. Yes, I repeat it. Where are
your Foxes, yoiu* Burkes, your Sheridans,
your Wilberforces ? Where your Arkwrights,
your Watts, your Davys ? Where your Ste-
warts, Paleys, and Malthuses ? Your Parrs i
and Persons ? Your Scotts, CampbeUs. and *
Byrons ? Your Siddons', Kcans and Rem- I
bles, eh ? There may possibly be a half dosen
Yankee books, worth looking into, but who |
does ever go to see your pictures ? Who ever j
thinks of consulting your doctors, or chem- '
ists, or of going to your telescopes for new ,
stars ? Who does drink out of your glasses. I
or eat from your plates, or wear your gai^ j
ments, or sleep in your blankets ? Answer
me that. 1

SPIRITUAL DIALOGUES,

105

W* the £Mer. Why, confocmd your men-
dacious and bigoted old sool ! I ask, in re-
torn, where are not our CUvs, and Calhouns,
tnd Websters knovm and honored? Our
ChanningSt oar Everetts, our Choates, our
Oneys, our Fultons, and Morses ? YTho has
not heard of oar Bowditches, our Barneses,
our Authors ? To whom is the fame of our
drriad Allston a stranger, or our glorious
Cole? What pidace might not be proud to
reodTe the historical pictures of our Weir,
or our Leatse, or the landscapes of our Dur-
Hid, our Church, our Qignoux, or the Scrip-
ture-piecee of our Huntington ? Who knows
net tne wonderful works of our Powers, our
Crawford, our Greenough? Who has not
read the magnificent verse of our Bryant, the
sparkling lays of our Halleck, the exquisite
creations of our Drake ? Half a dozen Yan-
kee books, say you ? What monstrous arro-
gaooe ! Is Irving nothing, then, and Pauld-
ing, and the world -searching Cooper, and
Prescott, and Bancroft, and Dewey, and
Ware, and Dana, and Emerson, and Haw-
thorne, and Longfellow, and Holmes and a
whole Directoiy full of choice spirits besides ?
To sneer at our doctors and surgeons, too !
Why who can begin to saw off a leg with us
Yankees ? Who first applied Ether to sur-
wry ? Who made dentistry a science ? Who
brought to light the virtues of India Rub-
ber? In astronomy, too ; let the observatory
of Old Harvard speak ; let Mitchell answer

''' your impertinent questions. Ghost that you
ar«, I doubt whether yoji know much more
than he does, this very minute, of wbat^s

! goii^ on in the skies. But you do know, old
felkw, though it galls your John Bull pride
too much, too acknowledge it, that we are
te taking the shine out of you English, in
aU sorts of manufactures, and that millions
ore aloeady drinking out of Yankee glasses,
^ eating from TanJcee plates, and snoring in
Yankee blankets. The idea of your ridicu-
fiag our coats, is too absurd ! Why, don't
yo«r cockney tailors have to come to America,
for the very shears they ply, and is there a
maaJmaker of them all, can turn out a gar-
ment, to be named in the same age or system,
wkh those of our Philadelphia artists !

Svdney S, Oh, don't stop to take breath."
DaM on ; keep moving.

W. the Elder. But a*nt I right ? Aro we
not ^oing ahead of you, in all arts, fine and
Diefal ? Can you, to-day, show clippers with
Of, or steamers, or clocks, or cheese, or haras,
or pippins, or confectionary ? Have you any
woi oratory to produce, either in the pulpit,
or in the senate, or on the stump ? No, any
nwft than you have any such rivers, or
pmieg, or banking privileges.

Sydney S, One article, I conf^ yoa do
beat us m all hollow.

W. the EMcr. Do we, indeed ? And what
miy that be ? ^

Sydney S. Self-glorification. But, my old
friend, why so sensitive ? Why take me up
80 fiercely ? I was anly half in earnest, I
assure you. I do not pretend to deny the
progress of your nation, in all these fine
things, or to ignore the existence of all these
bright boys, that you have just named ; wits,
artists, poets, essayists. I knew some of them
in the flesh. IVe had my old terrestrial
legs, more than once, I can tell you, under
the same mahogany with Irving, and ^-escott,
and other of your choice spirits. Glorious
fellows the^ are. IVe no doubt, either, that
you tnT/, m time, beat old Alma Mater, in
pretty much every department of thought
and action, any more than I doubt that she
is, hersdf, far more civilized and christianiz-
ed, to day, than she was when old Father
John here, first went out to Virginia, on col-
onial business. But meanwhile, old gentle-
man. I must and will say, that there are a
great many things in this broad land of yours,
that I don't like at all; yes follies, vices,
crimes, that call for all the lashing of the sati-
rist, all the thunders of the pulpit. Don't be
alarmed, now. I'm not going to to preach a
sermon on slaving. I consider my mouth
stopped on that subject, while, while I am
under your roof. Nor do I mean to favor you
with a philipic on tobacco-juice: especially
after the exhausting way, in which brother*
spectre Hamilton treated that topic, when in
the flesh.

John S. Well, what is your text ? Come,
Sidney, hurry up your^soourse, for I must
be olF presently.

. Sydney S. I'm not going to preach, I tell
you. I m here as a guest, not as a parson.
None the less. howevCT, are there materials for
at least half a dozen barrels of^

W, the Elder. Oh, hang this vague and
general abuse ; the items, the items, if you
please.

Sydney S. Items, say you ? Can I turn
my ghostly head, without seeing them ? And
as yon in.4st upon it, I will glance at them,
for a moment. Imprimis, then : you are al-
ways in such an infernal hurry, aQ of you,
and about evoy thing, that there's no com-
fort, either for ghost or mortal, among you.
You don't stop to do anything right ; either
to eat, or drink, or cook, or build, or pliyit,
or paint, or write, or legislate, Uke christians.
You cant wait, either to season your timber,
or to test your iron; no, nor even to put
steeples on your churches. You are always
rushing after results, before their time ; al-
ways anticipating your debts, and your crops,
and disposing oi your fruits, before they have
fairly shown their blossoms ; hurrying, hur-
rying to get rich, sacrificing thereto, all the
in*oprietie8 and courtesies of life. If yoa

106

MZARBE.

knock a fellow down, or ran oyer him, a#you
do continually, youVe no time to apologise,
much less, to picR him up. In doors, or out
of doors, it makes no difference ; everywhere
the same mad race with time. As to ever
sitting out concert, play, or sermon, to the
end, and then reclining in tranquil dignity,
you never think of sudi a thing, but rush
for the door, males and females alike, with a
velocity, and want of decency truly porcine.
Nothing less than a mile a minute ever satis-
fies you, no matter how sublime or beautiful
the scenery you may be travelling amongst :

W. the Elder, Hold on, hold on ; you are
rattling awayyourself, here like a perfect
locomotive. What's the use now, old fellow,
of serving up all this Trollope and Fiddler
abuse, over again ? Tou know, that — how-
ever, eo ahead,

Sydney S. Item : you are so absurdly thin-
skinned and sensitive ; so afraid of the crit-
icisms of those very cockneys that you af-
fect to despise ; so greedy of applause; so
unwilling to admit your inferiority in those
arts, and studies, and amenities, that are in-
herent in courts, and cannot, in the nature of
things, co-exist with democracy ; so enamor-
ed of those very pomps and vanities that you
have openly renounced : so meanly deferential
to titled foplings, while you turn your backs
upon the true sons of genius ; so^

W, the Elder. Well, well, that is a strange
charge, that last, for an English ghost to pre-
fer ; go on, though.

Sydney S, Item ; so bellicose and aggres-
sive, withal ; so ready to thrust your institu-
tions upon your neighbors, and at the same
time, so jealous of any fancied encroachipait,
on their part : so fiinous too, at any imagin-
ed insult to your fla^, or tardy recognition of
your rights, or position among nations ; so
bent on having exclusive control over all the
seas and islands around you, without regard
either to equanimity or courtesy ; —

W. the Elder. Ay, and we mean to keep
out you interlopers, to the end of the chapter.

Sydney S, Item ; and the last and saddest
of all tliat I shall allude to ; you are so fright-
fully reckless, in all your transactions ; so in-
different to the value of human life ; so capi-
tally negligent in seeing your laws enforced,
while you are eternally making new and im-
practible ones. You may boast of your free-
dom, indeed, but are you not virtually, at the
mercy of a set of ruffians, who murder you
by scores, every week almost, on all the
nvers and railroads of your land ? Is it not
horrible, to think of the impunity, with which
these wretches ply their murderous trade, in
your midst ; escaping almost invariably, with
a mere nominal investigation into their enorm-
ities ? To think, too, of the ease, with which
any anpalataUe statute may be evaded by

the rich transpessor ; of the terrible power
every where wielded, the abject homage er^y
where paid to Mammon among yon ?

W. the Elder. Too true, too true ; we arc
indeed most vulnerable, most culpable in this
regard. Your criticism, my friend, is just.
perfectly just, and I honour you, for the oold
and hearty way, in which you have made it.
And so with the other items ; there is quite
too much foundation in trath, for your alle-
gations.

Sydney S. Still, my old friend, bs I said
before, I am not at all disposed to overlook
thci right side of —

W. the Eld'r. I know that, I know that :
and I like you all the better, my big-hearted
and big-fisted brother, for your frankness.
I always did like you, and look up to you» as
a tip-top critic, and right royal reviewer : an
invincible foe to cant and gammon of all sorts,
and a true friend to your oppressed and down-
trodden brethern.

Sydney S. Heartily said, and I hope truly
so. I certainly did try to do some good, aad
to open some eyes, in my little day and gener-
ation.

J(^n S. Well, brethern, I'm sorry to tear
myself away from such pleasant company,
but I must positively be off.

W. the Eld'r. Why, Captain, you don*t
call this a visit ?

JohnS. Oh no; but I thought I would
look in upon my Virginia friends first, and
then spend a day or two with you, on my re-
turn.

W. the Elder. As you think best. You
are always welcome, you know.

Sydney S. Speaking of gammon, landlord,
I see a board under the table yonder. So,
suppose we drop sermons and cnticisms for a
while, and have a game or two, before dinner.

fV. the Elder. Agreed.

John S. Well, good bye, boys.

W. the Elder. Good bye, don't forget me
now, as you fly by. (Exit John Smith, Syd'
ney Smith and Jr. the Elder, sit dotm to a
social game of hack-gammon.)

^i^arn among i\t |leto ^oohs.

THE UAST L.EAF FROM SUNNN^BlOe.

— This pretty little volume comes to us from
Messrs. PhilUps, Sampson & Co., Boston. It
embraces four stories from the pen of the late
Mrs. Austen Phelps, her last work previous
to her much lamented death. Their titles
are *♦ The Puritan Family," "The Cloudy
Morning." **The Country Cousin," and "The
Night aSer Christmas. " They bear impressed
on every line, the brilliant mind and pore
heart of the author: indeed, we have said
enough when we pronounce them fit succcsa-

BIZARRE AMONG THE NEW BOOKS.

107

on of <* Smmjside ;" a charming stoiy from
the same pen, and said to bare commanded
Mj half a million of delighted readers ! The
Tdume before ns is very neatly printed, and
is embellished with a mezzotint portrait of
Mrs. Phelps. It contains, moreover, a nar-
rative of her life and character, drawn by one
who regarded bis subject with the most affec-
tiooate interest; who writes of it with a
heart-warm pen.

Mrs. Phelps was a Christian woman. Her
death was an event that impressed all around
with the triumphs which are secured to those
who fall asleep on the bosom of the Saviour.
She had lived in his smiles, she died with his
arms under and about her. The sufferings
of the body were forgotten in the bliss which
filled the mind ; the darkness of death was
neutralized by the lights which streamed in
from beyond the valley and the shadow.

OUR NEIQMBORHOOO AND NS>A/ eEnnri.e-

— Mr. A- Hart has published a volume with
this title. It emanates from the prolific pen
of Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth, and embraces
two stones, some of which are more than or-
dinarily interesting. The season is rapidly
approaching when this style of literature will
be generally acceptable, for people will be in
a state of rdaxation both of mind and body ;
and hence will prefer entertainment rather
than instruction. " The Purse of Clifton,"
Mrs. S.^s last work previous to the one in no-
tice, possessed no little merit; and, we be-
lieve, commanded quite a ready sale. We
shall be happy if the present volume is equally
successfuL

POBTRV OF TMK VKGlB-rABI..K >A/ORI-0.

— A 12mo. volume of 360 pages, with this
title, comes to us from Moore, Anderson & Co. ,
of Chicinnati. It embraces a popular exposi-
tion of the science of botany and its relations
to man ; translated from the celebrated work
of Dr. Schleiden of the University of Jen», by
Henfrey, of London. Moreover, it is illus-
trated with engravings, and edited by Alfonso
Wood, an eminent botanist of our own coun-
try : who furnishes a brief and appropriate
preface, as well as very valuable notes.

Professor Wood says of the author of this
book, that he i^ " one of the most distinguish-
ed botanists of the present day. In the pro-
duction of the present admirable work he has
oonferred a great favor upon every lover of
Nature. By its peculiar character, it meets
an actual want in literature which has long
been felt. There is, indeed, no lack of floras
and text-books for the schools — works which
uonae the science of botany to its minutest
detmils. But such treatises are necessarily
dry, unimaginative — regarding plants and
•fllwers chiefly as * materials for an herbarium, '
Or, on the other hand, as food for animals.
But the vegetable worid has a higher signifl-

cance than either the education of man's in-
tellect, or even the maintenance of animal life.
With its sweet influences, man's heart, — his
moral nature, is in intimate communion : and
through them, God reveals himsdf to the
soul in his most endearing attributes. By the
teachings of the vegetable world the tone of
our moral being is affected in no small degree,
uid flowers are often interwoven with the
web of human destiny. In a word, the heart
of man is susceptible of no purer or more en-
during earthly pleasure, than that which it
experiences in its free communion with the
exhaustless beauties of the vegetable world.

*' But this aspect of nature — its spirituality
— ^lies beyond tne reach of pure science. In
vain are its microscopic researches, in vain
its most reflned analyses : for this principle,
like ' the principle of life,' is immaterial, and
exists not in 'material nature, where we seek
it, but within ourselves. That harp which
is susceptible of such harmony, is strung
within our own bosoms ; but it is the sweet
breath of Flora which awakens its mysterious
power.

*< Herein lies the charm of the present
work. While its author has everywhere ex-
hibited the principles of science in the most
perspicuous atid attractive style, he has also
contrived to blend with them the imaginative
and the spiritual, and thus to render his work
the exponent of the relations of the plant to
the human soul."

aiNCUI-AR DWATM OF "1^ ■. L."*

— Mr Brodie Cruickshank has, written a book
entitled ** Eighteen Tears on the Gold Coast
of Africa," which has just been published in
London. It contains one chapter which will
be read with deep interest, as it describes the
colonial life, the strange death and sudden
burial of the famous L. £. L ; who it will be
remembered soon after fac»>marriage accom-
panied her husband Mr. Maclean to Cape
Coast Castle ; he having received a govern-
ment appointment there.

Mr. Maclean was an invalid at the time of
his wife's sudden and singular death. Mr.
Cruickshank describes him as being very fond
of her, so that the stories heretomre told of
cruelty on the husband's part, cannot be true.
But to the narrative : Mr. Cruickshuik says
he was about to return to England, and as
the day drew near for his departure Mrs.
Maclean occupied herself more or less in
writing to her friends in England.

He adds : '* It had been arranged that the
vessel should sail on the forenoon of the 16th
of October, and I agreed to dine and spend
the evening of the 15th with the governor
(Mr. M. ) and his lady. It was in every respect
a night to be remembered. * * At eleven
o'clock I rose to leave. It was a fine clear
night, and she strolled into the gallery , where
we walked for half-an-faonr. Mr. Maotoui

168

BEZAKRB.

joined as for ft few miirates, but not liking liie
nij^tair,'inhi8 weak state, he returned to
the parkmr. She was much struck with the
beauty of the heavens in those latitudes at
night, and said it was when looking at the
moon and stars that her thoughts oftenest re-
verted to home. She pleased herself with
thinking that the eyes ot some beloved friend
might be turned in the same direction, and
that she had thus established a medium of
communication for all that her heart wished
to express. 'But you must not,* she said.
** think me a foolish, moonstruck lady. I
sometimes think of these things ouenor
than I should, and your departure for Eng-
land has called up a world of delightful asso-
ciations. You will tdl Mr. F , however,

that I am not tired yet. He told me I should
return by the vessel that brought me out ;
but I knew he would be mistaken.' We
joined the governor in the parlour. I bade
them good night, promising to call in the
morning to bid them adieu. I never saw her
in life again."

At breakfast next day Mr. Cruickshank
was alarmed by a summons — ^that Mrs. Ma-
clean — whom he had left the previous night
80 well— was no more. ** Never," he sajrs,
** shall I forget the horror-stricken expression
of Mr. Maclean's countenance." —

** We entered the room, where all that was
DMrtal of poor L. E. L. was stretched upon
the bed. Dr. Cobbold rose up from a close
examination of her face, and told us all was
over; she was beyond recovery. My heart
would not believe it. It seemed impossible
that she, from whom I had parted not many
hours ago so full of life and energy, could be
80 suddenly struck down. I seized her hand,
and gazed upon her face. The expression
was calm and meaningless. Her eyes were
open, fixed, andpiBiruding."

An inquest was immediately held. —

'* All tnat could be elicited, upon the strict-
est investigation, was simply this : It appear-
ed that she had risen, and left her husband's
bed-room about seven o'clock in the morning,
and proceeded to her own dressing-room, —
which was up a short flight of stairs, and en-
tered by a separate door from that leading to
the bed-room. Before proceeding to dress,
she had occupied herself an hour and a half
in writing letters. She then called her ser-
vant, Mrs. Bailey, and sent her to a store-
room to fetch some pomatum. Mrs. Bailey
was absent only a few minutes. When she
returned, she found difficulty in opening the
door, on account of a weight which appeared
t6 be pressing against it. This £^e discover-
ed to be the bcKly of her mistress. She push-
ed it aside, and found that she was sen^dess.
She immediately called Mr. Maclean. Dr.
Cobbold was sent for : but from the first mo-
ment of the diaoovery of the body on the

floor, there had not appeared any ^mptom of
life. Mrs. Bailey fVirtner asserted that she
found a small phial in the hand of the deoea^
ed, which she removed and placed upon the
toilet-table. Mrs. Maclean had appeared well
when she sent her to fetch the pomatum.
She had observed in her no appearance of un-
happiness. Mr Maclean stated, that his wife
had left him about seven o'clock in the morn-
ing, and that he had never seen her again in
life. When he was caUed to her dressing-
room, he found her dead upon the floor. After
some time, he observed a small phial upon the
toilet-table, and asked Mrs. Bailey where it
had come fh>m. She told him that she had
found it in Mrs. Maclean's hand. This phial
had contained Scheele's preparation of prussic
acid. His wife had been in the habit of us-
ing it for severe fits or spasms, to which she
was subject. She had made use of it once
on the passage from England to his knowledge.
He was greatly averse to her having such a
dangerous medicine, and wished to throw it
overboard. She entreated him not to do so,
as she must die without it. There had been
no quajrel nor unkindness between him and
his wife. — Dr. Cobbold, who had been request-
ed to make a post'tnortem examination, did
not consider it at all necessary to do so, as
he felt persuaded she had died by prussic
acid. He was led to this conclusion from the
appearance of the eyes of the deceased : and
he believed he could detect the smell of the
prussic acid about her person. My own evi-
dence proved, that I had parted from Mr. and
Mrs. Maclean at a very late hour on the even-
ing before, and that they appeared then upon
the happiest terms with each other. There
was found upon her writing-desk a letter not
yet folded, which she had written that morn-
ing, the ink of which was scarcely dry at the
time of the discovery of her death; This let-
ter was read at the inquest. It was for Mrs.
Fagan, upon whom she had wished me to call
It was written in a cheerful spirit, and gave
no indication of unhappiness. In the post-
script — the last words she ever wrote — she re-
commended me to the kind attentions of her
friend. With the evidence before them, it
was impossible for the jury to entertain for
one instant the idea that the unfortunate lady
had wilfully destroyed herself. On the other
hand, considering the evidence respecting the
phial, her habit of making use of this danger-
ous medicine, and the decided opinion of the
doctor, that her death was caused by it, it
seemed equally clear that they must attribute
her death to this cause. Their verdict, th««-
fore, was. that she died from an overdose of
Scheele's preparation of prussic acid taken
inadvertently."

Mr. Cruickshank concurred in this verdict ^
at ihe time, — but ance his arrival in England
he has found reason^ '* to doubt of its oorrectf i

OUR WjraXY QOSSEP.

109

He now entertains the mnion, thai
teih was caused by ** some oidaen afectioa
afthebetj^"

We add a picture of the last scrae of all
from the nairatiye <^ this eje-witness. —

"In those warm latitudes intermont follows
death with a haste which often cruelly shocks
the feelings. Mrs. Maclean was biuied the
same erening within the precincts of the ca^
tie. Mr. Topp read the funeral service, and
the whole of the residents assisted at the sol-
emn ceremony* The grave was lined with
walls of brick and mortar, with an arch over
the coffin. Soon after the conclusion of the
service, one of those heavy showers only
known in tropical climates suddenly came on.
All departed for their houses. I remained to
see tl^ arch completed. The bricklayers
were obliged to get a covering to protect them
tod their work from the rain. Night had
come on before the paving-stones were all put
down over the grave, and the workmen finish-
ed their business by torchlight. How sadly
yet docs that night of ^oom return to my re-
membrance! How sad were then my thoughts,
as wrapped up in my cloak I stood beside the
grave of L. E. L., under that pitiless torrent
of rain ! I fiincied what would be the thoughts
of thousands in England, if they could see
and know the meaning of that flickering
li^t, of those busy workmen, and of that
silent watcher! I thought of yesterday,
when at the same time I was taking my seat
beside her at dinner, and now, oh, how very
—very sad the change !"

— Toung Gottschalk lately gave a concert at
New Orleans for the benent of the charitable
institutions of that city^ when he was pre-
lentad with a beautiful gold medal. The pre-
sentation was made by the Mayor. We are
tdd that the young artist received the com-
pHmeat in his usual modest manner, and that
be was much moved, as he well might be.
He rMilied briefly in English, saying that he
ralued this gift from Ms fellow townsmen
more than any he had ever received. The
medal is of pure gold, of an oval shape, and
is valued at $500. On one side is a oust of
Gottadudk, carved by Perelli, the artist who
defagned and executed the marble bust of
Samiiel J. Peters, Esq. The bust is surround-
ed h^ a raised wreath of laurel. On the re-
vessB aide is the inscription in rich Gothic let-
ters : ** A, h' M. Gottschalk ses comvairiotes
(UlaNouveUe Orleans, 11 3foi, 1853.^'

6ott«chalk returns shortly to the north,
when our citizens will have another <^por-
toBilj <ji hearing hi^ beautiful peribmtfEnoes
on tAB piano.

— Jetse Hutchinson, whose death at Gindi^-
nati has been announced, was the eldest of
the Iwrge singing family of that name. He
was at the time of his aeath on his way home
from California. He went to the gdden state,
as manager of the Alleehanians. The enters
prise was not successfm.

— Mr. J. E. Gould, successor to A. Fiot,
Swaim's Buildings, has sent us the following
music: **Come to me dearest maiden,*' a
Ballad, music by Meeyerbeer ; *' Swiss Spring
Song," the English words by W. Bartholo-
mew—composed and arranged for the piano
by F. Mendelssohn Bartholdy; **Can You
not read in my Eyes," aSwitzer's Song, writ-
ten and adapted to a French melody by G. H.
Hewitt; "Mina Dolce or Rose of Italy," »
canzonetta written by Wm. Osgood, compos-
ed by Frederick Winter and dedicated to Miss
Laura Hard. Apropos of Mr. Gould: — ^he
gave a very pleasant little soiree the other
evening at his piano saloon, which was attend-
ed by a select circle of amateurs of both
sexes. Mr. Goeckel a lately-arrived German
pianist, performed to the great delight of aU
present, as did also Mr. Siede the flutist, and
a most remarkable young musical genius, the
son of Mr. Jarvis of our city.

— The distinguished physiologist, Ehrenberg,
whose researches and microscopical obeerva*
tions, on the Infusoria, and other minute de-
pai*tments of animal life, have attracted so
much attention, is said now to have completed
his great work on the influence of microscopic
life on the formation of the earth and of rocks.
This work is expected to form an epoch in tlra
history of sci^tific observation* Dr. Hitch-
cock's new work on the ** Geology of the
Globe" is nearly ready for publication, and
vrill appear first in England, securing the
benefit of copyright to the author. The se-
cond volume is just completed of Mr. Mor-
ris's national work on " British Birds ;" and
Messrs. Binns and Goodwin have issued one
of their most attractive little works lately,
illustrating the "Eggs of British Birds,"
copied and colored from nature, with descrip-
tions and anecdotes of the Birdb.

— Messrs. Stanford & Swords of New York,
have sent us, a beautiful edition of the Book
of Common Prayer, and the Proper Lessons ^
bound up in one vol, 18mo. We have also
received from the same publishers other favors
which will be duly noticed.

— Mr. Gibson, an English artist residing at
Rome, has completed an exquisite statue of
Venus, and aroused the connoisseurs by giving
a filiflht flesh tint to the figure, blue eyes, yd«
low hair, and a delicately colored border to
the drapery. There is much diffiarence of
omnioQ, it is said, as to the judiciousness of
this proceeding, which, is not strictly in a^

BQABBB.

oordance with classio {Mrecedents : but the
Toice of the majority of visitors to the studio
appears to be fsvorable to the tint, as it cer-
tainly contrasts strong} j with the coldness of
the surrounding marbles.

— It is stated that Charles Hill, a colored man,
lately arrived at Liverpool from Boston in the
" Parliament" liner and represented himself
to have escaped from Dr. Allen, of Baltimore,
saying also that his wife was owned by the Rev.
Mr. Johnson, a Presbyterian Clergyman, of
Baltimore, who would sell her for $800. Sub-
scriptions were accordingly set on foot for
Hill, who in the mean time had attached him-
self to a panorama of Uncle Tom, where he
exhibited as a Liverpool paper has it, '* sev-
eral diabolical instruments made at Liverpool
under his direction." Brother Bull, will be
bled pretty freely by Uncle Tom's family we
fancy: members of which are constantly
leaving our shores for his hospitable hearth-
stone. We hope that the tear of sympathy
may not dry. until all these unhappy pilgrims
are provided with warm comers.

— The Paris Revue des Benux Arts states
that the expense of disinterring the ashes of
the body of Napoleon will be 100,000 francs,
and the programme of the ceremonial is to be
publish^. A proposition in Council being
made to divide the remains of the Emperor,
after the fashion pursued under the Kings —
the body to be under the Mausoleum and the
heart at St. Denis — Prince Jerome started up,
sa3ring that he would never lend himself to
such a proposition for mutilating *' his glo-
rious brother."

— A new submarine-telegraphic cable was
laid down with perfect success between Dover
and Ostend on the 5th ult. This second sub-
marine-telegraph belongs to the same Com-
pany as that from Dover to Calais, and will
we are told supply the means of transmitting
telegraphic dispatches to the Continent of
Europe, without their being suWcct to the
delay and annoyance of the vise of the French
authorities. The new line is 70 miles in length,
and contains six wires.

— The Editor of the New York Herald was
shown not long since a very interesting relic
of old times in Philadelphia. It consisted of a
picture frame composed of two kinds of wood,
oak and maple and was made in 1846 by
Mr. Thomas C. Japies, of this city. The
oaken portion of the frame is a piece of the
old ship Lyon, which vessd bore the first
stars and stripes that ever waved between
heaven and earth. The other portion of the
frame is a piece of .the root of the self-same
tree beneath whose shade Wm. Penn made
his famous treaty with the Indians. It con-
tains a continental $600 bill, with a Wash-
ington and bidepeiideiiee cent, made in 1788.

It is supported by a small rin^ and 8ta|)le
made from a piece of the chain that was
stretched across the North river at West
Point, to prevent tiie British ships of war
from ascending that river in the days of the
revolution.

— John S. Taylor of New York has sent us
"Clouds and Sunshine," a new work from
the pen of the brilliant author of '' Musings
of an Invalid," ** Fancies of a whimsical
Man," " Fun and Earnest," as well as the
series of " Spiritual Dialogues," which we
have been publishing. We shall notice it at
length herdEifler.- We have also received
from Ticknor, Reed and Fields, of Boston,
" Alexander Smith's Poems ;" and from Lip-
pincott, Grambo & Co., of our city, SimoTs
new tale of ** Marie de Berniere," &c.

— Mes. Bostwiok's singing at the late Phil-
harmonic Concert, was good, and the applause
which she received was warm and at the
same time well* earned. The programme gen-
erally of this concert was exc^lent. The
orchestra under Mr. Cross, particularly dis- '
tinguished themselves. |

— " Correspondence of the Revolution," edit-
ed by Jared Sparks, will shortly be publish«l i
by Little & Brown, of Boston. It will ex-
tend to four octavo volumes, and will consist
of letters to Gen. Washington from upwards
of an hundred individuals who acted con^icn-
ous parts in the great struggle for American
Independence, and afterward to the close of
his career. The editor intends these letters
as a continuation of his ** Washington Writ-
ings."

— A Boston correspondent of a New York
paper states that Messrs. Little & Brown an-
nounce a laige number of reprints of stand-
ard Enriish works, among them being ** Pin-
tarch's Lives," selected from Dryden*s trans-
lation, and from other sources. The writer
adds and with truth, it is rather odd that
they should pass over George Long's versions
from the old Greek of Chaerona. Less than
ten years ago Long translated thirteen of the
Roman lives — T. Gracchus, C. Gh*aochiis, C.
Marius, Sulla, Sertorius, Lucullus, Pompeius,
Csesar, Crassus, Cicero, Cato of Utica, Bsn*
tus, and Antonius — and published them undor
the title of " Civil Wars of Rome ;" a veiy
happy idea, for you will perceive that these
thirteen lives cover the precise period of time,
and probably contain all the main incidents
of that great contest, which, commencii^
with the tongue in the fbrum, had its closing
scenes on the fields of Pharsalia, Philippi,
and Actium. The notes of Mr. Long are
learned, and, unlike most notes, not only do
not further obscure the «ubject, but actoaUy
illuminate it.

EDITORS' SANS-SOUCI.

Ill

€hTiim Sans-Soud.

QAVAZZI.

—We have listened to GaTazzi, and with the
most decided interest. He is a strangely ef-
fectiye speaker. If not honest in his conver-
sion from the Roniish church, — which many
charge, — he is certainly a consummate dis-
sembler, a capital actor. We can hardly con-
ceiTC, however, of his not being sincere ; just
as sincere as certain eminent individuals who
have lately left the Protestant, and attached
themselves to the Romish church. Leaving
this matter, though, to Gavazzi and his God,
let us brieflv tell the reader what kind of an
impression he has made upon us.

First, then, imagine a giant form, at least
six feet in stockings, habited in the robes of a
monk of our times. The face is strongly
marked— eyes dark-brown, bright and pierc-
ing—hair also dark-brown, neatly parted on
one side. Lines of care and thought are ga-
thered about the mouth, yet the whole ex-
pression IS at once elegant and impressive.
Imagine, too, a voice of great depth, richly
moim^ ; action graceful, yet impressive.
Sometimes you see that form extended to its
utmost height, the arm uplifted, emphatic of
the propounding of a truth ; sometimes it is
bent nearly double, the arms outstretched,
with the palms of the hands turned outwards
from the face, the whole action and expression
speaking horror and loathing.

Then again you have an attitude of affection;
a gathering of the whole man, about some
deeply-loved object or principle; and then,
there is a side-long pointing of the finger,
aeeompanying a keen satirical thrust ; or an
air of complete abandon, as some droll conceit
or witty sally is made. You have before you
a poiect orator ; and, we repeat, you cannot
Citfl to be profoundly impressed.

There is a great contrast between Gavazzi
lad Bishop Hughes as speakers. The former
is wBd, tempestuous, smooth, rough, cold,
bot; the latter is collected and calm, never
pven to passionate outbursts, and yet ex-
traody engaging. In Gavazzi, yon have a
discharge of all kinds of ordnance frcnn the
snaOest to the heaviest calibre. In Bishop
Rubies, there is one steady continuous can-
Bonding of heavy pieces. In Gavazzi you
pt earthquake, blue sky, thunder-gust, ram-
W, wind, calm, in rapid succession: in
Krikop Hughes you have, all the time, what
saflora call a steady breeze. The one, it will
be seen, is just the man to excite passion and
NatOD by turns: the other, reason alone.
Qaraazi makes the best reformer, Hughes the
btst keeper of things aa they are ; Gavazzi
ia the tnie oome-outer, Hughes the true
Jesuit.

ALBONI

— Is going home, after a short and, upon the
whole, improfitable visit. A finer artiste
never visited our shores, but there were cir-
cumstances connected with her career here
which prevented the uprising of a furore.
We need not specify all these circumstances;
but we may say that principal among them
were poor assistants, a want of personal at-
tractiveness on the part of the lady herself,
and the extraordinarily high prices charged
for admission to her concerts. The day of
exorbitant prices has passed. They cannot
be sustained for any period of time, even with
the aid of the best talent which the world
offers. Sontag and her trottpe will find it
difficult to procure a house at her old prices,
particularly with the little sympathy which
the press axe beginning to have with her ma-
nagement.

TMB ^IMOUBH L.ANQUAOS H-UUSTRATBO

— The lectures of Mr. Burns at the Franklin
Institute, on Thursday evening of last, and
Monday of the present week, were attended
by very intelligent and appreciating audiences,
and we think the time spent there could not
have been better or more agreeably employed.
The design of these lectures appears to be, to
offer to the world a novelty in the art of teach-
ing; which consists in tllvstrating language
pictorially, A number of primitive words and
their derivatives are exhibited in connection
with pictures, diagrams, &c., to show their
meaning and impress it upon the mind through
the medium of the eye. The origin and his-
tory of each word are explained, and some
curious examples given of the manner in
which words sometimes change their mean-
ing. Some of the illustrations are of a very
humorous character. We think there can be
no doubt of the advantages of such a method
of teaching, if it be practicable to carry it
fully into operation. An intelligent. gentle-
man, present on the first evening, observed
that "this is not merely the best, but the
only method of teaching a language thoroughly. '
We understand that Mr. B. has been engaged
for more than ten years preparing these illus-
trations. He lectures again on Thursday of
this and Monday of the next week.

ORAWFI6H AQAiN.

— Our funny correspondent, " Kittie Kraw-
fish," — as he now chooses to call himself, in
obedience to fashionable usage — writes us this
week the following budget :

Manayunk Terrace, May 19th.
Messrs. Editors : — ^We have noticed an ar-
ticle in your paper concerning the fashion of
young ladies, in our day, modifying the old-
fashioned names. Now, we must say, that
notwithstanding oar antiquated Botions of
some things, we like to keep up to the foshion ;
and besides thia, ihoe» old Hebrew naines are

112

BIZARRE.

pretty well worn, and people don't so well
know the meaning of them as they probably
do of the modernized forms. For instance :
SaUie is from the Latin sal and means sakyy a
Tery pretty name for a witty young hidv.
Mduie is also from the Latin and means soft;
we will not be ungallant enough to say that
such a name would suit many fashionable
ladies of our enlightened age. Jennie is the
name of a yalnaole domestic animal; and
JMaggie means a witch. We like these nice
little names so much that we intend to mo*
demize our own, and hereafter hope to be
called uid known by the euphonious title of
KiTTiB Krawfish.

The Southern Papers say ** there is great
suffering throughout South Carolina, from
drought. " The Eastern States are also suffer-
ing in the same way, since the ** Main Law'*
has been in operation.

mare ! As the Latin Scholar said when
he was walking the beach at Cape May, with
an interesting young lady.

The Commissioners of Southwark have got
into a fever about a bill for plastering a market
house. Perhaps a White- VVashins Committee
could help them out of the difficulty.

'I^EQRO BLAVERV.

— It is hoped that the philanthropy of the
English aristrocracy, and the genius of the
Beecher Stowes will not be entirely exhausted
upon the Uncle Tommys; for the investigations
of natmtdists have brought to light a species
of slavery calculated to excite the horror of all
abolitionists and anti-slavery associations.
Let us have another book, and let it be called
* * Aunt Emmy 's (emmets ) Novel . ' ' Surely the
Negro Aunts are as much entitled to aristo-
cratic and abolitionist sympathies as the Ne-
gro Uncles : and as we have British authority
for what we assert of the horrors of this species
of slavery, no one will presume to doubt it.
In Brande^s Dictionary, under * Formica,' will
be found the followhig authenticated account
of the horors of slavery and the slave trade
among the "Ant Emmys."

" M. P. Huber states as a fact the startling
circumstances of certain species of ants {F.
rufescens, and F. sangutnea, Latr.) procuring
slaves which they carry off in predatory ex-
cursions while in an infant state. These
slaves are of a small black species, and when
reared perform the offices which generally
devolve upon the neuters or workers in other
societies : besides which they have to feed
their masters and carry them about the nest.
Indeed, so totally dependant are their masters
upon these indefatigable little slaves, that the
term ^ould rather be reversed; for it appears
that these lords ot the community may not
venture fovth fh>m the nest but with permis*
sion of the negroes ; and M. P. Huber proved
by experimOQ^ that they would die of star-

vation if not fed by these indispensable ser-
vants. There is likewise another species (the
F, cunicidaria, L.), which are forcibly carried
off by the rufescent ants ; ,but from their being
more courageous than the negro species, the
depredators are obliged to go with greater
strength of numbers and more precaution."

^ushwss anb jpieasuri;.

— Sanpord, of the New Orleans Opera troupe,
at Concert Hall, is building a new opera house,
which will shortly be completed. His band
continues to draw crowded audiences, Never
have we had in Philadelphia an Ethiopian
band which has been better patronized.
Much of this success is owing to the excellent
quality of the company itself as artists, while
aQ immense deal must also be conceded to
the able and liberal direction of Sanford him-
self.

— By the time this number reaches our sub-
scribers, Perham's grand gift distribution
will have commenced. It will be ccmtinaed
for several days. Meantime, the Panorama
of California will continue to be exhibited at
the Assembly Buildings. The distribution <^
gifts has been left to Mr. James H. Farrand,
an excellent person. He will commence haod-
mg them out early on Thursday morning.
We shall soon know who is to be the happy
owner of the $10,000 panorama; of the
piano ; the watches, &c

— Wiser's beautiful panorama of the " Cre-
ation, the Garden of Eden, and the Deluge"
has been removed fVom Masonic to Musical
Fund Hall, where it will be exhibited until
the distribution of gifts takes place, (n ad-
dition to the panorama, the exhibition will
embrace the singing of Mr. Goodall and Mad.
Julien, and the remarkable violin performaaoe
of Master Goodall — le petit Ole Bull. All
this, it should be remembered, is giv^i for
twenty-five cents ! A gift-ticket entitles the
holder to two admissions, and a chance of ooe
of the splendid articles in the window of J.
E. Gould : a $370 piano, or the magnificent
panorama itself. Thousands of these tickets
have been sold, and it may be expected tiiat
the distribution will shortly come off.

— Col. Maurice will forgive the printer for
making him, as he did in our last, William P.
instead of William H. Maurice. Where a man
is so well known as Col. M. such a mistake is
rather a remarkable one. However, no mat-
ter ; all will be the same in the next c^itoiy.
Errors have frequently occurred in our pag^
They were of course unavoidable. Frm:h
and Italian words suffer much at the hands of
the compositor : thus, aehena for Mcena, at^tr
for atelier. To return to Col. Maurice, he is
now established in his new atore, 123 dioBi-
nut street.

THE HOFRAADINDE.

113

wiAX SAT Tou, Masoaf r—/\xr7uAar.

imxt.

FOft THI WRK E5inif0

SATtJRDAT, JUiriB 4, 1853.
THE HOFRAADINDE.*

A THBILUNO TALE.

The stranger was searched, bat there was
nothing found upon him : his hands were tied
together with his own handkerchief, and his
inns closely pinioned by the servant, while
the officer hurried away to the direction in
which the carriage had ariven off. He feared
that it might have turned aside, and so es-
cape him, but he was delighted to find it had
stc^iped near the wall of a house. As he drew
near he obsenred that the door of the carriage
was standing open, and a few steps from it
was the slender fi^re of a youth, carefully
enTek^[>ed in a cloak> who advanced towards
him.

•• Is it you, my friend ?" said the figure, in
an anxious voice.

<• All has gone well," whispered the officer,
in reply.

The youth, seemingly relieved, extended
his hand, as with the intention of leading him
to the carriage ; but as a light from one of
the lamps gave him a view of his companion,
the youth suddenly shrunk, altogether unable
to utter a word.

'*Fear nothing, young man," said the offi-
cer; ''get into the carriage, we shall return
to ibe city ; your youth leads me to hope
that you are innocent, but I must immedi-
ately know what you have to do with that
villain."

" Oh, Heavens ! I am lost," exclaimed he,
wriDgiDg his hands ; *' would to God that the
liall bad pierced my heart !"

Meanwhile the servant, with his prisoner,
^lined them ; the officer seated himself in the
carriage along with him and the young man,
wbik the servant got up behind ; and in a
ahoK time they found themselves at the house
iaKralowna fjnice.

It was a fresh shock to the prisoner to find
his cane, with all its contents, in the hands
of tbe officers of justice.

On finding that matters were in this state,
and fearing a tumult from the crowd, — ^whom
tiba news of the robbery had assembled to-
cedier, and who seemed to expect some great
teoyery, — after a few moments' hesitation,
ha si leogflk determined to lay^ every thing
hdbre the President. When this request was

n pun 102.

conveyed to the President, he was engaged
with his brother-in-law, and some other
friends, but being curious to see the criminals,
he gave orders to admit them. The supposed
criminal was first led in ; he entered the
apartment with an assumed composure.

** Herr Linkowsky !" exclaimed the Preai-
dent, in a tone of astonishment, while the rest
of the company looked at him with wonder
and expectation. In a few moments after, his
youthful companion was ushered in : he ap-
peared scarcely able to support himself, from
excess of agitation ; he fixed his eyes on the
ground, wUle he covered his &ce with both
hands, and it was only by force that the offi-
cers of justice could remove them. A pair
of beautiful eyes and a lovely countenance
met the astonished gaze of the spectators.

''Julia! unhappy girl!" exclaimed the
brother-in-law of the President, in a tone of
terror, and clasping his hands together he
sank insensible on hte seat.

<< Now, my friend," said the old eentleman
the following morning, as he reached me a
pipe, "may our sentiments blend like the
smoke of our pipes."

"Have you spoken with your daughter ?"
said I, " and extended your parental forgive*
ness to her ?"

" Forgive !" he replied ; " you don't seem
to understand how a man should guide his
children. No, no, forgiveness must not so
soon follow the commission of a fault. It
would only lead to its repetition. Heavens !
she is all that is left to me. I have lost my
wife, my only son, and she, my only consoli^
tion, would leave her dd father to throw her-
self into the arms of an unprincipled scoun-
drel. It is very grievous that one must share
the love of one s only child with a villain !"

I had great difficulty in calming the old
man. He depicted to me the felicity he en-
joyed with his amiable wife, but adoed, that
even while she lived the sun of his happiness
began to be overcast. The whooping-cough
had raged in Pra^e, and had proved fatal to
a ereat many children : anxiety for the life
of nis boy induced him to send him to his
brother, on his estate near the Polish frontier ;
the boy was received and watched over with
a father's care, but the angel of destruction
was not to be cheated of his prey. In a few
weeks the child died, his brother brought him
the melancholy tidings, and deeply sympa-
thised in a father's idBiction. He bore this
stroke with Christian resignation. It seemed
as if Providence designed to repair this loss,
hj giving them the promise of another ; but
his wife survived her confinement but a few
hours, and all that now remained to him was
his daughter, that daughter who would have
deserted him. "I had her insti-ucted," con-
tinued the old man, "in every accomplish-

114

BIZARRE.

tnent : no expense was spared on her ednca*
tkm : heaven had given her a charming yoice.
I gave her a master, and she soon made won-
derful progress, ^e then entreated that I
would allow her to learn Italian, as she said
it was the only langpiage, combined with mu-
sic, which would touch the heart."

"But how,'* said I, ** could you admit
such a character into your honse, and by
whom was he introduced to you ?**

*' He had been here several months before
I knew it," he replied : ** one of our bankers
was acquainted with him at Leipsic, and he
it was who brought him to me. He gave
himself out as the son of a Florentine, who,
for some crime against the state, was obliged
to leave Europe. This stranger was highly
accomplished, was an excellent linguist, and
also a finished musician : so that his society
was much courted, and in sh<Mrt, no party was
thought complete unless Buonaventura made
one of it I could not^deny my daughter's
request ; and Buonaventura assured me that,
before a year had passed, she would speak
Italian as if she were bom on the banks of the
Amo; but this stranger never pleased me;
there was a shyness of manner, a look that
could not openly meet yours. Meanwhile my
daughter certaonly did great credit to her
master, and any one who ventured to breathe
a word against the Italian was sure to incur
her disfdeasure. It happened that one even-
ing when a party of younr ladies were as-
sembled, they commenced the game of Who
is the most l>eautiful of Libussa's daughters ?
and each begun to describe her in rhyme.
Buonaventura called the goddess of his idol-
atry Julia, and in every line it was evident
that the portrait of my daughter was meant.
Some one told her of it, and it seemed to be-
witch her, and she soon became deeply at-
tached to him. Soon after this, I one day
surprised her embroidering a purse for him :
alarmed at this, I instantly forbid him the
house — Julia promised to think no more of
him ; and to convince me (^ it, she gave me
aU the letters she had received fnmi him.
About three months afler this, some debts
which he had incurred forced him to leave
Prague ; I was delighted at this, as I thought
that absence would entirdy extinguish the
flame. Fod that I was ! it was as vivid as
ever. They corresponded, and then arrived
this rascal Linkowsky, who prevailed upon
her to elope with him in boy's apparel. Read
that !" he exclaimed, as he took a letter from
his desk ; '' it is short, but full of deep pas-
sion."

'* Linkowsky," it began, "is the only hu-
man being, except yoursdf, on whom my
heart relies — trust to him as love's protecting
angd ; he will Ining you to me ; it is only by
such a step that the gales of happiness can
be opened to us." Linkowricy had known in

B a friend of the old ^tleman, and

through hhn he obtained aa mtroductioii to
the house, where he was received with the
greatest hospitality. The old gentleman was
charmed with his agreeable manners, which
rendered him at all times a welcome guest,
and his daughter lost no opportunity o€ in-
structing him how to win tne favor of her
father ; above aU, she counselled him to avoid
showing a partiality for any thing military,
as her fikther could not endure them. In con-
sequence of which he instantly laid aside his
moustachois, and spoke of the military with
great dislike.

** There is a widow in B ," said the old

man, " whom Linkowsky assured my daughtet-
would a£ford her protection for the present,
and from whom she would always experience
the tenderness of a parent."

"Can you descnbe the widow to meV*
said I.

** I found a letter in my daughter's cham-
ber," he replied, "but without signature;
and the only thing that I could discover re-
garding her was, that she lived in K

street."

" In K street !" exclaimed I, in amaze-
ment, ** and a widow !"

"Yes," said the <Ad gentleman, "and my
daughter tells me that her husband was a
counsellor, and that Linkowsky is nearly re- '
lated to her. and resided with her the last \
time he was in B ."

" Her husband a counsellor, and she a wi-
dow ?" said I, in still greater amazement.

" So it appears," replied my friend ; " but
Julia assurcMlly does not know her name ;
** but, however, I shall ask her again." He
desired his daughter to be called : she entered
pale and dejected : grief had so changed her,
that had I met her anywhere but in her fa-
ther's house, I would not have recognised
her ; she bent down and kissed her &ther*8
hand.

" Julia," said he, " I ask you once more if
you really do not know the name of the coun-
sellor whose widow invited you to B ?"

She earnestly assured him that she really did
not.

" You would perhaps remember it if you
heard it," said I, while I named the stranj^ed
counsellor. Julia looked as if she had heard
the name before.

" Good Heavens !" said the old gentleman,
" that is my old friend, the same who intro-
duced the rascal who would have carried off
my daughter."

" Merciful powers !" I exclaimed, " he has
introduced his own murderer to you. Toor
friend is no more ; the grave covers him — and
it was this widow who robbed him of IH^**
The old gentleman was speechless from aa-
tonishment, while Julia walked to the win-
dow in agita^oa and doubt whether mbtb

THE HOIELUuDIKDE.

115

ought to give cicdit to so hmrible a dis-
clofiure.

" Qracious Providence !" exclaimed the old
gentJeman, '*hovr appearancefi deceive one!
for even without letters from the connaellor,
I would have given up my whole heart to
him. I know not what powerful fe^ng at-
tracted me towards him, but I could have
confided to him the mo6t private of my affairs ;
and I found a singular pleasure in looking on
his manly and expreasive countenance. Go
to your chamber, Julia,'' he continued, '* and
thiyok heav^i for having saved you from the
bauds of such a monster." ^e threw a dis-
tnutful look towards me, which grieved me
much, and then quitted the apartment*
Scarcely had she 1^ us when the President
entered ; my friend informed him of the in-
fonnation I had just give^i him.

" I do not doubt it," he replied. '* Last

ni^t I received letters from B , which

caused me to observe the criminal narrowly;
he allows a detersunation of mind which, with
mj k>og experience, I have never seen equal-
led. Nothing will induce him to utter a syl-
lable: he reeohitely refuses to allow a morael
of food to pass his lips, and it is my opinion
that he means to starve himself to death, to
escape the hands <^ justice. "

'' Have Tou searched his papers ?" said I,
" that will surdy bring something to light."

'*They are still unopened," ne replied,
'^bot I shiil have them examined this even-
ing.'*

^May I request," said I to the President,
*' that TOU will allow me to glance at these
ptpers?" He paused for a moment, and then
replied:

'* Let it be 80 then ; but you must come to
mj cbamber, as I cannot allow them to go
OBtof my hands.'* We entered the carriage
aai drove to the President's. The first thing
that we saw was the handkerchief, with my
initiab. I asked how it came there.

'' It bdonga to the priscmer," he answ^^ ;
*'it was that, with which his hands were
bound the night he was taken, but I promise
kirn he AM soon have fetters of a difierent
kiadtokeephim&st"

** He must," said I, ''have taken it away
thtmonting he contrived to slip the forged
haidE*no<;i8 into my pocket; but I shall retain
^ as a Hmembruioe of these extraordinary
trate'MjI then related to him my reascms
ftr attadifing so much importance to it, and
ke immediately acquiesced in my wish to re-
taan it. The troak of the criminal was now
tpwid, sad amongst his dothes were foond
* grtat many papers in Italian, French, and
wary thing wa&airaaged with the
I oaa scarcely deaoribe the
with which I ^iMieed over tboM
hnt the oootents wefe of greater mi^
iMDtthaa I had eveo anticipated.

Before proceeding further I shall unfold the
plan of the runaways. Leipsic was the place
where they had appointed to meet. Buona-
ventura had intrusted Julia to the care of his
friend, as his greatest worldly treasure. The
deepest solicitude and anxiety seemed to guide
his pen. The further I read, the more the
traces of crime appeared to diminish, and I
felt my sympathy powerfully excited, but
though not criminal, yet still he did not ap-
pear to be totally free from error: his peace
of mind was evidently lost, and fate had pre-
cipitated him into an abyss of sorrow, through
the means of a villain, who bound him to
himself with chains of iron.

My opinion regarding these two men under-
went a change which a few hours previous I
little dreamt of. I gave the papers to the
President, at the same time entreating, for
Heaven's sake, to keep them from his brotho*-
in law, and th^i hastened home. The old
gentleman had gone out, and I took advan-
tage of his absense to soften the displeasure
of his daughter towards me. I could not but
remark tnat my presence was anything but
agreeable to her, though she endeavoi^ed to
overcome her dislike. I expressed my regret
that my presence should be so distasteful to
her, but added, that she should reflect that
had it not been for me, she would have fallen
into the hands of an unprincipled vilHan ; that
I had not only endeavored to soften the dis-
pleasure of her father, but that having read
over the papers of Linkowsky, I was now
ready to do all in my power to promote her
vrishes ; that Buenaventura was far fh)m be-
ing the criminal that I had imagined, and that
the only thing against him was his connexion
with Unkowsky : that it was my most anx-
ious desire to give her every consdation in my
power, but that she must shew no distrust of
me, but meet me with the fbUest confidence.
She listened attentively while I spoke, then
raising her dark eyes to my face, gazed fixedly
on me, as if reflecting if I were acting sincerely
by her. She then seized my hand, and vehe-
DMntly pressing it, impk)red me to tell her if
I indeed spoke truth. After a short time, I
happily succeeded in convincing her of my
sincerity. She entreated me to pardon her
distrust of me, and then, in the most engag-
ing manner posable, rdated how she and
Buenaventura had bec<»ne attached.

Little conversation paased this day at table,
and I could not but foel melancholy, when I
lodced at the benevolent countenance of the
dd man, and thought how soon it would be
dariKned l^ soirow. After dinner, I went to
LeidsdMf, to bid him farewell, and requested
he would make my apok)gie8 to Henneberg ;
and in a few hours I w*l on my jouitiey to
Laipsie. I wis still some vales ftim the ter-
miiMlion of my journey, and could with
difficulty distinguish the towers of Leipsioia

BIZABBS.

the distance — ^when , upon a little rising ground |
to the left, I saw two men standing, one of
whom pointed towards me with a stick ; as '
they approached, I perceived that one was a '
shepherd, the otlier a stranger, who looked
earnestly at the carriage through a glass. I ,
instantly conjectured that this must be Bu<Hia- '
Ventura, and my conjecture proved right. He ,
approached the carriage, into which he looked I
with great anxiety, as if in search of some
one, but not finding the object of his inquiry, |
he suddenly crushed his hands together, as if
stung by disappointment, but still remained I
standing by the carriage. |

"Perhaps," said I, "you expect some
travellers from Prague !"

** I do, sir," he replied ; ** perhaps you have
encountered them ?

** They are detained," I rq)lied, " in a lit-
tle village some miles from this, by an acci-
dent to their carriage. They cannot reach
Lcipsic before to-morrow, at mid-day, and
they entreat me to take thdr friend, ifdio
would probably come to a considerable dis-
tance to meet tnem, back to town with me.

The Italian turned round and looked to-
wards the sun.

" It will be some hours before it is dark,"
he replied, " so I shall continue my way, and
hope to reach my friends before midnight.
What," he continued, ** is the name of the
village?"

*« That I must not tell you," said I, " as
the youngest of your friends entreated me to
keep it from you."

" Did he indeed ?" he rejoined. " Oh, ^e
is so kind, so considerate ; with your permis-
sion, then," he added, "I shall accept of
your kind offer," — and with these words he
stepped into the carriage.

"The young friend," said I, "to whom
you seem so tenderly devoted, appears to be
a very anuable girl f "

" A giri !" he exclaimed, in surprise.

" Yes," I answered, " I once saw her pic-
ture on the lid of a box. " He looked al armed.
"It is a shame," I continued, "that she
should travel with such a companion: she
appears like an angel of light by the side of a
demon of darkness. How can you entrust so
precious a gem to a David Linkowsky !"

" Sir, he is a man of honour," he replied,
" a man whose friendship I am proud to pos-
sess ; but how do you know — ^I cannot imag-
ine — '

" Friendship !" interrupted I, " tis easy to
conceive what kind of friendship that must
be which had its origin in a house where a
midnight murder was committed, and an inti-
macy commenced during the flight in conse-
quence of it." •

" Heavenly poireni !" exclaimed my eom-
panion — "who are y<m? your words make
me flfaodder."

" *Tis no wonder that you tremUe," stid
I, " to have such a friend ! but be calm, it ia
not yet the hour for spectres — ^your ooBScieDce
may be quiet for the clock has not yet tolled
one, and yon see I un alone."

The Italian became pale as death, and start-
ing from his seat would have ^roDg from the
carriage,

"Be composed, Buonaventora," eaid I,
" and thank Qod for having saved you fram
the fangs of a demcm, and torn asundtt' the
disgracAil bonds in which he held you. Lin.
kowd^ has fallen into the hands of justice,
and it is doubtful whether he is yet alive.
Julia is not on her wav to hasten to your
arms, but she is in her mther's house : but I,
who bring you this dissapointment, am also
love's messenger, and should the inquiries
which I must make prove satisfactoiy, I shall
return with you to Prague, and hope to unite
two hearts which have suffered so deeply for
their errors." Buonaventora listened to me
in speechless astonishment, and overwhdmed
with shame and confusion, he covered his face
with his hands and wept. After various
questions, I at length asked if he was pre-
sent at the Counsellor's murder ? He solemnly
swore, that at the time it happened he knew
nothii^ of it, but that alter the event he sus-
pected it, but never had the courage to ask
the murders anything concerning it.

'•Then hope the best," said I, '<and to-
morrow we shall return to Prague." We
spent most of the night together, and if I
^ned on Buenaventura's c<mfidenoe, he rose
rapidly in my estimation. The more I saw of
him, the more deeply did I deplore that a
mind so noble should have been tarnished by
the seduction of the world. I asked my com-
panion if he knew the Hofraadinde ; he as-
sured me he had never spoken to her, bat that
he had frequently met her in company, when
Linkowsky always paid her the most marked
attentions.

We returned to Prague. I stomped at the
l^ace where I had formeiiy lodged, and desir-
ing my companion not to quit the house for
the present, I bent my steps towards my old
friend's dwelling. I found him seated at the
tea-table ; Julia was pouring out his oofiee,
and it gratified me much to observe that con-
fidence seemed again restored betwerai them.
Julia appeared to greet me with pleanure^aod
she tremUed a little as she handed dm my
cup. Linkowsky, th^ infimned me, was
still alive, but death hovered ov^ him ; he
continued to refVise aU sustenance, lay imaov*
able upon his bed, and no one coidd force a
word from him.

After some thne I led the conversation to
Buonanentora, and I could easily peroeive
how much the old gentleman was sarprijKd
at the diffiorent style in which I now talxed of
him. It waa in vain that I tried to moderate

THE HOFRAADINDE.

117

his indignation a^nst him ; but from the
boievolence and mildness of his dispoeition, I
did not lose hope of acoompHshing this at
Bene future period.

Abeut eight days after his imprisonment
Imkowaky died, and though his last strug-
^ were Tiolent in the extreme, he did not
lUow one exclamation to escape him. Deter-
mined to accomplish my purpose, I never
ecMed speaking in favor of the Italian, until
I softened in some degree, the displeasure of
ttie eld gentleman. The president gave a
^odid entertainmfflit, >at which Juha was to
•ppear in her brilliaocy and beauty. Buona-
veotura could not deny himself the gratifica-
tion of stealing a glance at Julia as she step-
ped £rom the carriage. I could not join the
ptfty at the president's, having engaged my-
self at Henneberg's. The entertainment pass-
ed off with great eclat, and although there
WIS scarcely a countenance there diat was
not a lovely one, still Julia was acknowledged .

■ bj ill, to be queen of thenight. Thecompan^ I
continued their amusement with great spirit .
till a late hour, when the elder part of it be-
pa to retire, leaving the young people to con-
tiDue their enjoyments ; but Julia's father had
promised to remain to the last.

The president now hastily called a servant
to attend one of the guests who was depart-
ing, ind m his haste to obey this summons,
the domestic cardessly set a lamp on a table
in the cabinet of the president ! A lustre
hang above it, over whidi was thrown a gauze
eoTcring; this instantly caught fire, and a
dense smoke quickly filled uie apartments,
while flumes began to burst forth ; the com-
ptoy, seised with afi&ight, ran against each
otWr and mahed towards the staircase.

While the president was at the other end of j
^ house, and iound it impossible to force his i
ws]r through the crowd, nis brother-in-law !
recollecting that he had some valuable papers
in a closet adjoining his cabinet, humed to
the gpot, and seizing a box gave it in charge
to a servant, with orders to carry it home
inuDediatdy and place it in his chamber. —
Meinwfaile the fire was happily extinguished,
nd the M genUeman hastened home with
Jriia; but the (right he had undergone would

1 Mt permit him to sleep, and after tossing in
bed Ibr some time, he impatiently arose, and

I kii e3rcs happening to hXi upon the box which
he hid sent mm the |M«sident*s, and thinking
that it Bikfat possiUy contain linkowsky's
pipers, whksh his brother-in-law had not yet

I thewn him, he could not resist the desive of
opening it. His supposition was correct. Af-
terglaadngovOT several , he took from amongst
them a letter addressed to a lady whose name
WIS not unknown to him or to the reader, and
in which he imparted to her some remarkable
AJPtawstapces. The old man was standing
he read ■ aydden^ his hand trmbled--

his countenance became pale as death, and he
fhtl insensible to the ground. David Linkow^
sky was his own son.

David Linkowsky was, indeed, the son of
my old friend. The boy had not been long
with his uncle, when one evening a band <?
robbers attacked the house, to which they set
fire, and along with the plunder, carried d
the child to Poland, with the intenticm of sell-
ing him as a serf to some nobleman. His un-
cle believing that the boy had been murder^
ed, and fearing the reproaches of his brother,
he told him that his son had died of the veiy
hooping-cough which they had so much dread-
ed. An Dlyrian who was in the Venetian ser-
vice, saw the boy, took a fancy to him, and
bought him : he treated him with the greatest
kindness, educated him, and taught him
drawing, the only thing for which he shewed
a decided partiality. But when he grew up,
he r^)aid his benefactor's kindness with the
blackest ingratitude, deserted him in a dan-
gerous illne8S, went to Venice, and from that,
trav^ed through the greatest part of Italy.

His engaging appearance and manners gain-
ed him admittance into many families, but
under the most pdished exterior he ccmcealed
a depraved and vicious heart. His powers of
fkscination won many an amiable heart, but
pure feelings found no corresponding ones in
his bosom, and the most devoted afiection had
no influence over him . He wandered over the
Alps, and in the south of France he became
acquainted with Csesar Buenaventura ; with-
out a guide and with no object in view, this
unhappy young man wandered through the
world. The turbulent and seditious spirit of
his father had occasioned his banishment from
Florence, and he left his son in a very desolate
situation. With no one to love him, he clung
to Linkowsky with all the confiding feeling
of his nature : however, he was not long in
discovering something of the evil spirit, to
whose guidance he hid given himself up ; yet
he did not possess energy sufiBcient to nree
himself from the bonds, in which the more
powerful mind of Linkowsky held him pris-
oner, and with reluctance he allowed himsdf
to be dragged by him into the haunts of vice.
A passion noore powerful, and of longer con-
tinuance than usual, now took possession of
Linkowsky's mind.

A woman whose grace and beauty were uni-
versally acknowledged, had at len^h touched
his heart, and he gave her more of his confi-
dence than he had ever before done to any
human being. Linkowsky and his mistress
had appointed a meeting, and Buenaventura
promised to watch in we anti-chamber, to
prevent their being surprised : but he witness*
ed a scene that night, which destroyed his
peace, and had nearly deprived him of his
senses. This house is branded in the history
of human crime, as the scene of the horriUe

118

BIEARRE

wiafder of Fuildea, ftad Lmkowsky'emistnss !
WM that yery Madame Manscm, whose beauty !
and fascination had so powerful aa influeooe i
upon her judges. It was fixmi her that he
had received the watch and brooch, which !
were found in his possession ; and it was to <
her that the letter was addressed, in which he >
imparted to her all his youthful feelings and |
reoollecnons, ereo from the days of his child- 1
hood. He depicted to her the burning of his
uncle's property, and the wild plunderers who
had carried him off: he also related to her, in
the most interesting manner, how his father,
whom he never could recollect under any
other circumstance, had taken him one even-
ing to see a windmill which had taken fire,
ai^ who said to him, whilst pointing to its
blozing arms —

** Look, my child, it is thus that the chas-
tising angel stretches forth his arm to punish
wicked men and childr^i who will not obey
their parents.''

It was this circumstance which revealed to
the old gentleman that Linkowsky was his
son. While Buenaventura was concealed in
this chamber, Bankal, the landlord of the
house, and his accomplices, entered, and lock*
ing the doors they proceeded to execute their
bloody purpose ; but on discovering Buona-
▼entura, they instantly seized him, and terri-
fied that he would betray them, they deter-
mined to make him an accomplice in their
crime. They forced him into an adjdning
doset, where the horrible deed was committ-
ed, and compelled him to hold the vessel in
which they shed the blood of their unhappy
victim, and from that time the miserable Bu-
onaventura shuddered even to look upon the
hands which had been thus polluted, and
whmever the dock struck one he trembled,
and involuntarily clasped tli^m together.

Bankal and his companions having complet-
ed the bloodj] purpose, hastened to carry the
body to the river, and Buenaventura and Lin-
kowsky seized the opportunity of their ab-
sence to escape from the house. They imme-
dmtely took to flight and were soon a consider-
able way from the scene of crime.

They fixed on Basil as their place of resi-
dence, where Linkowsky gave instructsons in
drawing, and Buenaventura taught Italian ;
but with all Linkowsky's powers of persua-
ffion, he could not prevail on his companion to
remain long with him — ^Buenaventura went
first to Leipsic, and from that to Prague,
while Linkowsky took his departure for

B , where, from want of money, he was

forced to cii^Pp^ of his brooch and watch to a

jeweller. While at B , he happened one

evening to meet the counsellor's lady at a
party, and durine the games of the evemng,
he was desired to Idss me hand of the lady in
company whom he 1lK>ught he could love with
most taruth and fidelity: he chose the Hofraa-

diode, and this eomplimeni gained him her
&vour; he accompanied her n^ne, waa re-
ceived by her husband with great hospitality,
and was soon upon the most intimate footling
in the house. But notwithstanding this, his
visits were not frequoit, and he never went to
the houM when the counsellor was from home.
He soon obtained an extraordinary influence
over the Hofraadinde, they often met else-
where, as Linkowsky always felt unfdeasant
at the counsellor's, perhaps from the sight of
his watch and broodi, which the latter had
bouglit from the jewdler to whom he had
sold it, as a presoit to his nephew, whose pro-
moticm he 8lu>rtly expected.

About a week before Linkowaky Strang^
the counsellor, Buenaventura arrived in B — ,
Linkowsky soon saw how deep hissttaohmcst
was to JiUia, and he was delighted to le«ni
from him that her fath^^ was a raaa of for-
tune.

He fervently entreated him not to lose hope,
and suggested several plans by whidi he
might accomplish his wishes, and gave him
every assurance of his unchanged regard and
interest in him, uid he concluded by ^ying.

** Be composed, my friend, I shall go my-
self and bring your Julia, when once ytm are
married the old gentleman must f<Migive yon ;
and were my beloved but separated from the
counsellor, then we would all go to sotne de-
lightful valley in Switzerland, and enjoy our
happkiess unseen by all the world."

A lover's heart could not vri thstand voj
thing that held out hope to him^ and throvr-
ing himself into the arms of his friend, be
gave himself up to his guidance ; but while
he b^uiled the credulous Buenaventura wi^
a picture of future fecality, the nrarderovs
plan was already formed in his breast ; every
thing was arranged, and he determined tlwt
Uie 12th of August should secure to his mas-
tress the possesion of her fortune. In the
morning the counsellor wrote the letter he re-
quested, to his old friend in Prague, mod hf
night he lay murdered in his bed.

The President was not a little alarmed,
when» on the mormngaf^r ihe fire, he nuised
the box with Linkowsky's papers, and karvt
who had taken them; he hastened to his
brother-in-law's, found him stretched npmt
his bed, and the box with the papers lying
open on the table ; he hurried towards the
bed, and in the deepest anxiety seized his
hand: he found him almost apeechlefls, httt
the physician whom be summoned gave him
hope of his recovery. Julia and Buonarea-
tura never quitted his couch ; in a few daje
he sat amongst us again : he was pale aiid
depressed, it is true, but perfectly rengned to
the stroke of fate.

Some weeks after this I quitted Prague,
leaving Julia and Bnoaaventura a betwithed
pair. I <»nied away the haadkerohisf t»

PITY "nsiatuE.

119

B , and MnfcUjr preseire it. I fimnd

Ibslorf restored to hi^th, his fortune was
secured to him ; whether or not the Hofraa*
dinde had partidpaited in the murder of her
ktsbaod. I oould noTor learn ; it rests with
her ccDScsicace^

PITY 'TIS TRUE.

There is sonethii^i^ melancholy in the con-
tonplatieQ of decaying nature— to see the old
oek safdeas, dying, withering away, .while
mod and about it roses bloom, and tendrils
twine. To witness in the autumn the falling
htS, to see the yellow tint on many afloaUng
waiflet of the IcNrest, and know that they are
the emblems of life the portraitures of man
lad his destiny.

life, human life, to see it gradually sink,
to behdd the once blo<Rning cheek pale and
■arked with the finger of age, to witness the
bright eje fede, and become lustreless ; that
Cfe which was wont to flash with joy, and
anger, that ^e which rested on all that was
beautkul in natnre, delighting in the bk)68om6
of the fields, and the gaieties of life, now
sinking away from yiew, and tracing through
its flbadowy lattice, the dark, and gloomy
things of the world : age m ruins, age in
the ebaeure comer of the world, in its cold
tad cheerless degree— age shut out from the
case and elegancies of life — removed from the
isaodations and adventitious aids of wealUi ;
•ge in its sear and yeUow leaf, helpless, home-
las, houseless, presents a sight to the reflect-
ing mind at once fearful, and sad. In the
■arbled palace, soothed, petted, and fed, tot^
tcring age finds rdief in the grandeur, it
courts. There the weak and palsied limbs,
recMne on rich stnfib, and soft cushions ; it can
M back into its first infancy of care and at-
teatien; again does he become a child, and all
bis wants anticipated, and provided for. Bat
ilaa! how di fferent is age in poverty. We may
imagine that it glides on, as old age seems,
eafaaiy, and quietly ; for in poverty old age, is
incipiait insanity, beyond which it seldom
goes; it pauses on the verge of that dark gulf,
and lingers on in trouble, in care, in suffering,
and silly mutterings. There is due to old age
not cnly respect Imt a debt, which relatives
are not always prepared to pay. Old age com-
mands aU who have christian hearts, ^mpa-
tfay.aftdhelp. If mankind as a body, in their
legiilations neg^t to provide for the poor
nflering aged, they are neith^ christians nor
statesmen. And yet has not our government
aedcoted, and cheated the soldiers of our re-
vohstMMi cot of their just rights and daesl
I>id it reward them for all their sufferinss,
iod the inevitable blessing — the cause for
whiehibey foi]ghi-~bioaght us ? Did the pal-
try sight dfiUm a mont]^ soothe* and make

happy the latter days of the old gray headed
veteran oi 76? Have we not seen them
begging a morsel <^ bread?— have we not
seen the old soldier who followed the immor^
tal Washington through all his battles— sai9-
tng troo^ in our fmidic streets* to |n*ovide
food for himself and aged partner? have we
not seen the old soldier, when his strength
feiled him at last, go from door to door, beg-
ging bread to keep himself and wife out of the
alms house. Ask the old merchants along
Market street, iftAdam Hepple, was not a
pauper on their bounty for years, and whHe
asking that question, couple it with another—
would eight dollars a month, pay theexpeiwe
of thia or any other old soldier living, with-
out some addition, and that addition was to
be made either by labor, or begging ? Nearly
all of our revolutionary soldiers are gone
now, those that are living, are too old to
labor, hence they must bc^. What a com-
mentary upon our country. Thousands of
dollars have been squandered away upon va-
grant ferei^ers, millions, for the display of
national pnde, and political power, but not a
dollar, added to the humble pittance of the
soldier of the Revolution !

Age in poverty is a melancholy picture;
equally startling to sense and feeling is the
one wherein is seen the old soldier, the pioneer
of our country's glory, eating the l»ead of
charity, while our country modu him with a
paltry gift of two debars per week ! These
reflections are caused, not by mere thought of
the sad fact existing in our midst, but frssn
witnessing within a few weeks its stem r^-
ity. We have seen misery, poverty and
wretchedness in all forms ; we have seen little
children huddled together on a coverless bed.
while the winter wuid was whistling around
their rickety dwelling ; we have seen ase, pal-
sied age, weeping bitter tears beside we sick
bed of youth, and fn^m the dim and imper-
feet orb of vision looked out the broken ^rit,
on desolation and starvation ! Misery, wretch-
edness uid squalid poverty exists in all popu-
lous cities, and amid the heterogeneous mass
of human miseiy old age moves (m in its suf-
fering, its ruin, and wi«ok, until death steps
in and closes up the remnant of its sufferings
in the everlasting tomb of forgetfulness.

On the step of one rich and miserly, sat a
shivering obiect of the worlds charity, beside
her stood a basket, over which an old news-

Saper was thrown, beneath were morsels of
read, and broken meat. The recipirait ef
omn's bounty, was dd, very old, her head
leaned against the iron railing of that rich
man's house. The poor, feeble creature, was
asleep, age had wrinkled up a once beauteous
fece, yet there was the outline of a symetri-
cal formation of features ; and although pover-

• AWmtk

130

BIZARRE.

l^ their seal upon her, the
observer could see upon the calm noe, a sort
of indistinct light which came up as it were
from the deep and hidden caverns of the hu-
man heart : it was the light of resignation,
^e was My very old, feehle, very feeble, tired
nature had sought the marble steps as a fit-
ting place for rest. And so it was ; for in that
old stately mansion this poor ragged creature
was bom — it was the home of her ancestors,
the home of her youth, the spot of all others
most beloved; she sought it In rags — she who
was wont to stand upon those marble steps
and welcome the young and gay, when she
was like them, now slept in age and poverty,
on the lower step. She had married young —
nMt losses, had children, poverty came, mis-
ery, and death — all passed away, and left her
in the worid, childless— portionless— and —
but the door opens, a rich and pompous man
appears — he shuns the beggar — ^he knows her
not — he cares not — she falls from the step —
her baflket is upset, her little store is scattered
on the pavement. She rises, gazes around —
beholds her nephew stalk away — and she, his
aiont, wanders on to her wretched home, to
dream, and find upon awakening, that life is
but a fearful reality.

SINOULAR CHURCH TROU-
BLES IN ALBANY IN n»o.

The third volume of the Documentary His-
tory of New York, recently published by the
state, contains an amusing account of some
churdi disputes that occurred in the village of
Albany in its e«4y days. Matters o( church
and state were then mixed up in a way that
does not suit the opinions of us modems. Ac-
cordingly, the first entry upon the subject is
the record of an *' Extraordinary Court held
at Albany 11 Mardi 1679-80,*' and is as fid-
lows:

** the Court met at the request of Domine
€Kdeon Sdiaets, accompanied oy the Worship-
ed Consistory, who complains that Myndert
Fredericksee Smidt came to his house and told
him, the Domine, never to presume to speak
to any of his children on religious matters ;
and that he the Domine went sneaking through
all the houses like the Devil ; adding our
Domine (meaning Domine Beraardus, Minis-
ter of the Lutheran Congregation) does not
do so.

'*Dom: Schaets further complains that
Myndert Fredericksee 's wife greiviousl v abus-
ed and calumniated him behind his back at
Gabriel Thompson's house, as an old Rogue,
Sneak, &c., and that if she had him by the
pate, she should drag his grey hairs out of
it; which the Domine offered to prove by
witnesses.''

Whereupon Myndert Fredericksee and
wife are seat for to Court and Dom : Schaet's

•accusation is read to Myndert, who denm it
all, decbtring that he had not giren the Dom-
ine an ill word."

Pietertie, wife of Myndert Fredericksee,
denies having abused Domine Schaets as a
Rogue and &ieak : but that the Domine hath
abused her Religion as a Devilish Religioii.

'* Hend Rooseboon sworn, says that he was
at Cabriel Thompson's last Monday when Pie-
tertie, Myndert Fredericksee's wife entered,
and wishing to go away was called back by
(Gabriel and conversing on the subject of
Dom : Schaets and her daughter, she said—
What business hath Dom : Schaets to ques-
tion mine daughter ? To this Gftbriel s«kl —
Why should he not do so ? ' The Domine does
well to question people . Whereupon Pietertie
said, Dom: Schaets, the old rogue and sneak ;
had she been by, she should have caught him
hj the grey pate — adding he ought to look to
his daughter •*♦**♦** and takecare
of her — To which Gabriel replied. Why say
that and scold the Domine so f who answered
him — You dog, 3rou protect * • » ♦ • •and
knaves."

After some further evidence the Court post-
poned the matter, recommending the parties
to be reconciled. The next sitting was at
" Albany 12 March 1679^.

Myndt. Fredericksee and his wife appear
before their Worships of the Court, request-
ing that they may be reccmciled in love and
friendship with Dom. Sdiaets, which, bang
immediately done

'*Dom: Schaets appearing before their
Worships is asked — ^if he were willing to be
reconciled with the aforesud persons f who
answers, yes, on condition that they botii
acknowledge him an honorable man, and tint
they know nought of him except what is hon-
est and virtuous (always excepting the Dis-
pute out of which this case arose, namdy.
Universal Grace — being no political questicm)
also the Sheriff's claim.

Whereupon M3mdert aforesaid, and his wife
acknowledge the Domine in open court to be
an honest man and that they know nought of
him except all honour and virtue and are will-
ing to b^r all the costs hereof, also to settle
with the Sheriff.

" N. B. It is settled by And. Fetter and
^for 6 Beavers and 6 cases of wine."

The most reasonable Sheriff's bill ever
known.

This amicable conclusion did not end afl
Domine Schaet's troubles in Albany. His
daughter, above referred to, had had some
difficulty with her husband in New York, and
had left him to return to her Other's residence
in Albany. Thereupon theeood women of
Albany felt called upon to talk a good deal of
scandal concerning her. Then some of the
Domine's congregation refused to partake of
the eomiminion luileas his daughter abeented

BIZARRE AMONG THS NSW BOOKS.

121

bcraeif therefrom. Her fkther,lbr peace's sake,
afc^iiHd her to do so for the present. Further
difficulties followed and another ''Extraor-
diBtty court" was held on the First of April
1681 to settle them.

The Bode summoned the Domine twice to
appear before their Worships, to which the
Dooune twice replied that he would not come.
At a third yisit the Domine was not at home
bat the Bode received a tart reply from his
daaghter. A fourth visit of the Bode had no
better result; and thereupon the constable
was sent with a special warrant to bring the
Doimne forthwith.

The constable could not find him: he
** then asked his daughter Arnieke Schaets,
where her fadier was? She answered—* know
TOO not what Gain said ? Is he his brothers'
keeper ? Am I my father's keeper.* ''

The Domine finally appeared m court, the
I difficulties between himself and his Consis-
tory ** were arranged in love and friendship in
preaence of the court aforesaid ; Dom. Schaets
admitting he was under a misconception."

Then follows a memorandum setting forth
that the Domine's daughter, Aneke, was sent
back to her husband Thomas Davidsee in New
York. The authorities d New York sent her
immediately back with her husband to arrange
their difficulties in Albany ; and at another
'' Extraordinary court held in Albany'' 29th
day of July A. Dom. 1681," the following
paper was filed by the husband and wife.

"Thomas Davidtse promises to conduct
hiBMelf well and honoraoly towards his wife
Amwke Schaets : to love and never to neglect
her and properly to maintain and support her
with her children according to his means,
boebr making null and void all questions
that have occured and transpired between
them both, never to repeat them but are en-
tirely reconciled ; and for better a8surance of
faia real intenticm and good resolution to ob-
serve the same, he reouests that two good men
be named to observe his conduct at N. York
towards his said wife : being entirely dispos-
ed and inclined to live honorably and well
with her, as a christian man ought : subjeot-
iBg himself willingly to the rule and censure
of the said men. On the other hand his wife
Anaeke Schaets promises also to conduct her-
self quietly and well and to accompany him
to N. York with her children and property
here, not leaving him any more, but to serve
and help him, and with him to share the
sweets and the sours, as becomes a christian
spooae : Re<|uesting that all difibrences which
bad ever existed between them both may be
herdiy quashed and brought no more to light
or east up, as she on her side is heartily dis-
posed to."

Their Worships of the court recommended
parties on both sides to observe strictly their
i eec peiha tioa now made, and the gentlmcQ

at N. York were to be mformed that the mat^
ter was so fkr arranged.

gi^arrt amrmg \\t |teb §oohs.

^OeN48.^BV ALEXANOBR eMITH.

— Messrs. Ticknor, Reed & Fields, of Boston,
have issued these poems in a volume sympa-
thetic in size, types, paper, and binding with
*' Thalatta." published by them a few weeks
since, and duly noticed by us.

We are disposed to regard the author with
more than (nrdinary fkvor. He is an original ;
abounds in much fresh thought, but more ex*
uberant fancy. There is a very odd arrange*
ment of idea, odd even for poetiy , which is id-
ways expected to be somewhat eocentrio. Mr.
Smith is not so much a poet of thought^ of
philosophy, as of imagination. The snl^ects
he touches upon are fairly oovered up with
sensuous images and fantastic combinations.
He courts the beautiful— oftentimes, too, the
sublime — weaves the most gin-geous im-
ages together, and is, altogeth^, calculated to
charm the fancy.

The principal poem is a '' Life Drama," and
appears to be a kind of picture of a poet's —
perhaps the poet's — life. As another has
said, we have in this efibrt *' the struggle of
strong will against circumstance, — the conse-
quent mental exacerbation, — the influence ci
beauty on poetic predisposition, — the disap-
pointment of too hastily cherished hopes, —
the ruthless destruction of certain sentimental
ideals, — ^the temptations of female sympathy,
the too ready lapse, — the reproaches of con-
science, — the susceptibilities of repentance, —
the return to duty, — and the triumph of love."
There is, at times, a profanity which greatly
mars the work, but without which the authcnr
would hardly have been tipto the standard of
modem poetic genius. We give his open-
ing:—

^ As a wild maiden, with loyedrinking eyes.
Sees in sweet drezims a beaming youth of Qlory,
And wakes to weep, and exer after sighs
For that bright vision till her hair is hoary;
Ev'n so, alas ! is my life's passion story.
For Poesy my blood runs red and fleet,
As Moees* serpent the Egyptians' swallowed,
One passion eats the rest.

• « • •

I am fain
To fted upon the beaa^ of the moon!

[Opeiu the easement.
9/oimwtaX moon I seeming so drowned in woe,
A queen, whom some grand battle-day has left
Unkingdom'd and a widow, while the stan^
Thy handmaidens, are standUig back in awe,
Oaitng hi sileooa on tby ml^tj grief t
An BSD bara lor^ thM te thy bM«ty, mooot

ISa BGSIBBJL

Adam, hu tnraed from fire's Mt fhoo to tUne^

And drank thy beauty with hia aerene eyee.

« « « «

How tenderly the moon doth fill the nightl
Not like the passion that doth fill my soul;
It bnms wtthln me like an Indian snn.
A star is trembling on the horiion's Terge,
That star shall grow and broaden on the ni{^
Untn it hangs divine and beaatiftd
In the proud lenith —
Might I so broaden on the sUes (^ ftmel
OFamel Famel Famel next granf^ost word to Qodl
I seek the look of Fame! Poor fbol — so tries
Some lonely wanderer 'rnong the deMsrt sands
By shouts to gain the notice of the Sphynx,
Staring right on with calm eternal oyea."

The poet i» sleeping in an Italian forest,
wbo^ a ladj finds him, and falls desperately
m loTe with him. He wakes and lores in re-
turn, bat tells his love in a poem, the hero of
which is sitoated exactly like himself. The
heroine is of G0in*8e charmed to ecstasy, but
nererthdess is doomed to wed an old man,
because of his wealth. The poet is almost
orasy. Tim^ and the meeting of another
lady-lore, cnres him, however.

Mr. Smith is a great hand for sun-set de-
scribing. Take the ft^owing very original
varieties on the subject : —

«*The sun is dying like a cIOTen king
bi his own Uood; the while the distant moon,
like a pale prophetess, whom he has wronged,
Leans eager Ibrward, with most hungry eyes,
Waiteliing him bleed to death, and, as he fltlnts,
Bbe bri^tens and dilates; rerenge complete,

Sha walks fax hmdy triumph through the night**

« a « « « « a

"Tiie sun was down,
And all the west was pared with sullen fire.
I cried, 'Behold! the barren beach of hell
At ebb of tide.* The ghost of one bright hour
Comes ftom its grave and stands before me now.
*Twas at the close of a long summer day,
As we were sitting on yon grnfny slope.
The sunset hung l)oft)Te us like a dream
That shakes a demon in his fiery lafar;
Tha clouds were standing round the settfaig inn
Like gaping caves, fluitastle pinnades,
OHadels throbbing in their own fierce light,
TtU spires that came and went Ude spires of flame,
CUJb qoiTerlng with fire-snow, and peaks
Of pOed gorgeousness, and rocks of fire
A-tilt and poised, bare beaches, crimson seas.
All these were huddled fai that dreadftil west,
AU shook and trembled in unstead&st light,
And firom the centre biased the angry sun.
Stem as the nnlashed eye of God arglare
0*er erening dty with its boom of sin.
I do remember as we Joumoyed home,
(That dreadful sunset burnt into our brains,)
With what a soothing came the naked moon.
She, like a swimmer who has fbund his ground,
Came rippling up a sIlTer strand of cloud,
And plimged firom the other side Into the night.**

*< Snnset is bnmfaig lOn the aeal of Ood
ITpontliacloaaafdaj. Tbhyvrjhour

Night mounts har diariot in the «
To chase the flying Sun, whose flight has left
Footprints of glory in the okraded west:
Swift is she haled by winged swimming steeda,
Whose cloudy manes are wot with heavy dews,
And dews are driuling firom her chariot wheels.
Soft in her lap lies drowsy-lidded Sleep,
Brainftil of dreams, as summer hive with bees;
And round her in the pale and spectral light
Flock bats and grisly owls on noiseless wings.
The flying sun goes down the burning wp«t,
Vast night comes ncdseless up the eastern slope,
And so the eternal efaaae goes round the world.
IhirestI nniertt Tlie pasrfon-paotlBg sea
Watdies the unveiled beauty of the stars
Like a great hungry aonl. The unquiet clouda
Break and dissolve, then gather in a mass.
And float like mighty icebergs through the blue.
Summers, like blushes, sweep the fiMe of earth;
Heaven yearns in stars. Down comes the frantic rain;
We hear the wail of the remorseful winds
In their strange penance. And this wretched orb
Knows not the taste of rest; a maniac world,
Hcnoeless and sobbing through the deep the goes.**

Mr. Smith indulges in some very s trik ing,
very expressive, and very natural designa-
tions of well-known objects. Thus he tfdks,
in the above extract, about <' drow8y*lidded
sleep,'' *' passion-panting seas," *' frantic
rain," and ** remorsefhl winds," all of which
the reader has often encountered.

The present work gives fine promise of a
bright mture for the author. He possesses a
wealth of poetic thought, the richest cabiaet
(^ tropes and figures imaginable, a perfect
California of words. We close with two
extracts which, we think, sufficiently sostun
the opinion we have exiM'esBed.

TO .

" The broken moon lay in the autumn siy,

And I lay at thy feet;
Tou bent above me; In the sHenoe I

Could hear my wild heart beat

I spoke ; my soul was ftill of trembling ftara

At what my words Would bring :
You raised your A«e, your eyes were ftill of toars,

As the sweet eyes of Spring.

Tou kissed me then, I worshipped at thy feet

Upon the ritadowy sod.
Oh, fbol, I loved thee! loved thee, lovely cheat I

Better than Fame or Qod.

My soul leaped up beneath thy timid kiss :

What then to me were groans,
Or pain, or death ? Earth was a round of blisi^

I seemed to walk on thrones.

And you were with me *roong the rushing wheela,

*Mkl Trade's tumultuous Jars;
And where to awe-struck wilds the Night reveals

Her hollow gulfs of stars.

Befbre your window, as belbre a shrine,
rve kndt *mong d«w-aoaked flowers.
While distant mnslo^Mila, with Toloes fine,

BIZARRE AM(MQ THS NEW BOOKa

12S

Ibira CUM a fcartel mammt: I wm p«le,

Ton weptf and n«Ter fpoke,
Bnt tixxng vtrnaA ma ai the iroodblDe frail

CUoga, plMdlng, round an oak.
Upon my wrong I tteadlad np my soul,

And flong tbee from myaelf;
I jpamed thy love as 'twen a rich man's dole, —

It was my only wealth.
I ipunMd theel I, who loTtd thee, ooold have died,

Ibat hoped to call thee ' wife,'
Aad bear thee, gently smiling at my side,
, Through all the ^ocks of life!
foo lata, thy tetal beauty and thy tears,

Thy TOWS, thy passionate breath ;
m Bseet tbea not in Lift, nor ia the q>h«res

Made viaible by Death.**

SONNKT.
'Beauty still wallcefh on the earth and air,
Oar pre»ent sunsets are as rich in gold
As ere the Iliad's muric was out-rolled;
The roei>e of the Spring are erer fkir,
'Mong branches green still ring-doTes coo and pair.
And the deep sea still Ibams Its muric old.
So, if we are at all dirinely souled,
lUs beauty will unloose our bonds of care.
lb pit mil t, whan blue skies are o'er us bending
WitUn old aCanr-gated Poesy,
Tb meet a son] set to no wwldly tune.
Like tfaiM,BV«et Friend! Ob, dearer this to me
Tban are the dewy trees, the sun, the moon,
Or Doble mnric with a golden ending."

CVWUl-A, A TALK,

—Is the title of a new fiction from the pen
of the aathor of *< Tne Initials," which has
been repnbbshed by D. Appleton & Co. It
contains too many bad lessons in domestic
morals for us to recommend it ; thoagh it will
be eagerly sought after by all those who have
a taste for such a style of literature,^f
whom, by the way, there are too many in
ercry community, for a healthy state of so-
ciety.

MINTS OISI TTHB OAOUBRReOTYPB.

— Mr. Hartt of our city, has just published a
Todome of some 224 pages, — got up in exceed-
ingly neat style, and embellished quite libe-
ra&y, — the object of which seems to be to
pre directions for obtaining photographic
pictures by the Calotype and Energiatype;
&lso upon alburoenized paper and glass. It
includes, moreover, a practical treatise on
photography, and a supplement containing
the beliochrome process ; and, besides, gives
many Drmetical hints touching the whole pro-
cess or Daguerreotyping, including the latest
improvements in fixing, coloring, and engrav-
ing pictures, with a description of the appa-
ratus. There are hundreds of daguerreotypists
in our country who will want this work, while
it must have an extensive sale among scientific
men generally.

— Is the title of a new bo<^ juet puUiahed

by Lippmcoit, Qrambo & Co., of our city, it
contains three very interesting stories by
Simms, — the principal of which gives the vo-
lume its name — and will be sought after with
avidity, especially at this romance-readinff
season. Mr. Simms has written many good
stories, and some poor ones. He is justly
considered, however, an honor to our litera-
ture, and has enou^ admirers to give a re-
munerating sale to any book, the title-page
of which bears his name.

TMK IS/UC2AZINBa-

— " The Illustrated Magazine of Art," " Go-
dey," "Graham," ** Harper," and "Putnam,"
for June, are all on our table. For the first,
we are indebted to Mr. J. W. Moore, the sole
agent in Philadelphia, while the four last were
sent to us by the respective publishers. The
magazine literature of our country never oc-
cupied a higher stand than it does at present
Graham and Godey are entitled to much ere*
dit for setting the ball in motion, while to the
Harpers and Putnam must be conceded full
measures of honor, in urging it onward.
Harper, for this month, has a multitude of
interesting articles, among which are sketches
of " Life in Paris," with iUustrations from
designs by Gavami; a continuation of Mr.
Abbott's romance of Napoleon; "Gray's
Elegy," each stanza charmingly illustrated,
the desi^s being those of a neat volume some
years smce published in London; besides,
"Ancient Peru," a paper which idso is beau-
tifully illustrated. Putnam we have not had
time to examine particularly, but it has a very
taking look. The "Illustrated Magazine of
Art" has greatly improved since its com-
mencement, and promises, we hear, to attain
a wide popularity.

-TMK NSW ORLAAN8 SKB-TOH BOOK.

— Mr. Hart, of our city, has just published
a little book with this title, which forms
another volume of the " Library of Humor-
ous American Works." It is from the pen oi
Dr. G. M. Wharton, lately connected with
the New Orieans Deltay and a very pleasant
painter of every day scenes. The illustra-
tions — capital of course-~«re by Darley . The
author fumishee a preface which is sufficiently
modest. He says his inclination has beea
" more to fed pulses, than to press the grey-
goose quill , ' ' tnat he has during his connexion
with the Delta, however, " managed to throw
physic to the dogs, and to live by the plume
of that foolish bird alone :" he acknowledgeg
that he writes a good dea^ of nonsense, but
that some of his friends have condescended to
think it amusine enough to be reissued in
book-form^ WeU, these fHends are not such
bad advisers after all, as the reader will ac-
knowledge we opine, after he reads the few
extracts which we give.

The following ia from* description of the

124

BIZARRE.

New Orleans Dutch Gardens, a place ci pub-
lic resort for the Germans.

' * Five cents is paid by each male partner for
the priyilege of one waltz, which occupies
nearly ten minutes : the frauen paying noth-
ing, heaven bless them ! Often, as many as
twenty couples are whirling around at one
time. Strangers, and mere spectators, crowd
outside of the balustrade, gazing listlessly
upon the waltzers. The Germans proper, not
engaged in the dance, are seated upon the
diminutive benches under the trees, gargling
gutterals and beer. The good Almains are
not the slimmest people in the world, that is
a fact ; but their large broad faces only fur-
nish the more canvass for incomparable pic-
tures of amiability — if it is a little too deepy-
looking. They are the quietest, happiest folks
in the world. How indifferent to observation
they are ! You can go up and inspect them
closely — incapable of impertinence them-
selves, they never suspect you of it. It is a
tribe of human beings remarkably free of tat-
lers, gossips imd satirists, and very slightly
influenced by malicious motives. Meaning
no more offence than when we apply the term
** Bull" to an Englishman — they are the Dray-
horses of mankind. It is they who do the
hard work and heav^ pulling in the mines of
learning, as well as m physical fields. They
have the patience, slow industry, enduriug
strength, and harmless temper of that noble
animal— which of course, when it dees kick
up, plftys the devil.

** There is less association of improper ideas
in a beer drinker embrace than in anybody
else's. Thus, you see the vrow, in the waltz,
actually reposing on the breast of her partner,
one band over his shoulder, clasping the other
over his waist, while his arms are hugging
her as closely ; but you don't see the least
harm. We noticed several pairs whose
cheeks, in addition, rested against each other.
This we thought to condemn, until, on clearer
observation, we discovered that Mynheer was
certainly asleep and Fraulien would have been
so too, for her eyes were also shut, but that
the India-rubber she was chewing occasionally
aroused her on the verge of strangulation ;
meantime, they were waltzine instinctively,
and in perfect keeping with the music — tira
U la, tira li la, la, la!

The " Lost Child'* is in another but by no
means less clever vein,

"We first heard the drum in Mysterious
street. What it meant, we did not ascertain.
Perhaps some military company parading its
new uniform in the sun. It is a sound com-
mon enough in New Orleans, however.

In History street, we heard the drum again,
several days after.

A plainly clad old man, who wore a shabby
white hat, and had a pair of cracked specta-
cles astride of his nose, was beating it. He

would beat a brief roll, then three or four
quick taps, and cry —

"Lost child! Lost child!"

Men were generally away, in their offices,
or upon the levee, attending to business. But
women, their toddling offspring, and servants,
would appear at the windows of the houses,
or come to the doors, or step out on the ver-
andas. A few would linger awhile, listening
to what the old man might say, not asking
any questions. The rest, little interested,
would soon retire, or disappear. Their chil-
dren were at home, or at school, well, and
beautiful !

" Lost child !" cried the old man, tapping
his drum with one hand and adjusting his
spectacles with the other, as he turned the cor-
ner. " A very pretty boy. Eleven years old.
Deaf and dumb. Sharp, bright black eves ;
and spells with his fingers. Italian. Wan-
dered away from Good Children street, two
weeks since. Mother, a poor, lone widow.
An only child, and lost ! Lost child ! Lost

chUd !"

* # # * *

" In Great Men street, we last met with the
old drummer. One month had elapsed. Ne-
vertheless, he continued his kind search, the
woman in mourning, her features paler than
ever, following at a short distance.

"Not found the little boy yet?" pausing,
we asked.

"Alas, no, sir," answered the old man.
" I have been seeking for him over the city for
a month. People told me, it was no use.
But he was a very pretty boy. Eleven years
old. Deaf and dumb. And harder to find
than other boys of course. He spelled with
his fingers, but Italian words — he was an
Italian, sir, except oranges, olives and figs,
which I taught him. He had sharp, brigfat
black eyes. His mother is a poor lone widow,
living in Good Children street. But all this
fortnight she has been following me. There
she is, sir. She is his mother.

The woman in mourning — the mother-
drew nearer, piercing us with her dark eyes;
tearless eyes, shining with the lustre of the de-
spairing love of a woman, for the imperfectly en-
dowed, out therefore doubly endeared, offspmg
of her womb, wandering so long, and, per-
chance, still wandering, bewilder«l, speech-
less, and with unheeding ears, away from the
warm enfol dings of her arms.

" We have concluded to search for him no
more, after to-day," said the old drummer.
"Dear Giuseppe! He must have been run
over, or drowned, having only his fingers to
call for help, though it was a pleasant si^t
to see him spelling with them. If you should
chance to hear of a stray boy anywhere, will
you please inform me or my wife, at the frtrit
store on Good Children street, wh^e we are
neighbors to Giuseppe's mother 1"

OUR WEEKLY GOSSIP.

126

Neighbors, in truth and in deed.
We promised.

" He was moved into this ward last night,
sir> ms being less crowded. He was brought
into the hospital, half-starved and with a
bnminff fever, three weeks ago. He has ne-
ver spoken a word. He is a pretty little boy,
about deven years of age. It seems to be a
hopeless case, sir," said the nurse, jresterday,
as we paid our usual morning visit to the
ward in the Charity Hospital, which the kind-
ness ci the surgeon-in-chief has assigned to
our care.

We approached the bedside. The sharp,
bright Mack eyes lighting up the pinched and
wasted features, and the continued peculiar
motions of his fingers, confirmed our suspi-
cion. In seasons past, we had studied tne
digital alphabet of the deaf and dumb. We
framed his name — Giuseppe ?

•*S, si — yes, yes!" the blanched, wan
band of the boy made quick reply. "Ho
male a un lato — ^I have such a pain in my
aide."

We felt the pulse of the lad. It was a fee-
ble thread, v ibrating irregularly. He breath-
ed with difficulty. He was sinking rapidly.
" A chi pensa Ella — whom are you think-
ing of, Giusepe !"
" La mia madre — my mother !"
We complied with our promise, sending
word to the firuiterer on Good Children street,
that the lost Giuseppe was found.

In a few minutes the child's mother came.
At length tears began to flow, and exclaiming,
"Ifio figlio— la pieta, la pieta! — My son
—0 the pity, the pity !" she pressed him to
her breast

The fruiterer and his wife came also,
bringing a basket filled with the child's fav-
orite fruits.

*' Quanta gente—how many people!" said
the poor boy, looking happy, but moving his
filers more and more languidly.

We touched his wrist again. The breath
of life, whose g^tle vibrations stir the small
vessel beneath the physician's slight pressure,
was fast lulling into the calm of---dcath ; and
the tiny strokes of the pulse had ceased.

Giusepe glanced from his mother towards
08. ♦• n medico," he said, slowly — " quanto
c buono— How good you are."

" Abbiamo tutti da morire — there is a time
araointed unto us all, to die," we said.

Then, in his beatifiil language, whether of
words or signs, he bravely replied, with a
sentiment worthy of one much older^ften
stopping in his mechanical weariness, but
looking manfully resigned out of his sharp,
bright black eyes when he stopped, "Ora
poiche Bio mi ha hiU> tanto grazia, lo morro
oontento— I shall be content to die" — ^and he

clasped his weeping mother's hand — ** sinoe
God has grantea me so much grace."

A moment after, returning his parent's kiss,
he spelled upon his fingers the word, " Addio,"
at once fall of human affection and expressive
of reliance upon Deity ; and as he framed the
last letter, expired.

" A Touching Story" has an account of the
admirable manner in which Miss Martineau
was hoaxed bnr Colonel Grimes, a distinguish-
ed lawyer of*^ New Orleans, and winds up
with the following capital anecdote : —

" An acquaintance of ours, who shall be
nameless, an elegant gentleman, and as sus-
ceptible as he was a chivalrous admirer of the
sex, — ^the other day, was comfortably lounging
in his office, and looking out upon Camp
street, when his attention was attracted by
the splendid dress, superb carriage, and su-
perlative loveliness of a lady passing down the
street, ou whom his regards at once became
riveted. Instantly he satisfied himself that
she was a belle, — the daughter or wife of
some one of our wealthiest citizens, — " the

flass of fashion, and the mould of form."
Fever did Eastern devotee pize with more
ardent adoration upon the shrine of his divin-
ity, than did our friend upon the attractive
vision — all beauty compassed in a female
form, — passing by the window of his office.

But, see, she hesitates in her promenade —
she pauses — she turns into a quiet and retired
alley ! What can be her object, going thus
where no lady was ever seen to go before ?
Heavens! can so magnificent a creature be
engaged in an intrigue ? No, it is some di-
vine mission of charity which diverts her
steps from the ordinarv thoroughfare. Yet,
it cannot be, — for why does she look around
so suspiciously? Mon Dim! who is the
happy man she seeks ! For — observe — she
raises her hand, withdrawing it from her
bosom ! Our friend leans from out of the
window — ^yes, it is the signal! How his
heart beats with the excitement of a mingled
curiosity and envy ! Is she not producing a
hiUet'ddux ? To be sure, to be sure ?

Ha! What? Oh, countiymen! what a
fall was there ! It is not a signal she is mak-
ing — it is not a love epistle she is producing !
She has drawn from her bosom — where it rose
and fell, " like a light barge, safe-moored,"
— a bottle! She stepped aside to take a
drink!

— The New York papers announce the death
of J. H. L. McCracken Esq., a gentleman at
one time of no little prominence in the literary
circles of New York. Mr. MoC. died on tlie
coast of Afinca whither he had gone for his

126

BIZARRE.

health. His mind was a very eccentric, but
at the same time a very strong one. He leaves
a widow and two children.

— ** Memorials and Correspondence of Char-
les James Fox," edited by Lord John Rus-
sell , And just published in London by Bentley :
contains the following stor^ connected with
Ptt*s first speech, in which Fox bears a
part: —

" Mr. Pitt's first speech, brilliant and won-
derful as it was, was scarcely more remark-
able than the warmth and generosity with
which Mr. Fox greeted the appearance and
extolled the performance of his future rival.
Incapable of jealousy, and delighted at the
sudden display of talents neariy equal to his
own, he hurried up to the young member to
compliment and encourage him. As he was
doing so, an old member of the House (I think
a (General Grant) passed by them and said,
' Aye, Mr. Fox, you are praising voung Pitt
for his speech. You may well do so : for,
excepting yourself, there's no man in the
House can make such another : and, old as I
am, I e^ect and hope to hear you battling it
within these walls as I have done your fathers
before you." Mr. Fox, disconcerted at the
awkward turn of the compliment, was silent
and looked foolish; but young Pitt, with
great delicacy, readiness, and felicity of ex-
pression, answered, * I have no doubt. Gener-
al, you would like to attain theageof Methu-
saleh.'"

We learn also by this work, that when Fox
was a young man he paid a visit to Voltaire
in company with Uveaale Price. Price gives
his recollections of the visit in the form of a
letter to Mr. Rogers, from which we extract
the following : —

**My stay at Geneva was short. I was
then traveUing with Charles Fox, who wrote
to Voltaire to beg he would allow us to come.
He very civilly answered, the name of Fox
was sufficient, though he received hardly any
visitors, et que nous venions pour Tenterrer.
He did not ask us to dine with him, but con-
versed a short time, walking backwards and
forwards in his garden, gave us some choco-
late, and dismissed us. I am sorry to give
you so meagre an account, but all I can re-
collect of his conversation, and that a mere
nothing, is that, after giving us a list of some
of his works, which he thought might open
our minds and free them firom any religious
prejudices, he said, < voila des livres dont il
taut semunir.'"

— '< Thalatta," the beautiful volume of sea-
side poetry, lately published by Tioknor Reed
and Fields, of Boston, is it seems a collection
made by Revs. S. H. Longfiedlow and T. W.
Higginson, and not hy Mr. FiekU, as we sus-
pected.

'^— A corr M po ntei t enqidrei of m the origin

of the word ''honeymoon," that seems, in
some form or other, to have crept into all the
modem languages. We have to reply that
the word "honeymoon" is traceable to a
Teutonic origin. Among the Teutones was a
favorite drink called methcglin. It was made
of mead of honey, and waa much like the
mead of EJnropean countries. The 4ame bev-
erage was also in use among the Saxons, but
flavored with mulberries. These honejed
drinks were used more specially at marriage
festivals, which were kept up amone the no-
bility one lunar month ; the festive board be-
ing well supplied with metheglin. ** Honah
Moon," signified the moon or moonath of the
marriiuee festival. Alaric the Goth, celebrat-
ed by Southey's poem, died on his weddings
night, from a two free indulgence in the boo-
eyed drink.

— Some few years'ago we remember seeing
ih the windows of the print-shops, a iramber
of prints of human figures, formed bj the
strangest materials, as diamonds, hoops, blad-
ders, battle-doors, chains, culinary utensils
Ac The idea, however, was not new — ^bt
same things may be seen in Giovanni Bracd-
li's Bizare di varie figure, 8 vo. — Paris, 1624.

— A drawing of the head of Charles I., pre-
served in the library of St. John's College,
Oxford, is wholly composed <rf minutely writ-
ten characters, which at a distance, resemble
the lines of engraving. The lines of the head
and ruff contain the Book of Psalms, the
Creed, and the Lord's Prayer.

— John Bunyan's Bible, bound in moreoco,
and which had been his companion during his
twelve years unjusti6able confinement in Bed-
ford jail, where he wrote his ** Pilgrim's Pro*
^r«55," was purchased at the ^e of the
library of the Rev. S. Palmer, of Hackney.
England, some years ago for £21 by Sunoel
Whithead, esquire. This Bible and the Book
of Martyrsy are said to have constituted the
whole library of Bunyan during his imprison-
ment.

— A mushroom poet of Paisley, Scotland, had
got up what he calls, '* The Philosopher's
Stone of Buomeas Figures," the worth of
which may be judged from the following trum-
pet-blowing : —

Bara Pnctice faere is fidrly itrated,
Beduetioii it is likewise scouted,
And poor Interest *s standing qualdiig,
While its bowels out are takmg.

— We learn by a report of a meeting of the
subscribers to the Moore Testimonial, lately
held in Dublin, under the presidency of Q»
Earl of Charlemont, that £1,315 had been
subscribed,— out of which £1,161 has beea
paid up, and an expenditure of £138 incurred.
The testimonial is to take the shape of a sta-
tue on a pedestal ; the figure to be of broiiia>
and executed from the marble portrait taken

EDITORS' SANa^UCI.

127

of the poet bj Mr. Charles Moore. It is to
be pbced in an open space fronting what was
the Old Parliament House of Ireland, and
dose to Trinity College, where Moore receiv-
ed his education.

— Clarke Mills's new project is to make a
group, consisting of the buffalo and wild
horses, and two Indians, the whole represent-
ing the capture of a buffalo, and exhibiting
the Indian hunters, their horses and their
gtme, all in a condition of excited action.
—It is stated in the New York Home Jour'
wd, that the Editor of the Lady's Book, has
reoeatly purchased a fine property in the
neighborhood of our city, whereon he intends
to erect a handsome country residence. No
mio deserves elegant otium [more than our
pleasant friend of the Lady's Book, and we
hope he will get it

— It is 8tat€d that when Ole Bull appeared,
a few days ago, in Peoria, Illinois, some of
the people w^^ astcmished to see him so young
loolong: as they innocently supposed '*Ole^
to be» not a part of his name, but an affec-
tiooate and familiar spelling of the ac^ective
cid. The dd fellow was in town III few days
siaee.

— The Mowing books, received since our last
number, will be noticed hereafter. From
Harper and Brothers, of New York, Cole-
ridge's works," vol. v., ^'Lamartine'sResto-
rition of Monarchy in France," vol, IV.,
"Adventures in Boston,'* by Jacob Abbott
(JIarco Paul). From G. P. Putnam & Co.,
"Rural Essays," by Downing; "Babylon
ind Nfaievah," by Layard; "Echoes of a
Belle;" •* Behind the CurUin;" "Hand-
Book for Americans in Europe." From M.
W. Dodd, of New York, " The Old and the
New :" " The Young Lady's Guide." From
Lippincott, Grambo & Co., of Philadelphia,
"The Race for Riches."

-Ml. J. £. Gould, No. 164 Chestnut street,
bis seat us the following new musio: —
" Uewdyn's Bride," arranged for the guitar
byF. Wieland; "Gentle Moon," composed
' ly Bdhni ; the original of " Katy Darling ;"
""The Bagatelle Schottisch," composed and
AiTiDged for the piano by Franklin L. Harris.

—Madame Pfeiffer, the bold and intrepid trav-
eller, whose books have been read with so
much pleasure, when last heard from was in
Sumatra. She thus describes a tetea-tete, she
bad with some cannibal Batacks of that coun-
try:-

'^flfaice 1835, when the Batacks killed and
^woorcd two missionaries, the appearance of
Ktropeans among these people had become a
nn 'pbenomenon : — hence, the news of my
▼ilk spread through the country like wildfire
OntMroaehing a ufa I fbund the whole male
popmkn, armed with spears, swords, and

parangs, assembled at the entrance, and my-
self soon surrounded by a crowd looking sav-
age and horrible beyond all description. The
men were tall and strong, — but frightfully
ugly, with tremendous mouths, and the upper
jaws not only protruding, bat in many cases
furnished with teeth protruding like tusks.
Some had their hair long, others short, when
it would stand ofl' the head like bristles ; and
they had covered their heads either with a
dirty cotton cloth, or with neat straw caps
resembling square baskets, — ^many, however,
having only a coloured rag or straw ribbon
tied round them. Their ears were aU pefor-
ated, — the hole being large enough to admit
one or two seears, which they kept there as
in a case. They were decently dressed; a
sarong covering the lower part of the body
and the legs as far down as the calves, and
another (sarong) the upper part. But
their cries were horrible; and they made
the most frightful gesticulations, indicating
that they would not allow me to proceed, —
such as, putting the hand to the throat to
make me think of my own, or gnawing the
flesh of their arms as a hint that they would
eat me. I had. however, seen too many simi-
lar scenes to be frightened, — and soon suc-
ceeded in smoothing their temper by gentle
words and a quiet, confiding conduct. My
language made them laugh ; they oflTered to
shake hands with me. — and ere long I sat
among them, protected by the most sacred
laws of hospitality. A trifle is suflBcient to
enrage savage people, and a trifle will make
them friends again. This I always kept in
view."

(^biters' Sans-§onti.

THS ENOUIBM LANQUAQS IL.I.Ue-rPVA'TSO.

— The lectures of Mr. Bums continue to
increase in interest. The illustrations of
"the Greek element," on Monday night were
veiT numerous and some of them very happ^.
If languages can be taught in this way ; if
everytiiing in education is to be turned to
sport and f\in ; we cannot see why it required
so much " rattan and ferula" to impress La-
tin aud Greek idioms and inflections upon our
memory. We have t^ feeling remembrance of
our em>rts in the " accidence ;" and do not
think it at all fair that the youngsters of our
time should get for nothing what cost us so
many drubbings. Mr. B. repudiates the
" wmpping in" process of learmng altogeth-
er; and makes the play inside of the school
room, istead of out of it. But,, serioudy,
this manner of illustrating primitive and rad-
ical words is certainly a great improvement in
teaching, and if it were generaOy adopted
would enable young persons to git a nrafli

128

BIZARRE.

more thorough knowledge of oar langaage
than the7 usually get, at the same time that
they are learning the ground-work of other
languages. In other departments of science
we go to the root of the matter, and teach the
elements at the beginning ; and we can see no
good reason why languages should not be
taught in the same way ; especially when it
appears that it may be done by so pleasing a
process. The materials which enter into our
language, form the substance out of which
many other languages are made ; and as a
thorough knowl^ge of these materials is es-
sential to the proper understanding of our
own language; and as moreover, the pecu-
liarities of our language are better understood
by comparison with me idioms of other lan-
guages ; it certainly is philosophical to present
them in such a form as will enable the learner
to get the substance of them all, and so un-
derstand the character of each by showing
what is like, and what is unlike, in the langua-
ges of different nations. As a matter of re-
creation we think these illustrations of words
as pleasant as anything to which a person of
taste can turn his attention.

A OOOO DINNER.

— A friend looked unusually smiling the other
afternoon. We inquired the cause. **I
have had a superb dinner," said he. " Where
did you dine?" quoth we. "At the United
States Hotel," quoth he ; "it is now under
the direction of Captain Charles H. Miller,
your old Florentine friend." And so it is.
Of course it is admirably kept, and will con-
tinue to be 80, as long as Capt. M. has the
helm ; for he has large experience as a public
caterer, and enjoys, moreover, a most happy
disposition ; one, indeed, that is calculated to
make all about him happy. The United
States has been thoroughly renovated for the
CaptMn, and presents a most refreshingly
tidy interior and exterior. Our dinner-made-
happy friend handed us a bill of fare, issued
by the Captain. It begins with black-fish,
baked, with Genoise sauce, and ends with
omelette soufle, blanc mange, ice-cream, straw-
berries and cream, and cafe Noir ! Then for
wines — such a variety ! However, for claret
we can be appeased with Haut-Brion ; while
for sparkling wines, Sharzburg, Fleur de
Bouzy, and Uliquot will do.

SARNAO(.B8.

. — How BizABRB should have fallen on bar-
nacles, let the reader marvel for himself!
They have fastened to our ship's bottom, and
for a few moments must impede our course.
The truth is, we have fallen on a prose work
written five hundred years ago : "Votogc and
Travcuk of Sir John Maundeville," an extract
from which is curious for showing how far
imagination even then otfuXd. travel. The
ipecific name of banuu^es is anaiiferOt or

gooee-bearing — their feathery appearance
having suggested this idea — and, will it be
believed, they were originally thought the
product of the Bemacle poose ! But bdbold
sufficient warrant for giving credit to a tale,
not less marvellous, of young lambs being pro-
duced by a fruit-bearing tree. The passage
from Maundeville is worth quoting, as an in-
structive example of the strange things to
which men have assented, even in a depart-
ment of science which ought to be based on
correct information :

" In pasjrnge be the Lond of Cathaje to-
ward the hiehe Tnde, and toward Bacharye,
menpassenbe a Kyngdom that men clcpen
Caldilhe: that is, a fulle fair contree. And
there growethe a manner of Fruyt, as thougfae
it weren Qowrdes ; and whan thei ben rype,
men kutten hem a to, and men fyndcn with-
inne, a lytelle Best, in Flessche, in Bon and
Blode, as though it were a lytjiie Lomb, with
outen wolle. And men eten ooth the Frart,
and the Best : and that is a gret MarveyUe.
Of that Fruyt I have eten : all tboo^ it
were wondirfulle : but that I knowe wel, that
God is marveyllous in his werices. And na-
theless I tdde hem, that is amonges : and that
was of the Bemakes. For I tolde hero, that
in our contree weren Trees, that beren a Froyt,
that becomen Briddes fleeynge : and tho that
fellen in the water, lyven ; and thei that fallen
on the Erthe, dyen anon : and the ben right
gode to Mannes mete. And here of had thei
gret marvaylle, that sume of him trowed, it !
was an impossible thing to be."

KITTIB KRA\A^I8H AQAIN.

— The Germans are very fond of beer. The
lower classes indulge to excess in lager'be9r,
but the more refined people prefer Mayer'bttr.

The flesh, gristle, and sinews of Napoleon
the Great, have long since mouldered to dost ;
but Napoleon the little seems determined to
make a little capital out of the Bony-part.

There's three days' grace, but no mercy,
as the man ssad when he could not raise the
wind to pay his note.

Six thousand dollars have been already
raised for the " Uncle Tom testimonial." The
money, no doubt, will be safely stowed away.
Would it not be well for the English sympa-
thizers to procure a bronze statue of the hkr
authoress f

Another Penny Collection. — Captain
Penny will leave England in the Lady Fnnk-
lin sailing vessel, accompanied by the Sqihia*
to form a colony on the snores of Cumberland,
where the Esquimaux have reported there is
an abundance of plumbago %dA copper, with
other minerals. Mrs. Penny goes out with
her husband, and it is their mtcntion to have
a permanent residence in the Arctic regioiia
Could not the Stowes be prevailed apon to g»
along, and form another anti-slavery society?

THE INNKEEPER AND THE SKULL.

129

WHAf SAT rou, Madcap r—jParyuAar.

nam:

roa TBI WBBK K9DIHO

lATURDAT, JVNia 11, 1858.

THE INNKEEPK& AND THE
SKULL.

A STOBY OP KBTRIBUnON.

" Shall T tell you a story about the Inn-
Keeper and the Scull ?" said the old Captain.

•*^y all means," replied we — lighting our
ibarth cigar.

"Very well," quoth our companion **I
ODce sailed from London in the ship Lion, as
a common sailor. She was bound for India.
On her deck just before starting were several
groups— merchants^ clerks bustling about to
ddiyer packets of letters — ^the Captain con-
versing apart with two or three of his em-
plojerB— commercial acquaintances exchang-
ing cent-per-cent adieus — passengers arrang-
ing their baggage — and eight or ten sailors,
aiider the superintendance of the mate, stand-
ing ready to hoist anchor, when the command
abould be given.

In the '* aft" part of the ship, stood a fair
Toimg man, of the middle size, an elderly
my, dressed in widow's weeds, and two re-
markably handsome girls. The widow reclin-
ing against a mast, seemed overwhelmned
with sorrow ; and every now and then, with
a mother's importunity, she reiterated her in-
joncticHis on her son, to write often, and take
care of his health.

The young man, Charles Endicott, had
takoi each sister by the hand, and was en-
deavoring, in a playful way, though a tear
stood in his bright blue eye, to beguile them
of their grief. ** What's the use, girls," said
he, " of making such a fuss — you know I
have always plagued you to death. I should
think you'd reioice to be rid of me. How-
ever,! — I — shall soon return as rich as Croesus
—and — and then, my pretty Bess," giving
his younger sister an affectionate kiss, *' you
shall come and be house-keeper for your old-
bachelor brother. " Here the summons of the
hdl interrupted the conference ; and those
who were not passengers began to leave the
vessd. Charles threw himself into his moth-
er's arms and wept out a farewell ; embraced
ach sister ; saw them all leave the ship in
the bo«t and reach the landing place : waved
h» handkerchief to them till their beloved
fcrms vanished in the distance : and then re-
chnkig over the ta^ferel, gave himself up to
adMKholy reflections, tinctured with a slight
1^ «f aatidpated happiness.

Mrs. £. was the widow of a once opulent
London merchant. Her husband had been
an influential member of the East India Com-
pany, but freauent losses affected his spirits
so much, that he fell into a lingering disorder,
and after an illness of a few months died.
Mr and Mrs. E. had three children, of whom
Charles was the oldest, and only son. On
this account, as well as on account of his be-
ing remarkably lively and intelligent, boUi
his parents were doatingly fond of him. Char-
les' father had been anxious that his son
should follow the same business in which he
was engaged himself; and, to attain this ob-
ject, had alwaj^s gratified Charles' childish
fia.ssion for stories with such as related to the
ifdies. But, at his father's death-bed, C.
•had pledged himself, for the sake of his moth-
er and sisters, to recover, if he could, certain
moneys of which his parent had been unjust-
ly defrauded, in those fruitful regions.

After the death of her husband, Mrs. E.
retired with a small annuity, to a neat cot-
tage which she owned in the northwest part
of England. Here, under the tuition of the
village master, Charles became a proficient in
various branches of learning. Possessed of a
handsome person, a noble and ingenuous dis-
position, a discriminating mind, and the
most dauntless courage, he became the delight
of the whole village. No one ever engaged in
more daring exploits than Charles ; his laugh
was the gladdest one ever heard, and his stor-
ies were told with an air of naivete and hu-
mor, that irresistibly relaxed the muscles of
the most grave.

The years of manhood soon arrived, «nd
Charles, amidst the laments of the whole vil-
lage, prepared for a residence of some years
in the East Indies.

For many years Mrs. Endicott received re-
mittances of money and presents from her son.
His letters uniformly contained accounts of ^
his good health, and increasing prosperity.
At length a letter was received, in which
Charles stated, that, having settled aU his
father's affairs, and enriched himself to equal
his reasonable expectations, having reduced
his wealth to as compact a form as possible,
he was about to return to his native country ;
and that as a good opportunity offered, he
was going overland to the Mediterranean, and
thence, by water, home. Once more did the
mother hear from the son, and then years and
years rolled away, and no tidings of him came.
Inquiry was made for him in almost every
port of the Mediterranean, and in various
places along the coast of England ; but all in
vain. At one time it was stated that an Eng-
lishman, apparetly fh>m the Indies, and ans-
wering in many respects to the description
^ven of Mr. £. had landed at Dover, from
France; but owine to the multitude of
travellers who diseinWked daily and almost

132

BIZARRE.

education, Sec. But every candid and intel-
ligent person must acknowledge that morality,
at least, is not making such progress in our
large cities as might be desired. In Phila-
delphia, we are wont to view with pride, and
speak with exultation of the growth and
magnificence of our beautiful and pleasant
city. But when we look beneath the surface,
we see that vice, in its ugliest forms, " is fes-
tering all within," and that rampant disorder,
oulfs^, and crime, are only held in check by
a powerful and expensive police force, which
has but

« Scotched the snake, not kfll'd it;
Shell doM and be herself again."

We do not say that things are worse in our
city than in others ; perhaps they are not so
bad ; but with all our prejudices in favor of
our native city, we must acknowledge that
things are not as they should be. Rectitude
and integrity do not receive the encourage-
ment thev aeserve, nor do vice and crime
meet such retribution and rebuke as they
should find in our community: and it is not
the part of wisdom to cover up the moral
disease which, like a cankerous sore, is gnaw-
ing at our vitals.

" Tt wUl bat skin and film the ulcerous place,
Whilst rank corruption, ruining all within,
Inlbota unseen."

Nor should we find excuse for those disorders
which so frequently ** render night hideous,"
and put in jeopardy the lives and property of
citizens. It is time that the patriotism of our
honest citizens should be aroused, that they
may look the danger full in the face. For all
these things thei-e is a remedy ; but our mo-
ralists and philanthropists do not appear to
have found it. It is our purpose to point out
the remedy. The evils are great ; the bene-
fits which would flow from correcting them
are incalculable : and it must not be supposed
that these evils can be cured, nor the conse-
quent benefits gained without a great effort.
Not only a great and merited effort must be
made by all who love our pleasant home, but
it must be a well-directed effort. The means
must be adapted to the end desired. We
have in our city a number of institutions de-
signed to promote morality and good order,
and a number of active persons are busily en-
s^aged in what are regarded as great moral re-
forms. We do not hesitate to say, that the
very men most active in these movements are
the stumbling-blocks in the way of any real
improvement. It will perhaps be said that
these are persons of worth, and examples of
morality and integrity ; that they are actuated
by worthy motives, and are energetic in their
endeavors to do good. If all this oe conceded,
Philadelphia may well exclaim, "Save me
from my friends." When Caesar's virtues
were lauded, and held up as a reason why his

movements should not be opposed, a noble
Roman exclaimed, "Curse on his virtues —
they've destroyed his country." If actrve
a^tators keep the attention of the people
directed to efforts which will never cure &e
growing evils cf our cities, and amuse them
with matters with which they have little or
no concern, they will be prevented from look-
ing for efficient means to check the flood of
vice and disorder which threatens to inundate
our country.

Let us look at some of the great reforms of
our day. We will begin with the "tempe-
rance movement." For a quarter of a cen-
tury we have been told that the " temperance
reform" would cure all our moral evils. Tem-
perance associations, conventions, speeches,
songs, parades and pledges, have all tnis time
been doing wonders. Is the evil cured ? Has
it been abated ? There are over three thou-
sand places in Philaddphia where liquors are
sold. More than three thousand persons,
many of them supporting families, make their
living, and some make fortimes, in this busi-
ness. We believe that retailing liquors is —
in a pecuniary p<nnt of view — the most cer-
tainly profitable business a man can enter
into. Every candid person must acknowledge
that ** the temperance movement" has been a
signal failure. But do the active agents in
this great reform acknowledge that they have
been mistaken : that the means made use of
were not proportioned to the end ? Do they
acknowledge that they have not acted wisely,
and that " moral suasion" did not accomplish
the reform they so confidently predicted?
Not at all. They now assert, with as much
confidence as bdbre, that prohibitory laws
will do every thing ; and we do not hesitate
to assert, with as much confidence, that their
efforts y in the next quarter of a century, will
accomplish just about as much as they hare
done in the last. Let us look at the proba-
bility of getting prohibitory laws parsed in
Pennsylvania. Suppose that the average
number of patrons to each liquor shop may
be twenty. This will make sixty thousand,
most of whom are voters, let any one compare
this number with the popular vote of our city
and county, and he may form his own esti-
mate of the probability of getting a prohibi-
tory law sanctioned by the people. A nun-
seller's vote, or a rum-drinker's vote, counts
as-much in the ballot-box as that of the most
ardent advocate of the temperance cause:
and we do not think that any shrewd politi-
cian, in our city or country, would like to
rest his hopes of dection upon his advocacy
of such a measure. Candidates for the 1^:19-
lature are made in liquor shops — and in eSsCt
they are dected there, too— and the adyoeacy
of a ** prohibitory liquor law" would be the
poorest capital a candidate for a nominaHon
could start upon.

BIAZRRE AMONG THE NEW BOOKS.

133

If it were practicable to get a prohibitory
law passed, it would be found objectionable
and inefficient In our country no law which
has not an honest public opinion to support
it, will ever accomplish a great reform ; and
in our country public opinion will not sanc-
tion the entire prohibition of the sale of li-
quors. We believe that laws might be
enacted to restrict the retailing of hquors,
which would greatly mitigate the evil of tip-
pling ; but we must not depend upon such
laws to eradicate the giant evils which
threaten the destruction of our noble republic.
The greatest result which " the temperance
movement" has accomplished, has been to
create a " spurious public opinion" in its fa-
vor ; men afifect to look upon indulgence of
this kind with horror, who do not hesitate to
indulge themselves when an excuse can be
found for it The mass of the community
look upon the ** temperance reform" as one of
the " humbugs" of the day ; and as all re-
gard it as an innocent one, most persons give
their voice in its favor; but when it is
brought into a political contest, its weakness
is soon evident.

Most of our reformers look upon intempe-
rance as the root of the evils which flow from
it. This, also, is a mistake. Intemperance
is a residt ; and, in most cases, of indolence
and unoccupied leisure. Persons, usually,
become intemperate because they get into the
habit of spending their leisure time in places
where liquors are sold.

We do not intend to write long articles, and
therefore will leave the discussion of this
matter for the present. It is our intention to
point out the real sources of the evils which
afflict society so grievously, and then to show
the remedy.

THB SLJkVK TRAOB, OOMSaTIO ANO PO-
RSION.

This is the title of a 12 mo. of 426 pages,
from the pen of Henry C. Carey, and publish-
ed by A. Hart For one to declare that he
entirely coincides in opinion with the author
of a volume of such magnitude and impor-
tance, as the one under consideration, would
be equivalent to a supposition that a work
was perfect in all its postulates and indisput-
able in all its corollaries. And even if a
book possessed such faultless qualities, it
millet require an immaculate critic to per-
cme them , and to appreciate them. Then, as
neitlier the one or the other may be rationally
supposed to exist, it could answer no good
purpose for us to assert that we endorse all
the doctrines promulgated in Mr. Carey's Sjrs-
t«m of political economy.

But if we cannot approve everything in
the volume before us, yet we may safely say
that it contains many truths of such high im-
port, and deductions of such indisputable
value, as to merit the hearty commendations
of the American press. It is undeniably one
of the most thoroughly American productions
which has ever fallen under our notice ; and
if it should not be subjected to the most
furious assaults that foreign reviewers ^re
capable of inflicting, we shall be mistaken in
our calculations; for Mr. Carey has un-
doubtedly proved that there exists a condi-
tion of slavery, under the British government,
in India, in Ireland, and in England itself,
more degrading, more horrible, and more hope-
less, than that of the African in this country, —
which latter seems to be at this moment ex-
citing such a superabundance of holy sym-
pathy, in the breasts of passe duchesses of
doubtful character and exhausted rotUs in Exo-
ter HaU.

If any one should suppose, from merely see-
ing the title of Mr. Carey's book, that it is a
production calculated to encourage the insane
efforts (rf" the fanatical abolitionists, it would
be doing great injustice to the author. It is
of quite a different character, and is replete
with valuable lessons throughout the whole
range of political economy. The array of
facts adduced relating to the agriculture,
manufactures and commerce of the different
nations, would alone be sufficient to stamp the
volume with the hearty approval of enlighten-
ed Ic^slators and statesmen. In some respects
it might serve as a manual for many of the
members of our federal legislature ; and if so
used, it is not to be doubted that numbers of
their constituents would be disposed to hail
its author as a public benefactor.

OOWraiNQ'8 RURAi. E8SAV8.

— This is a collection from the editorial pa-
pers of the late A. J. Downing, as they ap-
peared in the "Horticulturalist." Thewt-
thering of them was made by George Wm.
Curtis, Esq., who adds an extremdy graceful
and appropriate memoir of the author. A
tribute to the genius and character of Down-
ing, from the pen of Frederika Bremer, is
also incorporated in the very handsome vo-
lume. There are, besides, numerous illus-
trations, nicely executed, the subjects of
which are mainly connected with the writ-
ings of the gifted deceased. His unhappy
fate is very generally known, for he was a
passenger on the ill-fated Hcnrv Clay— -de-
stroyed by Are last year on the Hudson River
— and lost his own life from too great a soli-
citude to save chose of his fellows. He seems
to have been in all respects a charming per-
son. It is rarelv the case, indeed, even in
our day of dieaply-earned eulogies, that the
death of a man causes so general an exclama-
tion of regret as did his ; an exclamation of

134

BIZARRE.

regret, too, so foil of real earnest feeling, so
trulv warm from wounded bosoms.

Alessrs. Putnam & Co. publish the volume,
and were kind enough to send us a copy some
time since; its notice, however, has been
unavoidably postpcmed until the present
time.

ReaTORATION OF IVIONAROHY IN FRAnaCB.

— The Messrs. ELarper have issued the fourth
and concluding volume of this admirable
work. It embraces the period which elapsed
between the death of Napoleon, and the fall
of Charles X. Coming, as it does, from the
poUshed pen of Lamartine, it has all the rich-
ness of thought and expression, peculiar to
him. It lacks the enthusia^, the poetic fire
and energy which its author might have dis-
played had he written without the experience
gained by the flurry of *48 ; ^ut still possesses
almost the fascination of romance.

The enthusiasm felt by Lamartine, when
contemplatmg liberal movements in France,
whether of the past or the present, is a good
deal like that of the worid in general. Tn
other words, it is an enthusiasm such as is
exhibited by a fine play. We are stirred up
to quick breathing, we fill with rapturous
emotion, we huzza and toss up our hats, while
the acting is going on ; but we grow calm
again, nay, we feel a little silly in remem-
brance of our noisy delights, when the bell
tinkles down the green curtain, and we dis-
cover that it is only acting ! The French are
all^he time acting ; and sometimes they act
so well, that even those who have been again
and again cheated by them, think that Uiey
are in earnest, and laugh or cry, as the scene
invites them.

The following extracts, relating to the de-
parture of Charles X. from France, in Lamar-
tine's best style, will be read with interest.
They possess very high dramatic interest.
One is lead by them almost to regret that
their hero was the recipient of such a fate ;
fi>r if Charles X. was weak, he was in our
opinion honest, the slave of unlimited cir-
cumstance. Certainly no hypocrisy can be
laid at his door, as, we maintain, it may be
at that of his successor from the moment he
sneaked into the Tuilleries to the day of his
rapid departure from the same, by the very
route taken by his predecessor.

*' The Ring left his kingdom a poorer man
than he had entered it. What little gold he
had at St Cloud in his coffer for his private
expenses, had been laid out for provisions to
supply the troops, and in pay to the guards.
He was driven to the necessity of selling his
plate at Dreux and Vemeuil, to pay for the
food of the latter. The faithful servants who
surrounded him, still kept up, and observed
towards him and the royal mmily, at every
halting-place on the road and in the poorest

house, imder the roof of whidi they were
sheltered, all the ceremonial and etiquette of
the Tulleries. Every day was like the rest in
the sad sameness of this procession. In ord^
to avoid in the towns through which they
went, the scomfhl and insulting looks of ii^
people, the King rode out in his carriage every
morning from the house he had slept at ; and
half-an-hour afterwards got on horseback, and
rode by his son's side, between the ranks of
his escort. Half-an-hour before reaching the
night quarters ho entered his carriage aeain.
Marmont rode on horseback behind the Kmg's
carriage. The court attending on the princes
and princesses was limited, but rcspcctnil, uid
as faithful to misfortune as it had been to
grandeur. It comprised names to which his-
tory must pay the tribute due to duty mmI
gratitude honourably fulfilled : Marmont, un-
fortunate, irresolute, but only culpable oi
weakness of character : the Duke of Luxem-
bourg ; the Prince of CroV ; Solre, captain of
the guards; General Auguste de Laroche-
jaqudein, a name which grows with the re-
verses of the monarchy : the Duke Armand
de Polignac, principal equerry ; the Duke of
Guiche and the Duke de Levis, aides-de-camp
to Duke d*AngouUme: Madame de Saint-
Maure, lady of honour to the duchess ; the
Countess de Bouill^, lady of honour to the
Duchess de Berry: Count de Mesnard, ho*
principal equerry, and Count de Brissac, her
gentleman in waiting ; the Baron de Damas,
governor of the Duke de Bordeaux : M. de
Barban^ois and M. de Maupas, his sub-gover-
nors, watched over the child as the wreck
and last hope of so many thrones ; the Coun-
tess of Gontaut had care of his young sister.

** The people all along the road were still de-
corous and respectful. The shadow oi this
monarchy impressed them with awe more
than the monarchy itself; there was as much
nature as royal ty i n i ts mourning. Great catas-
trophes have great reactions in men's imag-
inations. They respected the King's fall idl
the more that they no longer dreaded his re-
turn. They spared him almost everywhere,
with instinctive decorum, the sight of the
tri-couloured flag and cockade, palpaUe signs
of his dethronement. In one or two of the
manufacturing towns of Normandy there was
an anticipation of taunts and insults on the
part of the workmen. These fears were vain :
the marks of disfavour were confined to a few
threatening groans aimed at Marmont, whoee
fame of 1813 everjrwhere preceded him as a
military and national resentment. On ap-
proaching Cherbourg he was under the ne-
cessity of removing the orders which he wore
on his chest to hide his rank, his dignity, and
his name from the rancour of the peojde.

** The King read the MoniUur erery morn-
ing, to watch the spectacle of his own ruin
with his own eyes, At Carentan, he learaed

BIZARRE AMONG THE NEW BOOKS.

135

that the Duke of Orleans had consumatcd his
osnrpation. He utterad neither a reproach,
nor a single unkind observation on that prince's
acts, whether he still relied on the assurances
which the Duke of Orleans had transmitted to
him at St. Cloud and Rambouillet,or whether
he thought the temporary force of circum-
stances, to return it afterwards to his grand-
son : or, rather, whether he thought it more
congenial to his soul to bear silently, and
without complaining, the last and most cruel
of all felonious acts, — that perpetrated by his
own blood !

*• He stopped for two days at Valognes, in
order to leave time for the vessels prepared for
his use to reach Cherbourg. He there collect-
ed around him the officers and six of the old-
est guardsmen of each of the companies that
escorted him, more like a father than a King.
The Duke d'Angouleme, the Duchess, his
wife, the Duchess de Berry, the Duke de
Bordeaux, and his sister, stood about him in
a group, to engrave in the eyes and in the
memory of every member of the banished
family the names, the feces, and the grief of
their last faithful soldiers. Charles X. hav-
ing taken from their hands the flags of their
comrades, like a King parting with his peo-
ple, thanked them in a voice broken by his
sobs, for their tender and unyielding fidelity.
•* I receive your standards, and this boy shall
one day return them to you," said he, as he
touched with a trembling hand, the forehead
of the Duke de Bordeaux ; ** the names of the
guards registered in your books and remem-
bered by my grandson, shall continue to be
enrolled in the records of the royal family,
to stand as an everlasting witness of my mis-
fortunes, and the consolations I derived from
your fidelity I"

" This heart-rending adieu drew tears from
every soldier in that little army, and even from
the people of the town. The devotion of
these troops to their prince, inherited from
their fathers, and transmitted to them from
their ancestors, was not only a duty, but an
instinctive feeding. It was more than their
country *s chief, it was the first among gentle-
men, it was their father whom this young
nobility were mourning in the King.

"Charles X. and the Duke d'Angonleme,
after this farewell to the troops, laid aside the
military dress and decorations they had hith-
erto worn. They shrank from the eyes of
the people, and assumed beforehand the garb
of that exile already so close at hand.

" This joumev had now lasted a fortnight,
with an atfected tardiness which worried the
impatient commissioners and the new King,
and appeared to be waiting some unknown
event, as if Paris had not finally declared the
will of France. Some understood thereby the
rdactance of an old man, counting every step
be took to leave a land he adored, and a conn-

try he was losing ; others, that he expected a
rising in the West and South in consequence
of a landing of Bourmont, bringing the Afri-
can army to support the monarchy ; some as
a season occupied by the still pending nego-
ciations with the Duke of Orleans ; others,
in fine, as a kingly attitude, maintained even
in defeat to confront evil fortune in a digni-
fied manner,/ and to engrave in the minds of
the people a solemn idea of the very phantom
of royalty.*'

** The King was drawing near the gates of
Cherbourg ; from the top of the rising ground
overlooking the town, the sea of the exile ex-
panded to nis view. He wept at the sight.
A rumour had been spread of an expected fer-
ment among the people of Cherbourg, threat-
ening the safety and dignity of the King and
his family, 'the Duchess d'Angouleme or-
dered her carriage to stop, that she might
place herself in the King's to share his dan-
ger. The report was false and unjust to the
popular feelings, which in these districts are
full of veneration for the memory of their
benefactor Louis XVT., who created Cher-
bourg. The whole population of the town
and country round, drawn up on both sides of
the way by which Charles X. had to pass,
was moved to pity at the sight of three royal
generations about to leave a kingdom berore
they knew where to find a country. The
women and children especially, innocent vic-
tims at all times, melted the hearts of every
father, husband, and mother in the crowd, as
evinced by their looks of surprise at their
misfortune, "and their sad smiles over the
wreck. The tri-coloured flags had been tak-
en down from the windows of the private
houses as the corUge moved along, to spare
the conquered monarch a gratutious humilia-
tion.

** The King and his escort did not alight
within the town, but entered a rail enclosure
between the market-place and the strand at
Cherbourg; the iron gate was closed upon
them. The people hurried there and clung
to the rails in crowds to contemplate the grand-
est spectacle inthe fate of mankind, the ostra-
cism of a king, the heir of sixty kings with-
out a country. The royal family for the last
time alighted from their carriages on the brink
of the beach washed by the waves; the
Duchess d'Angouleme bathed in tears, and
staggering under the shock of her last exile,
was deprived at once of a kingdom and a
crown. M. de Larochejaquelein assisted her
to pass over the ground, leaning at least on a
heroic arm. M. de Charette, another Ven-
dean officer, whose name was a prognostic,
escorted the Duchess de Berry. More of in-
dignation than sorrow was visiblein the coun-
tenance of that young widow on leaving a
land which had drank the blood of her has-

136

BIZARRE.

band, and which was now proscribing her in-
nocent and helpless child. The Baron de Da-
mas, faithful as duty, like pity serene, carried
in his arms as a providential trust, bis pupil
already a king before his time, and whose
royalty opened witb disaster. The child
struggled with its little arms against banish-
ment.

'* King Charles X. continued the last on the
beach, like one covering the retreat of his
whole house. All the oflScers of his piard
defiled before him, for the last time, kissing
his hand and weeping over it : he then passed
on and joined his family in the ship without
turning round, and shut himself up alone to
pray and weep. A mournful silence pervaded
the French coast : many lamentations, but no
insult, followed him over the deep. The ves-
sel bore him towards Scotland, where Eng-
land had in store for him tho lonely and re-
cluse hospitality of Hol3rrood, — a palace aban-
doned by Mary Stuart, fraught with dark
deeds, and significent of sad lessons to a dy-
nasty dethroned for having sought to inflict
upon their subjects, through a pious policy,
the yoke of Rome, and for having persecuted
the freedom of the human mind in its most
inviolable place, the conscience of the nation. "

OUOUOa AND euN8MINS.

— This is the title of another volume from
the pen of the author of " Musings of an In-
valid," " Fancies of a Whimsical Man," " Fun
and Earnest," and the very popular series of
" Spiritual Dialogues," which nave appeared
in our pages. It is written in a more thought-
ful vein than any previous work of the author,
and presents some very original views touch-
ing tne world and the aspirations of man. We
look upon it as altogether the ablest of its
authors productions; as destined to esta-
blish a reputation for him as a close observer,
clear thinker, and elegant writer, which any
man living might be proud to attain.

The introduction, written on the day of the
originally New England, but now general,
festival of Thanksgiving, is full of earnest-
ness and fire. Note a few paragraphs :

" Welcome to this dear old festival I Again,
with cordial salutations, do we greet its com-
ing. May it be kept through all time ! May
it be set apart, dedicated ever as now, to holy
thoughts, and hymns of gratitude, and deeds
of love !

"And to-day, we bid it a thousand wel-
comes. To-day, for the first time in our his-
tory, has it become a National Holiday, and
all the members of our great family of States
have come together, with heartfelt unanimity,
to sing praises, and to pour out thanks to the
great Father of Mercies. Oh, may the good
example this day set, be faithfully followed,
and may this, henceforth, be a fixed feast in
our national calendar !

" And will it not be 80 ? I bdieve it. I
believe this day is to play a glorious part in
our great future, to exert a mighty influence
on our career. How many noUe deeds will
date from it ! How many princely benefac-
tions, right royal charities, will it bear wit-
ness to, with each coming year ! How many
happy firesides, renewed friendships, buried
quarrels, sacred vows, how many, many pre-
cious things of all kinds, will originate in the
impulses of this blessed period !

** Thanksgiving day, two centuries hence !
What a day ! A^d what a land ! One great
garden, its walls washed by either ocean ; one
vast congregation of cheerful, thriving worit-
ers. But this day, their labors are suspended,
and they go forth, with one accord, to, oflfer
their prayers and praises to the great Giver-
Hark to the myriads of church-bells, as they
send forth their invitations from ci^ and
hamlet, from hill-side and valley! Behold
the countless multitudes of worshippers,
young and old, thoughtful parents and happy
children, as along every lane, and road, and
street, and avenue throughout the land, in
scattered groups or orderly pix)cession, they
take their way alike to rural chapel, and
cheerful village church, and sumptuous cathe-
dral. And now we hear the blended strains
of ten thousand organs, and the swelling notes
of innumerable voices, chanting their festal
hymas unto the all bountiful Creator. And
now all is hushed in silence, and presently
the low, solemn tones of prayer are heard, as-
cending unto heaven, rising alike from the
hearts of stately cities, and from lone vales,
deep hid in woods : ay, from every vale, and
hill, and plain of this vast, this thrice-Uest
land ; the acceptable incense of gratefiil sonls
unto the great Father. What a spectacle,
what a service is here I Oh, that the poor,
tempest-tossed men of Plymouth could have
beheld it, could have had their souls cheered
by such a vision, their eyes^ greeted with
sounds like these !

Thanksgiving day, throughout the world !
Will not that day yet come, upon the earth ?
I believe it. A day of solemn, universal re-
cognition and commemoration of God^s good-
ness ; a day on which, following the example
of the great parent republic, all the other
commonwealths of the civilized. Christianized
world will, with one consent, come together
and join their orisons and hymns with hers ;
when every nation, and tongue, and island,
and valley, and hill-side of earth, shall bear
part in the glorious service : when every Art
shall lend its choicest inspiration, to render
that service worthy of the great Father ;
when, in a word, this our once little New
England festival, shall become the great holi-
day of earth ! Blessed consummation, thrice
blessed spectacle, whereat the angels pause to
gaze with rapture! A world in prayer; a

BIZARRE AMONG THE NEW BOOKS.

137

world chanting its Maker's praise in glorious
concert !

*' And are these things to come to pass, in-
deed ? Is this hlissiiil future in store for our
dear planet ? Are all these triumphs of truth,
these precious victories over evil to be se-
cured? Are the bloody rites, the gloomy
saperstitions, the cruel wars, the ignorance,
MMUhy, imbecility, the grovelling appetites,
the savage passions of men, to be extermi-
nated, and all nations to be resolved, at last,
into one great, peaceful, loving. Christian
fiumly, and earth itself to become a miniature
heaven, and every day that dawns upon it a
day of Thanksgiving?

"I bdicve it. I cling to the glorious
thought. Call me dreamer, visionary, if you
will. Be it so. May I ever dream such
dreams, and be blest with such visions !*'

The author confesses that he looks on the
bright side of things ; but he has two friends,
B. and C, who entertain different views. He
says: —

** My friend B. is an excellent fellow, full
of good impulses, and continually rendering
steiJthy acts of kindness to those about him ;
but he is sadly given to skepticism and des-
pondency, and almost always expresses him-
self on moral subjects, in a gloomy, and quite
too sarcastic style. He seems to have little
or no faith either in himself or his brethren,
in the progress of the race, or in the blessed
life to come.

"Friend C, on the other hand, is a most
firm and ardent believer in immortality;
thoegh his faith, perhaps, rests far less than
he would be willing to idlow, upon a Scripture
basis, and far more on what he reads in the
great vol umes of nature and providence. But
he is not a believer in any steady, permanent
improvement of the human family. The
movements of society (he vfiU have it,) have
been, ever since the tirst page of history was
written, vibratory, not progressive, in their
character. More or fewer d^rees of the great
ctitle have been described, in the various
eras of that history ; still is it oscillation, not
progress. While I not only cling to the
Uessed thought of a future state, and magni-
c«nt theatre of action hereafter, for every hu-
man soul, however humble or abject on earth,
but also cherish the belief of a slow, steady,
sure and triumphant progress to perfection,
of the great brotherhood here below, and of
the final conversion of this dear world of ours
into one grand, delightful family mansion, as
it were, w loving, happy kinsmen."

The book is made up of conversations be-
tween the three friends, and presents cloud or
sunshine as either the one or the other of the
trio discourses. The benefit to be had from
its perusal cannot but be of a substantial kind.
Few can sincerely embrace the views of B.,
oidy a few more those of C, while the views

I of the author are such as to be generally ac-

I ceptable and much sought after. We leave

i " Clouds and Sunshine" to the reader, with

these few thoughts touching its nature and

object ; few books that have appeared the

E resent season, deserve more favor at the
ands of the public. It is published, we
should add, by John S. Taylor, of New
I York.

I ooLeRiooK'a aa^orks.

; — The Harpers have published the fifth vo-
I lume of their admirable edition of Coleridge's
! complete works ; and though it contains mat-
ter of a graver character than the preceding
volumes, it is still deeply interesting. Notes
on Hooker, Field, Donne, Hacket, Jeremy
Taylor, the "Pilgrim's Progress," Luther,
Bedell, Baxter, Leighton, Sherlock, Water-
land, Whitaker, and others, form its contents,
with the addition of "Confessions of an In-
quiring Spirit."

Coleridge ever spoke the dictates of his
heart, and we therefore receive his doctrines
as those, at any rate, arising from honest con-
victions. He had not the highest estimate of
mere faith, by which so many maintain their
belief, hut took, as his editor says, the middle
path of safety and peace, between a godless
disregard of the unique and transcendent
character of the Bible generally, and that
scheme of interpretation scarcely less adverse
to the pure spirit of Christian wisdom which,
wildly arraying our faith in opposition to our
reason, inculcates the sacrifice of the latter to
the former. He threw up his hands in dis-
may, at the language of certain modem di-
vines on this point ; as if faith not £ounded
on insight were ought else than a specious
name for wilful positiveness ; as if the Father
of Light could require, or would accept,
from uie only one of his creatures whom he
had endowed with reason, the sacrifice of
fools!

Coleridge did not think that doctrines of
scripture should be judged by their supposed
harmony or discrepancy with the evidence of
the senses, or the aeductions of the mere un-
derstanding from that evidence; but he as-
serted the existence, in all men equally, of a
power or faculty superior to, and independent
of, the external senses ; a power which re-
flected God's image. He could as little un-
derstand how faith, the joint act of reason and
will, should be at variance with one of its
elements as how God should be a contradic-
tion of himself. He believed, says his editor,
" in no God in the very idea of whose exist-
ence, absolute truth, perfect goodness, and
infinite wisdom, were not elements essentially
necessary, and everlastingly co-present." But
we cannot follow this subject rurther, in the
already extended state of this department of
BizABBB, but must even here pause.

138

BIZAEIRE.

BABVLX^N AND NINKVAM.

Messrs. Putnam, & CJo., of New York, have
published an abridgment of Mr. Layard's
second expedition to Babylon and Ninevah,
which forms a handsome 12mo. volume of
500 pages and upwards. It contains all the
illustrations, and indeed all the material of
the octavo edition, with the exception of
minute description of sculpture, as well as
monumental remains, and several tables of
cuneiform characters. The author's own lan-
guage has been relative, in the more interest-
ing and important parts of the work ; indeed
it presents a valuable compressment of all
that is generally interesting in the original
publication.

These last explorations were not confined
to the original point of Mr. Layard's discov-
eries, but embraced wanderings extending
from the Black Sea to Niffer in the low
marshy country between the Tigris and the
Euphrates, thirty miles south of Babylon, —
and in an easterly direction to the mountain-
ous district Shembeena, on the confines of
Persia : — the lines of his route diverging to |
every locality either known or supposed to
contain ancient remains. His researches were
made under limited arrangments as to means,
and therefore were not as vigorous they other-
wise might have been. His book will, never-
theless, be eagerly sought after ; and really
possesses a very high value.

We perceive, touching the matter of Baby-
lonian discoveries, that the French are deeply
engaged in the same ; and if reports received
from parties sent out, are to be credited, with
great success. Among other things they have
ascertajped. beyond reasonable doubt, that
the ruins beneath a tumulus called the Kasr
are those of the palace-citadel of Semiramis
and Nebuchadnezzar ! These ruins our au-
thority says, — are in such a state of confusion
and decay, that it is impossible to form from '
them any idea of the extent or character of ;
the edifice. They appear, to extend beneath j
the bed of the Euphrates, a circumstance ac- I
counted for by the change in the course of
that river. They contain sarcophagi, of clum- j
1^ execution and strange form, and so small,
that the bodies of the dead must have been
packed up in them, the chin touching the
knees, and the arms being pressed on the I
legs. These sarcophagi are evidently of the j
lowest class of Parthian, not Chaldean origin. |
There have also been found numerous frag-
ments of enamelled bricks, containing por-
tions of the figures of men and animals, to-
gether with cuneiform inscriptions, the latter
white in color on a blue ground. M. Fresnel,
the chief <^ the expedition, thinks, these
bricks afibrd a strong proof that the ruins are
those of the palace of Nebuchadnezear, inas-
■rach as the oniameots on them appear to be
sporting subjects, raeh as are described by

Gtesias and Diodorus. The foundations be-
ing reached, are ascertained to have been
formed of bricks about a foot square united
by strong cement, and they arc also in blocks,
as if they had been snapped in all directions.
In the ruins of the dependencies of the palace
situated on the left bank of the Euphrates ;
there are numerous sarcophagi, in which were
found skeletons clothed in a sort of armor, and
wearing crowns of gold on their heads. These
skeletons when touched, mostly, fell into
dust: but the iron, though rusty, and the
gold of the crowns are in a fair state of pre-
servation. The French explorer thinks that
the dead in the sareophagi were some of the
soldiers of Alexander or Seleucus. The crowns
are simple bands, with three leaves in the
shape of laurel on one side, and three on the
other. The leaves are very neatly executed.
Beneath the bands are leaves of gold, which
it is supposed covered the eyes. From the
quantity of iron found in some of the coffins,
it appears that the bodies are entirely envelop-
ed in it : and in one there is no iron, but some
car-rings, a proof that it was occupied by a
female. The sarcophagi are about two and
three-quarter yards in length by between half
and throe- quarters of a yard wide, and are en-
tirely formed of bricks and united by mortar.
In addition to all this, a tomb, containing
statuettes in marble or alabaster of Juno,
Venus, and of a reclining figure wearing a
Phrygian cap, together with some rings, ear-
ring, and other articles of jewelry, has been
found, as have also l^umerous statuettes, vases,
phials, articles of pottery, black stones, Ac,,
of Greek, Persian, or Chaldean workmanship.

a-rii.1. ON TH« -TABLB,

— Is a large number of new books, which
await notice : among them several from Put-
nam and Dodd, of New York, already an-
nounced. Those unannounced are **The
Child's Matins and Vespers," and ** The Pro-
phets and Kings of the New Testament,*'
from Crosby, Nichols & Co., of Boston;
"Father Bnghthopes," fit)m Phillips, Samp-
son & Co., of Boston; •* German Lyrics,"
from Ticknor, Reed and Fields, of Boston;
**Wild Jack, or the Stolen Child," from A.
Hart, of Philadelphia. We have, moreover,
received from C. J. Price & Co., No. 7 Hart*s
Building, the second part of the "Popular
Educator," an admirable work just started
by A. Montgomery, of New York. Prom the
same publisher, too, through Messrs. P. & Co.,
comes part one of a beautiful illustrated work,
to be completed in twelve monthly parts, at
25 cents each, entitled " The Alps, Switzer-
land, Savoy, and Lombardy." We would
also acknowledge the receipt of the " Law
Register", for June, direct from the publish-
ers, Messrs. D. B. Canfield & Co. ; a work
which is decidedly one of the best of the

OUR WEEKLY GOSSIP.

1S9

kind crer attempted in oor conntiy, and
which, we are huppj to kara, meets with
high &Tor.

#iir Metklj ^0ssip.

— Mr. J. E. Gould, No. 164 Swaim'g Build-
ing, has sent us the following new music : —
"The Flower of the Flock, or Lulu is our
Darling Pride," words by Rosa Hughes, and
music in part by R. L. Sandford, by whom
the piece is dedicated to Mrs. J. Kicketts
Lawrence: **Home Reveries," dedicated to
Mr. Richard L. Achhurst by the composer,
James Bellak; tmd '* Polka for the Million,"
from the same brilliant and indefatigable art-
ist. Mr. 6. has composed and arranged a
large number of pieces since he has been in i
the city, some of which have attained a very
extended popularity. His ** Trot Galop" sold
by the thousands.

— The Harpers have published " Adventures
in Boston," by Mareo Paul, a very entertain-
ing little book, illustrated and generally got
up uniformly with other works from the pen
of the same popular author.

— We have received from G. P. Putnam &
Co. a neatly-executed volume, entitled *' Hand
Book for Americans in Europe." It was pre- ;
pared by Dr. Rosewell Park, and embraces a
vast amount of valuable information for the
European traveller. It is the only book of the
kind which we have in the country, and has
been very much needed. It is got nn in a
convenient form, and will hereafter, doubtless,
fbnn an important item in the fit-out of over-
flea wanderers.

— Messre. Blanchard and Lea, of our city,
have published, in a cheap form, Sam Slick's
"Wise Saws and Modem Instances." The
author has a world of admirers ; and justly,
too, we think.

— " A History of the French Protastant Re-
fugees, from the Revocation of the Edict of
Nantes to the Present Day," is the title of a \
work now in progress by Charless Wess. It '
daims to be the history of the three hundred
thoQsand exiles who were driven out of France
by the foolish bigotry of Louis XIV. A cor-
respondent writing from Paris, states that the
sttthor first describes their situation at home,
their per8ecutk)n and its fatal results to France.
He then Mows the refugees to their settle-
aents in Germany, England, Holland, Swit-
leriand, Denmark, Sweden, and in America ;
sets forth the services they had rendered to
the coontry of their adoption, and describes
the eondition cf their desoendants to-day.
Besides his own somewhat extenfdve re*
lear^iesin France and abroad, Mr* Weiss has

been permitted to make use of those made
within the past two years, under the order of
the Minister of Foreign Affairs, by French
diplomatic agents, resident in the countries
above-mentioned. Another extremely enter-
taining book recently published in Paris, as a
part of the cheap collection entitled Biblio*
theque des Chemtns de Fer, is a selection of
portraitures, opinions, personal anecdotes,
etc., extracted literally from the celebrated
Memoires du Due de St, Simon,

— The splendid gallery of paintings left by
Don Juan Nicasio Gallega, former President
of the Academy of San Fernando, is to be
shortly sold by public auction.

— Victor Hugo is coming out with another
pamphlet, entitled ** Belshazzar's Feast," a
sequel to " Napoleon the Little."

— " An Art Student in Munich" b^ a daugh-
ter of Mary Howitt, has the followmg deeply
interesting account of the casting of the col-
ossal figure of Bavaria : —

" Stiglmaver, the originator and director of
thr Bronze Foundry, died in 1844^ just before
the casting of the Bavaria began. His ne*
phew, Ferdinnid Miller, full of youth, energy,
patience, and experience, was ready to suc-
ceed him. The castings took place at five
different times, commencing with the head.
This was cast in 1844. lu casting the bust
of the figure — the largest portion — the great-
est difficulty had to be encountered. It was
necessary to melt for the purpose twenty tons
of bronze, five tons more than had ever be-
fore been melted in the furnace. As this im-
mense mass of metal slowly began to fuse, it
began also to cake,-^thus threatening to de-
stroy not only the casting, but the whole fur-
nace, with untold danger to life and limb.
Six men had, in spite of the oppressive heat
and the ever-increasing glow of the furnace,
to take it by turns night and day incessantly
to stir, with long iron bars, the molten mass,
lest it should adhere to the furnace-walls, and
so bring annihilation on all. On the evening
of the fifth day of anxiety, when Ferdinand
Miller for the first time sought a short repose
in his chair, he was suddenly aroused by his
faithful and anxious fellow-wather, his wife,
with the cry of '* Ferdinand, awake! the
foundry is on fire !" It was so. The ever-
increasing heat of those five days and four
nights had caused fire to burst n>rth among
the rafters, To have attempted to extinguish
the fire by water, with this molten mass be-
low, would have caused the immediate de-
struction <^ the place. All that could be
done was, by means of wetted cloths, to ke^
down the fire. This was tried, and the melt^
ing went on as before. Amid such danger did
the easting of the bust take place about mid-
ni^t on the 11^ of October, 1845. << So^
eess 1" was ahouted Ibrtfa ; a load of anxi^

140

BIZARRE.

of many kinds Ml from ewery breast i and all
then hastened to the complete extinguishing
of the fire."

— Lucky and unlucky days, are thus enumer-
ated by an English writer: —

" The third of September was a remarkable
day to the English * Attila,' Oliver Cromwell.
In 1650 he obtained a memorable victory at
Dunbar on that day ; another at Worcester,
1651, and on that day he died 1658. ^^

" Thursday was a fatal day to Henry Vlll.
and also to his posterity. He died bn Thurs-
day, January 2o. King Edward VI. on Thurs-
day y July 6. Queen Mary on Thursday y No-
vember 17. Queen Elizabeth on Thursday y
March 24.

" Elizabeth, the wife of Hennr VHI. was
bom and died on the 11th of February.

" Of Sir Kenelm Digby we are told in his
Epitaph, composed by Farrar ;

' Born on the day he died the 11th of Jnne,
On which he hrftyely ibught at Scanderoon,
'Till rare that one and self same day shonld be
Hlfl day of birth, of death, of victory.'

"Tuesday was a most eventful day with
Thomas d Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury.
Upon Tuesday the Peers sat against him at
Northampton, on Tuesday he was banished,
on Tuesday received at Pontiniac a forewarn-
ing of his fate, on Tuesday returned from
exile, on Tuesday was murdered before the
altar at Canterbury, and on Tuesday was can-
onized.

" Saturday was a lucky day to Hemy Vll.
Upon that day he achieved the victory over
Richard III. , on that day he entered the city ;
and he himself always acknowledged he had
experienced it fortunate. See his Life by
Bacon.

" Wednesday is said to have been the for-
tunate day of Pope Sixtus V. On Wednes-
he was bom, on tnat day was made monk, on
the same day was made Greneral of his Order,
on that day also was successively created
Cardinal, elected Pope, and also inaugerated.

*• There was an old proverb that

* When Easter fitll on our Lady's lap.
Then let England beware a rap '

" Easter fell on March 25, the day alluded
to, in 1459, when King Henry VI. was de-
p(X9ed and murdered ; in 1638, when the Scot-
tish troubles began, on which ensued the Great
Rebellion in 1648-9, when Charles the First
was beheaded.

'*Aubr^ remarks that on May 29 King
Charles II. was bom and restored to the
throne : t^t Raphael d*Urbino, the famous
painter, was bora and died on Good Friday,
and that Charles V. was bora, crowned Em-
peror, and won the battle of Pavia on the 2^^
of February.

'' And so as Edmund moralises in King Lear
— * This is the excellent foppery of the world !
that when we are sick in fortune (often the

sui&it of our own behaviour), we makegail-
ty of our disasters, the sua, the moon, and
stars : as if we were villians on necessity ;
fools by heavenly compulsion, knaves, thieves,
and teachers by spherical predominance,
drankards, liars, by an enforced obiedieoce oif
planetary influence, and all that we are evil
m, by a divine thrusting on !* "

— The Inquirer the other day urged upon
some enterprising man to get up a Hand*-
Book of Philadelphia, and in consequence was
furnished with a bare apology for a book of
the kind, sometime since published, called,
" Philadelphia as it is." We want a correct,
reliable manual for every day use : a book,
the object of which shall be to furnish stran-
gers with a key to every part of the ci^ and
districts ; not a mere imperfect outline of
things, got up as a peg upon which to hang
advertisements.

— T. B. Petbrson, a perfect steam-eogine g(
a publisher, known all over the country by
his " Yaller Kivers," has recently removed
into a magnificent store, at 102 Chestnut
street, where he is destined to acquire, if pos-
sible, still wider fame, and larger fortunes.
Mr. Peterson rose to his present eminence
from the humblest beginnings as to capital,
and will go on doubtless unto the end, a shin*
ing example to the rising generati<m. We
have received from him we may here add,
" Flirtations in America," a book which has
enjoyed no little favor from light readers;
and which, really, possesses very decided
merit. Apropos touching ** Top ;" he has
given to the world one of the best ^' Tomi-
tudes" we ever read, and it has had an im-
mense circulation : we refer to the '* Cabin
and Parlor." A correspondent informs us
by the way, that this book is from the pen
of Mr. Charles J. Peterson. We can very
readily believe this, too, as it bears aU the
marks of that gentleman's peculiar genius.

— We have received from the publisher, Mr.
Willis P. Hazard 198 Chestnut street, the
** Presbyterian Quarterly Review," for June,
which we shall read, and notice hereafter.
It contains a large number of articles, which
have a very inviting look.

— " Taylor's Life of R. Surteee, Esq." con-
tains the following : —

** Mr. Surtees gave a copy of a border bal- ^
lad, ** on the feud between the Ridleys and
Featherstonra," from the recitation of an old
woman on Alston Moor, accompanied with
gk)ssarial explanations and learaed historical
notes to indentify the perscmages alluded to,
and to determine the date of the transactioii.
Scott was ddighted with this acoession to
his collection, amd did not doubt the genuiiie-
ness of the piece. It aooordin^y was intro-
duced as a valuable gem of antiquity into the

EDITOBS* SANS-SOUCI.

141

12th note to the first canto of Marmion, pub-
liriied m the beginning of 1808, as fornished
hj his fHend and correspondent, R. Snrtees,
iaq. of Mainsforth. Now aU this was a mere
fpiient, a sporty a froUc of an antiquary^s
brain ! I It is proved by more than one copy
being fonnd among his papers, corrected and
interlined. The ivipositton was nrver ac-
ienm^edged. In the Minstrelsy published in
1831, the baUad of Featherstonhaugh still re-
tains its place, with all its borrow^ plomes
and fictitious air, undetected ! ! I

AMuasN/isisrra.

—Mr. Qoodall, Madam JuUen, and " le petite
Ole Bull," are still a feature of the attrac-
tions of Wiser's Panorama, now exhibiting at
Musical Fond Hall. They are an exceedingly
ckrFer trio. The managers of this exhibition
umonnce that their distribution of gifts will
commence the present week. They number
flome sixteen thousand, and are valued at fuU
half that amount in dollars. Among them
are the panorama, itself valued at $5,000, a
splendid rosewood piano valued at $400, a
guitar, a melodeon, three splendid gold
witches, and many other things specified in
an advertisement which appears in our pages.
The exhibition of the Panorama will continue
ontil the distribution closes. It is a painting
well worth seeing, particularly as now shown
at the spacious and beautiful saloon of the
Mnsical Fund.

— Mr. Perham's, distribution vras resumed
last Monday morning, and closed finally on
the evening of the 8th. Who has been the
happy recepient of the new or of the old
gins, including, the panorama, we don't
now, when we pen these lines. It remains
ibr us to state that the whole enterprise has
hden conducted by Perham in the most liberal
and honorable manner, and that whatever he
hereafter presents to our citizens cannot fail
to be well received.

— The entertainments of the Sanford Opera
Troupe at Concert Hall continue to be highly
attractive. We learn they close for a season
at the end of the next week ; to be resumed
at the new Opera House of the clever and
popular manager. This place is now being
fitted np in Twelfth near Chestnut, and will,
when completed, constitute one of the finest
resorts in town.

•* The exhibition of Paintings at the Acad-
emy of Fine Arts, attracts an unusual num-
ber of visitors daily. Upon the whole, we
Uunk it 18 one of the best di^)lay8 we have
bad for many years. We are pioinised a
floowwhat mbmte critque on this exhibition,
nd hope it will be fomished so that we ean

commence it in our next number. There are
some paintings prominently hung, which
should have been placed in m<H*e objure posi-
tions; while others of immense merit are thrust
into comers, where their beauties are but
faintly seen ; ** gems of purest ray serene"
th^ waste their sweetness in gloom and
shadow. But all these things will be proper-
ly presented in good time.

THE WATKWrMO f>LAOKe.

— The season is here; our citizens are pack-
ing up ; they are preparing for a so^um at
the different watering places. We wish them
much happiness, and we doubt not they will
get it if ihev select the proper localities. But
what are those localities? By your leave,
reader, we will name a few of them.

— Cape May, —The Columbia House, kept by
Harwood, is already open, and doubtless will
have its usual complement of patrons. No
establishment could be better ordered. The
proprietor is a gentleman, and those who so-
journ with him can never be subjected to
vulgar associ^ons, too common at hotels
both of ti^wn and country. He treats all his
guests alike ; does not bestow frowns upon
some and smiles upon others. He is, what a
hotel -keeper should always be, viz. : courteous,
cheerful, equable, impartial — particularly to
those who foot up the bill promptly.

— Perry County Warm Sprines. — ^This place,
situated in one of the finest localities of our
state, offers superior inducements to summer
travellers the present season. The Hotel is
under the direction of Mr. H. H. Etter, a
gentleman who is admirably well calculated
for the position. He had a large company
with him last summer, all of whom were un-
exceptionably well satisfied. The springs are
on the banlcs of, and discharge themselves
into, Sherman^s Creek ; a stream associated
with the thrillmg scenes between the early
settlers of that part of Pennsylvania and the
Aborigines — whose hunting-grounds lay upon
its margin. The waters* possess wonderful
healing qualities, especially as bearing upon
cutaneous diseases of all kinds. The bathing
bouses are comfortably and conveniently ar-
ranged. You reach the springs after a few
hours ride — ^but for particulars on this point,
as well as on others, we refer to Mr. E.^s cir-
cular, published in our pages.

— Florence. — Capt. Miller expects to have a
large company at this place ; indeed we are

* The foUovlofc is u> imlyfte of then waters, as Pant'
ilhed bj an azpeiianced Chemist: —

^ The water contains 9.2 grains of solid matter in the
gallon, which in composed as fbUows:

Oarbonaie of Lime, 3 J67

•' of Magnesia 1.938

Alkaline salts, chieflj chlorides with a portion

ofsnlphate 1.098

Silica 0.006

Organic matter 2.897

"woo

142

BSZLABRE.

told a lar^ number of the roems at the si^en-
did Pavilion on the hdghts are abeady en*
gaged. The Captain may be found at the
United States Hotel, of which he is now pro-
prietor, and which he is rapidly restoring to
Its old pre-eminence.

— Beverley. — Joseph W. Griffith is still in
command at Beveriy, on the Delaware. He
makes all about him happy. Beverly is at a
most convenient point for business men. It
has fishing grounds, every inch of which we
know ; and such grounds ! Have we not
caught rock-fish and perch, on these grounds,
by the hundred ? Ask the seine-men on the
shore ; ask many a little boy who has, at a
respectful distance, followed the '* cross man
in the straw-hat^' and exclaimed, ''Jinks,
what a whopper !^' as a two-pounder has been
landed upon the wharf!

— Yellow Springs, — Mrs. Neef presides here
again the present summer, and of course will
have her surroundings of youth, beauty, wit,
p;race, &c. ; while there will be the old-fash-
ioned representation of old codgers and their
interesting better-halves.

— Now, reader, so much for the watering-
places. As will be seen, we have only spoken
of those in our city's vicinity, and of which we
personallv know. We may hereafter return
to the subject, when we will discourse of Sa-
ratoga, Newport, Niagara, the Virginia
Springs, &c. All these will, doubtless, form
pleasant subjects for summer reading.

OHIOORY.

— With increased demand for the neccesities
of life, accruing from increased population,
and a proportionate enhancement of the value
of all marketable commodities, adulteration of
whatever can be and is worth adulterating,
is proceeding at a pace which will presently
demand Ic^slative interference. A potent
agent is this chicory, which, in England, has
lately been the subject of ridiculous legisla-
tion : Parliament having settled differences on
the matter by decreeixig that it may be sold
in connexion with coi^, provide that the
grocers (a very honest race of men) state the
fact and proportions of the mixture on a label
attached to each purchase. Everybody knows
that chicory, in itseif, is scarcely a third the
price of coffee : but evervbodv does not know,
that it is not half as good, ana that it has some
particularly intimate friends who are provided
with a carte-blanche to follow it wherever it
gains a footing — ^tliese are carrot, parsnip and
mangel-wurzel roots f sliced and prepared in
preasely the same manner as chicory itself.
The eye can discover no difference in the ap-
pearance, and people don't trouble themselves
now*a-days with microscopes — the novelty of
instrument having long since departed. In-
deed, to do so, in this day of adulteration,
would be equivalent to starvation, for what

man could eat were he nicely to exanuRc?
But let us defbnd the ground yet disputable,
and not suffer the arch-traitor chicory to es-
cape. As we lay hold of the monster, grim
goblins with eyes of roasted wheat and bod-
ies of mahogany sawdust start up and mock
our efforts. Myriads of grocers too are in the
vision — ^nor are they " dutchman all." Chic-
ory, say these men with weak eyes, is qnitc as
good as coffee : the addition is even improve-
ment ; and further to defend the malpractice,
it is pleaded that chicory is employed univers-
ally abroad. France, Belgium, Germany,
Prussia run glibly from their tongues ; but
in these countries it happens to be used only
by servants and poor people, for the mere sake
of its cheapness. Away, if you will to the
first tribunal in the world to settle this — ^the
divan of the Turk* Qet the " man of ages"
to swallow chicory — ah ! ah ! To open a new
source of consumption for the woods of Hon-
duras — ah I ah ! A pinch of chicory-powder
is too gritty for a Turk's teeth— ah ! ah !
Tan powderf baked horses^ blood and buUotk^s
liver were not made for him — ah ! ah ! Coffee
is a berry, chicory is a root. This root is made
up of cells enclosing not essential oil , but gum-
my and saccharine matter. Tea, coffee, and
cocoa, the three great non-alcoholic beverages
used by mankind over nearly the whole world
— all contain one and the same active princi-
ple ; in tea called thein, and in coffee, coffein;
to the presence of which they owe thar re-
freshing and invigorating properties. Now,
chicory does not possess a particle of this im-
portant and essential principle, and so, what'
ever may be its own mdependant properties,
it is no proper substitute. Therefore, know
all grocers, by these presents, Bizarre will not
drink chicory.

BUailMBSa MBMS.

— Col. Wm. H. Maurice, 123 Chestnut St,
gets highly complimented by the city editor
of Scott s WeeJdy. From whence does he not
receive kind words? Really, it would be
difiicult to tell. Everywhere, in every call-
ing, particularly among newspaper folks, the
Colonel has friends. We nccKl not add that
he deserves them all. His stock of station-
ery was never better than at present.

— Mr. Wm. T. Fry, No. 227 Arch Street, is
sole importer of beautiful Tonbridge Wdls'
ware. He is gjetting ready to remove into a
neat and beautiful store opposite the one he
now occupies.

— The printing of Bizarrb is executed by
Mr. Jamis H. fi&TSOK ; and we think may be
pronounced a model in typographical el^eance.
Mr. B. c<mtiaue8 to execute aU kinds of book
and job printing at his rooms over our puUi-
cation ofiSce, No. 4 Hart's Building, and at
No. 2 North Sixth Street.

EDITOBS' SANS-SOUCI.

148

-TMB QUEEN 8 OLOBE-T OPENED.

This is the title of an old Duodecimo, Lon-
don — 1668, before us. This curious produc-
tion is divided into three parts. The first is
entitled The Pearl of Practice^ being physical
and chirirgical receipts. The second is The
Queen*s Delight or the art of preserving, can-
dying, Ac. The third is The Complete Cook,
•* which." says the author, " hath had a
general reception travelling up and down the
kingdom and like the good Samaritan, giving
comfort to all it met."

Some of the quaint receipts of our ances-
tors will excite a smile. We are gravely in-
formed that the tooth of a dead man, carried
about with one, presently suppresses the tooth-
ache.

Major Long's receipt ** which he had used
with a strange success," is as follows —

<' For redness and shining of the nose, take
a fair linen cloth, and in the morning lay it
over the grass, and draw it over till it be wet
with dew, then wring it out into a dish, and
wet the &ce therewith as often as you please.
As you wet, let it dry in. May dew is the
best."

A medicine for the plague sent to the Lord
Mayor by the Queen : —

'* Take of sage elder and red bramble leaves
a little handful, stamp and bruise them toge-
ther through a cloth, with a quart of white
wine, then take a quantity of white wine
vin^ar and mingle all together. Drink there-
of, morning and night, a spoonful nine days
together, and you shall be whole. There is
no medicine more excellent than this : when
the sore doth appear, then to take a cock
chick and pull it, and hold it to the sore, and
it will gape and labour for life, and in the end*
die. Then take another, and so long as any
one do die — for when the poison is quite drawn
out, tiio chick will live — the sore presently
will assuage and the party recover. Mr.
WivioaT proved thisumm one of his own chil-
dreny the thirteenth chick died, the fourteenth
lired, and the party cured."
^ We are not informed what are the wonder-
ful virtues and properties of the ** Oil of
Sifottoifs," but judging from the number of
its ine;redients we should think it not less po-
tent uian that compounded by the witches in
Macbeth.

" Take swallows as many as you can ge^"
— this almost rivals Mrs. class's directions
aboat catching your hare — ** put them quick
into a mortar, and put to them lavendar, cot-
ton, spike, camomile, knot-grass, ribwort,
bahn, yalerian, rosemair tops, woodbine tops,
strings of vines, French mallows, plaintam,
walnut leaves, violet leaves, brook lime, moth-
er of time, &c. &c. &c., put a quart of neat's
foot oil, beat with cloves, and put them aU
together in an earthem pot, stopt so close
with a piece of dough that no air can escape.

set them nine days in a ceUar, boil them ax
or eight hours on the fire, but first put in
half a pound of wax, and a pint of salad oil,
and strain them through a linen cloth."

We have not the space, or we would initiate
our readers into the mysteries of concocting
'^Hypocras. cordial water, and damnable
hum, besides the Countess of Rutland's
receipt for making a rare Banbury cake, and
my Lord Conway 's for amber puddings. Dain-
ty cheer we warrant for the Cavalier gour-
mands of the day, and tempting enough to
have converted the veriest Puritan, who, as
Hudibras sings, would

*' Qoarrel irith mtnce plet and dbpurage
Tbeir beet uid dearait friend plum porridge,
Fat pig and gooee itmlf oppose.
And blaspheme cnstaid thro' the note.

N/IORS POe-TRV.

— Another effort poetic, comes to us anony-
mously, and is as follows :

TO-

In the fitr land of Palestine,

Ainid its low and billowy idaina,
HiU circled by the sacred vino.

What wonder on the pilgrim gahis t

For there, where streamlet onee hath been,

Down-stooping as in mystic line,
And swayisd by Inflnence nnroen,

A c<Mnpany of palms incUne.

And silll tho current's oourro they keep,

That tmcelcss bed, fbr evermore ;
Unchanged throuj^h countless winds may sweep,

And coantor torrents downward pour.

StOl, still that current's course they keep,
With whose own life their life was blent,

Though gently as a dream of sleep.
It hither came, and roioelesa went.

Oh ! it is not in passion's hour
That heart to heart doth most Incline;

Shall that low rippling fitream bare power.
And loTe ensure no love of thine f

ODD tslUIS/IBER6.

— What is the origin of the belief in the luok
of odd numbers ? A writer says he has heard
it before commented upon, and the only origin
assigned, that the belief in the value of num-
bers is as old as creation ; and that of the re-
markable recurrence of some numbers in the
Bible, there is no doubt. Thus, seven days
was the world in creation (and the Rabbis
say that as it was seven days in creation, so
will it endure seven thousand years, which
idea coincides with the inference drawn by
our own divines from the prophecies) ; there
are seven notes in music, and seven prismatic
colors ; seven times were the walls of Jericho
encompassed; three days 'was Jonah in the
beUy of the whale, typical of our Saviour's
descent for three days into the grave : man,
made in the image <^ Qod, consists of three

144

BIZARRE.

parts, body, soul, and mind; the Sacred
Trinity consists of three persons. Of the even
numbers in the Bible which are favored, forty
and twelve are remarkable ; forty days was
Moses in the mount, forty days the Saviour *
in his temptations ; twelve was the number
of the tribes ; and twelve the number of the
apostles.

But in our creed of popular superstition,
the number nine appears to take the place
held by the mystic seven in biblical litera-
ture. It is still pretty generally believed,
among the uneducated community, that every
nine years some great change takes place in a
man's life, and the square, (81,) constitutes
the grand climacteric, which once passed,
there is no knowing where a man may stop.
The eleventh chapter 6f Master Heydon's
Holy Guide London, 1G62 treats of the va-
rious properties of this wonderful figure,
" how that bv nine Julius Caesar called up
spirits and did what he pleased : how Gal-
leron, by nine, went invisible, and had the
society of a familiar genius.^' and divers other
notable instances no less wonderful than ver-
acious. In the holy wells in England, it was
customary to dip the afflicted nine times for
nine mornings successively. The familiar
phrase •* a nine days wonder," and the nine
lives popularly allowed to the race feline, are
everjr-day instances of its use. Certain cu-
rious mathematical properties of this num-
ber, no doubt, origmaUy brought it into
notice.

OHIL.OHOOO.

— Our old and valued correspondent, "H
Penseroso," translates for us the following
about childhood :

«* What a rich treasure of delight has boun-
tiful Nature offered to men of an appreciative
mind ! Who can count the numberless shades
it casts over different individuals and dif-
ferent ages of life! The confused remem-
brance of scenes of my childhood even now
thrill me. Shall I try to paint youth, youth,
when its heart first bums with the fires of
sentiment ? In that happy age, when we are
still ignorant of all but the name of inter-
est, of ambition, of hatred, and of all the des-
picable passions that degrade and torture hu-
manity ? During this period — alas ! so fleet-
ing — ^thc sun pours forth his rays with a
splendor unknown in the rest of his existence.
The air is more balmy, the fountains more
limpid and reflecting ; nature wears a beauty,
the groves have paths, that the hand of time
screens in after years from his view. What

6;rfumes are sent forth from every flower!
ow delicious are the fruits ! In what bril-
liancy of blue does the dawn robe herself!
All women are amiable and true, — all men
are good, generous and sensible: we meet
everywhere with cordiality, candor, and dis-

interestedness. Nature only gives birth to
flowers, virtues and pleasures.

Do not the cares of love and the hope of
happiness make the heart overflow with sen-
sations as lively as they are varied? The
contemplation of nature's pageant as a whole,
and in its details, opens to the reason an im-
mense and pleasant scope. Soon imagination,
floating over this ccean of gratifications, aug-
ments their number and intensity ; different
feelings unite and form new ones : dreams of
glory mingle with the palpitations of love ;
beneficence walks hand in hand with self love;
melancholy comes, from time to time, casting
her solemn pall over us, but changing our
tears into pleasures, and the perceptions of the
mind, the sensations of the heart, even the
recollections of the senses, are for man ex-
haustless sources of happiness."

KRAWFieH~IANA.

Some of the ** Chevaliers d*industrie," of
Paris, are coming over to att^id the exhibi-
tion of the industry of all nations at New
York.

Santa Anna has proscribed all the Mexican
officers that surrendered to General Scott, but
has not determined what shall be done with
those who followed his own illustrious ex-
ample, and ran away,

Louis Napoleon seems very anxious to have
*01d Nap' buried with theold foundersof dynas-
ties. It would not be surprising if he (Louis)
were to make a die nasty, some of these days
himself.

— As cambric handkerchiefs can be had at
all prices from ** a fip" upwards, we re^)ect-
fully suggest that all who have wept over the
miseries of ** Uncle Tom" provide themselves
in time to be ready for Mrs. Stowe's next
book, '* aunt Emmy's hovel," and after that
*' The latch string to the door of aunt Emmy's
hovel."

BUAO KQUAR08.

— A black-guard, ** says the great Dr. John-
son, is a cant word among the vulgar, by
which is implied a dirty fellow of the mean-
est kind." The derivation of this word is in-
volved in some obecurity. In H. Hotpord's
Defcnsitive, 1583, occurs the following pas-
sage : — " as the blessed angels are minister-
ing spirits, so the devil and his black-guards
are the means and instruments whi(£ God
hath used and employed in all times, either
for the trial of the godly or chastisement of
the wicked." Again in StanikurVs Descrip-
tion of Ireland : " They are taken for no bet-
ter than rake-hells, or the devils blade-
guards." "A lamentable case," says Pul-
ler, " that the devil's black-guard should be
God's soldier's." From these instances the
word would seem to signify " a fit attendant
on the Devil."

VERNON; OR, THE DRAMA OP LIFE.

145

WBAX lAT TOO, MaDOAP?"— /brfuAOT.

gATVRDAYy JUNB 18» ISB/T.

VERNON; OR, THE DRAMA
OF LIFE.

CHAPTER I.

"Mm taaMtiMlly Intempente. JobUj fiyrMk the esteem
of tiMdr fellow-ciUieiM ; becanee they di«qiudJUy ihemselTee
tot every daty."— BexmE.

Our Story is laid in the city of Philadel-
phia : the time, the year 1831. —

Into a room, or what may more properly
be called a kitchen, we introduce our rea-
ders. All kitchens are alike, inasmuch as
the Tarious articles used for cooking purposes
strongly resemble each other ; yet is there a
marked diflerence in the quality of such in-
struments, the nature of which it is useless
for us to discuss here. One important feature
howerer we must notice, differing as it does
from that which now distinguishes our nood-
eni kitchens ; and that was, instead of a range
of iron work with numerous little doors, and
ovens, which are now used for cooking pur-
pofies. an old fashioned fire place, wi(h hugh
togs of wood, blazing and crackling, graced
tl^ department, to which we here introduce
our readers. Beside that fire, on the evening
in (question sat two persons whom we shall
distmguish by name, Peter and Margaret.
They were engaged in, seemingly a very in-
tere^ing conversation, which we shall take
Qp at a particular point, as it forms the be-
ginning of our story.

" Now Maggy dear, do not pout so, let us
be friends at least. Why do you look so mel-
ancholy, so woe-begone, have 1 done any thing
to provoke all thisl

"No, Peter, indeed you have not, but I am
very k>w-spirited, I nave had dreams of a
most "

*' Pooh ! pooh ! is that all, I see how it is,
Queen Mab has been with you."

'' I know nothing of Queen Mab, but this I
do know that a huge sender crossed my path
not an boar ago, and then the death watch
vac heard in my room the live lon^ night."

** Nonsense, you are as superstitious as an
Astiokiger — good gracious Maggy what is
that?" Peter started up with a most tragic
expression tm his face, uid gazed, as if fear-
foUy alarmed into a remote part of the room.
Maggy, whom oar readers will recognise as
one M those whose minds are imbued with
the q>irit of the age — superstition, sprang
into the arms of Peter, and looking in the

direction of his fixed gaze, trembling asked
-t-** what is it Peter." That cunning fellow,
having gained the point aimed at. of having
the girl he really loved, in his arms, laughing-
ly replied — ** Nothing Maggy."

" How you scared me Peter, but, I know
something dreadful is going to happen. At
supper 1 spilt all the salt, and put the loaf of
bread flat side up, and then the watch dog
howled all the live long night and the cricket
on the hearth, chirped the dead march in
Saul."

*' Yes I know all these things occur, and
hark do you not hear the lone cricket now? —
poor thing, it is a housdiold word, for death

" Hush Peter, you make me shudder "

** Well now drop this nonsense, let us talk
of our marriage !"

** Ah Peter this is asad world."

" But our marriage ?"

"Full of sorrow.^

« Our wedding day."

*« Tribulation and wo !"

"Our "

" Marriage Peter, eh, yes, listen Peter, that
cannot take place until 1 try two or three
charms : it would be to brave fate itself— it
would be to doubt the potency of spdls, and
conjurations, were we to marry without test-
ing their efficacy, and then Peter I want to
ascertain if our marriage (as marriages are
said to be,) was made in heaven."

'*In heaven! Why Maggy, there mar-
riages should end. But don't jest with me —
to jest in matters of love is downright mur-
der !"

" I do not jest Peter, but our marriage can-
not take place until I tiy two channs at
least."

"What are they?"

" Hark, I hear Mrs. Vernon on the stairs,
poor lady. "

" Why do you call her poor lady? Is she
not rich?"

" It was, Peter, an unfortunate match, as
all matches are, that are not sanctioned by
the stars."

"Why what are you talking about? Is
not Mr. Vernon, a gentleman rich, talented,
and handsome? does he not, too, treat his
wife and children, and that orphan girl most
kindly ? This is another of your superstitious
fdhes."

" Well, so he is, all this— but listen— what
kind of company does he keep — have you not
seen him frequently in liquor? and then the
company he keeps, can such things last long
Peter ?''^

" Why Maggy I must confess, there is
some truth in what you say ; but that, you
Imow, is none of our bnnness ; and vet are
not our interests linked with those of the Ver^
noD^s, indeed Maggy I dioald bevery sorry if

146

BIZAKBE.

the condnct of Mr. Vernon should inT^dre his
DOW happy family in ruin and misery."

'* So should I — Peter remore that winding
sheet from the candle— quick — and hark, did
you not hear the death watch."? ? '

" No, hut I hear the hdl."

CHAPTER n.

'* Of when w« swallow wIda,
Tnioxlrating wine, we drink damnaUon :
Ki^ed we rtand the pport of mocking flends*
Who grin to lae oar DoUe nature yanquish'd,
Subdued to beasts."

C. Johmon'a Wife Heick.

We now convey our readers to quite a dif-
ferent scene, and in doing so, place before
kbem the various characters who figure in
our story, we beg them to examine tnirefully
the motives, and characteristics of all of them
separately, as we do not purpose to give their
hidden acts to the light, out to let all of them
gradually speak, aiKl explain their actions as
we proceed. Our secona scene in the drama,
opens in a public room of a Hotel, one of those
fashionable drinking houses, which custom
dignifta with the title of ** necessary evils,"
a file imposition on human life, and an ex-
cuse for crime. At a table, filled with hot*
ties and glasses, and a few delicacies artistical-
ly fikshioncd for the stomach, sat two gentle-
men. One was about thirty years of a^, ex-
tremely handsome, and fashionably, if not
d^uitfy dressed. The other was seemingly
some ten year older ; he was equally well
^othed, but around and about him, there was
an air of inelegance, the absence as it were of
good breeding, which at all times betrays the
parvenu, if not the villian. They had evi-
dently discussed the choicest portions of their
fiire, and wei« now deeply enga^ in conver-
sation. The younger of the two, in reply to
some remark from the other, j^bserved : —

<« I cannot see the necessity."

** Are you so blind ? what have you at
oommand to keep up that appearanceof wealth ,
the world thinks you possess."

** Well, I may yet. My wife was considet^
ed the old man s heiress, and the will which
was said to have been made — "

** Was lost, that is admitting that such a
will ever existed."

*'It did exist, and we were wedded^"

<* Aye, and that false beacon which shone
arownd the dawn, and close of your honey-
moon, has gone out, and all again is dark, is it
not 80?

« I must adndt, that my position is a folse
one, and I cannot much longer maintain my
•taiion in society in which name and supposed
wealth have placed me. What am I to do?"

** Sign this paper ?

«« What is its character ?"

** A compael a mere form, asortof oa*pirt-

nership. Look here Vernon, there is no use
of disguise ; I am a swindler ! nay start not,
but listen — ^I belong to a gang, or more pro-
perly speaking an association of men, whose
schemes, and whose plans are so well matured
and laid, that detection is impossible. The
ramifications of the order are many, and in-
tricate, stupendous! may say, for the amowit
of our floating capital is upwards of one mil-
of dollars !"

" But I do not understand—"

«* Listen— closer, there are several men in
yonder recess, one of whom seems as if he
were watching our motions, come closer — ^we
are not actually robbers, properly speaking,
we are speculators on popular credulity.
Credit the great commercial swindler of the
world, the incubus upon all honest trade, and
Intimate business transactions, has of late <
b«n reduced to a science, to attain a know-
ledge of which for the purpose of gain, the
swindler, as well as tbe honest trader applies
himself most assiduously. We have reduced
it to a science which baffles all, and laughs at
what fools call and justice. Credit therefore
under this new order of things has become so
easy, that men, with but limited means, can
obtain goods without difficulty in the various
cities of the Union. With us means are but
a secondary consideration ; all that we wai^t is
a refirencc,

**Awhat?"

*' A reference : a man of some standing, aome
wealth, one who is known and whose word
has not vet been questioned. For tJu cihf
of Philaaelphiaf tee want you! do yoo nnder-
stand?"

" Gracious heavens ! and you want me to
be-"

** A reference merely, the payment will be
liberal, and prompt."

*'And you, you Maitland, ask this of
me?"

"Why not — Waiter, bring us more wine.
Is it not a mere business transaction ? The
goods are purchased on youf recommendatiai,
are sent out West, they are sold on joint stock
account, and the first mvoice paid up prompt-
ly, at the maturity of the notes. You of
course are then exonerated from any after
transactions. Our next purchase is made
predicted on your first statement, and our
punctuality in payment ; now whether the
parties ever get the proceeds of the second
purchase depends altogether on cmsumstan-
ces— "

'* A light breaks npon me, I comprehend it
all."

** That is well— by the way let that pass
for the present, here is wine. How oomes on
my Alice, my daughter as I call her, indeed
Vernon I owe your charming wife much for
the care «he has taken of her."

" Adeline lores her as if dw were bw own.

VERNON; OR, THE DRAMA OF LIFE.

Indeed she iB a cbftrming girl. But yon have
iKTcr told me her history, Maitland f"

" Some day I will, bnt not now: by the way
is there not a yonng artist a frequent visitor
at your house r'

" You mean Howard ?"

"Yes, — ^here is health to Mrs. Vernon—
come, drink that, and then to a matter of bus-
iness. Is tHbe not a Judgment out against
you Vernon?

*• You torture me, come let me pledge you
in this, ah ! sparkling, glorious wine."

" I did not mean to offend, but to assist ; if
you refuse a friend, why, go your ways. This
wine is indeed charming--4ook Vernon !

Vernon gazed for a mdment on the face of
his companion, and in an under tone observed
"Maidand, I will think of this; my affairs are
indeed desperate, and the cursed influence of
liquor is mastering body and soul ; even the
bnghtness of intellect pales before its baneful
power. Look at this glass Maitland ; see how
Its contents glare and sparkle like the bright
dew drops on an openmg flower. Look at
these seeming gems glistening as it were on
the peTludd stream. Thcr look indeed like
diamonds, and yet how deceptive all! Be-
neath the clean surface lies embedded a fiend
of Hell : around and about it hissing serpents
twine their ever changing forms, and basilisk
like, charm the gazer to his ruin ! See, now
as I raise the elass, there beneath that little
ripple — ^look, Maitland, do you not see two
fiery eyes? how they glare! back monster !
bacK, thou foe of man, thou fiend of ruin, of
crime — of hell — ^back — ^back ! ' ' Gradually as
he recedes, he raises the glass to his lips, his
whole form becomes tremulous with emotion,
and even while his fixed eyes are on the glass,
he swallows its contents, and falls back with
a convulsive movement, upon the chair.

" Well, upon my word Vernon ; but you
did it well, for having pictured a devil, you
have swallowed him whole !"

** What !*' exclaimed the half frantic man,
•* did I swallow the contents of that glass —
an— every thine ?"

" Pmne wine boy, nothing else ; but now to
hnajness!"

" No — ^no— not now, to morrow — to mor-
row!"

*• Weil, I win leave you now, I may call at
your house sometime during the evemng, un-
til then fiurewell, — rememba* !"

** Thank heaven ! he is gone. what a
gulf is cjen to swallow me ! Would I were
now to me and end this torture ; but no, my
wife, my children, what will become of them?
This man, this fiend, has woven around me a
wd> of crime. Why is it that I permit him
thus to insult. — and lead me on to ruin ? He
has confessed his conneetion with a gang of
swindlorB. The mjrsteryof his life is now
made clear I cannot shake him off— I am

weak, miserably so. What am I to do —
which way to turn ? — madness, madness !
The wretched man covered his face with his
hands, and wept, not loud, but he wept,
tears of passion, rather than those of repen-
tance.

We have already spoken of another party,
who were seated at a table in a sort of recess,
and whose business seemed to be of a very
different character from that of drinking. On
the table lay numerous papers, plans, and
various kinds of mathematical instruments.
The man already alluded to, as having cast his
eyes occasionally toward where Maitland and
Vernon were seated, now arose and crossing
the room approached the place where the lat-
tar was sitting, as we have already described.
He stood beside him for a moment, then pla-
cing his hand upon his shoulder, he thus ad-
dressed him : —

** Excuse me sir, will you permit me to ask
you a question ?"

" Certainly Sir — if it be not an impertinent
one."

" Was that not Mr. Maitland, who a few
moments ago left this room ?"

Vernon gazed upon the person who thus
spoke. There was nothing m his apoearance
to create an idea of his being an officer ; on
the contrary, he looked, as indeed he was, a
mechanic. Having viewed him from head
to foot, Vernon answered in a quiet manner,
it was.

"Indeed, I thought so."

"Well, Sir, what is that to me?"

" Much Mr. Vernon — ^you see I know you
too, and excuse mc, respect you Sir — I am a
mechanic, humble it is true, but even a poor
worm can be of service to something."

"WeU, Sir?

" Have a moments patience, ISr. You seem
afflcted — ^Excuse me — I am a plain man — but,
sir, your afflction, whatever it may be, can-
not, no — never can it be alleviated, by the
wretch who has just left you. '

" A wretch ! beware. Sir !"

"Aye, Sir, that's the word, — Beware of
him ! were it not for a dying father's request,
were it not that beside his denth bed I swore
anoaih — the crimes of that man, ere this,
would have been partly expiated in a prison."

" What is this to me ?'^

" Much — ^if yon will take my advice — ^noth-
ing if you refuse it. I, Sir, have known sor-
row. My domestic hearth has been made sad
and lonesome by the absence of one whose
bright smile and gay laugh made all around
joyous and happy, and death's shadow rested
there, I — I — would not have mourned, and
suffered, — Excuse me Mr. Vernon, my pur-
pose is simply to serve you,— and that man-^
that Maitland — take tins card."

"There is a name on it. Yours, I pre-
sume?"

148

BIZABRE.

" It is. That Dame is a talisman ; at least
it wiU be as one for 700. If that wretch,
should ever presume on his power over you,
or threaten you — show him that card. Watch
his countenance when he reads the name.
Observe him well, and mark its effects — fare-
well, Sir. My task is ended. One word how-
ever. Wine Mr. Vernon can never assuage
grief— liquor can never quench thirst." Ere
Vernon could say more, or ask for further in-
formation, the man had disappeared.

" Strange," he muttered — " I listened to
that man as if he were my guardian angel.
Honest, upright, and iust, he awed me into
fear of myself. But this card, a mere name
— Jokn W. Gilbert, Carpenter. ** I will keep
it, tiie time ma^ come when I shall have oc-
casion to try its power." He arose as he
spoke, and mechanically seized the bottle.
For a moment he hesitated: — then calmly
idacing it on the table, he murmured as he
left the place. **Wine can nevet assuage
grief; liquor can never quench thirst.

Chapter in.

** For nothing lotUer ean be i>inid
UiAO to ftadj bonaehold good.**

MlLTOH.

It was a family scene. El^noe, and all
that wealth can gather around the fireside,
were there ; nor was it alone the richness of
ftimiture nor the gorgeousnrss of tapestry,
that made the scene more like one of enchant-
ment, than of reality ; but of the industry,
and rational amusement, in which the sevend
inmates of that room were engaged, at the
precise moment, we introduce the reader to
them. An old gray haired man, was seated
at a table instructing two children in their
letters: a lovdy woman was superintending the
labor of two charming girls, who seemed very
anxious to please their instructress. At a
centre table, busily engaged with pencil and
paper evidently making a copy of some stric-
ture, was seated a young man whose name
has already been mentioned, as Howard, the
artist. He was evidently not more than twen-
ty-two vears of age. Elegant in person,
l)eautiful in fikce, he sat there a living embodi-
ment of Apollo. The youug lady, at least
the oldest oi the two, we have mentioned, was
a specimen of female lovliness ; h«r rich au-
burn hair hung in ringlets around a neck as
white as the purest alabaster, and as perfect
as angds necks are ; indeed were it not that a
rich tint of pure virgin blood occasionally
mantled her cheeks, and bosom, she might
have been Uken'd to those seraphs we read of
in the woriu of poetic fancy. Her compan-
ion, was some six years younger, and yet
their united ages, could not have been more
than twenty-one years.

*' There, Anna dear, too have droimed a
stitch." This was spoken by the eider of
the three, to the younger.

<' I will take it up mother, or at least 111
try"

'< Do so my darling, and be more careful.
And Alice, how slow you get on with that
embroidery, I am afraid your eyes are more
engaged off, than on your work.*^'

" ni work faster ma*am."

" And why not call me mother, Alice ?"

'* Because, because I feel, as if I had do
claim to call any one by that sweet and holy
name."

* You have a claim, that of an orphan, —
Alice, call me mother."

" I wiU, I will."

Let us approach the table of the gentleman
and his noisy pupils.

** Now Robept, let me teach you one other
precept from this good Book ."

" What is it, grand Pa ?"

" Listen : and you James, lay aside your
slate. '* Flower's arc to the earth what chil-
dren are to their parents, beauteous, lovely,
and good."

<'Am I not good, grandpa? are we not
both good to night"

" To night, my children, you are indeed
good ; but there are times you are inclined to
be bad. That is by not obeying your parents;
by pouting, crying and teasing. These are
qualities, you, my dear children, should not
possess, because, both of you are old enough
to distinguish the good from the bad. The
writer in that book says children are as
flowers,* — so they are in sig;ht of God, for
children are the it>ses of Paridise. How beau-
tiful that is. In manhood truth and religion
are the flowers that strew the pathway to
heaven. My dear children, when, like me,
you grow old, yon will look back as I do
through a long vista of years, and regret as I
do the many bright and lovely things cast
away, for ^ mere bo^sh fiincy of some less
holier, and impure object."

"Grand Pa,T^ard Mr. Howard say the
other day that the growth of plants was ac-
companied with music. '< Is tliat not beauti-
ful ?^'

*• Indeed it is."

" mother," exclaimed the delighted boy,
'< do get Mr. Howard to tdl you ail about the
music of nature."

** What is this beautiful theory of yoore
Mr. Howard ?" asked the old eentleman."

** It is no theory of mine Mr. St. Clair, I
was reading an article on music the other day,
and found the idea incorporated in it. Sooe
which I came across an oid book upwards of
two hundred years old, and the same idea is
advanced in it."

'* A book, two hundred years old — bow I
should like to see it !"

A FRAGMENT— FROM THE FRENCH.

149

"Indeed Alice, so would I— remarked Bir.
St aair."

•*Then gratify jour curiosity, for there it
ig."

A rush was made for the rare work and
eagerly all hands had h6id of it

" Indeed," observed Mr. St. Clair, but this
is a rare work. Here I hold a book, upon
whom all that were engaged have passed
away like shadows, — dust — dust — And this
mnains ! wonderful is art — eternity is natur*
U!"

Howard, now took up the book, and re-
queBtine all to be seated, sought the passage
to which he had alluded —

•• It was Plato I think who advanced the
theory that the moving of planets was ac-
eompanied with music. I was telling Alice
the other day, that in all created things there
was music, and that in the very growth of
plants a pccular sound could be heard. Con-
nected with the simple plant of the ♦* Wild
Mandrake, there is a beautiful allegorical le-
gend ; indeed it can scarcely be called so, for
its formation gives the means of producing
sounds, which its botanical classification fully
explains.* It is said to breathe fonh at
certain times the most plaintive sounds and
mdancholy moans, indicative of pain and suf-
fiaring. It is also said to utter, as it were, a
wild shriek, if rudely torn from the earth. I
menticm this, not as my belief, but merely for
the poetic beauty of the legend, as I am in
possession of no proof of its having any
fimndation in truth."

" How beautiful it is: I should like to try
Uic experiment," exclaimed Robert.

" No my dear boy, never destroy any thing
that is of use or ornament for mere idle cur-
iosity. That there is music allied to created
things music of a wild, and yet harmonious
character, I do not question : all things speak
it— <all things proclaim it. Mr Howard will
now read from that old book the passage
spoken of. " At the request of Mr. St, Clair,
Mr. Howard selected out the lines relative to
the music of the spheres — and read : —

"In another place of Greece there is a
round close valley, encompassed with exceed-
ing high hills : only on one side there is a nar-
row entrance into it, and through the middest
of it niunes a delicate streame : by the banke
of which if a man stand, he shall as perfectly
beure the musicke of the spheres, as if he
were amongst them ; and the cause of this,
br the inhabitants is thought to be the heigh th
or the bills: which keeping in the sound, and
Iniii^ng it down to the water, does by an
aerial resultancy produce a most a reciprocall
rewesentation of the divine harmonic.^' t

Howard had scarcely finished the reading

•lAtio rignUaitloo, 8m PodopbyUam.
f TexDoUinia, Ixmdon 1630.

of this passage when a servant announced
"Mr. Maitland:" the effect of that name
upon the countenances of all, was evident.
Mrs. Vernon was perhaps the most collected,
and telling the servant to show him into
another room, she followed to receive him.
The interview must commence the chapter.

(GoDtinoed io number 87.)
A FRAGMENT.

FBOM THB FRBKOH.

I once had a friend, but death has deprived
me of him, seizing him in the beginning of
his career, at the moment when his friendship
had become a pressing need to my heart. —
We mutually sustained each other in the pain-
ful fati^e of war. We had but one pipe, one
cup and one bed ; and in the unfortunate cir-
cumstances that surrounded us, the place we
inhabited together seemed another fatherland.
I have seen him exposed to all the perils of a
war, and of one most disastrous. Death
seemed to spare us for each other : a thousand
times his arrows fell harmless around him,
but it was only to make me more sensible of
his loss. The tumult of arms, the enthusi-
asm of the soul at the sieht of danger, mi^t
perchance have prevented his cries from reach-
ing my heart. His death would have been
useful to his country and a source of sorrow
to his enemies. Even I would then have re-
gretted him less. But to lose him among the
pleasures of winter quarters — to see him ex-
pire in my arms when he appeared full of
health, when our bond of unity was drawn
close again by tranquility and repose ! Alas !
I shall never console myself. But his memo-
ry only lives in my heart ; it exists no longer
among those who surround him, and have re-
placed him : and it is this thought that makes
the knowledge of his loss more painAil to me.

Nature, alike indifferent to the fate of in-
dividuals, puts on again the brilliancy of
Spring, and adorns herself with all her charms
around the country where he sleeps. The
trees cover themsevea with their leaves and
intertwine their branches ; the birds sing be-
neath their shade ; the bees hum among the
flowers : every thing breathes joy and life in
the dwelling-place of death : and in the even-
ing, when the moon is brieht in the heaven,
and I meditate near that sad place, I hear the
cricket gaily chirp from among the grass tops
on my friend ^s tomb. The unnoticed destruc-
tion of beings and all the sorrows that belong
to humanity are counted as nothing in the
great whole. The death of an intelligent
man, who expires among the friends whose
hearts he desolates, and that of a butterfly
perishing in the calix of a flower from the
cold morning air, are like two sparks in the

150

BIZARRE.

course of Nature. Man is nothing but a
phantom, a shade, a mist that is lost in air.

But the dawn begins to blanch the skies ;
the dark thoughts that agitated me are disap-
pearing with Uie night, and hope again lives
m my bosom. No, He that fills the east with
light, has not called forth such brightness to
plunge me into the night of non-existence.
He that has stretched around the immeasura-
ble horizon — who has raised alofl these enor-
mous masses, whose icy summits are gilded
bj the sun, is the same being who has com-
manded my heart to beat and my mind to ex-
ercise its percepttons.

No ; my friend has not lost himself in non-
existence ; whatever may be the barrier that
separates us, I shall see him once more. I do
not found my hope upon a syllogism; the
flight of an insect through the air suffices to
persuade me of it ; and often the appearance
of the country, the perfumes of the breezes,
and some unknown charm around me, so ele-
vates my thoughts that an invincible convic-
tion of the truth of immortality enters my
soul and fills it with devotion.

^400RS ivieivioiRS, &o.
— ^The Appletons of New York have pub-
lished the fourth and fifth parts of this work ;
from which we glean some interesting ex-
tracts :

" Left Padua at twelve, and arrived at Lord
Byron's country house. La Mira, near Fusina,
at two. He was but just up and in his bath ;
soon came down to me ; nrst time we have
met these five years ; grown fat, which spoils
the picturesqueness of his head. The Countess
Guiccioli, whom he followed to Ravenna, came
from thence with him to Venice, by the con-
sent, it appears, of her husband, Found him
in high spirits and full of his usual frolick-
some gaiety. He insisted upon my making
use of his house at Venice while I stay, but
coulil not himself leave the Ouiccioli. He
drest and we set ofF together in my carriage
for Venice ; a glorious sunset when we em-
barked at Fusina in a gondola, and the view
of Venice and the distant Alps (some of which
had snow on them, reddening with the last
light) was magnificent ; but my companion's
conversation, which, though highly ludicrous
and amusing, was anything but romantic,
threw my mmd and imagination into a mood
not at all agreeable with the scene. Arrived
at his palace on the Grand Canal, (he having
first made the gondolier row round in order
to give me a sight of the Piazetta,) where he
gave orders with the utmost anxiety and good
nature for my accommodation, and dispatched
persons in search of a laquais de.pUice, and
his friend Mr. Scott, to give me in charge to.

No Opera this eveoing.. He <nrdered dinner
from a traiteur's, and stopped to dine with
me. Had much curious conversation with
him about his wife before Scott arrived. He
has wtitten his menx>irs. and is continuing
them ; thinks of goin^ and purchasing lands
under the Patriotic Government in South
America. Milch talk about Don Juan : he is
writing a third canto ; the Duke of Welling-
ton ; his taking so much money ; gives in-
stances of disinterested men, Epaminondas,
&c., &c., down to Pitt himself, wno,

" As minister of atste, is
Benoimed for ruining Great Britain gntlB.**

"Dined with Lord B. at the Pellegrina
What the husband wants is for Lord B. to
lend him 10002. at five per cent. ; that is,
give it to him ; though ne talks of giving
security, and says in anj' other way it would
be an cnivilimento to him ! Scott joined us
in the evening, and brought me a copv of the
Italian translation of *' Lalla Rookh.^' Lord
B., Scott says, getting fond of numey: he
keeps a box into which he occasionally puts
sequins ; he has now collected about 300, and
his great delight, Scott tells me, is to open
the box, and contemplate his store.*'

Byron, it seems, spoke slightingly of ^aks-
peare ; at any rate Moore says of him, when
alludine to the comedie^ of ** Ariosto :**

** This puts me in mind of Lord Byron
sajing to me the other day, * What do you
think of Shakspearo, Moore ? I think him a
damned humbug.' Not the first time I haw
heard him speak slightingly of Shakspeare."

Byron, it seems always went armed ; but for

for what, is not stated. Moore says told

him:

" That, one day, travelling from Newstead
to town with Lord Byron in his vis- a* vis, the
latter kept his pistols beside him, and contin-
ued silent for hours, with the most ferocioas
expression possible on his countenance. * For

God's sake, my dear B. (said W at last,)

what are you thinking of? Are you about to
commit murder: or what other dreadful
thing are you meditating ?' To which B. an-
swei^, that he always had a sort of pres^t-
iment that his own life would be attacked
some time or other ; and that this was the
reason of his always going armed, as it was
also the subject of his thoughts at that mo-
ment."

If Wordsworth was to be believed, Byron
plagiarized from him.

**27th. Wordsworth came at half past
eight, and stopped to breakfast. Talked a
good deal. Spoke of B}Ton*s plagiarisms
from him ; the whole third canto of * Childe
Harold' founded on his style and sentiments.
The feeling of natural objects which is there
expressed, not caught by B. from nature her-
self, but from him (Wordsworth), and spoiled

BIAZRRB AMONG THB NEW BOOKS. ,

151

in tbe tnmsmissioii. 'Tintern Abbey,' the
80«irce of it all ; from which same poem too,
tbe celebrated passage about Solitude, in the
first canto of ' Childe Harold,' is, (he said,)
taken, with this differenoe, that what is na-
turally exfsreesed by him, has been worked by
Byron into a laboured and antithetical sort of
declamation. Spoke of the Scottish novels.
Is sure they are Scott's. The only doubt he
e?er had on the question did not arise from
thinking them too good to be Scott^, but on
the contrary, from the infinite number of
clumsy things in them ; common-place con-
trivances, worthy only of the Minerva press,
and such bad vulgar English as no gentleman
of education ought to have written. When I
mentioned the abundance of them, as being
rather too great for one man to produce, he
said, that great fertility, was the characteris-
tk of all novelists and story-tellers. Richard-
son could have gone on for ever ; his ' Sir
Charles Grandison' was, originally, in thirty
volumes. Instanced Charlotte &nith, Ma-
dame Cottin, &c., &c.. Scott, since he was a
child, accustomed to legends, and to the exer-
cise of the story-teUing faculties ; sees nothing
to stop him as long as he can hold a pen."

• * * We talked of Wordsworth's ex-
ceeding high opinion of himself: and she
mentioned that one day, in a large party,
Wordsworth, without any thing having been
previously said that could lead to the subject,
called out suddenly from the top of the table
to the bottom, in his most epic tone, * Davy !'
and, on Davy's putting forth his head in awful
expectation of what was coming, said, 'Do
Tou know the reason why I published the

, White Doe in quarto V * No, what was it ?'

• To show the world my own opinitm of it ' "
We dose our extracts with the following,

" here and there, throughout the fifth

" Dined at Mr. Monkhouse's (a gentleman
I had never seen before), on Wordsworth's in-
Titation, who lives there whenever he comes
to town. A singular party : Coleridge. Rog-
ers, Wordsworth and wife, Charles Lamb
(the hero at present, of the " London Maea-
anc") and his sister (the poor woman who
went mad with him in the diligence on the
way to Paris), and a Mr. Robinson, one of
tbe minora sidera of this constellation of the
Lakes, the host himself, a Mecssnas of the
school, contributing nothing but good dinners
and silence. Charles Lamb, a clever fellow
certainly : but full of villianous and abortive
pons, which he miscarries of every minute.
Some excellent things however, have come
from him ; and his friend Robinson mentioned
to me not a bad one. On Robinson's receiv-
ing his first brief, he called upon Lamb to
t«l hira of it. ** I suppose said Lamb, *' you
•ddreesed that line of Milton's to it * Thou
^beitcaiiM,leaatunder8tood.'" Coleridge

told some tolerable thhigs. One of a poor
author, who, on receiving from his publisher
an account of the procee(& (as he expected it
to be) of a work he had published, saw
among the items, ** Cellerage, 3Z. IO5. 6c2.."
and thought it was a charge for the trouble
of selling the 700 copies, which he did not
consider unreasonable; but on inquiry he
found it was for the afler-TOom occupied by
his work, not a copy d which had stirred
from thence. He told, too, of the servant-
maid where he himself had lodged at Rams*
gate, coming in to say that he was wanted,
there being a person at the door inquiring for
a poet : and on going out, he found a pot-boy
from the public-house, whose cry, of ** any
pots for the Angel," the girl had mistaken for
a demand fen* a poet. Improbable enough*
In talking of Klopstock, he mentioned his de-
scription of the Deity's "head spreading
through space," which, he said, gave one the
idea of a hydrooephalous afi'ection! Lamb
quoted an epitaph by Clio Rickman, in which,
after several lines, in the usual jog-trot style
of epitaph, he continued thus : —

*' He well performed the hosbend's, tetter's p«rt,
And knew immorUl Iludibras by beurU'

A good deal of talk with Lamb about De Foe's
works, which he praised warmly, particularly
*' Colonel Jack," of which he mentioned some
striking passa^. Is collecting the works of
the Duncian heroes. Coleridge said that
Spenser is the poet most romarkable for con-
trivances of versification ; his spelling words
differently, to suit the musie of the line, put-
ting sometimes "spake," sometimes " spoke,"
as it fell best on the ear, &c. &c. To show
the difference in the facility of reciting verses,
according as they were slcilfully or unskil-
fully constructed, he said he had made the
experiment upon Beppo and Whistlecraft
(Frere's poem), and found that he could read
three stanzas of the latter in the same time
as two of the former. This is absurd. Talk-
ed much of Jeremy Taylor ; his work upon
"Prophesying," &c. C. Lamb told me he
had got 170/. for his two years' contribution
to the '* London Magazine" (Letters of Elia).

Should have thought it more."

* • • * •

"Breakfasted with Rogers; Constable of
Edinburgh, the great publisher, and Bowles,
of the party. In talking of the craft of book-
selling, Constable said, " Mr. Moore, if you
let me have a poem from your pen, I will en-
gage to sell thrice as many copies as the Long-
mans ever did, even of * Lalla Rookh.' " Very
encouraging this, and comes seasonably to
put me in better conceit with myself. In
conversing with me afterwards, he intimated
his strong wish that I should connect myself
with the "Edinburgh Review." In talking
<rf Walter Scott, and the author of Waverley ,^
he continually forgot himself, and made them

BIZARRE.

the same person. Bm had the original MS.
of the novels presented to him hy the author,
in forty-nine volumes, written with his own
band : very few corrections. Says the author
to his knowledge has already received more
than a hundred thousand pounds for his novels
alone. Walter Scott apparently very idle;
the only time he Is known to b^n to study
18 about three hours in the morning before
breakfast ; the rest of the day he is at the
disposal of everybody, and rarely retires at
night till others do.''

* * * « *

<' Breakfasted at Rogers's, to meet Luttrd,
Lady Davy. Miss Rogers, and William Ban-
kes, who gave, as an apology for his being
late, a visit he had had before he was out of
bed finom the Dean of Winchester, in most
pious alarm about Lord Nugent ^s bill for the
rdief of the Roman Catholics. Rogers show-
ed us " Qrav's Poems,'' in his original hand-
writing, with a letter to the printer : also the
original MS. of one of Sterne's sermons. Re-
markable, in comparing this with the printed
one, to see how he had spoiled a passage in
correcting it ; calling the Jews (instead of
the '* thoughtless and thankless people," as
he had it at first,) this '* ungrateful and pe-
culiarly obstinate people" (or "peculiarly
perverse," I do not exactly recollect the
printed words.)"
OKR^/lA^4 L.N'moe.

— Messrs. Ticknor, Reed & Fields, of Boston,
are the publishers of this book, which is got
up in the style of their charming ** Thalatta,"
and the no less elegant " Smith's Poems." It
is a volume filled with rare poetic genius;
embracmg translations by Charles T. Brooks,
Esq., of poems by Anastasius GrUn — the nom
de plume of an Austrian gentleman, Count
Anton Alexander von Auersberg, and a poet
not unknown hero — as well as a large number
of other (German lovers of the Muse. Gru'n's
** Ship Cincinnatus" forms the principal poem
in the book, and, we should judge, its con-
version, by Mr. Brooks, into our own from
the German language, was efiected in a most
masterly manner. We should like to give
extracts from this poem, but really we know
not where to begin and where to end, all is
so beautiful. One must read the whole poem
to enjoy it properly. "We give the following
little poem as a specimen of its author and
translator, and shall follow it up with a few
other extracts from poets whose works make
the volume.

THE BING.

I mte upon a mountain,

From homo-lnnd fiir «wny,
Below me biUn and ▼alloyii,

Meadowi and oornftelda lay.

The ring ftom off my finger

In reverie I drew.
The pledge of fbnd affection

She gare at our adieu.

I held ft like a apy-flasa

Before my dreaming eye,
And, through the booplei peeping,

The world bq(an to epy.

Ah, bricrht, green, sunny mountains,

And 1Md» of waTiug gold!
In TOoth a lovely picture

For such Ikir frame to hold I

Here many a neat, white cottage
Smilep on the wooded iite<*p.

There scythe and slclde gllntan
Along the valley's sweep I

And fkrther onward stretehes
The plain the stream glides through.

And, (ix>undary guards of granite)
Beyond, the mountains blue.

Cltie", with domes of marble.
And thickets, fi-esh and green,

And clouds that like my longings,
Toward the dim distance loan;

Green earth and bright blue heaven.
The dwellers and their land —

All this, in one fiilr picture,
My golden hoop-fhune spanned.

Oh, fldrest of Air pictures.
To pee. by Love's ring spanned.

The green earth and blue heaven.
The people and their land I

TBAGIG HISTORY.

There was a man. much grieved in mind.
To think, his queue should hang behind;
He set about to change it.

How to begin ? — ^he *s puzzled quite —
' I *11 Just turn round, then a comes rlgfat*-~
The queue still hang behind him.

He whirls him nimbly round onoe more.
In vain— Just as it hung before,

1 he queue still bangs tebind him.

Presto! be twists him back a)3in
The other way. but all in vain—

The queue still hangs behind him.

Now right now left, behold him flirt :
It does no good, it does no hart.

The queue still hangs behind him.

Now like a top, fwithout reliei:)
He's spinuintr round and round : in briei^
The queue slill hangs behind htm.

And, see, he still ppins round, poor wight!
And thinks, at la^t 'twill bring thinirs rightr-
Tha queue still hangs b^nd him.

I AND THOU.

I am the storm that Northward loves to floe,
Thou art the moonlitrht on a tmnquQ sea :
How can such I with such a Thou agree?

Thou art the beam that lights the lily's eyef^
I the wild hsil that fh>m the black doud flloi:
endless cha4>m that between us liesl

I wild, inconstant, esrth's dark guest, and Then,
With almost angel clearness on thy brow ; —
Come, Love, and show thyf elf almighty, now I

TWO LOVERS.

A skiff swsm down the Danube's tide,

Therein a bridegroom sate, and bride,

Ho one sidey'sho the otli*-r.

Tell mo, my dearest heart, saki she.
What present shall I make to thee 7

And back her little sleeve she stripped,
And deeply down her arm she dipped.

And so did he, the other sMe,

And laughed and Jested with his bride. '

Fair lady Danube, give me hero
Some pretty gift to plaase my de«r.

BIZARRE AMONa THB NEW BOOKS.

153

She drew • 9p«ridiii(t swoni itofli
Ju»t such the boy bad longed tor, oft.

Tbr boy, whnt btdds be in bif band!
Of milk-wbiU* pearls a costly band.

Be binds it round her jet-black hair,
She looks a princess, sitting there.

Fair lady Danube, giro me here.
Some pretty gift to please my dear!

Once more shall try what she can fbel ;
Bhe grmspe a helmet of light steel.

On his part, terrified with joy,
Tiahed up a golden comb, the boy.

A third time clntebing in the tide.
Woel ahe &ll8 headlong o'er the rida.

Ttie hoy learn after, clasps her tight,
Bame Daoube snatcbea both tton sight.

Dame Danube ftmdged the gtfta she gare,
They moat atone ibrt in the ware.

An empty Ait! plldes down the stream,
The mountains hide tho sunset gleam.

And when the moon in heaven did stand,
Tb« loTers float4>d dead to land.
He one side, she the other.

OUO -TKSTAN/IBM-r.

KiNOa OP THB

— MeaBTS Crosby, Nichols & Co., have pub-
lished a large ▼<^ume, with this title. Item-
brtoes a series of sermons preached in Lin-
coln's Inn Chapel, by Frederick Dennison
Miurice, Chaplain of Lincoln's Inn, and Pro-
fessor of Kings College, London. The author
enjoys a yery high reputation, and the book
wfll, unquestionably, he sought after by a
large class of readers.

FAXMK« BRIOMTHOPEB.

— This beautiful story for young folks — and
indeed for old folks, too,^-emanates from the
pen of ** Paul Creyton." It forms a neat lit-
tle volume : indeed, as to general mechanical
betuty it is a credit to its excellent publishers
Messrs Philipps, Sampson & Co., of Boston.
Father Bnghthopes will be found a useful
teacher as wdl as a pleasant companion. We
We an idea, too, that his charming counsel
tnd pure presence, will be courted by hun-
dreds and thousands during the hours of re-
Uution, of which we are inclined to enjoy so
nnny at this present season.

WIIjO JACK; OR. -TMK aTOL.■^4 OH*l.O

~ Together with other interesting stories
from me pen of Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz, form
the contents of a seasonable volume which
oonjes finom Mr. A. Hart of our city. Those
of our readers who are at the numerous re-
sorts and who wish to entertain rather than
instruct the mind, will greedil)r catch at it.
And well they may, for it has merits, in its way
which are very decided. " Linda," •* Eoline,**'
" Rena'* and ** Marcus Warland," have made
a reputation for Mrs. Lee Hentz, as a story-
teller, which may well be pronounced envia-

KOHO«« OF A

—This book was published by G. P. Putnam
&00m and embraces as is alleged, the re-

membrances of an dd man. He says in the
introduction that he is in his quiet h<»ne
where the echoes of the past come ringing
through the desolate chambers of his heart ;

eeasant memories have cheered awa^ a weary
mr and he would ring out their chimes
again more cleariy and more widely — ** not
with the loud, harsh clapper of the old bell
in the church steeple, but m gentler vibration
I would" says he '' swell the merry peal, at
dawn, when the day is still young, the world
an unopened book, and the pages of destiny
unstained by a tear!" Old man, old man,
you talk here like a very young one. Your
story is not a bad one, however ; but, on the
contrary contains much touching and well put-
together incident.

TMe oi-o A^40 tms nkw.

— Or the changes of thirty years in the
East with some allusions to oriental customs,
as elucidating Scripture, by Willian Goodall,
missionary in Constantinople, with an intro-
duction by Rev. William Adams D D.." is
the title of a work just published by M. W.
Dodd of New York city. It is very hand-
somely embellished, and got up throughout
in a manner calculated to please a large class
of readers, Mr Qoodall passed one half, and
his wife more than one half, of her exis-
tence in the East, both being absent from their
native land one third of a century. He speaks
of that section of the world hence with the
best experience.

THK YOUNO 1-4 OV* OU*OS

— We have here a revised edition of New-
comb's '* Guide to the Harmonious Develop-
ment of Christian Character." It is a work
which has already been received with great
favor. The issue before us contains the ad-
dition of an address on female education
which has truly sterling merits. Indeed the
whole book in its present form is greatly in-
creased in value, both on the score of its ma-
teriel and of its getting up. The author ori-
finally wrote the worK as a directory for a
beloved sister. He says, it is addressed to a
particular class of persons, whom it is espcci-

I ally designed to benefit ; but is not intended
: to be read exclusively by them. The present
revision is the last he contemplates. M. W,
. Dodd, New York, Publisher.

, TMK RAOe FOR RtOMKB

I — Messrs. Lippincott Grambo A Co., of our
I city have published " Dr. Amot's Race for
I Riches, ana some of the pits into which nm-
ners fall," with a preface and notes from the
polished pen of Stephen Colwdl, Esq. The
work embraces six lectures, the object of
which, on the part of the reverend author, is
to apply the word of God to the traffic of
men ; and has passed through several editions
in Scotland. As the American editor re-
marks, the lessons it contains are as a[^-

154

BI2ABSS.

cable here as in the land where they were
first given ; indeed > wherever traffic is par- ,
sued, there are they appropriate. He in- 1
dulges in some eloquent thoughts touching ,
the duty of man to man, as well as man to i
God. He says religion does not consist sim* i
jrfy in the worship of God, nor simply in be- '
lieving in God ; but in our duty to Uod and .
our duty to man. He urges, and with truth,
that our religious literature developes far more
amply our duty to God than to man ; and he |
wisms to bring the latter more fully to the
attention of Christians. Mr. Col well is strict- >
ly right in the views he gives on this subject, |
mid we hope his excellent and well expressed •
thoughts may be generally read, marked and
inwimily digested. He takes the proper
course when he urges chanty between man
and man, as he does here. We feci disposed
to wish him most earnestly God speed, when
he proclaims that he intends to keep these |
"contemned words," Charity, Humanity, Phi-
lanthropy, before the Chnstuin world.

#ur MwkljT §0ssip.

— The Hakluyt Society of London has recent-
ly printed for the first time " the Historie of
Travails into Virginia Britannia," written by
William Strach^, Gtent. the manuscript of
which is in the British Museum.

The following passage from this work pre-
sents Pocahontas to us in a novel point of
view. It is but right to mention, however,
that the word wanton conveys no idea deroga-
tory to the moral character of the Indian
princess, but is used in the old sense of lively
or sportive.

** The better sort of women cover themselves
(for the most part) all over with skin man-
tells, finely drest, shagged and fringed at the
skyrt, carved and colored with some pretty
work, or the proportion of beasts, fowle, tor-
avses or other such like imagry, an shall best
please or express the fancy of the wearer ;
their youngest women go not shadowed
amongst their own company till they be nigh
eleven or twelve returns of the Icafe old (lor
so they accowpt and bring about the yeare
(calling the leafe taquitock): nor are they
much ashamed there(^, and therefore, would
the before remembered Pocahontas, a well !
featured, but wanton young girle, Powhatan's
daughter, sometimes resorting to our fort, of
the age then of eleven or twelve years, get
the boys forth with her into the markett place,
and make them wheele, falling on their hands,
turning up their heels upwards, whom she
would follow and wheele so herself, naked as
she was, all the fort over ; but being once
twelve yeares, they put on a kind of seme-
cinctum leathern apron (as doe our artificers

or handy-crafts men) before their bodies, and
are very shamefacH; to be seen bare."

Pocahontas was only twelve years old when
she rescued Captain Smith. Mr. Schoolcraft,
in his ^reat work on the Indians, says that
the artist who cut out her statue for the cap-
itol at Washington has put' men^s leggins on
the figure !

Lo^ng^s Pictorial Field Book of the Revo-
lution has a good wood-cut of Pocahontas, in
the dress of an English lady^, after she was
christened and.call^ the lady Rebecca. It
is unneccessary to mention that mnny of the
F. F. V. are descended fiom her. The His-
torical Society of Virginia ought to have a
genealogical tree of her descendants prepared.
• The following is a news-paper cutting from
a number rdatmg to the American Involu-
tion, lately received in this city from Lon-
don.

** A letter from an officer in Canada savs.
that General Burgoyne's army wa»overioaded
with baggage, women and cannon. By the
consent and advice of Gen. Burgoyne and
Gen. Phillips, the army was absolutdy em-
barrassed by the immensity of baggage, num-
ber of women and artillery. So much so was
it that the army looked more like a Turkish
army, with the seraglios of the Grand Signior,
the Grand Vizier &c., than an army of Gen-
erals and British. The American army un-
der General Gates was a perfect contrast. Af-
ter the surrender of our army. Gen. Gates in-
vited General Burgoyne and the other princi-
pal officers to dine with him. The iMe was
only two planks laid across two empty beef
barrels ; there was only four plates for the
whole company ; there was no cloth : and the
dinner, consisted of a ham, a goose, some
beef and some boiled mutton. The liquor
was New England rum mixed with water,
without sugar ; and only two glasses which
were for the two Commanders in Chief, the
rest of the company drank out of basons.
The officer remarks ** the men that can live
thus, may be brought to beat all the world."
After dinner General Gates called upon Gen-
eral Burgoyne for his toast, which embarrass-
ed General Burgotne a good deal : at length
he gave General Washington ; General Gates
in return gave the King. The American
troops and the English troops shook hands to-
gether ; and were in a moment perfect good
friends. The English troops universally ex-
pressed their reason that they were enemies,'
and wished their enemies had been any body
else. The Americans replied that they knew
the English were not, in their hearts, enantes
to America. The American troops were well
clothed, had good knapsacks, were well ap-
pointed, with mostly French arms, and wen
excellently disciplined. While the officers
were at dinner, the whole army were undo*
armst and the moat exa6t order was observed.

OUR WHKLT GOSSIP.

After dinner, some of the Britkh officers, for
curiosity, desired to be permitted to walk
through the ranks, which was granted : per-
fect siknce and steadiness was obetrred
throQ^ioot. Some of our officers afterwards
mm a regiment upon its march, and were sur-
prised to see that they were as compact as
toy n:giment th^ had ever seen in Europe.
The American officers, in general, and par-
ticularly the Crenerals Whipple and Grover,
are highly spoken d for their genteel behav-
iuur. When General Gates invited General
Borgoyne and other officers to dinner, Gover-
nor Siceene was going to partake with them,
but General Gates o^red him to his quar-
ters; which gave great satisfacticm to the
officers on both sides.'*

— The following account of the Londondeny
fiunily is from a late Irish newspaper. It is
probably more particular than any account
famished by Burke's Peerage and similar oth-
er works, and also more correct. The people
of Irdand will be glad to learn how little Irish
blood Castlereagh had in him. If the girl,
Stewart, whom his grandfather married, was
of pure Scotch descent (as she was of Scotch
origin,) Castlereagh has not a drop of Irish
bkiod in his veins : —

" Okigin op the Londonderry Family. —
The history of this famihr is curious, and me-
rits particular notice. The real name is Gre-
gor, the first of whom who figured in Ireland,
WIS one Rob Greeor, a Scotch pedlar, who
had been in the habit of trading to the county
Down, in cast clothes : but having in a broil
It the fair of Dunbarton, knocked out a man*s
eye, he fled his country altogether, and be-
came a pack earner through Ulster, in the
service of one Robinson, a shopkeeper in New-
townards, with whom heretofore he used to
do his little traffic on his own account After
a while Robinson died childless — ^leaving his
shop and a bishop's lease of a couple score
pounds a year value to his vridow who mar-
ried Rob. They had a son bred to the father's
and mother's business, who g^w up, and in
poocess of time paid his addresses to a girl of
Newtownards, of the name of Orr, a kmd of
maatuamaker,, to whom the youth was at-
tached by a prospect she was said to have
from a man of the name of Stewart, her ma-
ternal uncle, who had been eone some years
to sedc his fortune in India, where, report said,
ha had been successful ; and who at length
died abroad, and left his neice a considerable
property — so much beyond Gregor's anticipa-
tion, that he even wanted assurance to oonti-
nne his suit. The true-hearted girl expressed
to a common fnend her surprise and re^n^t at
her lover's absence in terms which modesty
did not forbid, nor could decorum censure. —
They were married, and Gregor thereupon
' the name of Stewart, without license

of the Herald's office-^noi so much in respeei
to the memory of hia wife's benefactors as to
gratify a pride from which the poorest are
often found not to be exempt. They had a
son, Rob or Robert, who was to be educated
as a gentleman — now a great name — and who,
in the process of time, was sent to the Tern*
pie to study the law, or rather to eat his way
to the bar. Stewart, the father, had pur-
chased estates vnth Orr's money, and had
gained some footing in the borough of New-
townards. A great man in land, in the countv
Down, at the time, was the Earl of Hertford,
an English nobleman. To him our young
Stewart became known, and actuallyobtained
one of his daughters in marriage. His father
dying he was now a man of property, with a
great alliance— owner of a borough — in fiict
one of us — and at length being raised to the
peerage, became of so much influence that in
the year 1790, his son Robert was a candidate
for the representation of tho county Down, on
what is humoix)usly called the popular inter-
est ; opposed even to the powerful leading of
the Marquis of Downshire, to whose servants'
half, the grandfather of Robert would have
had a difficulty to gain admittance. The
son of Lord Ix)ndonderry was the famous
Castlereagh ; or, as he was jocosely called in
the county Down, Castle-rag, in allusion to
the occupation of his grandfather, the dealer
in clothes."

— The last number of the Presbyterian Rc'
view has an article entitled ** Young America,"
(rem which we select the following touching
Melville's last work — the abomination of aU
abominations, in the shape of romance— enti-
tled ** Pierre or the Ambiguities :"

" How any man, even if in some mad hours
of excitement he had written such a book,
could read the proof-sheets and not heave the
whole mass upon the fire, we cannot con-
ceive." ♦ ♦*»*#*

** We would inquire whether it is at all ne-
cessary to import Parisian novels, in order
that we might have the French school full
fledged among us, if such books as Pierre are
to be tolerated as American literature ?

" If it be asked whether we charge the au-
thor with approving the conduct of his hero,
and of any other character in Peirre, (for
nearly every one is vicious or silly,) we reply,
of course, in the negative. But there is in
man a strange passion of sympathy and imi-
tation. The constant familiarity with mur-
der, produces murder: sensuality begets
sensuality; a nightmare literature is both
cause and effect of a vicious state of society.
God creates the beautiful and pure in nature,
he establishes it in his kingdom of grace. He
* sets the solitary' in no unnatural and horri-
ble position, but in * families,' And such
; influences carried out benignantly, create %

156

BIZARRE.

pare and virtnous society. With all his fitults
compare Dickens with Melville, the death of
poor Jo with the death of Pierre, Esther Sum-
merson with Lsabel. The one is the hreath
of morning driving away the pestilence that
walketh in darkness : the other, the enervating
south wind relaxing our vigor, or the hot
simoon of the desert, withering the nerves
and turning life itself bitter within us. Mr.
Melville is a young man. Let him listen to
the friendly voices which urge him to a better
path."

— The Baycua Tapestry, we learn from re-
cent French journals, hais been removed from
Lisieux to the Louvre, in execution of a de-
cree for collecting into a central museum, re-
lics of Kings and Queens of France. This
decree is ill received in the localities which it
strips of historical monuments dear to the
affections of the inhabitants. At Lisieux, the
departure of this tapestry, so long the princi-
pal attraction of visitors to the town, produced
an agitation amounting almost to an emeuth,

— The following books remain unnoticed : —
"John Randolph of Roanoke, WUliam Wirt,
Ac.," by F. T^.. Thomas, from A. Hart, late
Carey & Hart, of our city ; ** Memorials of the
English Martyrs," by Tayler, Layard's "Ni-
nevah and Babylon," from the Messrs. Har-
per, New York ; " Poems of T. B. Read,"
from A. Hart, late Carey & Hart, of our city :
" The Div<Mx;ed Wife,''^ by Arthur, from T.
B. Peterson, of our city : " Marmaduke Wy-
vil," and the ** Grafted Bud," from J. S. Red-
field. We would add that La3rard's Babylon
and Ninevah, got up in beautiful style, by
the Harpers, is pronounced by them to be the
first American edition. Mr. Putnam denies
this; so the two are at issue.

— ** The Schoolfellow," for June, edited by
Mr. Wm. C. Richards and " Cousin Alice,"
has been for some days on our table. It is
now published by Messrs. Evans k Buttain,
and appears to be more worthy of patronage
than ever.

— The Cincinnati Fen and Pcnct7 tells the fol-
lowing good story :

" Rather an amusing incident occurred the
other evening, whilst a serenading party was
going its rounds. The gentle musicians had

chanced to stop before a mansion in St.,

and were putting forth their delightful har-
mony, when the shrill sound of a female voice,
which did not at ail chord with their music,
'broke upon the midnight air.' The sere-
nadcrs were startled ; they probably had ex-
pected to see a white hand protruded from the
window, and a boquet or two thrown to them,
but when the cry of * robbers,' * thieves,' and
* Oh ! where is my wig V fell upon their ears,
they were sorely puzzled; but one or two
bolder than the rest, ran to the door of the
house, which by this time was opened from

within, and an dderiy lady, emphaUcally
bare headed made her appearance. It seems
that while she was listening to the sweet
strains of the singers, she became aware of
the fact, or at least fended, that there were
thieves in the house, and hence raised the
outcry ; being a ' pensioner on the dead,' as
fer as hair was concerned at least, she oilled
lustily for her wig, not liking even to be seen
by gentleman of the ancient profession of bm^
glars, with such a hold front V^

— A letter from BerUn gives the following de-
scription of the trousseau of the Princess
Anne of Prussia, who is about to be married
to a Prince of Hesse Cassel. The trousseau
of the bride has been on view at the King's
Palace last Saturday, and to-day, and on ei^
day about 2500, most female observers, visited
it. Of the two large rooms which the trous-
seaus occupied, the first contained the hooae
and body linen, laid out for the most part io
twenty dozens, and twenty-four dozens, all
marked with her Royal Highness' name, in a
(to me) unintelligible letter, (twelve dozen
pocket handkerchiefs had the Royal arms
woven in them.) In connexion with the tra-
velling couch were twenty-four dozen day and
night chemises^ as many undress and night
caps, and other incomprehensible and unmen-
tionable articles in like profusion. The linen
takes up three sides of the room, the fourth is
occupied by tlie choussure, consisting of twen-
ty-four pairs of silk and leather sSoes, and
twenty-four pairs of stockings. In t he second
room were gloves, embroidered handkerchiefis,
collars, scarfs, hats, bonnets, artificial fiow-
ers, &c., in bewildered profusion. To make
all complete, there was a riding habit, twelve
cloaks in silk and velvet, and, besides all these,
the ball and court dre.<:scs, as well as the wed-
ding robe, a diadem of brilliants, and much
too many more things for me to enumerate.
According to old practice here,jthe body of the
wedding dress of white satin was not with the
skirt and train, but is kept in the jewel cham-
ber, where it is decorated with the crown
jewels, and not brought out to Charlottenburg
till the last moment.

— The students of Uie University of Turin
had Eesolved to erect a monument within its
precincts to the memory of their comrades,
volunteers in the Sardinian army, who fdl in
the war of independence.

OUR NK>A/ TALE

— The tale 9( which we commence the publi-
cation to-day, is from the well-known and
highly-popular pen of Mr. James Rces. It
will be concluded, probably, in three nunlbers.
The scene of the story, it will be observed, is
laid in Philadelphia.

EDITORS' SANS-^UCI.

157

mjhtmmrr,

— We treat o/ar readers this week to another
poetical effort, from an anonymous corres-
pondent: —

TIm eve to ctlm, aercxie, and brlg^bt;
There's yet one ray of holy light,
Wbieb, Ung*i1ng In the glowlog weity
Unwilling serau to rink to rest.

But wxm afiir, on yonder pealL,
That lingering ray in Tain weHl seek ;
And. oh! what Krief on earth may reigU)
Xre its purs Ught cornea hack again.

A tear may flU a mother*! eye ;
A tether's heart may heare a sigh;
A rinter't cheek of rosy bloom.
If ay wear a shade of dieerless gloom.

A brother's eye that beams n> bilf^t,
Uiefnrtnne's hand may seal with ni|^t,
Before to-morrow's orient hue,
KfTolgent bursta upon the view ;

And thousands in the green of vouth,
Kre mom, may lenm thiii Mul'nmg truth:
All hnman happinees and joy.
On earth, are mingled with alloy I

NOT BOOKED UP.

— The editor of the Mercury , in our city,
gives to the wodd. in a late issue, the follow-
ing:

'' * MoKET MACES THB Mabb 00.' — The New
York Tribune, which lately announced its in-
tention to puff or praise no&iing without being
foui for its golden opinions, has a review of a
book of poems published by some Mr. Smith,
of Boston. Tnis review occupies three cch
hmnSf and was evidently written by Mr.
Smith himself, or some of his particular
fnends ; for, while the style of eulogy is ex-
travagant, the quotations from the work —
which are presumed to be the finest passages
scarcely come up to the magazine standard of
poetical excellence."

The Smith, whose poems are noticed so
much to the contempt of the Mercury by the
Trihtme, is an Englishman; a writer, too,
who, though but a short time before the
world, already occupies a most commanding
position. In other words, he has, as it were,
leaped up to a level with the best rhyming
genius of England, and has received flattering
notices from her leading reviews and journals.
Our own literati, too, with the exception of
the Mercury, and one or two smaller lights,
have given him a cordial welcome. The
beautiful edition of Mr. Smith's poems, lately
published by Ticknor, Reed and Fields, of
Boston, has already been noticed by us.

OAVAZZI A^40 FRKB SPBBOH

— The riots in Quebec and Montreal got up
to crush the free-speaking of this eloouent
Italian reformer were truly disgracefol. They
win, morover. unquestionably, weaken the
cause of those by whom they were excited,
while at the same time, they will engender a
Ming in the United States calculated to lead
to a renewal of the Boenea of 1844, when it

will be remembered, the torch was api^ed to
churches, and other diabolical acts committed.
The people of our country will defend with .
their heart's blood, freedom of conscience and
freedom of speech. They care not by whom
or by what, the disposition is shown to check
the pure flow of either : let it be church or
state, the result will be the same. Well does
the New York Tribune assert that if Gavazzi
is made the champion of free-discusion, he
will be every where, in c^r republic, cordially
welcomed and resolutely protected. The prin-
ciple or cause which cannot stand a minute,
detailed, and, even ardent and impassioned as-
sault, must be a poor one. We are certain no
principle or cause can be thrust down the
throats of our people bv a brutal mob ; and
least of all, a brutaJ mob instigated by those
who are leagued with European tyrants : with
despots who have checked the growth of Italian
and Hungarian liberty.

We take no doctrinal grounds in Bizabbb
though we entertain decided opinions in the
premises. We defend in our pages simply
liberty of speech ; liberty of speech of course,
always under law. We care not, neither,
whether a man be a new, or an old convert to
the doctrines he preaches. We are to pre-
sume him honest, whether he be so, or not, in
reality. We don't think it is charitable to
condemn a man, because he has changed his
opinions, because he is a new convert,
whether, he be preacher or politician. Men
have conscientiously and honestly met with
an entire radical change, from the days of the
Apostle Paul down. We trust no scenes, such
as have disgraced Montreal and Quebec, will
by enacted m our land : and at the same time
we hope Gavazzi may continue to speak when
and where he chooses. We advocate the same
privileges for Archbishop Hughes, Gen. John
Sydney Jones, Mr. Willian J. Mullen, Mrs.
Fannie Lee Townsend, for all, all who are
not guilty of treason to the constitution.
We care not for parties, and have no partizan
ends to subserve, Hence, we can speak free-
ly, no matter who are listeners. We have no
votes to gain or lose. Unlike Mr Greeley we
need not commence an article condemning
Gavazzi's anti-catholic opinions, in order to
close it up with an approval of Gavazzi and
free speech. There is not a political editor
in the country be he whig or democrat, who
dares speak out altogether his sentiments on
such a point as this. He is forever prevented
from giving free current to his views and feel-
ings by the miserable fear of losing a few
votes.

«HAVK WB ROOK-FtSH AMONO US P*'

— Thus asked a gentleman one morning last
week, as he sto^ on Beverly wharf, after
havine eaten a capital breakfkst at ''Joe
GriffiUi's" hotel. <' You had better get your

158

BIZABRB.

fishing-tackle and see»" said a bve-stander.
"True," replied the well-breakasted indi-
• Tidual : and a few moments after he might
hare been seen, completely equiped, with
rod, line, hooks, duck pants, linen coat, Kos-
sath hat, and a bountiful supi^y of sturgeon
roe, for bait. He was all ready indeed, to
cast his line into the slowly ebbing tide, which
swept around the head of the wharf. And
were there any rock-fish as aforesaid ? Aye,
aye, certain ment ; in one hour our fisherman
mid taken three dozen ! and he thinks too, that
when he departed suddenly, there were a few
more left. He could not pursue his sport :
because it soon became no sport. In other
words, news of his great success in pisca-
torials rapidly spread abroad throughout the
neighborhood, and in consequence, something
less than fifty boys were fishing in the same
waters, and raising a perfect Bedlam all about.
And such apparatus as they brought along
with them ! Whip-handles, bean-poles, lamp-
wicking, clothes-lines; cod-hooks, perch-
hooks, nike-hooks and phi-hooks ; and to hold
bait, all kindS'Of household utensils, from a
bushel'basket down to an old cofiee-pot, were
put in requisition ! And Uius the sportsman
in a trice found himself: hedged m on all
sides by a heterogeneous crowd ; rigged out
in a heterogenous style ; talking a heteroge-
neous dialect, frequently altogether. There
he stood, hemmed in by that mixed assembly,
some with pantaloons, some as good as with-
out pantaloons ; some ¥rith coats, some with-
out coats ; some with hats, and some with
caps, and some without either hats or caps.
A few had portions of their linen, oozing
from orifices before and bdiind, and flapping
in the breeze, like so many flags oi truce.
With that din in his ears, those articles of
domestic crockery, those lamp-feeders, those
cofiee-pots &c., scattered about beneath his
feet, with those bean-poles, and whip-stalks,
flourishing above his hetA ; could he, a ner-
vous man. remain? No; emphatically no:
with the three dozen aforesaid, he fled ; va-
mosed the rcmche ; and we don^t know that
he has been heard of since.

sonMiBTMtNa Aaounr eNssziNQ.

— St. Aubin tells us, that the ancients were
wont to go to bed again, if they sneezed while
they put on their shoes. Aristotle has a
problem, ** Why sneezing from noon to mid-
night was good, but from night to noon un-
lucky.^' Eustatius on Homer says, that
sneezing to the left was unlucky, but pros-
perous to the right ; Hippocrates, that sneez-
ing cures the hiccup, and is profitable to va-
rious diseases.

Pliny, Apuleius, Petionius, and a dozen
others, have all something to say about it ;
and Buxtorf tdk us, that '^sneezing was a
■lortal sign, even from the firat man ; until

it was taken ofif by the special supplication of
Jacob. From whence, as a thankftd acknow-
ledgment, this salutation first began, and was
after continued by the expression of tcbindtattm
or vita bona, by standers by, on all occaaons
of sneezing."

When his majesty the king of Minomotapa
sneezes, those who are near mm salute him m
so loud a tone, that the persons in the ante-
chamber hearing it, join in the accUmation.
In the adjoining apartments they do the same,
till the noise reaches the street, and becomes
propagated through the city : so that at each
royal sneeze, a most horrid cry results from
the salutations of his many thousand vassals.
A somewhat different custom, prevails in
Senaar, where, when his maiesty sneezss, his
courtiers immediately turn their backs on him
(for that time only) and give themselves a
loud flap on their right thi^.

In a scarce tract, by Gerbier, master of the
ceremonies to Charles the first, Oxford, 1665,
he gives as a rule of good-breeding ; ** Is not
the customc, when a prince doth sneeze, to
say, as to other persons, Dieu vous ayde, God
help you, but only to make a low rever-
ence."

e-rcRv,

— It is probable, that all <^ our readers who
visit Franklin Square — at this season a most
ddightful resort, — have seen two sLngnlar
birds, which are domesticated there. They
are Marsh hens, and live almost exclusively,
when in their native haunts upon fish. Being
brought to the city, their diet is necessarially
partially changed. It nevertheless consists
of a preponderancy of fish, but as a general
thing, of only such fish as Market street af-
fords ; and hence, fish which at times, are
not altogether the freshest in the world. Now,
a gentleman of our acquaintance — Col. Ward
of the Sunday Ziedger— commiserating the for-
lorn condition <^ these hens, resolved when
he next drove out to the Wissahiccon to bring
them in a supply of fresii cat-fish. To resolve
with the Colonel, is to do ; so the fish were
obtained and placed in the beautiful fountain
of the square, where the hens could help
themselves at liieir pleasure. And they did
help themselves ; the poor " catties'* had no
peace from the moment they were transfcred
to the sparkline water of the fountain basin,
but were caught up, one after another, and
swallowed with as much ease, as Jonah was
swallowed by the whale. The Colonel rather
repented of his efforts to treat them with fre^
fisn from — ^not Helicon — but the pure still
waters of the Wissahicon, when he observed
the unmerciful greedy havoc which they
made with the poor '* catties ;'* so fiur as be
is concerned, is resolved that they shall here-
after obtain their food firom the maricets, and
like every body else.

EDIT0B8* SANS^OUCI.

AMUSKMKIsrr».

— Manager Perhaan has added a large num-
ber af TiJoable articles to those which were
ooi drawn at the last distribution and thus
offers inducements for the sale of all of the
original gift tickets he has on hand. A new,
and the third distribution commenced under
the new arrangment on Wednesday, the 15th.,
and is to be continued until the night of
Saturday the 18th inst. The Panorama of
California itself will be exhibited until July
2d., when it will be sold at auction, the gen-
Ueman who drew it, — a native of Boston —
hamg concluded to dispose of it in this
waj. Dr. Valentine remains and adds his
fonnj stories to the evening's entertainments,
and Mr. Stalcup will remainas delineator.

— Sanpord's Ethiopian Opera Compant,
take possession of their New Opera House in
Twelfth street below Chestnut, early next
month. They have been singing in town with
great success, and may be heard all the week
at Concert Hall. On Thursday evening San-
ford the manager was to have a benefit, while
he has tendered the free use of his company
to Bfr. Andrews, the lesse of the Hall, for
Saturday the closing night.

WHO !• HOLAKRP

—Asks a correspondent : Dr. Holder we re-
ply was a successor of Purcell a distinguished
oomposer attached to the court of Charles H.
and with Doctors Aldrich and Creyghton, en-
joyed considerable reputation as an amateur
in church music. We are not now aware>
when or where, Simpson flourished, nor indeed
the other gentleman who figures in the musi-
cal dtique to which our correiqpondent alludes,
rr IS A FAOT.

— That the real name of the authoress of
that very popular work The Wide Wide World.
which purports to be written by Elizabeth
Wetherell, is by Mrs. Waters. The small work,
entitled Little Things, published at Edin-
toth, of which 20,000 copies have been ai-
re*^ sold, is the production of Professor
WUsm. That excellent little work Wornan^s
ifijfion, is written by Miss Lewis, school-
mistress of Bamsbury, England.

CHARLJIS X.

— When Charles was young, a courtier was
mtiMng in his presence the sermon of a
preacher who had been complaining of the
maimer in which prisoners were treated be-
fon tnaL The courtier observed, that such
tnatnent was merely the anticipated punish-
ment of their crimes. The young Pnnce
suddenly interrupted him, exclaiming, "Be-
fore trial, how can it be known that they are
guilty 1 That is a fact which the sentence
aiooecan establish.''

— TiM ^'Unele Tomaiy'' ezcttement still
keeps op in England, though some of the

Bxnre saosiVIe people aro fretting ashamed of
it The movers in this agitation show a lit-
tle m(nre leal than discretion, The whole
abolition movement is dishonest. It has d(me
nothing to benefit the slave. It has retarded
emancipation. Its only obiect is to create
excitement and sectional fedung.

** And joQ thtll find, tmoe pufvioos to tbeir mot.
Small dilTdsraice 't^lxt tha JUtotoio anjjl the braU.**

vsmia-aADSN, «M.

— It will be a long time before our watering
places become as beautiful as Weis-Baden,
Baden Baden, Europe, where all the grounds,
are laid out in the most tasteful manner, be-
ing adorned with roses and other flowers in
the greatest profusion. Tou may sometimes
walk or ride for hours under the grateful shade
of beautiful trees, and near large beds of the
scarlet Geranium— or you may sit beside a
beautiful lake filled with enormous carp, some
of one hundred years old, they say— or you
may lounee in ue stately Kursaltt with its
marble columns, magnificent mirrors, &c. —
or you may walk beneath the coUonades,
where rich t)ijouterie, books, Bohemian glass,
and a variety of elegant goods are for sale : or
you may dnnk, or rather sip, the water al-
most hot enough to boil an egg. It tastes at
Weis -Baden like chicken broth. Our own
watering places will improve, by-and-by,
when competition spurs on the proprietors.

FI^4B ARTe.

— The notice df paintings at the Academy,
which we last week promised, have not yet
reached us. We hope to obtain them in time
for oar next number.

— A correspondent writes us: — "I |)erceive
that al^ has been sent, byAmericans, in large

Suantities to the Dublin World's Exhibition.
Tow, as you know every thing, pray tell me
what is alg» ?"

We reply: Alne is a plant which grows
both in salt and fresh water, and which is
vulgarly called sea- weed. Brandt says it
comprehends, in the division Zoospermeao,
some of the lowest'known forms of vegetable
Ufe, plants consisting of simple cells, a&ering
in difierent degrees and emitting, at maturity,
spores, or seeds, which have a mstinct animal
motion. We have seen some beautiful collec-
tions of alg», as we doubt not has our corres-
pondent ; but they were shown to him under
their common name of sea-weeds, and not
under the tedinical one, with which they
figure in books.
ANsooonriOAl-.

— A gentleman in the country, who had put
aside two bottles of capital ale, to recreate
some friends he expected to dine with him,
diseoverad, just helore dinner, that a gretA
Irish servant hadMnptitdtbim both. **Sooii»

160

BIZARRB.

drel !" siid tbe mftster, ** what do yoa mean
by this ?" ** Why, sir, I saw plain enough
by the clouds, that it was going to thunder,
so I drank up the aJe at once, lest it should
turn sour : there's nothing I abominate like
wastin'." Fuseil when he failed in any of
his serious caricatures, used to complain that
nature put him out : and the sluttish house-
maid, wnen scolded for the untidiness of her
chambers, exclaimed, '*I'm sure the rooms
would be clean enough if it were not for the
nasty sun, which is always showing the dirt
in the comers."

— We overheard once the following dialogue
between an alderman and an Irish shop lifter :

** What's gone of your husband, woman?"
" What's gone of him, yer honor I Faith,
and he's gone dead."
•' Ah ! Pray what did he die of?"
"Die of, yer honor! he died of a Friday."
** I don't mean what day of the week, but
what complaint."

** Oh ! what complaint, yer honor ; faith,
and it's himself that did not get time to com-
plain,"

" Oh, oh ! ay— he died suddenly ?"
" Rather that way, yer honor.''
" Did he fall in a fit ?" No answer.
" He fell down in a fit, perhaps ?"
"A fit, yer honor ! why no, not exactly
that. He — fell out of a window, or through
a cellar-door— I don't know what they call
it."
" Ay, ay ! and broke his neck."
" No, not quite that, yer wordiip."
•* What then?"

** There was a bit of a string, or cord, or
that like, and it throttled poor Mike."

ORAWFieH-IAIMA.

— Stmptoms op Earthquakes.— Crawfish
says he fears a dreadful catastrophe will
shortly befall our city, as he observes several
enormous rents in Chestnut street, and hears
they are increasing.

— A RARA AVIS IN TERRA. — The block stpon
appears to be quite a lion with the English
aristocracy: while Queen Victoria recently
entertained a negro preacher. Crawfish thinks
in consideration of their color, they should
claim from Madame Vic. the honors of knight-
hood.

— Sweeping the Streets. — Our City Fathers
pay men to sweep the middle of the streets
with birdi brooms. Our fiiishionable ladies
sweep the side-walks with their dresses, for
the benefit of French manufactories.

— Under European governments, where the
people are but tne servants of their sovereigns,
they sometimes show a disposition to be mas-
ters ; but in this country where the peofde
are sovereigns, they show a great anxiety to
be " the servants of the pec^le."

— The New York Exhibition of the Indostry
of all Nations will open on the 15th of Joly.
It is said there is already considerable at exhi-
bition ; particularly on Sundays among rum-
sellers and police officers.

— Kit Crawfish says there are some g^^eat
hypocrites in the world; even among the
seemingly pious. In fact their is hardi j a
church in the country that has not a great
nave in it.

— ** A European correspondent" says there is
trouble bremng in the £05/, and thinks a war
between the great powers would be followed
by a rising in Hungary and Italy.

— A woman was recently brought before a
magistrate, charged with pilfering. On being
asked how she got her living, she replied, by
washing and t rolling; but his honor felt in-
clined to diS'ptUe-her assertion, as it appeared
that she also did a little stealing. He there-
fore ordered her to be lead away to durance
vile.

— "England expects every man to do his
duty,^^ as the excise man said when he caught
the smuggler with a pack of tobacco.

The Roman Catholic priests endeavour to
prevent the reading of the Bible : but the
people will read it. Protestant preachers try
to persuade the people to read tne Bible, and
the people wont do it.

— Col. Maurice, 123 Chestnut street, has a
fine stock of stationery, which he is constant*
ly increasing. Many of the leading merchants
deal with him. His prices are invariaUy
low : indeed, the motto of the Colonel, ever
since he commenced business, has been '* low

{>rices and quick sales." He is well calon-
ated to succeed. Few, indeed, could have
started business, as he did, without capital,
and so soon have attained the promineaoe
which he enjoys.

— Messrs. Burton and Laning, Arch above
Sixth, have recently imported some beautifdl
French papers, wnich we invite our very
tasteful readers to call and examine.

— Wolfe's Schibdam Schnapps is nnmieB-
tionably, a superior article of Holland Qia :
well worthy all the good things which are
said of it. It is extracted from the Juniper 1
fruit, and finds its home in Mr. W's bottm, '
the very juice of the berry itsdf. We direct
attention to an advertisement of this article,
which may be found in our columns. It is for
sale in Philadelphia by all the principle drag-

S'sts. We should add, that we have known
r. Wolfe for ten or fifteen years |»a8t, and
are thus enabled to declare that he is incapa-
ble of imposing upon the public.

YSRNON; OR, THE DRAMA OF LIFE.

161

BoMaam, wbas SikT tov, UASOAfr'^Farquhar.

nam.

rO« TD WKU BfMNG

SATURDAY, JI7HB J»5, 1863.

VERNON; OR, THE DRAMA
OF LIFE.*

CHAPTER IV.

"WMehlf tbeTfllftfn? Irtmeseehifleyw:

HuI when I note auother man like him,

I aaj aTeid him." Much Ado ^c.

Mrs. Vernon, haying received her evidently
onwelGome guest, with a lady like demeanor,
him no time to act the hypocrite by pro-
: sentiments unworthy a man, and that
mftn her husband's friend, but commenced
the oonyersation with — "Now Sir, your busi-
ness?

"Rather abrupt madam, I would "

"Mr. Maitland, the least we have to do to-
gether the better. I cannot disguise from
TOO Sir, the fact that your presence here is
hstefol, aye Sir that is the word — hateful, not
only to me, but those who are near and dear."

"Do you include your husband and Alice,
my Alice in this harsh word ?"

"No— Alice is all sweetness, all love and
iffection, and I would not that her young
heart should ever engender feelings — such
feeUngs as I have, and cannot control toward

"Indeed madam you are plain, will you be
kiod enough to enumerate some of my bad
qualities ?"

*'Mr. Maitland, I will not again refer to one
Kene, your conscience if you have any, can
re»^ recall, apart from that, you are a man
destitute of that nice sense of honor and vir-
tue, which ever distinguishes the gentleman,
ukI the christian."

" Thank you madam, and I am delighted
that you have afforded me an opportunity of
hoDg equally plain with you. That I have loved
yoQf the scene you recall, is a proof, that I am
still your friend, my being here now is evi-
dence."

"Your love! your friendship ! base fiend,
ia what act of mine did you ever discover one
n^y <kf hope to light up in your heart such a pas-
<ioQ? If contempt, if loathing, scorn, and
>U the bitterest feelings of outra^ virtue,
coostitute my love for you, then indeed can
m claim itr-Sir it is yours ! Love thee ?
Why I would rather starve, bes , aye steal and
^iMa» a slave to tyrant law than harbor one
fccfiilg of a trader nature toward you.

(OMilMed Ihn pact 140.)

'*Go on Madam, I am patient, and can
await the end of your lecture, go on, you see
I am calm !"

**I have spoken the sentiments of my heart
Sr, they have been my torment, they are now
my relief— you have heard them. As yet, my
husband knows not the extent of your vil-
lainy, but the time will, nay, must come,
when he shall know all."

** When that time comes, Madam I shall
be better prepared to deal with your husband.
But no more of this ; your display of Lucre-
tian virtue is all very fine, but it avu'ls not
with me ; you shall yet be mine, — and to
gain that end, I will accomplish the ruin of
your husband, and to the utter destitution of
yourself and family ; aye madam, you are in
my power ; husband, children— all— all "

"Fool, do you think because your schemes
have stripped us of wealth, that you have
power over mind — can you crush that ? Pover-
ty Sir, is no crime, nor is it a state of which
virtue need be ashamed. It is but a misfor-
tune — and the man who would rejoice in the
misery and suffering of the poor, and the
houseless, is so far beneath the objects of his
vengeance, that he cannot soar high enough
above the pollution into which he has fallen,
to inflict his enmity upon them. Away Sir,
I would be alone."

" Not so fast madam, one word — ^If you are
determined to bring ruin, and disgrace upon
your husband, dare my power. If you wish
to see him dragged to a loathsome prison,
scorn me. If you would see him sink gradu-
ally down into the scale of human misery,
crime, and madness, spurn me. Do it — —
Madam, and wo ! to you, and yours !"

"What? can such a thing as thou, dis-
grace my husband? — and — " a sudden
thought seemed to enter her brain at that
moment — she started, as if the horrid picture
her tormentor had drawn, was flashing before
her eyes, " Gracious heaven !" she muttered,
** now I recall my husband's actions, sleepless
nights, troubled looks — all, all seem to tell me
that this fiend speaks some horrid truth — "

" You seem troubled madam ?"

" Your words Sir astonish me, but they do
not change my opinion of you — the misery you
picture may come, but we can bear it — ^wretch-
edness may be ours — crime never !"

" Be not too sure of that madam — ^poverty is
an excellent mechanic, it can carve out of the
purest soul, the worst of crimes."

" Base man how now Margaret?" The

door suddenly opened and that worshipper of
the Goddess Superstition, rushed into the
room, exclaiming " Oh, dear Madam — a huge
spider a — I ask pardon, ma'am. Sir, but Mr.
Vernon has just come in that's all."

" Then madam I will wait upon your hu»-

I band, and remember — words of bitterness,
eiUier from you, or others, have always more

162

BIZARRE.

trath than poetry in them, your obedient ser-
yant." So saying with a bitter smile upon
his line he left the room. Margaret, who bad
gazea in some astonishment at his departure,
and heard the words he spoke, looked at her
mistress, and expressed her delight, in thus
bein^ rid of a "huge spider, and the " death
watch."

" Margaret, you must have heard our voi-
ces, what brou^t you into the room so sud-
denly ?

** Dear madam— I know that bad man, I
heard your voioe, and I thought he might in-
sult you.*'

** Kind girl, yes Margaret I do require aid
and assistance, we are, 1 am afraid, surround-
ed with danger, come to my room, and I will
tell you more, I do want a friend."

'* There goes a kind and good woman. I
know there is danger, I heard last night the
most awful crash in my room, and the cricket
has raised its notes six octaves higher, and
chirped out of tune at that. This they say is
a sign of horrible discord. Ah : there stands
the laige mirror, now that I am alone, I will
try the charm. They say if a person stands
before a glass and pull three hairs out of the
head, the very moment the third is plucked ;
the man she is going to marry will be seen
looking over her shoulder." At the moment
Margaret uttered these words Peter entered
the room, and hearing her voice, and the
words, stepped aside. Margaret with a slow
and stealthy step, approached the vast mir-
ror which stood immediately in front of her —
** Dear, dear, but I am afraid, I — I tremble
all over — but here goes — " She raises her
hand, plucks a hair, and starts back — *' Oh !
dear what's that ? 'tis noting, well that is
one, now for the second. I shall faint — dear
me—there— now," pulls another, " that is
two," ** hark I hear a groan, eh ! what's that,
dear me it is that old cricket— now the last.
What's that? a mouse, only a dear little
mouse, what a dunce I am — ^now for the last."
She tremblingly approaches the glass, as she
is in the act of pulling the hair : Peter steps
immediately behind her, she raises her head,
ives one scream and hjla into the arms of

CHAPTER V.

"WKbthMeoDTOTsliig, I IbrsetaUttiM;
AU seMOiu tad ttMir ohaage, tU pkase aUkt.**

MUton.
« Miiftntuiit brings ■orrow enoocb.''

Queen of Arragon,

Our readers, no doubt have long since ui-
ticipated a love scene between Alice and
Howard. Howard was a young man of real
genuine talent, he loved the glorious art, he
had adopted for a profession, &r its sublimity
and beMitj ; and labcved assiduous^ in it

as the means of suiqwrt Poor, buv
ing genius of a high order, he commaaded
that respect which too frequently is paid to
weidth alone. He was now just on the eve
of embarking for Italy, he loved Alice, and
she, if she k)ved him at all, it was with the
warm affection of a ^ster, rather than that
indescribable feeling which overtakes a young
heart in its first love. Indeed she was too
young to form any such engagements, and yet
she never felt so happy, as when she was in
company with Howard, We now introduce
them to our readers, as they are standing in
the haU.

*' And so you leave us Mr. Howard for a
long — long time ?"

'* Indeed Alice I can scarcely tell how long
I shall be absent, but of one thing be assured ;
my anxiety to return will much accelerate the
business which calls me hence. And dear
Alice — ^I must call you so— the story of your
young life, will be to me as the first page in
my heart's history. Alice I love you ; nay
do not start, I know that your pure bosom
never harbored any other passion than that
of love and affection. But mine, dear Alice,
is of that character I would have you expe*
rience ; I would ha^ you feel not a sisterly
love for a brother, but one equally dear but
warmer— I mean the love of the heart."

'■ Can there be a love more dear than that
of a sister's ?

'^ Yes, a love that can never change, a love
that makes its votary forsake Father, Mother*
brother and sisters.'

" This is strange !"

" Alice it is true, will you promise to think
of me when I am fiur awaY ?''

*'I will promise: for I know that I wiE
think of you often."

'* And will you remember what I have said,,
that my happiness is in your keeping? ib
when I return, I shall claim you as my Mde.'

** Mr. Howard — I— I — a poor orphan,
you "

"A poor Artist."

" I am so young."

** You will be older when I return."

"But still an orphan!"

** That name, Alice, is as dear to me as if
your own. Will vou, Alice, remember me|
and also what I have said ? I am aware|
Alice, no, I am not — that you consider yoor^
self a child ; children never forget IdndneBflf
youth never forgets love, it is the first dawi
of heavenly sunshine on the human heart".

" I will remember all your kindness."

" Spoken like a child. ''^

" WeU, I will never forget that you hm^
me." ^ -I

"Spoken likeagui."
" And I will nevcir ceajse to think .of joo.!
'* Spoken like my wife." ,

What Alice satfU we kaow not, but al

VERNON; OR, THE DRAMA OP LIFE.

163

flbwimd pressing his lips upon her cheek
bre*thcd these words of the master spirit of
the " mimic world," into her ear : —

"Sweet, good night f
This bud of lore, by nammei's ripening breatb,
Hajr prove » beaoteoos flower when next we meef

Tarn we now to a different scene. In a
retired chamber sat old Mr. St. Clair. He
was, as our readers may hare learned already,
the father of Mrs. Yemon. He was awaiting
the appearance of Maitland, who ima^ned
the seiyani was conducting him to his friend
Vernon. The old man was not aware of
Maitland's great crimes, hut suflSciently in-
formed of his general character to he incens-
ed at his intrasion, and frequent visits to the
boose. "I see how it is,*' he exclaimed,
"the TiHain has thrown a fearful charm
tnmnd Vernon ; it has deadened all his ener-
gies, and cast a dark shadow over the future
pro^iects of his life. What can I do ? He
will not listen to my douhts and fears : mis-
fortane dark and fearful is coming upon us,
and what will become of his wife, his chil-
dren— all — all must suffer.'*

At that moment, the servant announced
Mr. Maitland, who, entering and not seeing
V«mon, expressed his surprise in no very
gentle terms.

1 "He left yon this note Sir," remarked Mr.

I St. Clair, handing it to him.

i " Umph — ^he realises to see me, wants time

to consider : does he indeed, well we shall

see- Old man what are you gazing at ?"

** I am looking dosely and carefully at your

! fiwe to see

**What, J^?"

* Whether the fonl fiend has not set a mark
Ittponit.*'

** This to me, old dotard !"
** Nay, do not glare at me with those eyes
i of fii«, I am an old man. Sir ; hut not so
weakened by a^ as to fear you. 1 have the
right to look : for in age vision, like memory,
1 18 retrogressive ; shadows, reflecting the past,
as it were, in a mirror."

** Have yon ought with me t"
' •* Yes — ^1 have read you, sir ; the very at-
mospbere you breathe hecomes infectious;
fiiito ifaifl house yon have hrought misery and
I jBiafettane. No good will ever come where
yoa'wn, no flowers hloom in your presence."
"^Indeed. Old, man, you are poetic."
^ Ton mock me, sir, aye, mock, aye, rail at

grey hairs ; hut heware of them ; like
the fi^tning's flash, your mockery will re-
boaiid hack to ^our own heart. I would have
yon leave ns, sir ; leave Mr. Yemon."

■« Ton look and spei^, old man, as if 1 had
pofwer over him."

**Yoa have, sir, a fktal power. Yon poi-
mam his nund, jcra enflame his passions, nuMi-
«eii his brain. ^'

^Bewmre,Mt.St, Oaur, how yoa pi^Dceed ;

I have listened to you long enough ; nor will
I tolerate such lauguage even from ageitsdf."

*• Indeed ; me you cannot harm."

" Say vou so, — ^look here, hold driveller in
words, this house, and all that is in it, even
to the very hed you sleep upon, is mine. One
word from me, aud you are houseless !"

** You see I tremhle not, sir. I was in part
prepared for it, hut know, had man, that
humble poverty is flu* better than rich vil-
lainy. And know, also, that there are men
in the world, whose hearts are not ice like
yours. Do your worst, sir, better sudden
reality, than living doubts. Depart sir, your
presence is as the fabled Upas blightii&g
every thing that comes within its poisonous
influence."

** Farewell, poor moralist, and when the
avalanche comes, remember Maitland."

'< He is gone, the base villain is gone, thank
heaven even for this respite. Let the ava-
lanche come, and may that Providence, whose
ministering spirits guard even the swallow
from danger, avert the ruin it threatens."

CHAPtER VI.

" Condemned on penury's barren peth to roam.
Scorned by the world and left without a home.*^

CampbeO.

Margaret, whose fright had only tended to
strenthen her superstitious notions, now firm-
ly believed in the miraculous influence of
charms. "Well," she exclaimed, while ar-
ranging the parlor furniture, " what a fright
I had, as sure as I stand here I saw Peter's
image in the glass. Yes it was his sprite,
and then when I came to my^lf, I was all
alone, the death watch was striking the last
hour, and the house dog howled louder than
ever. And see, if there is not a spider form-
ing his web ! the monster, and all for the
purpose of catching an innocent fly. How^
like poor women, are these little insects ; en-
snared, and — look as I live, he wraps himself
up in his glisteniug net work, and pretends to
be dead — now the fly moves along — ^now his
little feet become entangled, now the mons-
ter awakes, now he rushes toward his victim
— ^no you don't, not so fast" — as she spoke,
with one brush of her duster, the whole fab-
ric of this cunning insect's device was levelled
vnth the floor,— ere she could finish her work
of destruction the door opened, and Mr. Ver-
non entered—" Tell Mrs. Vernon, Margaret,
that I would speak with her, here in this
room."

" Yes the die is cast, I must become a ro-
gue, to save myself from a prison, cruel al-
ternative. The fatal effect of liquor is now
apparent, mind and body are both enfeebled.
Man, man why will you let a monster thuff
rule you, why give to the foe of mankind,
those fiMulties which were the gift 6i Deity.

164

BIZARRE.

But why should I reason, I who have none,
why attempt to escape, while my every act to
do so is thwarted hy liquor. But here comes
my wife. " I sent your maid to request this
visit — I — I have wronged you my dear wife,
my children and self— I am a penitent, and a
wretched one at that."

" Ah "William, how pale you look ; why will
you thus give wav to your feelings, and veild
to the tempter, who has caused all this ?

"Liquor, true, true."

" William, that is not the tempter I mean,
it is that villain Maitland."

*» What Maitland, my friend ? he careful
Adeline, he careful."

" He is a fiend, a devil. William, be no
longer misled, be no longer blinded to this
man's deep devices. Awake from your dream ;
it is not, cannot be too late !"

** What dream — what is it you mean ?"

" William dear you cannot deceive me, you
are surely about being drawn into some
dishonest business transactions ; nay tremble
not : I know nothing : think you William, a
wife can sleep when a tempest is raging in her
husband's breast. I have watched you night
after night, I have heard your groans, your
agonizing moans, I have witnessed your men-
td struggles ; I know you suffer, both in mind
and body."

"I do, I do!"

" Then speak to me, to your wife, and for
your dear children's sake.''

" I cannot, I cannot"

*' Avoid Maitland, as you would a fiend —
He isyour doom."

" H!e has been to me a friend !"

" William, such friendship is death, call
no man a friend, who endeavors to bring ruin
and misery upon yourself and family."

" Adeline, you do not know Maitland."

" William — ^I can only say I know him too
well, I could tell you that which would— But
here comes father, what is it father, you look
alarmed?

" There is a strange man at the door, Mr.
Yemon, who insists upon coming in."

" Let him come — " Well sir your busi-
ness." This was addressed to a tall power-
ful man, who at that moment, somewhat
abruptly entered the room.

** My business sir, is merely to serve this ;"
handing a paper.

*• Why it Is an Execution 1"

"Exactly so."

" Whose ? there is but one man who could
issue one against me, and he is my friend."

" Yes sir, he was your friend, and may bo
so still — if you read, vou will perceive that
the name is Maitland.'^

"bnpossible, it cannot be — and yet so it is
— ^wife— father — children — we are houseless
— ^penniless. My Qod, my Qod, this is all
my own work !"

" Be calm my son," was the response of
St. Clair, "We are not homeless — there is
one above who provides for all— a landlord
whose tenants are his children. Let us pray !"
Involuntary, all knelt, even to the stem offi-
cer of the law, and the old man breathed a
prayer, which soothed the billows of their
troubled spirits.

CHAPTER Vm.

*^ Tfane Uyit his hand.

On pyramidB of brafs.

" What i«'t a woman cannot do?"

dkvenant.

OtW€tjf.

Time whose surges wash away the lofty
palaces, the cities, and all tiie gorgeous tem-
ples that the ingenuity of man have erected,
affect not the stupendous works of the Crea-
tor. These are the landmarks for old father
time, as he travds on to Eternity! Since
our last chapter one of these surges had pass-
ed over the dwelling, as well as the hopes and
prospect^ of the Yemons ; ruin and misery
sat scowling over the wreck of their once
happy home. No sooner had the execution
issued by Maitland, against Vernon been
satisfied, than the creditors of the former
seized upon its proceeds, and thus, he found
that ruin which he sought to bring on others
alone. Independent of thi^, that infaxnoas
association to which he belonged was sus-
pected by the police, and many of its mem-
oers were seized and prosecuted* for swindling.
Many of our readers will remember the ex-
citement occasioned by the exposition of this
organized band of swindlers, their manner and
mode of procuring goods and systemetic com-
mercial arrangements. Maitland was fortun-
ate enough to escape ; and it not unfreqaently
occurs the ringleaders in villainy are apt to
do so. Indeed it was not with him a difficult
matter, for he was, what they termed a for*
VHtrding agents and was not immediately con-
nected with the purchasing, or the selUi^ of
the goods. As it was, he shared in the ruin
of Vernon.

If man could be the only sufferer, or if
mens sins could be inflicted on themselves
alone, the evil, the far spreading evil which
their consequences produce would not be ao
universal. Thus in the case of Vernon — his
love of liquor, his connexion with a dass of
men who acloiowledged no power but thait
which excitement produced, nor knew aaj-
other rulOT but that which grew out of it.

This is insanity, fearful madness. Liquor»
like opium, at least in some respects, possesses

that peculiar and almost superhuman power c^
re-creating a man ; making him as it were
new being, throwing him into that state
dreaming whose visions are but the spectres oC
muidered intellect! It gives birth to ii^
wild and unnatural ; tbese ideas are bat
gkamings from ineanitj ; sometimes, ca iiie^l .

TlIE EVILS OF SOCIETY.

165

away by the all powerfnl operation of its now
mental ratrocination, these ideas are clothed"
in the most beautiftil language, and gemned
with poetic heauties, at others, they are all of
tlie most depraved, and the coarsest character.

In this mimic world— furies, ruled and gov-
erned — ^hy liquor did Vernon and his compan-
ions exist, move, and have their heing, such
as it was. We have said, the ruin fell not
alone on Vernon : his wife and children were
alike sufferers. She had sought her friends-
friends in prasperity, are your enemies in pov-
erty. They heard her melancholy story, cen-
sored her husband, and bowed her from their
doors. This is the world, at least it is — num-
kind ! Mrs. Vernon was not cast down, she
was aware of this infirmity of the human
heart, and forgave her friends for their lack
of charity. What did she do? sit down and
weep, with her children clinring to her, and
makii^ them more wretched by her grief?
No : she sought out the owner of a large pa-
per factory, stated her situation, her willing-
ness to labor ; and the absolute necessity of
having immediate employment being urged,
she and her children, including the orphan
Alice, were immediately engagSj. Nor was
her father willing to remain a mere recipient
of their bounty, but asked and obtained a
situation as an assorter of rags, and old pa-
per, which he had the privilege of doing at
their own house. Thus, twelve months af-
ter the events narrated in our last chapter,
we find the family of the Vemons, settled
down in an old dilapidated house near the
factory. This dwelling had been of large
dimensions ; was old-fashioned, and contained
fimr rooms on the ground floor. In one of these
very rooms Mr. St. Clair had removed from the
fiu^ry a large quantity of old paper, a great
portion of which had been purchased from
the public offices of the city as waste paper ;
indeed, it was what might well be called a
*♦ cart-load of trash." In the adjoining room
Vcmon and his wild companions frequently
met to carouse, for it was one of the most
trying of poor Mrs. Vernon's misfortunes to
have her little household disturbed by their
wild orgies. That wretched man had become
reconciled to Maitland, and of late they were
constantly together. It is true he seldom saw
his wife and children, and this respite was to
her a relief. Source of as much ^ef as he
had been, his absence from their little circle
was an actual blessing.

How did Alice bear this change of fortune?
See yonder group in that large room, there
close by the third window from the door.
That is Mrs. Vernon, Alice and Robert.
James, her youngest son, and little Anna are
at school. Do they seem unhappy? The
close observer, indeed, might notice a tear in
dM eye of the elders, but it has passed off,
and a smmy smile meets the gaze m her boy.

He is a fine little fellow, his ready hands, and
prattling tongue are busy ; the one adds to
their domestic comforts at home, while the
ioyous laugh, and boyish glee, makes even a
heavy task light. Alice is cheerftil, her labor
adds to their little store, and she is happy to
think it is now in her power to repay, in some
measure the kindness of her beloved benefac-
tress. It is true, her thoughts some time
wander far from the objects which surround
her, to other lands, and other scenes. — the
rich Italian moonlight, the soft pale rays of
which fall amid the ruined temples of classic
age ; and there she conjures up the unage of
one beloved ; one on whose pathway her young
heart sends its earnest prayer, and within
whose pure and holy recess young hope offers
up its orisons. She thinks of Howard?
And does he think of her ? Hark ? the post
has arrived. A letter for Alice. 0! how
happy that voung heart is now ; she smiles,
she — but why those tears ? tears of joy. !
how sweet is young love : —

*' Tia nature*s second eun.
Gausiog « fpring of Tirtaes where It •htaiet.'*

We now leave this happy group— happy ?
aye, content, even in poverty, is happiness, —
and call the attention of our readers to the
room in the old dwelling house where Mr. St.
Clair is employed. As the scenes we are now
about to relate all of some importance to the
general interest of our story, we will make
them the subject of another chapter.

(CoDtiDiaed in number 90.)

To the EditOT.
THE EVILS OF SOCIETY*

SBOOND PAPBR.

That idleness is thejxir^f of intemperance,
we think no intelli^t observer of the springs
of human action will deny.

Young men do not begin to drink strong
liquors from the mere love of them, nor for a
love of the excitements which they produce.
The beginnings of drinking are mostly inci-
dental. When the business of the day is
done, young persons require recreation ; and
as man is a gregarious animal, recreation is
more pleasing when enjoyed by a number.
Social fellowship and emulation in the sports
of youth, add much to the pleasure of tnem.
Young men consequently are inclined to meet
together, and indulge in such amusements as
will gratify their natural desire for recreation
and social intercourse.

Most young persons are unemployed on
evenings, and on Sundays, and it is the mis-
use of this unemployed time, which causes
most of the disorder and outrage which has
become so common in our large cities.

The manner in which Sonday is observed

166

BIZARiUB.

in our country ; ftt least by & 1m^ portion of
the people, leaids many into yicious habits
We are accustomed to hear clergymen de-
nounce sabbath breaking as one of the great
sources of moral evil : but a little observation
will we bdieve, convince ai^ candid persons
that a cessation from labor, by persons who
do not spend the day in religious excercises,
causes more moral evil than the entire disre-
gard of the Sabbath. If any other day were
set apart to be spent in idleness, it would pro-
duce the same results.

** For Satan flndaiome mlfchtef 0tUl
For kn« hands to do."

It has been well said that *' idleness is the
Devils hot-bed," for in it grow all manner of
vices, and they grow rankly too.

When the day's work is done, and when
both body and mind require recreation it is
not wonderful that young persons should re-
sort to such places as will afford them such
amusement as they desire. And where can
they go ? Let us suppose that a young per-
son is not yet led into bad courses. Perhaps he
is an M>prentic6 ; he is not admitted into his
masters parlor ; he gets his meals in the kit-
chen ; and when he has finished his supper
he may go to bed, if he chooses. Perhaps he
works on his own account, and his home does
not afford any attractive pastimes. He must
look for recreation out of doors : and what
will he find ? Perhaps he can afford to go to
a theatre or a circus show once in a week ;
but he cannot go there every night. If he
look around for places to spend evenings, he
may find that he can on some evenings go to
church, or to a lecture, or to a reading room,
but in these places he must keep qmet and
behave himself decorously. These places do
not afford him the recreation which he desires ;
and he must look farther. He finds that his
acquaintances meet at engine houses, and in
drinking shops, and here they may talk and
laugh and amuse themselves as they please.
Here he finds real recreation. Here it is Uie
fashion to smoke cigars, drink brandy &c.,
and if he have no disposition to induJge in
these things at first, he will not long resist
the fashion, A boy who wishes to appear a
man, must indulge in manly habits; and
smoking and drinking are the chief of these ;
besides it would look mean to go to such
places and not spend anything. And here
the very ambition which, if properly develop-
ed and cultivated would make a high-minded,
honorable man of him, leads him into intem-
perance and all its concomitant vices.

In Philadelphia there are hundreds of chur-
ches, and other ihsUtutions in which young
persons may learn morality ; but there are
thousands of places, &r more attractive in the
eyes of uncultivated youth, where they may
indulge their vicious propensities.

At every turn there is something to attract

young peraowi and draw themintoevil habits
and sensual indulgences ; but what is tbere
to draw them to the path of virtue ?

In our city there are no proper amanimitn
provided for the people.

If places were provided, where youBg per-
sons could enjoy themselves in such a way aa
would gratify them, and afford real recrea-
tion : and at the same time cultivate a taste
for refined amusements and pleasures ; where
they could enjoy manly sports and pastimes
without any inducement ro drink and smoke ;
where a proper ambition and emulation to ex-
cel in what is really noble and praiseworthy,
could be encouraged and stimulated, we should
not have so much vice and disorder in oar
city. We often hear of the evils which re-
sult from a want of parental control — for it is
not the fashion now for parents to control
children — but we may say that there is an al-
most entire want of control and of care on
the part of the whole community, with re-
gard to the morals of the young. Our city
boasts of many noble charities, but the tctt
fountain-head of vice and immorality is left
to diffuse its poisoned waters throu^out the
community, unchecked and uncontrolled.

But the want of proper amusements for the
young, is not the only source of evil in our
community.

The means of education are not sufficient.
Moral and intellectual culture go hand in
hand, and if the children of our city were
better instructed, their morals would be im-
proved. It is not our intention here to go
into any discussion of the comparative merits
of our school system. It is enough for cnr
present purpose, to say, what we think will
not be denied, that most of the children that
grow up in our city are not so educated as to
make them love learning, and avail themsel-
ves of those means of intellectual improre-
ment which are within their reach.

If the diildren of the community were so
educated, at an early age, as to become fond
of learning, and to liave their ambiti<m to im-
prove, excited and stimulated ; and if thetr
intellectual exercises were so arranged and
combined with physical sports and amnae-
ments, that children would find gratifying re-
creations in them, the morals of our oity
would be greatly improved.

We may say then, using the term in its
most comprehensive sense that Education^ is
the great remedy for the evils which hare so
marred the mond beauty of our pleasant city.

Education should develope the mental and
physical powers of youth. It should enable
nim to understand his own powers and choose
his occupation accordingly. It should Ibr-
nish him with the most agreeable arnos^*
ments. It should stimulate his ambition and
show him the true ** path of honor, and the
way to greatness."

SKKT0H18 Of CHGOBGIA.

16T

Tfcteiv iit pndd nid inbitkni enoogli in th6
heart d erery boy in the community to make
ft decent man of mm : if it be properly cnlti-
tated.

SKETCHES OF QEORGIA.

SKETCH FIRST.

Ocean Zi/e, — Savannah , — PulaskVs monument,
Sie Park, — Independent Church,

It was one of those bright and beautiftil
nemngs, when the air is redolent of the
bifany od<»9 of eariy spring, that our noble
steamer eracefblly swung loose from hw moor-
ings at the Oresent city of the North. With
prow turned Southw»rd, she glided rapidly
<wcr the smooth waters of the Ddaware, and
seoB the lofty edifices and the tall spires of
the great metropolis, with its busy scenes
ind nerer-ending tiimnlt, with its novelties,
ffvpties, and yarious attractions, were left far
bemnd. Exhilarated with the novelties of our
present position, the eye at one time rested
with pl^usure and delight upon the attrac-
tioiK along the shores, as they successively
dearaed tl^ attention — again imagination out-
stripping our present sf^ed woidd fain por-
taray the enjoyments and dreams of happiness
which seemed to cluster in such pronision
tromid the successful termination of our voy-
I ste, while other hours of an equally agree-
I tile character were spent in social intercourse
I with our fellow passengers. No wonder that
i the blood courses freely through the veins,
I md the spirits respond bouyantly, when
; know, and home-scenes are in anticipation ;
when cares and engagements have departed,
[ ind the heart looking forward to the consum-
natkm of its fond hopes, and the fruition of
ezpeeted joys amid the family circle, and
upon its own native soil, speaWs to those far
iwiy and says with Schiller ** Seas and hills,
and horizons are between us ; but souls es-
cape from their clay prisons, and meet in the
peradiseof love." The morning sun which
bad all day long illumined the villages, and
fe rea ta upon the banks of the river, re-
vealing tnat light green hue, which betokens
the returning supremacy of Summer, sought
his coach in the West just as we were enter-
ing upon the broad waters of the Atlantic.
His hngerine beams rested in beauty upon
the hee^l«i£}, apparently unwilling to leave
eves finr a single night, this favored coast.
Yet soon his rajrs one by one fkded away, and
we were floating far out upon the bosom of
the deep. Those towers which like sentinds
in calm and in storm, warn alike of danger,
md of safety, even those were lost to oar
gaie, and naught remained but a wide waste
of waters. Although the king of day had
lor a short season resigned his sceptre, it was

only to place H in the hands of his fair con-
sort the moon. Moonlight upon the ocean !
If there be a season calculated to awaken
within the breast the liveliest sensations dt
pleasure, and gratify every longing desire
after a complete realization of what consti-
tutes the beautiful in nature, say ye senti-
mentalists, is not the present hour such an
one ? Liftii^ her fair face above the waves,
with her mild rays diffnsdy scattered over
the sea, she begins her silent journey with
her starry train. If it be one of the sub-
limest spectacles presented in the Natural
world, to view the vast ocean driven by storm-
blasts, rising in mountain majesty <* like new
Apenines,'* with dark clouds hanging far
above its bosom, now foaming and sur^ng
in mad career, while the thunders of midnight
are echoed and re-echoed from the gloomy
caverns and dark caves beneath its depths, —
to mark these broken billows as they are re-
veided, when black vdumes of clouds seem
rent asunder by flashes of glaring lightning,
as in quick succession they sport high in the
heavens, or quiver along the infuriated waves
— surely a surpassing! v beautifbl prospect is
that presented, when the sea is lulled to rest,
when its placid surface is silvered over with
the bright beams of pale-eyed Luna, — when
millions of youthful billows leap and play in
her radiance — ^in ouick succession chasing
each other across tne bright track she has
left upon the waters, and with pleasing wel-
come, g^eeting the stately stumer, as in
triumi^ she speeds over the " breezy tide."
Hours seem but as moments to him, who from
the deck enjoys such a scene, and numerous
are the pleasant thoughts which present
themsdves unbidden, yet suggested by, and
sympathizing with the spirit of the occasion.
Let Madame Ida Pieiffer describe her devo-
tion to tibe Terpsichorean art, and portray the
sensations of those who reel in the grasp of
the intiless Naiads of the stormy sea, we will
remember only the delightfril reveries sug-
gested by ocean life, and not recall our
thoughts from dream land, and bid them dwdl
upon sensations of a less agreeable, and of a
decidedly more practical character : —

Thrice bad the sun upon h's |cr«eii-wftTed bed
'Mid TOijH'loiidB bii Teeper radfanoe died;
And thrke the moon ftr»in out the ocean tom
lake pale^yed beauty waking ftom^poee."

beft»^ the solitary ray of the lighthouse on
Tybee Island, like a star of life upon the
coast, p;leamed above the wave. With plea-
sure did we hail that beam of light, for it
was to us a harbinger of rest, from the rest-
less heavings of the sea, and an assurance
that another land, and well remembered
sceiMS were soon to open before the eager
gaze. Fain would the eye penetrate the dark-
ness, and mark the objects which surround on
every hand. There are the fitr-reaehing sand-

168

BiZABRS.

bai*8 with their edges brightened by depositeB
of sea shells : there the palmetto rears its lone-
ly form, there the rice-fields spreads out in
Ui the attraction which the mild breath of
spring has imparted to its squares and heavy
dams ; and now, we are pasdng almost under
the guns of Fort Pulaski — and yet, the stran-
ger sees them not, and the Georgian only /e«Zs
their presence, for the curtain of night is
about them all. But yonder are lights glanc-
ing upon the waters, and although just now
we were unable by starlight to trace the dark
walls and frowning batteries of the fortress
on Lockspur Island, now the hundred lamps
of the city burning brightly, reveal the rip-
ples as they play upon me bosom of the river,
and disclose the dusky outlines of vessels as
they lie motionless in the stream, or at anchor
at the wharfs. Savannah lies before us, yet
shadows and darkness rest above and around.
« # « #

•
The morning sun shines in all his magni-
ficence, the Western breeze blows softly over
the city, and we realize at least in part, the
brilliancy and beauty of a spring day at the
South. Contrasted with the imposing appear-
ance presented bv such large cities as Phila-
delphia or New York, with their magnificent
piles, costly dwellings, extensive improve-
ments and achievements of art, the general
aspect of Savannah is rather diminutive. The
ear accustomed to the never-ending rumble of
the omnibus, the rattle of carts, hacks, wa-
gons, and the lumbering engine, — with the
continued tramp of multitudes eagerly throng-
ing the street in pursuit of business and plea-
sure, will listen in vain here, for this strange
jargon of sounds so discordant. The various
compound noises of a great metropolis are ex-
changed for a comparative silence, which in
some parts of the ciiy is quite sensible. This
arises from the fact, that the middle portions
of the streets are not paved, and the soft sand
there quietly opens beneath the pressure of
the wheel ; thus avoiding all that harsh re-
sponse yielded by round stones, so deleterious
to the healthful action, and composure of the
auditory nerves. Upon the Bay however (as
that portion of the city is termed which lies
along the river,) the scene presented is
one cidculated to awaken the impression, that
Savannah is a place of great commercial im-
portance. Here, (however quiet and retired
may be the portions appropriated to private
residences in other parts of the city) you will
fiind no reason to imagine that you are in the
neighborhood of " Sleepy Hollow." The rat-
tle of the numerous drays upon the plank
roads, the voices of the drivers, the tumbling
i)i cotton bales, the merry song of the sailor,
the flapping of sails in the stream, the heavy
thump of the pestle in the rice mill, and the
•ound of the cotton-press, all unite in pre-
senting a very busy and lively appearance.

Along the wharves may be seen large Com-
mission merchant's rooms, while over the
river are floating French, Dutch, • En^tflh,
Spanish, and flags of other nations, from ^10
numerous steamers and vessels at anchor.
The city is hence immediately reoognizal as
one of all-important commercial character.
We should have stated before this, that Sa-
vannah is situated upon the river of the same
name, some seventeen miles from the ocean,
and occupies a commanding devation, when
compared with the nature of the land imme-
diately above and below. — Opposite, in Sooth
Carolina, and on either hand, are seen large
rice fit»lds with their verdant crops, rpgidar
squares, and heavy dams. These are on a di-
rect level with the river : and were it not Tot"
the embankments, would be under wat^. —
Grencral Aglethorpe as he sailed up this stream
in search of a location for a settlement, was
attracted by the high and dry bluff, upon
which Savanah now stands, and sdecUng this
as the most eligible i)06ition for a plantation,
there founded the first Colony, in Georgia.
The choice was judicious — and under the sub-
sequent smiles of Providence, that small mim-
her of settlers have multiplied a thousand foJd
and Savannah is now one of the most {ntos-
perous and pleasant of Southern Cities. The
City is regularly laid out, the streets running
at right angles to each other. At regular in-
tervals the eye rests upon public squares,
which on the account of their frequency and
beauty, add much to the appearance and agrce-
ableness of the City, Filled as they are with
a luxuriant growth of live-oaks, while beneath,
the ground is covered with a carpet of dark
green Bermuda grass,— conveniently arranged
with gravel walks and thronged with groups
of bright little faces, they form at once an
ornament, and are sources of health ; for open
airy squares and commons have been a^y
termed the lungs of a City, In the centre ot
one of these, stands a monument oommenM)r^
ative of the brave achievments of two heroes,
whose names are inseparably connected with
the arduous struggles of our Revolution — ^Pu-
laski and Qreen : the form^, the noble Pole,
who dared to dethrone the tyrant Stanislaus*
and freely shed even his life-blood in the de-
fence of Savannah, the Utter, the hero of £a-
taw. It consists of a simple shaft rising some
thirty or forty feet from a compound granite
base. This is surrounded by a neat iron rul-
ing. It bares no inscription — it needs none,
for the intrepid action, dauntless courage,
and spotless virtues of those whom it c<m-
memorates, are still, and everwill remain fresh
in the remembrance of every true American.
History and a Nation's pen have written tbeir
epitaphs : —

**By Fairy huidB tb«ir knell in mug.
By forms unwen tbeir dirge i» ^unj;,
Tnerc honor comon a plljtrfm array,
To Mmi the turf that mraiMthwr (day. I

BIAZBRE AMOMG THE NEW BOOKa

169

Attd fiMdooi 8b«]l ftwhn* refMlr,
To dwell « weeping hermit th^re."

The most interesting yiew of the City, is
thtt from the Independent Church. This
building is possessed of much heauty and is
&r &nied beoiuise oi its loftj spires, which
rise some two hundred and seyen feet, looking
down from the upper portions and windows,
of this, Sayannan, with adjacent country is
seen spnad out Ukea large map. The eye at
one time rests upon the riyer in winding course,
studded with the white sails as they catch the
ercning breese, until its waters mingle with
those of the Atlantic. Again it marks the
rioe-fi^ds, which now appear but as so many
bods in a large garden. Again, the rich foli-
age of the squares, yarying the monotonous
ftppearanoe of the usual combination of brick
lod mortar ; and still again its gaze is arrest-
ed by the Park, with its iron railing, and its
iDemr groups assembled beneath the refresh-
ing shade of the i»ne trees : some engaged in
friendly conyerse, others enjo^ring the plea- 1
sores (^an eyening*s walk, while Uie younger
members are em]^oyed in prosecuting, with
Tiger and spirit. &eir yarious sports. There
also are parties returning in open buggies,
filled with clusters of yeUow jessamines, and
the numerous wild flowers which blo(»n in
I nch profusion in their natiye forests. The
view is truly a pleasant one, and in our lofty
elevation we would fain linger awhile, obsery-
iog scenes and incidents, places and persons,
wholly unconscious of our presence.

^iimt ammig \\t |tfl» §ooks.

MEMORIAUe OF ENOUBH IS/IARTrVRO.

— This is the title of an extremely handsome
Tohisie, of some 395 pages, which we haye
receired from Messrs. Harper and Brothers,
the publishers. It is from the pen of the
Rer. C. B. Taylor, a clergyman of the Pro-
testant Episcopal Church of England, and a
gentleman of warm, sterline piety and refined
poetical tastes. He tells the painful story of
wtjrdom in a manner calculated to impress
it deeply upon the mind. He imparts to his
object, all along, the most absorbing interest.
Pox's Book o( Martyrs is too cumto'some to
^ generally read : hence, but little of the
<ietail of sufferings at the hands of intolerance
*»d bigotry is generally known. The work
^^efore us is, on the contrary, a well-digested
epitome of the story of church persecutions ;
»nd should be read by all who yalue freedom
^ coBSoience, and speech. It must find an
J>"i»«se circulation. The more it is read the
•^tter. Bigotry has had bloody sway among
our fore&thers, and if unopposed is ready to
Vnt^iat the same abominations again, under
some pte? ailing church ; for bad men may

turn the purest instrument to bad ends. The
author yery properly says: — "Let us not
be told, I would say again and again, that
these are the abominations of a former age,
and belong rather to the times when Bliney
liyed, than to the party which passed sen-
tence upon him — no, these abominations
might be more openly defended in a former
age, but they are part of a sytem which does
not change.''

As a specimen of the interesting character
of the narratiye, and also to show the kind
of materiel which is presented by the gifted
author, we copy the painful

STOBT OF ALIOS BELDBN.

** It was late one eyening in the month of
October, that a woman belonging to the rank
of the pea^try of this county of Kent, en-
tered the city of Canterbury, in the company
of a little boy. Her errand was a most un«
usual one, for she came to deliver herself up
as a prisoner to the castle of Canterbury ;
and the circumstance of her coming in charge
of that child was at once a proof of her in-
tegrity, and the noble tenderness of her spirit.
She was one of the many yictims led to the
stake and burnt at Canterbury : her crime
was her decided refusal to be present at the
sacrifice of the mass in her own parish church
at Staplehurst, which, as you are aware, is a
yillage some miles from this city. She had
been before a prisoner for the same offence,
haying been sent thither, with many mocks
and taunts. Here she lay fourteen days, till
at the entreaty of her husband, some of the
wealthy men m the neighborhood of her na-
tiye yiUage wrote to the Bishop of Dover, en-
treating her release. Her modest firmness of
purpose, however, had not been shaken by
her imprisonment, as her answers to the
Bishop, when brought before him, plainly
proved. Foxe relates that, ** being summon-
ed before the Bishop, he asked the poor wo-
man, * if she would go home and go to the
church ?' her reply was veiy simple. • If I
would have so done, I need not have come
hither.' — * Then, wilt thou go home,' said
the Bishop, * and be shriven of thy parish
priest ?' Alice Benden answered, * No. that
she Would not' 'Well,' said he, *go thy
way home, and go to the church when thou
wilt ;' whereunto she answered nothing : but
a priest that stood by, said, ' She saith she
will, my lord ;' wherefore he let her go, and
she came forthwith home." Such is Foze's
short account of her imprisonment.

*< The husband <tf this godly and devoted
woman appears to have been a man guided by
no principle, and acting only according to tlie
humor and the will of the moment. On her
return home, this wretched man, in the way-
wardness of his unstable character, seems to
have oonmienc^ his attack upon her about

170

lyy.AHML

her atteodanee at the parkh ofanrdi; and
doabdeRS met with a meek but decided frug-
al from his wife, who made it a point of oon'
science not to attend. About a fortnight af-
terward, when going to church, he met a par-
ty of his nei^hb)r8, to whom he appears to
luve spoken m the most unkind and unguard-
ed manner of his wife's unaltered decision.

" The report of his words was brought to
Sir John Guildford, a magistrate, and again
the order was made out for the imprisonment
of Alice Benden. As if to prove that he had
made no mistake in the accusations he had
brought forward against his wife in his idle
discourse, this base and cruel husband came
forward, and offered to take charge of poor
Alice and cany her to prison himself, actually
receiving the money from the constable to
take the trouble out of his hands. It was
then that this Qodfearine woman, resolved to
save her husband from the shame of such an
act, . and went herself to the constable, and
b^ged hhn to let his son have the custody of
her to prison, promising that she would go
there raithfblly. Her character for truth
must have been known, for her word was
taken, and thus in the charge of a child went
Alice Benden, to prison and to death.

" This poor countrvwoman was no common
character. From the few fkcts that have
oome down to us of her life and death, there
seems to have been a lovely harmony of men-
tal and moral qualities about her : a vigor
and clearness of intellect, a forethought and
self-possession, and a gentleness and sweet-
ness of disposition, which are sometimes found
in persons of higher station, but which are
addom discovered — perhaps only because they
are not sought after — among those in a lower
rank of life. Many have been bold and
courageous, but indiscreet and ungentle ;
many have been mild and forgiving ; but poor
Alice Benden presented in her character the
onion of these graces of the Christian futh in
ftkiT and Consistent keeping. We are told that
while she was in prison, she practiced with
mother woman, *a prison-fellow of hers,*
that they should live both of them on two-
pcnice half-penny a day, to tij how they
might bear the hunger and suffering which
they forsaw they should be called to undergo ;
for it was wdl known that they would be re-
moved to Ihe Bishop's prison, where three
fitrthings apiece a day was the sum allowed
for the prisoners' fare : and on this sum, for
fourteen days, was Alice Benden afterward
forced to subsist.

** The winter drew on, and Alice lay in the
odld cell of a cheeriess prison. At the end of
January, the hard heart of her husband seems
to have relented toward the unoffending wo-
man — and he came to the Bishop of Dover
and begged that Alice might be released. But
now he came too late ; the merciless Bishop

was not to be moved. He proixranoed her to
be an obstinate heretic, and one that woi^
not be reformed, and he would not consent to
her release. Again the spirit of the unstable
man turned a^nst his wifo, and he laid in-
formation against the brother of Alice, eom-
plaining, that Roger Hall (for so her brother
was named), had found means to hold fre-
quent communication with the poor prisoner ;
and he told the Bishop that if he conld keep
her brother from her, riie would turn, for,
added the cruel husband, 'He oomftirtefth
her, giveth here money, and persuadeth her
not to return or relent'

« The prison of Alioe Benden was soon mf-
ter changed, and she was taken to a wretched
dungeon called Monday's Hole, strict orders
being at the same time given, that her broth-
er's coming should be watched for, and thst
he also should be taken and commii-
ted to prison. This dungeon was fai a
vault beneath the ground, and in a pAaoe
where, in these Protestant days, prisons are
not to be found. It was within a court where
the prebend's chambers were. The window
of the dungeon was surrounded by a pahnc so
high, that the prisoner in the dungeon oe-
neath could not pofi«ibly see any one bejrond
the paling, unless he stood by it and looked
over it There, by the good providesoe of
God, in the absence of Alice BcndenV Jailer,
who was also a bell-ringer, that lovinr and
faithfbl brother at length discovered the
place of her imprisonment. He came at a
very early hour while the man was gone to
ring the church bell, and he managed with

' some difficulty to convey money in a lonf of
bread at the end of a pole, to his half -starved
sister. But this was the only intercourse he
could obtain, and this was after she had al-
ready lain five weeks in that miseraUe dun-
geon. * All that time" says Foxe, " no crea-
ture was known to come at her move than faff
keeper.' She lay on a little short straw be-
tween a pair of stocks and a stone wall : her
fkre being one half -penny a day in bread, aad
a farthing in drink, till she entreated to have
the three farthings in bread, and water to
drink. And there she lay for nhie weeks,
without once being enaUed to change her rai-
ment, in the depth of the winter.

** On her first being brou^t into that loath-
some dungeon, the poor ill-treated woman
gave way to complaint andlamentatioiw, won-
ering within herself, * why her Lord God

I did with His so heavy justice suffer her to be
sequestered from her loving follows into sach

! extreme misery. And in these dolorous
mournings did she continue,' adds her bio-
grapher, < till on a night as she was in her

I sorrowfVil supplications, rehearsing this veree
of the Psalm : * Why art thou so heavy, O
my soul'— and again, * the riglrt hand of the

I noBt High oaa change all,' she reoeived eeei-

BIZARRE AMONG THE NEW BOOKS.

171

fort in the midst of her miames, and after
that contimied vcrj jojfvl until her* debvery
from the same.'

*« At length, 4m the 25th of March, it was
in the jear 1557, Alice Bdden was taken
ifom h(T dungeon and brought up before the
inkpdtoos Bi^p of Dorer. And Uie ques-
tion was again pot to her, ' Would she now go
home, and go to the diuroh or no V and great
&Tor was promised her if she would but re-
form. Her answer showed the steadfastness
of her purpose : * I am thoroughly persuaded
W the great eactremity that you have already
showed me, that you are not of Qod, neither
can your doings he godly ; and I see that you
8Mk my utter destruction,' and she showed
them how lame she was from the cold and the
want of food, and the sufferings of her wretch-
ed prison ; for she was not able to move with-
out great pain. Her whole appearance in-
deed was most piteous, for after tney removed
her to the Westgate and her clothes had been
changed and her person kept clean for a time,
the whole of her skin peeled and scaled off,
as if she had recovered from some mortal poi-
son.

'* The day of her death was nigh at hand.
And her deportment was then in keeping with
the rest of her exemplary conduct. At the
btter end of April she was again called for
and condemned to die ; and m>m that time
committed to the castle prison, where she con-
tinued till the 19th day of June. Two cir-
cumstanoes attending her last hours were pe-
culiarly affecting. Jji undressing herself for
the stake, after having given her handker-
doef unto one John Banlu, probably a faith-
ful Christian friend who was standing by, to
kttp in memoir of her, she took from her
waist a white lace, which she gave to the
keeper, entreating him to give it to her
brother, Roger Hall, and to tdl him that it
was the last band that she was bound with,
except the chain ; and then she took a shil-
ling <tf Philip and Mary, which her father had
beat, * a bowed shiUing,' and sent her when
the was first committed to prison, desiring
her said brother should with obedient saluta-
tioas render the same to her father again. It
vas the first piece of money, she said, which
be had sent her after her troubles began : and
then in her lovely spirit of piety, she added,
that she returned it to him as a token iji God's
goodness to her in all her sufferings, that he
Bight understand, that she had never lacked
money while she was in prison.'*

— A new and elegant edition of the poems of
T. Buchanan Read has just been published by
A. Hart, of this city. We have looked over
the leaves of this volume, and are, even with
I nch a mere curscny glance, compelled to ac-
cede to their anthOT a high position ; much
hi|^ thui his later fugitive pieces, published

in the ro aga t an es and ne ws p au e m , have dis-
posed us to accede to him. The dedication
of the woric is- grotesque enough, especii^y
as connected with a volume of poetry. Ob-
serve: —

CYRUS GARRETT, ESQ.,

OP ORGUIRATI, OBTO.

TBOUOH vnn poan taowo protb as L«smio is m nov

100 BATB lOMK*,— OR AS nAHHBHV AS TBI 8PABXS

FSOX TOOE AmriL,— WHATKTSR TBflft FAR

MAT BB, mt ABB AFPBOnOir-

▲TBLT BBNCAXBD

fOtOV
BT

THE AUTHOR."

Whether the poems as aforesaid will be as
lasting as aforesaid, or whether ^he poems as
aforesaid will be transient as aforesaid, we
cannot say. Some of them are, unquestion-
ably, made up of enduring materials, and
should live forever: while the sooner some
others depart to oblivion, the better ¥rill it be
for the poets name and fiune.

It is not our purpose to give extracts from
the latter; it is both our pleasure and our
purpose to treat our readers to a specimen or
so of the former. Who would not be proud to
have written the following, which is entitled

"INEZ."

**'Dowa behind Um hidden TflJage, fHnged aronnd with

hasel brake,
(Lfke e holy hermit dreaminff, half udeep and half awake.
One who loTeth the sweet quM tor the happy quiet's nake.)
Dosing, murmuring in its visions, laj the heaTen-enam*

" lake.

And within a dell, where shadows through the brightest

days abide,
like the snvery swimming gowamer by breeses su a tte rsd

wide.
Fell a shining skein of water that ran down the lakelet's

^e,
As withfai the brafai hj beauty lulled, a pleasant tbooght

may gUde.

When the fdnking sun of August, growing large in the de-
cline,

ffliot his arrows, long and golden, through the maple and
the pine:

And the russetFthrush fled singing flrom the akiar to the
Tine,

While the cat bird in the hasel gave its melancholy whine;

And the little squirrel chattered, peering round the hiekoiy

bole.
And, a-sudden like a meteor, gleamed along the oriole; —
There I walked bfsMe fldr Inea, and her gentle beauty

stole
Like tbe scene athwart my senses, like the sunshine

through my louL

And her ftiry feet that pre ss ed the leaves, a pleasant mu-
sic made,

And they dimpled the sweet beds of bbosb with bkMKus
thick inlaid:—

There 1 told her okl romsnoes, and with lore's sweet woe
we played,

Till &ir Ines^eyes, like erening, held the dew beneath their
shade.

There I wore fbr her lore baUads, sneh as lorer only

weaves.
Till she lighed and grieved, as only mild and loving maiden

grieves;
And to bide her tears she stooped to glean the vfc)Iets ttom

the loaves,
As of old sweet Ruth went gleaning 'mid the oriental

sheaves.

172

BIZARRE.

DovB we walkMl bMite ttM Ukd«i:— guiiig dMp tirto b«r

eye,
There I told her all my ptieloiil With a sodden blush

and tifh.
Taming half away with look askant, abe only made reply,
*How deep within the water glows the happy ereoing

skyP

Then I asked her if she lored me, and our hands met eadi

iueach.
And the dainty, sighing ripples seemed |p listen np the

reach; " '^

While thus slowly with a haiel wand she wrote along the

beach,
<LoTe, like the sky, lies deepest ere the heart is stirred to

speech.*

Tbiu I gained the lore of Inei— thus I won her gentle
hand;

And our paths now lie together, as our footprints on the
strand;

We have vowed to love eadi other in the golden morning
land.

When our names from earth.haTe ranished, like the writ-
ing from the sand l**

Here follow other gems : —

MIDNIGHT.

*<The moon looks down on a world of snow,
And the midnight lamp is burning low,
And the ftding embers mildly fi^Iow

In their bed of nshen soft and deep;
All, ell Is stUl as the hour of death ; .
I only bear what the old clock saith.
And the mother and in&nt's easy breath,

That flows from the holy Isjid of Sleep.

Bay on, old dock— I lore you well,

"For your silver chim<>. and the truths you tell.

Tour every stroke ifl but the knell

Of hope, or sorrow buried deep;
Bay on— but only let me hear
The raund most sweet to my listening ear,
The child and the mother breathing clear

Withhi the harreet-lields of Sleep.

Thou watchman, on thy lonely round,
I thsnk thee for that warning sound ;
The clsrion cock and the baytog hound

Not lefM! their dreary vigils keep:
Still hearkening. I will love you all,
While in each silent interval
I bear those dear breasts rise and Ikll

Upon the airy tkle of Sleep.

Old world, on time's beni^^ted stream
Sweep down till the stars of morning beam
From orient shorea— nor break the dream

That calms my love to pleasure deep ;
Roll on. and give my Bud and Rosa
The fulness of thy best repose.
The blessedness which onlv flows

Along the silent realms of Sleep.*

THB FAIRBR LAND.

All the night, in broken slumber.

I went down the world of dreama,
Through a land of war and turmoil

Swept by loud and labouring streams,
Where the masters wandered, chanting

Fonderoua wkI tumultuoos themes.

Chnntingfrom unwieldly volumes

Iron maxims stem and stark.
Truths that swept and burst, and stumbled

Through the ancient rifted dark;
TUl my soul was tossed and worried,

like a tempeat-driven bark.

But anon, within the distance.

Stood the village vanes aflame.
And the sunshine, filled with musle^

To my oriel casement came;
While the birds sang pleasant valentines

Against my window frame.

Tlien by idghts and sounds Invited,
I went down to meet the mom.

Saw the traUlng mists roll inland
Over rustling fields of com.

And from quiet hillside hamlets
Heard the distant mstlo horn.

There, through daisied dales and byways,

Met I forms of fidrer mould.
Pouring songs jbr very pleasure —

Songs their hearts could not withhold—
Setting sll the birds a-singing

With their deUcate harps of gold.

Some went plucking little Uly-bells,

That withered in the hand :
Some, where smiled a summer ocean,

Gathered pebbles from the sand;
Some, with prophet eyes uplifted.

Walked unconscious of the land.

Through that Fairer World I wandered

Slowly, listening oft and long.
And as one behind thn reapers,

Without any thought of wrong.
Loitered, gleaning for my gamer

Flowery sheaves of sweetest song.

THB GREAT ARE FALLING FROM US.

The great are fiUllng from us— to the dust
Our flag droops midway full of many sighs;

A nation's glory and a people's trust
Lie in the ample pall where Webster Uea.

The great are filling from u»— one by one
As fliU the p)wtriarch« of the forest trees.

The winds shall seek them vainly, and the nm
Qase on each vacant space fiw oenturles.

Lo. Carolina mourns her steadlkst phie
Which towered sublimely o'er the Southern

And Ashland hears no more the voice divine
From out the branches of its stately dm: —

And Marsh field's giant oak, whoae stormybrow
Oft turned the ocean tempest tnm the West,

Lies on the shore he guarded lontr — and now
Our startled eagle knows not where to rest!

THE OU) TEAR.

Lo. now, when dark December's gsthering storm
M ith heavy wing o'ershadows numy a heart.
Beside us the old year, with maflod fonn,
Stands waiting to depart

Weighed down as with a ponderous tale of woe,
How dim his eyes, how wan his cheelts appear!
Like Denmark's spectre king, with moticni alow
He beckons the young year.

LINES WRITTEN IN FLORENCE.

Within this &r Etruscan dime,

By vine^lad slopes and olive plains.

And round these walls still left by Time,
The bound'rieB of his <dd domains:—

Hero at the dreamer's golden gcal,
Whose dome o'er winding Amo dmpa.

Where old K(Muance still breathes Its soul
Through Poesy's enchanted stops : —

Where Art still holds her ancient state
(What though her banner now is fliried),

And keeps within her guarded gate
The household treasures of the world:—

What Joy amid all this to find
One single bird, or flower, or leaf,

Earth's any simplest show designed
For pleasure, what though finaU or brie^

If but that leaf or bird, or flower
Where waft<>d from the western ttfaad,

To breathe into one happy hour
The freahneas of my naitive landl

OUR WEEKLY GOSSIP.

17S

Tbat joy is miiw-4he bird I iMtr,
Tfae fiower is Uoominx near me now.

The leaf iiuA lome great berd might wear
In triumph en his laered bxow.

For lady, while thy Tolee aod flkce
Hake thee the Tuscan's lorelioet guest.

Within this old romantic «paoe
Breathes all the freshness of the West

There are other exquisite poems. Some of
the larger ones contain many brilliant flashes
of genias, and perhaps are better worth co-
pying, as a whole, than are those we haye se-
lected; but we could not give a part, and
hare not space to present the whole.

We understand that Mr. Read leaves the
country in July, taking with him his inter-
esting fiimily. He goes for the purpose of re-
maimng away a number of years, and will
ijf reside at Florence. As a poet, he may be said
to have made but a banning.

. -THB OIVOROBO WIFE.

— This story by Mr. T, S. Arthur, has
been published by Peterson of our city.
Like every thing from its clever and indus-
trious author, it conveys a healthy moral, and
is written in a mose engaging style. There

I are few men in the country who write more,
or to better purpose, than Arthur. He labors
every day, and nearly every hour of the day.
He has a weekly paper and a monthly maga-
zine under his care ; and gives to both fully
as much original matter as editors commonly
do. He is, at the same time, throwing of two
or three stories each week, and with Mr. Car-
poiter, his clever assistant, is now engaged
in a series of State Histories, which Messrs.
Lippincott Grambo & Co. of our city, are
publislung, and which are remarkably well
done.
XKtB omAF-reo bud

— This is a beautifully printed memoir from
the pen of Mrs A. H. Hawes. It was written
**to solace the hours of lonliness that follow-
ed the departure of a dear child, and to cover
up the many pleasant memories connected
with her, ere time should dim the recollec-
tion." It is eminently worthy of the aflec-
tionate object which the wounded parent
sought to attain, and will be read, we ques-
tion not, with melancholy pleasure by all ;
and particularly by those who have been call-
ed on to mourn the early dead. Redfidd,
New York, publisher.

MAR^^AOUKB VWVILLB.

— This excellent historical romance from the

ro of Herbert has been republished by Mr.
8. Redfleld, of New York, m admirable style.
It enjoys a wide-spread popularity ; indeed we
have been disposed to consider it the very
best novel its prolific and successful author
has produced. He b^an his career as a fic-
tionist with the " Brothers ;" a story very
mndi after James, when he was James. Had
he been content to have been leas James-ish,

in the rapid manuftctnre of books, Herbert
might have acquired, oertainly, a more pay-
ing popularity. *

—It appears that Col. Fitzgemld of the City
Item, is to driver an oration at Cape May, on
the Fourth d" July, forth coming. A large
number of the press have been invited to be
present on the occasion, and it is probable
mm present appearances, a large number will
go.

—- The following on the subject of Hydropho-
bia, we extract from a Cincinnati paper.

"Now that public attention has been called
to the subject of hydrophobia, it may interest
some to know that an ingenious theory is held
by some medical men, which rejects the idea
that the madness of the hiter has any effect on
the madness of the bitten, and affirms that
hydrophobia is as likely to result from the bite
of a doK in perfect health, as from one that is
mad. Their chief reasons are, that the efiects
of all other poisons are certain and determinate ;
no other poison can be received into the system
with impunity — yet hundreds of persons have
been bitten by dogs unquestionably mad, and
no evil effects have followed. Instances have
been known where a score of persons have
been bit severally by the same dog. and only
one has been affected by hydrophobia. So also
many persons have died from hydrophobia
where the animids by whcnn they were bitten
were never known or even suspected to bemad
Other poisons have a specific time within
which meir operation begins and ends — ^in hy-
drophobia their is no such definite period —
in some cases the effect shows itself immedi-
ately — in others not till the laspe of months
and even years.

" Ten animals— the dog, wolf, fox and cat ;
the horse, ass, mule, cow, sheep and pig — ^are
all which are said to be susceptible of this
disease, while the first four only are said to be
able to communicate it. These four have
teeth of a similar form, capable of making a
deeply punctured wound.

" From these facts, the conclusion has been
draw that hydrophobia is of species of tetanus,
resulting from the nature of the wound, and
not from any poison injected into it. Tetanus,
or lock-jaw, often results from a wound made
bf a pomted instrument, like a nail, in the
hand or foot, and the result has followed other
injuries to the nerves. The two diseases seem
to bear a general resemblance. Both are
spasmodic, both affect the muscles of the
throat, and both are attended with the same
great excitement of the nervous system.

" The above is a brief synopsis of the opin-
ions of some ingenious memba« of the medical

174

BIZAKRS.

wfaiofa, if MtaUkfaed, would go
iar to dimmifih ^e terror which is now Mi
whenerer a person is injored in anj way by
tlM bke of a dog."

— An American Artist named Page, now so-
joming at Rome, has painted a very fine por-
trait of Miss Cushroan, the actress. A cor-
respondent writing fipom Rome, says : —

** The critical and accurate draughtsmen, of
the German and fVench school, wonder at the
drawiqg, in which respect they consider Am-
erican artists usually deficient Sculptors are
amazed at its solidity t if I may use such a term,
finding that though upon canvass, it has
almost as mlich body and positive form, as if
cut in marbleb Wiu regard to the coloring,
there can be but one opinion ; not artists and
critics only but all who have eyes to see and
how beautiful it is. Even when examined
closely no trace of slow, laborious painting
can be observed : it seems to have been created
by one sweep of a magic brush. Every vein,
every line in the original may be found in the
picture, though subordinate to the grand
whole, and only to be seen when sought for ;
and over all the rests, if not the down which
softens the humane face, a downy softness,
like the *'flower dust," blown over the petals
of a flower, apparently resting so lightly upon
them that a breath might blow it away.

— A Domestic Telegraph will shortly be at-
tempted in New York. The Tribune says : —
*' The present idea is to establish in the up-
per part of New Tork ten offices, with House's
printing instrument; and wires connecting
with the office in Wall Street. They will
transmit brief messages for a very small Mum,
and must neccessarily do a large business.
It is not improbable that the Telegraph may
be so extended as to do nearly all the real
business correspondence between up town and
down town« The Post-Office is two slow;
messenger boys are not always at hand, and
when found must require much more time and
cost more than the wires.

— Grisi and Mario are not to appear next
season at the New Opera House in xsew York,
because the Opera Committee will not under-
take to have the house built and ready by any
particular day : and besides according to a pa-
per, Mr. Hackett has the written engagement
with these singers and refuses to take the lease
of the house on the conditions required by
the Stockholders, namely: two hundred re-
served and non-payingseats as their property,
in addition to rent. We think Mr. Hackett is
right,

— Tbaokbrat, we are told, has concluded to

. take up his residence in our country ; he says,

it is f^ither added, that in ten years the United

^ ' will equal England, while in twenty

) will be fkr outstrinned by ns.

— Mb. Rbdfibld has commenced the publi-
cation of an edition (rf* Shakspeare, with the
emendations and corrections of Mr. Collier's
£unous old Folio, and it will be completed in
sixteen parts. Parts I and 11, already sent
to us, are elegantly gotten up in all respects.
This edition of the writings of the immortal
bard, must certainly take precedence of all
those heretofore published.

-^ Several books remain on onr table unno-
ticed. Among them — *' Thackeray's Humor-
ous Writers of the Days of Queen Anne," and
*' Coleridge's Works,''^ vol. v., from the Har-
pers : "John Randolph, Wirt," Ac, trom A-
Hart; ** The Old Home by the River," from
the Harpers ; *' Great Orations and Senatorial
Speeches of Webster," from W. M. Hayward,
of Rochester, N. Y., throuch J. W. Moore of
our city. We are indebted to Messrs. Getx,
Buck & Co., for the books of the Messrs.
Harper : and to Mr. T. B. Peterson for those
of Redfield. — Since writing the above, Messrs.
Henderson & Co. have sent us ** Edgar Clif-
ton," from the publishing house of Appleton
& Co., New York. We have also received
from H. Long & Brother, New York — through
T. B. Peterson A Co., of Philadelphia —
"Harry Coverdale's Courtship."

—A New Bedford, (Mass.) corretpondeiii of
the New York Tribune, says: —

' ' Prof. Agassiz lectures this evemag. It is
a ftct which needs explanation, that when
the concert or flashy harangna fills the Oily
Hall, the finest efforts of swh minds call to-

g ether less than half the number,. Then is
owever, a monument of fame in New Bedibrd,
in its " City Library," the only one oi the
kind in the world, whose first annual report
I send you. By an appropriation form the
Corporation, the rooms, Dooks and Librarian
furnished : and the whole population have free
access to the sevend thousand volumes already
collected. Its peculiar model feature, is, thai
the poorest citizen may, under proper regula-
tions, draw without expense. The librarr
circulates amons the masses, and cheers with
its wealth of intttlect the humblest habitatioo.

— We hear that our friend the clever editor
of the Model Courier has sold his spleiidid
mansion in Wafaiut Street, in order tbal be
may take a house nearer his bosjneaa. CM »
good price, too, they say.

— Mr. William Lyon, Mackenzie says, in the
last number of his Toronto Message, touching
the mobbing of Gavazzi :

'* In 1780, 1 think it was, a protestant mob
destroyed the Roman catholic chapel, Edin-
burgh. Lord George Gordon's Londrai riots
are well known — the Boston outrage— and
more recently the Philadelphia bnmintf of
Cathohc chapds and libranes, are fre£ in
men's minds. Do not the rioteuR td. dml^i!

EDITOBS' SiJiS^SOnCL

1T5

Catholic city, enter a free Protestant church,
IS in the GaTazti ease V*

~ The Yery best authors will sometimes make
the Yery biggest Bulls : Littleton, author of
the Classical Dictionary, ^ycs us under the
word speculariat *' Glass Wmdoufs made of fine
trao^iarent stone, like isinglass. ' ' fhe Colos-
sus of Lexicographers, Samuel Johnson, is as
deep in the mire. Turn to his <' Journey to
the Western Islands, (edition 12mo. printed
in Edinbui^h, 1802), and ^f^ ^^f where
he is describing the winter of the Hebrides,
he ei3>resses himself thus. — *' the inlets of the
sea wnich shoot yery far into the island, neyer
have any ice upon them, and the joools of fresh
water vnU never hear the wdker. Turn also,
to p. 77 of the same book, and the following
inexcusable Bull occurs: — '* Macleod choked
them with ^noke, and left them fifing dead by
ftmilies as they stood" At page 23 we have
another specimen : — *' This nculty oi seeing
things out of sight is local."

~ An editorial friend was sitting in his o£Sce
the other day, busily engaged in writing edi-
torials, when all at once pop — bang, startled
him from behind. '* Oh ! Vm shot," thought
the editor ; '* dM-HMnnebody has at last re-
TMed the injuries my pen has done man-
kmd ;" and he should have added *' the King's
English"--'' Oh !*' Here he placed his hand
to the back of his head, the place which had
reoeired the ball. There was no hole, though
the hair was moist, as if covered with blood.
'* It has glanced off! my life is safe," said the
maa of the quill. And so it had, — that is the
cork of a Spruce-Bew bottle near. The
Mp— toig was caused by the rapid out-going
of the said cork, the shot was caused by the
said oork coming suddenly in contact with
the writer's i^ull, and the blood was a spirt
of as good a brew, as ever gladdened the
palate of any man, woman, or child.

—When Marmontel was a school-boy, his
master chastised him for some youthful offen-
ces, which he resented by so severe a lampoon
that be was under the necessity of running
away. Being afraid of returning to his pa-
reatSy he entered himsdf as a private solmer
in a regiment commanded by the Prince of
C«d(D: and in the year that he obtaineda
hamfcif the celebrated poet wrote his charm-
ing History of Belisari us. Man^ apnlioations
WMTO made fin* his discharge, which the Prince
alwi^f^ withstood, declaring it to be the most
flatUring honour he could possibly receive, to

have soiA a man as Marmontdi a sergeaai in
his regiment. Once a year, at the general
review, this distinguished individual i^m^ured
in his station, and whde multitudes nocked
to see him. After the review was over, Mar-
montel had invaiiably the honour to dine with
his illustrious Colotidand the {nincipal oflQcers
of the army, by whom he Was esteemed to
admiratioii.

OLIVER.

— The word clever is, a writer informs us, an
adjunct, in which idl the learned languages
are deficient. There is said to be no expres*
sion in any of them which conveys the com-

Erehensive idea of this epithet. We may
ence suppose, that the character here in-
tended, as well as the expression, is peculiar
to these states ? And, indeed, it is in a land
of liberty only that a man can be completely
clever.

DBeTRUO-riON-eT-AND PRON/I UIMOKRl

— The SundayMercury is altogether too ter-
rific for us. We betake ourselves from the
track to avoid its mi ghtv besom. Such learning,
and such ferocity combined, have been rarely
if ever before seen We are promised our life,
if we will desist from further exposure of the
editor's ignorance. Magnificent mercy ! But
why should'nt the Mercury man relax a little
towards the Register, and the booksellers, and
Mr. Alexander &nith I We pray Uiat they
may be spared entire destruction, at any rate*
Leave a few shreds of their clothing, or at
least a large grease spot. It is positively
too bad, that when one of the Smiths really
does reflect a credit upon the family, he ^ould
not be permitted to wear his laurels in peace*

K400ML.IQI-IT—

— Country moonlight, too ! We have enjoyed
floods upon floods of it within the past week,
With the late outpouring of summer, we an*
ranged to pass the nights, for a period, at old
and dearly-loved Beverly. Thither we go,
of an evening, to drink in pure, fresh country
air, and to luxuriate in country moonlight,
perfumed by country honeysuckles, jessamme,
and new-mown hav ! Mind and body are re-
freshed by the changes from pavement to
ereen swird, from gas-light to moonlight.
Masculines ten years younger might be cast
into imhealthy excitement by this country
moonlight, with its country perfumes; that
is, rendered so susceptible, by its influences,
that just the little nnger of woman might
throw them into a love-phoby, showing it^f
by sighs and starts, and kisses not always of
the air ; but old sober-sided blase Bizarrs —
he is incapable of any such nonsense !

-TMK BOURBON QUBBTION.

— ^We learn that theRev. Mr. Hanson is prepar-
ing a book, which will contain all the evidence
he has collected touching the claima of Bev«

BIZAItBE.

Eleuer 'Williams to the Duiphmship of
France. He has procured many hcts since
his last pahlication in Putnam^s Monthly^ —
some of them gathered through the useful
offices of a venerable g^iUeman in this city —
which will greatly strengthen his case. One
or two of these facts have fallen within our
knowledge : and they certainly have a bear-
ing upon the point aimed at, of remarkable
force and directness.

•• AN AOePT AT FUFPINO "

— The Mercury, in replying to an article of
ours touching its ignorance as to current lite-
rature, calls us an adept in puffing. Suppose
this to be true ; our puffing is a matter of bu-
siness» having nothing whatever to do with
Bizarre. We might retort upon the editor
of the Mercury, and charge him with insince-
rity in the great crusade and war of extermi-
nation which he is going to wage against
booksellers, because he is a smart Philadel-
phia lawyer ; and hence, by profession, ready
and willing to appear forplamtiff or defend-
ant as the fee invites. What, pray, has our
business, or our bread and butter, gathered
through the columns of another journal, got to
do with Bizarre ? Its pages are as free from
bought opinion as any other journal in the
country, the Mercury not excepted.

VKRNON. *0.

— The stirring tale, "Vernon," is from the
pen of James Rees, Esq. When its publica-
tion in our pages is concluded, it will be dra-
matised by him for the stage. A propos,
touching communications. A package, con-
taining notices of the Academy of Arts — ^pro-
mised by us— has miscarried. Will friends
who write us be kind enough to have their
fitvors delivered at our own desk, in back room,
srcond story of No. 4 Hart*s Building; or,
should it be closed, they may be left at Mr.
Bryson's printing office, one story above.

AN/iueeiv/ieNTa.

— Buckley's New Orleans Serenaders, an old
and popular troupe recently returned from
California, are singing with ^clat at Musical
Fund Hall.

— Mr. Perham, it will be seen, continues the
exhibition of the Panorama of California, as
well as the gift distribution, until the 25th
inst. ; when there will be a public sale of the
painting. Next week, we hear, he commences
the exhibition of new paintings — viz.: the
Mammoth Cave and the Crystal Palace — and
offers a new lot of valuable gifts. Such en-
terprize as Perham's is ought to be well re-
warded. We learn that Mr. Stalcup, the
tidented delineator of the Panorama of Cali-
fornia, performs the same important duly for
the new paintings.

— Sanford's Op^ Troupe has left town for a
few weeks. Wiieii they return, they will take

possesskm of the new Opera House in Twetfth
Street.

— A grand musical jubilee of Germans com-
mences in this city on the 25th, and continiies
until the 29th, instant. The programme mn-
nounces that the " arrangements are of the
most extensive kind, on a scale, indeed, sur-
passing anything of the same nature ever be-
fore witnessed in this city. Exclusive of the
Vocal Musical Associations of Philadelphia,
societies from New York, Baltimore, Wash-
ington, Boston, Richmond, Va., uid other
cities, numbering in all about 800 male vocal
performers, who will participate in the grand
jubilee concert!" What an army of {npes
there will be. We shall be greatly mistaken,
too, if the lager is not scverdy punished.

KRAWFI8M— lANA.

— Of all the yottnff men in our county we are
inclined to thmk tnat Brigham will give the
government the most trouble.

— An Illustrious Irishman. — 0*Rion was
one of the most illustrious personages of an-
tiquity. His rain was celebrated even in the
time of .tineas ; for the amorous Dido, de-
siring to prevent the departure of her wan-
dering lover, sends him this warning : —

'*Tdl bim that charged with deluges of rals,
ClUon rages on the watery main.**

There are very few of the ancients who retain
their lustre in our day with as little diminu-
tion as O^Rion,

— I suppose this is magn^ ekarta, (carta)
the man said, when he saw the big timl
wheels.

BuaiNeea men/is.

— Col. Maurice has got up some bcautifol
blank-books for the New York Crystal Palace.
They of course will produce a great excite-
ment The Colonel, by last accounts, was in
New York making arran^ents for the exhi-
bition. He does everythmg well. We c^ten
have had occasion to speak of the Colonel and
his beautiful new store, at 123 Chestnut St.,
and we trust the day may be far away when
the cause of such honest commendation shall
be among the things that were.

— Mr William G. Mason, whose card, seal and
other engraving has been so long among the
notable features of the town, purpo8es,^M>rt-
ly, removing from his present stand. No 46,
to No 204 Chestnut, above Eighth. We caQ
attention to his advertisement. When he gets
established at his new store we shall take oc-
casion to speak more at length,

— William T. Pry, 227 Arch, is rapidly pre-
paring for the occupation of his new store,
nearly opposite to his present stand. Fry^
success since he came to the city has been
great, but not more so than merited. He iMtt -
a beautiful stock of writing de^os.

VERNON; OB, THE DBAMA OF LIFE.

177

WHAT UT rou, MASOAFV*^rarquhttr.

xmtt.

POR TRB WIXK ISTDII^O

BATVRDAT, JVIiT S, 1853*

VEUNON; OR, THE DRAMA
OF LIFE.*

CHAPTER Vm.

*1 pnjy rir. d««] with men In misery,
liko one that may himself bo miserable."

We now conduct our reader to the room
lUuded to in our last chapter, where Mr. St.
Clair was actively en^cd in arranging and
assorting the Tarious kinds of paper and rags,
as heing better adapted to the sort of paper
they were to make. This room, was divided
from the adjoining one, in which Vernon and
his compamons were in the habit of meeting,
by a simple partition of boards. It had been
papered many years before, but now it was
stripped of this fancy covering, and numer-
ous cracks, and broken panels, not only af-
forded free ingress for the wind, but for
sound. Of this St. Clair was fully aware,
and often had he shuddered at language and
words, which were used bv the inmates of
that room, and which reached him through
these ** wastes of time."

While at his work, many bitter throughts
pasRed through the brain of the old man ;
they were of others, not of himself; content
wiui his lot, he could smile at the storm, and
defy the tempest.

He was in the act of separating some old
papers, when a sound in the adjoing chamber,
caused him to listen.

"Ah! he exclaimed, "there thev come,
bark ! that voice— yes it is Maitland^s; lost —
lost— Vernon !" It was Maitland's voice he
beard, and the words came hissing through
the crevices oi the old partition — the old man
doddered.

** The last cent — Vernon, is gone — what's
to be done ?" The wretched Vernon, thus ad-
dressed, (and upon whose reply St. Clau",
ttemed most anxious to hear) answered —'* I
know not, we have reached the lowest round
of the ladder, there we must lie."

•* You lie if you say so !"

'* MaitlMid — be advised, rouse not the sleep-
ing devil within this hell— be advised, I would
not harm you — guilty as I am, do not urge me
to— murder."

"Bah — ^you have grown sentimental,
squeamish ; but you have a talisman to awe
me I know ; now tell me Vernon how came

(ObBthraed firam page 166.)

YOU by that papei^— that card— tell me dd

"Ha! ha! this little card, this name ? ha !
ha ! magic Maitland. It has kept you in a
sort of moral prison ever since I showed it to
you, ha! ha!"

St. Clair, during this p(»rtion of the dialo-
gue, was almost unconciously handling an <^d
parchment, he had now opened it, and was in
the act of i-eading, when the voices contin-
ued: —

* * Aye Vernon, the name on that card is to me
terror; it comes up spectre like from the grave,
to blast me. If it were not for that card, I
would you at my feet ; as it is, it places me at
yours. But I could tell you Vernon — no, not
now — ^I could reveal things — but no more of
this, let us drink— here is that which will
drown the horrors of reflection." The ging-
ling of glasses told that the carousal had com-
menced.

Mr. St. Clair, now took up the parchment —
as he gazed upon it, his eyes became fixed,
his frame trembled. " Gracious providence!"
he exclaimed, *' how strange and mysierious
are all thy ways; but let me be satisfied."
Again were his eyes riveted on the parchment
before him.

The sound of rattling glasses had now
ceased, and the conversation was renewed in
the next room.

•* So Vernon, you refiise to join me in the
plan of robbing this man, whose name is a
spell to make me fear and dread him ; will
you not join me I say in this deed ? He is
my foe, and cannot be your friend."

"Join you Maitland, in this? no, never,
wretched, miserable, fallen as I am— I will
still preserve my honor "

"Honoi^bah! You have ahready pro-
served it, in a rum bottle ; and there it hangs
suspended in mid-air like one of those poison-
ous reptiles the druggists keep in their win-
dows to frighten children with ; Imh ! your
honor is all moonshine. And more ; what
harm is there in taking from the rich, that
which thev have drawn by fouloppresion from
the poor f it is a part and portion of the
wealth of the wcH'ld ; it is theirs, ours, every
body's."

** False reasoning Maitland ; this is the lan-
guage, and the feeble ailment of levellers.
The man who amasses wealth, does it by the
exercise of a superior judgment — ^he wills a
thing and it is done ; in the realization of
it, too, he makes thousands happy ; we do not
belong to that class ; we have forsook labcnr,
and its blessings fall not on us. No Mait-
land, let us rather be what we are, drunkards —
than seek to add robberyto our crimes. Come,
fill up the glasses, here is oblivion to the
past!^

<< Wen let that rass— yet I have another
I^an — come nearer Vernon— I haveaseeietto

178

BIZABBE.

oommunicate, bnt first see if the door is shut,
close, there— it has no lock, no matter. But
first, let us fill the glasses." Turn we now
to St. Clair.

His eyes had devoured every word of the
parchment, and his mind taken the impres-
sion, its whole contents were now made plain,
inteligible, and clear to view, he laid it down,
drew a long breath, and exclaimed — **The
lost will ! — ^mysterous Providence, this is one
of thy wonderful ways to bring the dark ac-
tions of men to light ; but how to act ? — rest
here precious document. The will thus found
hark — ^what words are those ? it is Ver-
non's voice — ^I must listen, heaven pardon
me!"

"Well, now Maitland, for your great se-
cret?"

*< This girl, Alice, my adopted daughter,
for she is not my child; is now our only
chance."

*• What mean you ?

"She was stolen from her parents!" St.
Clair upon hearing this, involuntary uttered
an exclamation of surprise.

" Hark Vernon, what sound was that ? who
is in the next chamber ?"

" Old Mr. St. Clair picks rags there, Mait-
land, only think of that ! a rag-picker — and
I — I — ha ! ha ! it is my work, wife and chil-
dren in a factory ; hell and furies — I will not
support this much longer. Tell me your
scheme, out with it !"

' * Listen to me, and you need not suffer thus.
The giii I stole — I — ^I— ha 1 ha ! the secret is
mine — ^I stole her from a man whase father
wron^ me — ^it was a sweet revenge ha ! ha !
she will now become the instrument of admin-
istering to our wants."

"How?"

"Claim the reward, aye more, make our
demand boldly, I have all the proofs, ready
at hand." ^ ^ y

" Merciful heavens," mattered St. Clair,"
could I but hear the name."

" You say Maitland, that you have proofe ;
what are they?"

" See here, this trinket was round her neck,
and she has a breast-pin, which I gave her
since. This trinket is evidence enough, but I
have others."

Tell me the name of her Father?" St.
dair in his anxiety to learn the name, fell
over a stool ; the noise alarmed the two men,
and a whispering was idl the old man heard,

" ! it was nothing— St Clair is somewhat
deaf," remarked Vernon, "and if he were not,
he could not distinguish words ; give me ibe
name of Alice's father ?"

" You will be secret ?"

"As the grave."

"Tfaenieamthatitia hark! someone

knocks."

"Ah, the door opens — ^Maitland do you
know that man ?"

" Ah ! ha ! This is indeed triumph,'* was
the wild response of the latter, as Mr. Gil-
bert stepped mto the room. He fi xed his eyes
upon Maitland, and gently enquired the cause
of his mirth. Maitland still laughed.

'* Mr. Vernon, it was against this man I
once warned you, how have you repaid my
proffered services to save you from his arts.
Look around, look at yourself, all speak ; in-
deed you may weU be silent."

Mr. St. Clair, who had heard every word,
found himself so completely entangled in the
matter, and suspecting some strange develop-
ments placed himself still nearer the larger
opening, muttering to himself—" may heaven
pardon me if I err in this, but the future fate
of my darling Alice hangs upon the issue of
this interview."

The voice of Maitland was now heard.
" And so sir. you are here to blast me, you, who
after what passed at the death bed of your
father "

" Silence ! unhappy man, judge me not by
your own base heart : an oath is ever sacred
with one who knows its holy character. That
oath I have kept — You will never be brought
to justice for the wrongs you did my father,
he forgave you, and for that act of his, you
are free. But it was to save Mr. Vernon from
your villianies that I warned him, and now
sir his neglect of that advice is his ruin."

" And you came here to tell me that ?"

"No! I came here to see this wretched
man^s family, it was only to day I learned
frOm my agent that they resided here. I
came here to proffer my assistance if it was
required, and as this property belongs to me,
exact no rent, until such time as things as-
sume a brighter form."

" Indeed Mr. Gilbert, this is kind, but you
see liquor has us now under control, and work
we cannot," remarked Vernon.

" Unhappy men— for such indeed you are
— ^I would do more for you if you would fbr-
swear that poisonous dnnk. L^bor is healthy,
it adds to the strength of body, the power of
mind, it is the grand moving principle of na-
ture ; and its neglect is ruin and misery. But
I wish to see Mrs. Vernon and the children—
reflect miserable men on your condition, and
repent ere it be too late. So saying he left
the room.

"Aye," muttered Mwtland, "repent, ye8
when I have wreaked my vengeance on your
head — arouse Vernon, why are you moping
there? action man, action.'

" What are we to do ?"

" Do— did I not tell you about the girt?—
" what noise is that there close by this parti-
tion? let us examine — ^no, there is no one
there, a huge pile of rags, and papers — now
listen— but no ! this is not the place, walls

VERNON; OR, THE DRAMA OF LIFE.

179

they say haye ears, come let us get out in the
opeQ air, and then you shall learn all."

YeiTKHi, who ever since the departure of
Gilbert, had remained in one position, now
arose and mechanically followed Maitland.
No sooner had they gone, than old St. Clair
retired to his labor exclaiming — ** The link of
the chain is broken, I cannot connect it ;
would that I had heard more ! But stay
let me collect my scattered thoughts — this
win, this long lost will, brings us wealth— let
me remember — what was the exclamation of
Maitland when Gilbert entered the room, that
kind gjMKl hearted mechanic, let me recol-
lect. He laughed, a fearful laugh that was ;
and exclaimed, this is my triumph! what
could he mean? would that I had heard
more. Ah here comes my children, — "here
you are, all smiling, my dear daughter : yon
see how labor is rewarded ; it makes us bless
the hour we applied onrseWes to it. Well m^
little rose-bud how go your lessons ?" This
was addressed to Anna.

** grand-pa, I am in the French dass ;"
*• flee here is my book."

*• And James how goes it with you ?"

<< Grand-pa I am lazy."

** Now James, don^t you say so ; look at
Robert — docs he look like a lazy boy?"

"No, but I am."

"Wdl, well, you are good children all."
The mother, and Alice had taken off their
bonnets and shawls, and had seated themsel-
ves on a bench, the former enquired if Mr.
YenKm bad been there.

" He has, and left the house a few moments
ago." was the reply.

"Who"— and her voice ftdtered— " who
was with him ?"

" That num."

" Poor Vernon, he is lost to us forever ?"

** Mother, dear mother, who is lost for-
ever ?" was the sudden enquiry of the chil-
dren — their eyes looked anxiously toward
tbefa* mother. She was in tears — and through
than — thqr had their answer !"

How eloquent are tears !

Alice withdrew the attention of the chil-
dren to scHnething she picked up from the
heap of papers, and their little hearts were
agam haj^y, made so by a pure and virtuous

Mr. St. Chdr, who had observed this little
aoene, now spoke. " My dear children come
hoe, around me, that is right, draw up that
bench, be seated now and listen.* * A short
time ago we were all living in a large house —
rieh fivnitiire, costly pictures, and comforta-
ble beds were ours — tne Winter wind whis-
tkd without, and the hail rattled against the
windows, we heeded it not, for wealth had
guarded us against the dements, and they
pawed us by. Storms and tempests my chil-
dren not unfirequently rush fiercely over the

marbled palaces, and spend their fury on some
wretdied hovel. We are living here now in
poverty, in wretchedness: these old walls will
scarcely keep out the snow drift, let alone the
wind, and yet my children, we have borne it
well : there has been no murmuring, no an-
gry feeting elicited, no railing at Providence ;
this is as it should be."

" Grand pa I like work."

" Grand pa I like to go to the public school."

" Grand-pa I wont be lazy^ any more"
These words were rapidly uttered by the chil-
dren.

" Indeed my children I like to hear you say
so. And your mother and Alice, how did
they behave ? Nobly both of them. Their
rich dresses were thrown aside, and their
whole hearts were centered in you, and for
you they have labored and provided."

" Indeed father," smilingly remarked Mrs.
Vernon, " you speak as if you had done noth-
ing. What say you Alice f "

" That grand rather has done more than us
all— he works, and tells us how we must act,
to become good and prosperous."

" Well my children, we are all reccmciled
to our fate. Now listen. There is in store
for you all a greater surprise. Nay be not
alarmed, misfortune has done its worst — I —
come nearer, let not the sound of my voice be
heard beyond our little circle — ^I have found
the will of Reynolds St Clair !"

" Merciful heavens, where ?"

"Hush my daughter — ^I found it there,"
pointing to the heap of papers.

" And — I — am — f

" His sole heir !"

CHAPTER DL

** Fw may we Bwrch bcfbre we find,
A heart so manly or so kind.**

ScoiVt Marmion,

Our readers will think, or probably have
already so decided, that we have dropped two
of our most interesting characters Margaret
and Peter. If so they will, we hope be agree-
ably disappointed to find them the subject of
this chapter.

" I tell you Maggy," exclaimed the exas-
perated Peter, as he met his lady*love, at the
end of the lawn, " this is the very day you
were to give me answer, now let me hear it.
I won't wait, there is Betsy Miller, Sally
Stroud, and Jane Williams all ready to jump
into my arms."

"Oh youvillian, what marry all three?'
' But Peter I did promise, and only wanted
to try another charm before I said yes, or no."

"Now Mag, I do wish you would leave
th^se charms alone: what other charm do you
want to try, than the one that now stands be-
fore you ! Look, behold !"

" Yes, I see a full grown charm, bat it is

180

BIZABRE.

one I have not made up my mind to try, be-
sides have you thought oyer what we last
talked about?"

** I have ; and there, it is all that I can
raise!"
"How much is it?

** Fifte*^n dollars," ** I could not get more."
** Well Peter that is more than I expected ;
as I have but ten, making in all twenty- five
dollars : and all this goes to that cruel land-
lord Mr. Gilbert. Oh if I had the power
would 'nt I give him something to remember
me the longest day he lived. Oh Peter, but is
it not dreadful ? it was but the other day one
of these landlords turned a poor family out
into the street, husband, wife, and four chil-
dren : the former was sick, and had not been
able to work for months — there stood the piH)r
children, trembling in the cold, there stood
the poor woman her eyes filled with tears.
Their little furniture, lay scattered around,
and as their eyes rested on their humble ef-
fects, it seemed as if hope itself had fled. I
could not stand it, and so ran away."
" And what became of them ?"
" I do not know. I suppose their things
were aU sold ?"

** No they were not."

** I saw them in the street ; were they not
houseless?"
"No!"

" Were they taken to the poor house ?"
"No!"

"Why Peter, what do you know about
them ?"

•* Listen. T had fifty dollars which I was
saving up for Mrs. Vernon, and shortly after
you must have seen the family. I passed that
way ; I could not bear the sight — my money
burned in my pocket. I paid the rent, help-
ed to move their furniture to another house,
gave them five dollars, and that fifteen dol-
lars is all that is left."

"Peter— come to my arms, the charm is
complete— I will try no other."

"Now Maggy, let me ask what put it into
your head that Mr. Gilbert was going to seize
the furniture of Mrs. Vernon for rent.

" I heard it from some one, and landlords
are all hard hearted."

" Nay, do not say so: Mr. Gilbert is one of
the best men I know : he is rich, charitable,
and just to all. He will not take any rent at
all— for I caUed upon him to day, and now
Maggy we can offer our little savings for their
own immediate use."

" 0, Peter, what a duck of a little man you
are."

"Better a duck than a goose; but come
along, and as we walk down this beautiful '
lane, which you know leads to the dwelling of i
the Vemons, let us fix the day for our mar-
riage." I

" Well Peter, but remember, it must not be
on a Friday."

• • • « •

In what was called the sitting room of Ver-
non's dwelling, all the family except Vernon
himself, were seated around a table eating
their humble meal. Mr. St. Clair sat at the
head of the table. He had just finished graoe,
and was in the act of helping the children,
when the following conversation commenced.
" And so father, we are once more rich; could
it brmg m^ husband back to virtue, how
much happier would this accesion of wealth
make us.

" True my child, but it will take time to
establish the will, and money: in the mean-
time let its discovery remain with all a secret
— ^hark — here comes Vernon and Maitland —
be silent children."

" So," was the word he uttered, as he stag-
gered into the room, followed by his drunken
companion, ** you seem to enjoy yourselves in
my absence — but I— I am the outcast !"

" No William, not an outcast — we are Uie
outcasts from your love, your care and pro-
tection."

" Mrs. Vernon, I came here with your hus-
on business, not to hear sermons : I owe you
much, madam, more than I can repay ; I am
here now to take away my daughter."

"No no, Maitland you do not mean it,
take Alice away, the pride and comfort d'roy
life — ^my friend, my companion my child ?"

" It must be so madam."

" Never, I will resist your base attempts to
snatch her from us."

Alice in the alarm created had flown to
Mrs. Vernon, and held firmly to her, exclaim-
ing, " save me, save me !

•* You see Vernon, your wife refuses to de-
liver her charge, my child !"

" Well, that donT hinder you from taking
her does it ?"

" William, lost as you are to all senae of
feeUng, can you sit calmly there, and loc^
tamely upon this outrage."

" She belongs to him."

" She does not belong to him — ^has she not
been to us as a child? — have we not been to
her as parents ? — see how your own children,
cling to her: you must not, shall not, tear her
from us ! "0, Maitland, leave her with us,
and I will foigive you all the misery, and the
wo you have brought upon us."

" All very well madam, but it will not avail,
she must go !"

" Never ! Alice fly; escape—"

" Not so fast— listen Alice — ^you go to your
fiither!"

" My fkther ? why you long since told me
he was dead."

'* That was false; he lives, — so come along.'*
" Mother, dear mother !"

SKETOHSS Q¥ GEOBQIA.

181

*' FA&er, can joa sit there, and see Alice
torn Irem ns ?'*

" Let St. Clair, attempt at his peril ; Mr.
Vernon here, will assist me in my duty, wont
you sir?"

** Indeed I most — for I know the secret of
her birth."

Mr. St. Clair, who had remained perfectly
still during the whole of this scene, now rose
up, and stepping into the middle of the room,
and looking Maitland fVdl in the face — exclaim-
ed—

" And so do I — she toas stolen !"

" Stolen," was uttered by all.

" Aye, and by that fiend — that wretch who
DOW stands before us."

" What mean you sir ?"

*' Back villain ; or dread an old man's ven-
geance — I repeat it : that vile monster stole
this child when she was some two years of
age — stole her from her home in a spirit of
revenge ; and would now reap the reward of
his villainy, by racking once more those
hearts, he has made wretched so long. She
moves net hence, under your guidance Mait-
land — attempt it at your peril — I am old, but
in such a cause heaven wiU give me strength. "

" Mr. St. Clair:" remarked Vernon, " you
presume too much, this is my house !"

*• No sir, it is not your house— the landlord
exacts no rent, it is the home of your poor
wife, and these sufiering children."

* Come, my children, Alice take my arm — ^let
us leave these men to concoct some other
8cheme-HX)me with me, to the next cham-
ber."

So saying, they all left the room, but *not
until the children, went up to their father,
and kissing his burning cheek, and with
childish prattle, tried to get him to follow
tiiem.

** Maitland, your scheme has failed, but I
have learned one thing and that is. I know
now who Alice's father is."

" Villain — ^what mean you— did I impart to
you that ?"

**No! but circumstances have betrayed
you."

•* And would you betray me ?"

** No — ^I am a scoundrel, but I will not turn
iDf<»iner. Mr. St. Clair must have heard a
portion of our conversation."

•* Yes, and holds ^a rod of fire over our
heads. But all is not lost, something can be
made of the aifair yet."

(Continued In No. 80.)

— Ole Bull has formed a colony in the upper
part <^ Pennsylvania. Kit Krawfish says, he
half suspects that the old fellow has a ** sneak-
in likin" for Ole Ann, who Uves over in York
state ; and he would not be surprised, if after
all it was only a scheme of Ole canrnexor

tinn.

SKETCHES OF GEORGIA.

SKBTOH SBGOND.

Bonaventura — The Thunderbolt Road — Lo'

vers Lane — The Orphan House — George

WhUefield.

Some five miles from Savannah, there is a
deeply interesting spot ; which, both on ac-
count of its beauty and the associations con-
nected with it, attracts the attention of citi-
zen and stranger, eliciting at once admiration
and veneration. The road leading to Bona-
ventura, may be seen every evening, filled
with merry parties of fair ladies and their
captive knights, who, in the cool and calm
hours of evening, leaving the warm city, are
thus enjoying the pure country air— either on
horse-back, in open buggies, or in strolling
among the dark shadows of the magnificent
forest trees, and plucking the wild flowers
which cluster beneath their branches. Thun-
derbolt is the name which this road bears. It
passes near a locality, where tradition says
that a thunderbolt once descended from an
unusually dark cloud on an oppressively warm
sunmier's afternoon : entering the earth, and
leaving a trace of its passage downwards in
the rent soil: immediately a spring welled
forth from the opening, whose waters savored
strongly of the bolt. This is doubtless an
Indian romance, perhaps suggested and con-
firmed by the presence of iron or sulphur,
which may have impregnated the water in
the neighoorhood. but it is not the spring
with its legend that most attracts our notice.
A few more revolutions of the wheel, and we
are upon holy ground. Those magnificent
trees radiating trom one common centre in
extended avenues, and meeting over head,
casting a mournful shade over the tomb-stones,
attract our attention. Thev seem like long
rows of Sphinxes guarding the entrance to the
temple of Camac. The " Live Oak" is a
tree of an uncommonly interesting character,
and imposing appearance. It is indeed here,
the father of the forest, still fresh in the
majesty of its might, when others are bend-
ing and decaying under the weight of years —
appears mountain like, the sole chronicler
of centuries. From massive roots striking
laterally and deeply in every direction, it lifts
its enormous trunk, which not unfrequently
measures from twenty to thirty feet in circum-
ference. At aheieht ranging from twenty-
five to fifty feet, above the ground, it begins
to throw out its immense Dranches, which
spreading and bending almost to the ground,
form a complete arch, — a Druidical Temple of
Nature's own handiwork. Its foliage knows
not the blighting effect of the snows of win-
ter, but remains fresh and ever-green, when
all its AnmniLnions hftve lost theJr Inmriant

182

^y?^4P i HTV

verdure, and the woods are filled with ooont-
less sear and yellow leaves, eddying in the
whirlwinds of Autumn. The most singular
feature however in the appearance of this tree,
and that, which more than all others awakens
the surprise of the stranger, is the long moBSf
which bangs from the under side of the bran-
ches far down, some six or ten feet View-
ing a Live Oak as this moss is gently waving
in the mild winds of evening, or tossed to and
fro by the strong breath of the tornado, — ^as
its leaves torn from the branches are scattered
over the plain, while the firm trunk moves
not, and its iron limbs scarce tremble under
the mighty power of Eolus, it does indeed
seem like some hoary patriarch — with his
venerable and flowing beard, and still despite
his years, the embodyment of all that is he-
roic and enduring. No wonder that the
Druids and the Ancient Germans selected old
oaks, (although of a far less imposing char-
acter than these) 9£ the natural temples, where
with unconstrained ceremony and freedom,
they might worship the God of the Universe.
No wonder that the grandeur of these giant
branches locking arm in arm with their fel-
lows — no wonder that the solemn music of
the winds moaning in funeral measure through
the dense arches, should have inspired them
with awe, and inclined the mind to religious
contemplation. Where could the soul unen-
lightened by the ennobling truths of revela-
tion form a more exalted conception of, or be
induced to regard with greater reverance the
nature of the Deity, than in a spot like this ?
Beneath the sombre shadows of these trees,
the frivolity and gaiety of the mind are ex-
changed for emotions of a more enlarged and
serious character. Doubtless this frequent
communion with Nature, this adorning the
God of Nature in temples which his own
hands had made, exerted a powerful and be-
neficial influence upon the minds of the an-
cient Germans, and tended largely to the de-
velopment of those noble impulses and char-
acteristics, for which they were so remark-
able among the semi-barbarous nations which
then surrounded them. Tacitus referring to
their notions with reference to the worsnip
and the majesty of Deity, uses the following
language, *' Ceterum nee cohibere parietibus
deos, neque in ullam humani oris speciem as-
similare; ex magnitudine ccelestium arbi-
trantur: lucos ao nemora consecrant, deos
umque nominibus appellant secretum illud,
Quod sola reverentia vident." These live oaks
nourish in great luxuriance throughout the
sea-coast portions of several of the Southern
States, yet, in no locality is the mystic in-
fluence exerted by their presence, more sensi-
bly felt than in this grove of Bonaventura.
Here, every circumstance favors the impres-
sion. Beneath the ever-shadowing foliaget
are consecrated grounds of burial. The sculp-

tured pUea aad ^Uat obaequies of the P^re
la Chaise, with its arrav of tombs, find not
here their counterparts, but in quiet simplic-
ity lie the fonns of the beloved departed,
slumbering now, yet full of the hope, that
the germs thus sown in the clods of oormp-
tion, will bud in future glory, in the noon-
tide eternity of Heaven.

We return to the City, by Lover's lane,
bordered on either hand with the Cherokee
rose, among whose white flowers and dark
green leaves, may be seen clambering the
yellow Jessamine — ^hanging in festoons of lux-
uriant profusion from the trees, and filling the
air with such a delightful perfnme, that one
might almost imagine that some gale fresh
from the houri of Mahomet, was swecfHDg
over the land. Is it singular then, that the
young and the fair should be found frequent-
ing Uiis pleasant road, beguiled by the fas-
cinations of nature in her varied forms of
beauty ? catching her soft music, as warbled
by the forest songster, and drinking in her
breath, as wafted over countless wild flowers
it comes bearing upon its bosom the combined
excellence of them all ?

Another interesting spot in the vicinity of
Savannah, is that, where a few mouldering
remains in shapeless ruin mark the former lo-
cation of the Orphan House— an institution
founded in 1740 under the auspices of Geom
Whitefield, that eloquent divine, who by the
combined influence of his oratory and piety,
caused even the atmosphere around him to
breathe of a religious nature. It was the
ofispring of a philanthropic heart, and design-
ed to secure the education of the helpless
children of insolvent debtors ; as well as of
others, who, amid the privations of the infiuit
colony, might be debarred from the enjoym^t
of such advantages. Although the original
building has been destroyed under the with-
ering touch of time, still these simple remains
are eloquent in the praises of one, whose
name has already been incorporated among
the numbers of those, who were ** bom to be
great." Benjamin Franklin in his auto-bio-
graphy speaking of Mr. Whitefield relates the
following anecdote, which beotuse of its con-
nection with our present sketch, wmy not
prove wholly unentertaining. ** Mr. White-
field formed the de^gn of building an Orphan
House in Georgia. Ketuming Northward, he
preached up this charity, and made large col-
lections ; for his eloquence had a wondeiful
power over the hearts and purses of his
hearers, of which I myself was an instance.

I did not approve of his design. • • • I
happened soon after to attend one of his ser-
mons, in the course of which I percaved he
intended to finish with a collection, and I si-
lently resolved he should get nothing from me.
I had in my pocket a handful of copper money?
three or four silver dollars, and five pistoles

LomnowiBifs.

188

in gold. As he proceeded, I began to soften,
tnd coDcloded to give the copper. Another
stroke of his orttory made me a^iamed of
tbi^ and determined metogirethe silyer:
and he finished so admirably, that I emptied
ray pocket wholly into the collectors dish, gold
and aB. At this sermon also, there was one
of oar dub, who being of my sentiments re-
specting the building in Georgia : and sus-
pecting a oc^ection might be intended, had by
precaution, emptied his pockets before he
came fyrom home. Towards the conclusion oC
the discourse however, he felt a strong inclin-
ation to give, and applied to a neighbor who
stood near him, to lend him some money for
that purpose. The request was fortunately
made, to perhaps the only man in the com-
pany who had the firmness not to be affected
by the preacher. His answer was, at any
otker time friend Hopkinson, I Xffoidd lend to
tkee freely ; but not now, for them seems to be
out of tny ri^t senses. These two anec-
dotes conrey rividly to our minds at once the
eitraordinary and persuasive eloquence of the
Dirine — and the cool calculating spirit of the
age. Judging from the precautions of friend
^i^inson, it would api^ear that indinduals
were as much attad^d to the ''needful*'
then, as they are at the present time. Al-
though a few scattered bricks and moulder-
ing foundations are all that remain to mark
the spot where the Orphan House originally
stood, still the efforts of Mr. Whitefield were
not expended in vain. His charity siill lives
in the Union Benevolent Association of Sav-
amudi, which yearly instructs some fort^ or
! fifty hcjs ; and his name connected as it is
witn tlie i m provement of the earliest settle-
' ment of Georgia, is always held in the high-
, est estimation. Many were the oppositions
he was called to encounter before the ardent
desire of his heart was consummated, yet true
to the noble impulses of his generous mind,
he soceessfhlly triumphed over them all.

••Trtie charity, « plant dlrlnely nursed,
F«d by the Iova from whkh U row at flr«t,^
Thrives afpiinet hope, and. In the rudert aotney
Btomu but enUren fta unfiulinfr fn'oon;
Kxnborant In the shadow it 8npplio8.
IVi fruK in earth, It^t growth above the sktee.**

LONOBOWIRMS.

"»Ponmylife'ti8tr«e.»»

Lord Baeon, in his Essay on Truth, tells ns
that *' a mixture of lye doth alvrays add plea-
sure.*' We therefore recommend the follow-
ing cj Ltr acts from a dull book, published at
^e bQ;inningof the 17th century, and entitled
•* Mimcuia Decrtuorum et Fivorwwi," to the
ibtnre editors of the life of that renowned ad-
renturer. Baron Munchausen, The author
was a German Jurisprudent, named Henry
Kormnann, who is represented by Bayle to

enons devourer of learning. He has no daim
to originality of invention; but as to the
the readiness in believing the inventions of
others, he is clearly without a rival. We sub-
join a few instances of the gravity with whidi
he retails and propagates the most monstrous
absurdites : In describing the wonders that
are to be found in the South Sea, he tells us
that Diodorus. the geographer, writes that
** there is an island m it where the inhabi-
tants are four cubits taller than the inhabi-
tants of Greece and Italy— their bones are
not hard but fiexiUe, like nerves— their ton-
gue is divided in two from the roots, so that
they can keep up a conversation with one
man with one half of their tongue, and with
another, with the other at the same time.
Alluding to the Molucca Islands, he assures
us, with inimitable simplicity, that ** in the
Island of Ceylon, which is one of them, there
is a nation with ears so large that they hang
down to their shoulders, and that in another
island close by it, there is a nation with ears
still longer. The inhabitants of it are ac-
customed when they go to sleep, to lay down
on one ear and to cover themselves up ' with
the other !" This story, he informs us, is to
be found in that cdebrated author Maximilia-
nus Transylvanus, of whose celebrity, how-
ever, we are at ihlk time of day unfortunatdy
ignorant. A Knight of the name d Pigafetta
pledges his credit for the truth of it, as any
of our readers may see, who choose to refer
to his History of the East Indies.

To match this people, who made coveriets
of their ears, the worthy German informs us
that there are a people m India who make a
parasol of their foot. This story rests on the
authority of Sdinus, who, in his 53d chapter,
enlightens the world by telling it, that '* there
is a nation of one-eyed people in India, who,
though they have but one leg, are still en-
dow^ with singular fleetness. When they
want to protect themselves from the heat, they
fling themsdves on their back, and recline un-
der the shade of their foot, which is immense-
ly large." He likewise ouotes a sentence
from St. Auffustine*s 37tn Seimon to his
brethren in the wilderness, who wear their
heads, or rather eyes, beneath the shoulder.
This eccentric Saint says—" When I was Bis-
hop of Hippo, I went with some servants of
Christ into Ethiopia, with the intention of
preaching onr Holy Religion. There we saw
many men and women, not having any heads,
but large eyes fixed in the breasts. Their
other membarswere like our own." Pliny,
Mela, and Solinus, all speak of the existence
of such persons ; but none of them was s»
favored by fkte as to be permitted a sight of
them. St. Augustine, however, were more
fortunate— he saw them, or at least says he
saw them : and who would disbelieve the

184

tise, '<De Civitate Dm, lib. 6. cap. 8."

e edges his sftinUy word that there is in
iiiopia a nation which have no mouth or Um-
Ee, oat which live entirely upon air ; but
does not say whether these singular per-
sons fell under his own inspection.

The following is told in the life of Greg-
ory the Great by a nameless German ; —
'*When Augustine, the Monk, was sent to
England by Gr^;ory the (jh*eat to preach the
Gospel, he was ridiculed and iosulted by a
funily in Dorchester, who pinned frog-tails
{ranarum eawhs) to his garments. From
that day all the descendants of that unfortu-
nate family haye been bom, like beasts, with
a long tail."

Not many- years ago an account appeared
in the English papers of a seryant gu*! who
was restored to lifb after she had l^en con-
sidered dead for fiye or six days. This would
not have appeared at all extraordinary to our
learned German; for he assures us that
•'Gocellin, a nephew of the archbishop of
Cologne, as he was crossing the Rhine in his
childhood, fell out of the boat into the river ;
and in spite of his attendants sunk, and was
no more seen. Fifteen days after he was fish-
ed out of the rivers {expiscattts est). As they
were taking him to church to bury him, he
surprised his pall-bearers by starting in his
comin, and telling them that they need not
go any farther as he was quite alive. We shidl
conclude this collection <k wonders by a sin-
gle specimen taken out of a book of them
written by Peter Damianus, archbishop and
Cardinal of Ravenna. He tells us that
" Robert, King of France, took a woman to
his wife, who was his near relation. She bore
him a child who had the head and neck of a
goose. The Bishops of France on hearing of
this portentous birth, excommunicated both
him and his wife." Robert was more unfor-
tunate in his punishment than in his fate ;
for though he might be first, he certainly was
not the last king who has found himself the
fiither of a son with the head of a goose.

A WIFK'S DEVOTION.

The following translation from the French,
is one of the many striking examples of female
tenderness, afiection, and constancy, which
modem times have furnished : —

** Mr. Weiss, who was town-surgeon of a
small town in Prussia, pnHupted by that ar-
dent patriotism which inflamed the Woms of
the people of that country, at the commence-
ment of the conflict in 1812, exchanged that
situation for the post of surgeon to the Neu-
markt Landwehr. The corps formed part of
the force emjdoyed in ihe seige of Glogua. In
the execution of the duties of his oiffice, he
caught the epidemic fever. No sooner did
his wife receive the account of bis situation.

than she iflunediately hastened to him froni
Neumarkt. She found her husband in the
height of a typhus, and insensible, in a cot-
tage at Nosswitz, near Glogua. Scarocfy
hMl she undotaken the office of nurse, what
a sortie made (on the 10th November, 1813^)
by the garrison of Glogua, threw the whole
neighbomood, and that village in particular,
into the utmost consternation. All its inhab-
itants betook themselves to flight She alone
was left, with her apparently expiring hos-
.band, in the cottage, against which the hot-
test fire of the enemy's artillery was directed,
probably because it was distinguished &om
the other houses by a tiled roof. Several m-
nades breaking through the roof set the floor
on fire. Having carefully covered up her par
tient, and, as it were, buried him in the bed
clothes, she ran out for a pail of water, extin-
guished the fire, and again directed her atten-
tion to the beloved object of her anxiety. 1^
found him, to her great joy, in a profuse pers-
piration: but the incessant shower of baHs
rendered her abode more and more dangerous.
A twelve pounder fell close to the bed of her
husband, out without doing him the slightest
injury. Resolved to die with him, she lay
down by his side, and thus awaited tl»eir
common fate. Noon arrived, and this Ume
the Prussians had driven back the enemy in-
to the fortress. She was earnestly entruted
to provide for her safety, as it was impossiUe
to tell whether the enemy might not attempt
a fresh sortie. She, however, scorned eveiy
idea of removing to a place of security herselr,
unless she could save her husband also ; and
thou^ the removal of the patient was deem-
ed impracticable, she nevertheless determined
on this haaardous and only way of ensuriag
his safety.

Having tied his hands and legs, to prevent
him from moving and taking cold, she laid
him, closely wrapped up with bed and bed-
ding, in a cart covered with boards, in which
she took her stand, and looked at him every
minute. She slowly pursued her course to-
wards Schmarsau, but scarcely had she Idit
Nosswitz, when the beseiged began to fire
from the fortress in that direction. The balls
fiew thickly about the cart, and the affiighted
lad who drove, took belter, s<»netime8 under
it, and sometimes \mder the horses. She was
fortunate enough to escape this dai^er with-
out injury, and arrived with her patient at
Schmarsau, which was already thronged with
wounded, and applied f<»' a loc^;ing at the first
cottage. The mistress oi the house, whose
husbuid had died of a nervous fever, fell oa
her like a fury, turned the horses* heads, and
protested, with many bitter execrations, that
she should not cross her threshold. In this
desperate situation our heroine had recourse
to a decisive expedient Almost beside her-
self, she drew her husband's sword, and point-

BIAZRRE AMONG TBI NSW BOOKS.

1«6

ing it to the womMi's breast, deolared, that
she would nm It through her heart, unless
die nnmediatciy admitted her husband. Ter*
rified at this unexpected menace, the other
complied, and the patient was carried into
^ iMHise whidi haa previously contained fif-
teen wounded. His wife, howerer, perceiy^
with horror, that her beloved charge manifest-
ed not the* least sign of life. The bystanders
advised her to give herself no farther trouble
about him, and offered to lay him out ibr
dead. To this she positively refused to agree ;
and laying him in the bed, she mcessantly
rubbed his stiffened body, and with a tea-
spoon administered some wine, the only med-
icine within her reach. With the following
morning, the expiring spark began to revive,
and her joy was unbounded. She continued
ber attentions, and in a few days had the in-
expreflsible satisfaction to see him out of dan-
ger. She now obtained a distinct apartment
of her landlady, who began to behave to her
with more kindness than at first. WTien her
husband was sufficiently convalescent, she
returned with him to Neumarkt, to complete
his recovery. Unfortunately, during her ab-
soence, one of their two children, a fine boy,
was taken ill, and him her maternal care was
unaUe to save. In the beginning of Februa-
ry, her husband again returned to resume his
perflous duty with his battalion before Glogua.

^iimt among \\t |ttfe §o0b.

■NOUAH HCMOra«-r« OF -THB XVIII.

o«iM-ru«Y.

— The Harpers have published, under this
title, a very handsome volume of 297 pages,
embracing the course of lectures deliveiW by
Tliackeray last winter in our principal cities.
Copioiis notes are appended. We took occa-
skm frequently to speak favorably of these
lectures while they were in course of delivery :
and now that they are published, we see no
reason to change our views touching their
merits. They are written in an off-hand,
easy style, with frequent dashes of humor and
ptUios : while now and then, of course, there
ire touches of the smooth satire for which their
author is distinguished.

It is difficult to say which of these lectures
we prefer. The first, on Swift, unquestion-
ably is the most elaborate. It is also, though
severe upon the Dean of St Patridc's, to our
mind, eminently just. He was, morally and
socially, at least, not exemplary, whatever he
may have been intellectually. We quote some
pasBaces, touching the singular story of the
tkans interchanges with Stella and Vanessa,
kaving all that relates to him as a writer and
politician for such as purchase the vdume in
notioa^—

'*We have spoken aboat the men, and
Swift's bdiaviour to them; and now it be-
hoves us not to forget that there are certain
other persons in the creation who had rather
intimate relations vrith the fpreat Dean. Two
women whom he loved and imured are known
by every reader of books so nmiliarly that if
we had seen them, or if they had been rela-
tives of our own, we scarcely could have
known them better. Who has not in his
mind an image of Stella ? Who does not love
her? Fair and tender creature: pure and
affectionate heart ! Boots it to you now that
you have been at rest for a hundred and
twenty years, not divided in death from the
cold heart which caused yours, whilst it beat,
such fkithful pangs of love and grief— boots
it to you now, that the whole world loves and
deplores you? Scarce any man, I believe,
ever thought of that grave, that did not cast
a flower of pity on it, and write over it a
sweet epita|m. Gentle lady! — so lovely, so
loving, so unhappy. You have had countless
champions, millions <^ manly hearts mourn-
ing for you. From generation to generation
we take up the fond tradition of your beauty ;
we watch and follow your story your bright
morning love and purity, your constancy,
your grief, your sweet martyrdom. We knew
your legend by heart. You are one of the
saints of English story.

And if SteUa's love and innocence is charm^
ing to contemplate, I will bbj in spite of ill-
usage, in spite of drawbacks, in spite of mys*
terious separation and union, of hope delayed
and sickened heart — in the teeth of Vanessa,
and that little episodical aberration which
plunged Svrift into such woeful pitfalls and

auagmires of amorous perplexity — in spite of
lie verdicts of most women, I believe, who,
as fkr as my experience and ocmversation
goes, generally take Vanessa's part in the
controversy — in spite of the tears which Swift
caused Stella to shed, and the rocks and bar^
riers which fate and temper interposed, and
which prevented the pure course of that love
from running smoothly : the brightest part of
Swift's story, the pure star in that dark and
tempestuous life of Swift's, is his love for
Hester Johnson. It has been my business,
professionally of course, to go through a deal
of sentimental reading in my time, and to ac-
quaint myself with love-making, as it has
been described in various languages, and at
various ages of the world; and I know of
nothing more manly, more tender, more ex-
quisitely touching, than some c^ these brief
notes, written in what Swift calls ' his little
language' in his journal to Stella. He writes
to her night and morning often. He never
sends away a letter to her but he begins a
new one on the same day. He cannot bear to
let go her kind little hand as it were. He
knows that she is thinking of him, and long-

1«

hw fiir falm fkr %w%j in Dvblin yonder. He
takes her letters from wider his pillow and
ti^ks to them, fiuniliarij, paternally, with |
fend epithets and pretly caresses — as he |
would to the sweet and artless creature who
lored him. * Stay,* he writes one morning —
it is the 14th of December, 1710^<Stay, I
will answer s<Rne of your letters this meming ,
in bed — let me see. Come and aopear little
letter! Here I am, says he, ana what say
you to Stella this morning fresh and lasting?
And OMi Stdla read this writing without
hurting her dear eyes?' He goes on, after
more kind prattle and fond whispering. The
dear eyes shine clearly upon him then — the
food angel of his life is with him and bless-
rag htm. Ah, it was a hard fate that wrung
from them so many tears, and stabbed piti-
lessly that pure and tender bosom. A hard
fbte : but would she have changed it ? I have
heard a woman say that she would have takoi
Swift's cruelty to have had his tenderness.
He had a sort of worship for her whilst he
wounded her. He speaks of her after she is
gone ; of her wit, of her kindness, of her
graoe, of her beauty, with a simple love and
reverence that are indescribably touching:
in contemplation of her ^^oodness his hard
heart melts into pathos : his cold rhyme kin-
dles and glows into poetry, and he foils down
on his knees, so to speak, before the angel,
whose life he had embittered, confesses bis
own wretchedness and unworthiness, and
adores her with cries of remorse and love : —

' When oo my tiokly oooch I lay,
Impftti«nt both of night uid day.
And groaning in nnmardy ttrnint.
Called every power to ease my pains.
Then Stella ran to ray relief,
With cheerfal face and inward ^nef.
And tlntiigh by Heaven's severe decree
She suffers hourly more than me.
No cruel master could require
From slaves employed for daily hire,
What Stella, by her friendship warmed.
With vifpr and delight performed.
Now with soil and sileot tread,
Unheard she moves about my bed :
My sinking spirits now supplies
With cordials in her hands and eym.
Best pattern of true friends! beware;
Fou pay too dearl? (or 3rour care
If while yoor lendemeas aecorea
My life, it must endanger yours :
For such a (bol was never (bund
Who pulled a palace to the ground.
Only to have the ruiiie made
Materials ibr a heiae decayed.*

<< One little triumph Stella had in her life-
one dear little piece of injustice was performed
in her &yor, for which 1 confess, for my part,
I cannot help thanking fttte and the Dean.
That other person was sacrificed to her — ^that
— that younp woman, who lired five doors
from Dr. Swift*^ todgings in Bury-street, and
who flattered him, uid ma(fo k^e to him in

an outrageous manner — Ti
thrown over.

Swift did not keep Stella's letters to him in
reply to those he wrote to her. He kept Bo-
lingbroke's, and Pope's, and Hariey's, and
Peterborough's : but Stdla * very oarefullj,'
the Lives say, kept Swift's. Of course : tint
is the way of the worid : and so we camot
tell what her style was, or of what sort were
the little letters which the Doctor placed there
at night, and bade to appear fhnn unchr Ins
pillow of a morning. But in Letter IT. of
that famous collection he describes his kklgtng
in Bury-street, where he has the first ^oSr, a
dining-room and bed-chamber, at eight shil-
liiigs a-week : and in Letter YT. he says «he
has visited a lady just come to town,' whose
name somehow is not menUoned ; and in Let-
ter Yin. he enters a query of SteUaV-
*' What do you mean * that boards near me,
that I dine with now and then V What the
deuce ! You know whom I have dined with
every day since I left you, better than I do."
Ofcourse die does. Of course Swift has not
the slightest idea of what she means. But in
a few letters more it turns out that the Doctor
has been to dine * gravely' with a Mrs. Yan-
homrigh: then that he has been to * his neigh-
bour :' then that he has been unweU, and
means to dine for the whole week with his
neighbour ! Stella was quite right in her pre-
visions. She saw from the very first nint
what was going to happen ; and scented Ya-
nessa in the air. The rival is at the Dean's
feet The pupil and teacher are reading to-
gether, and drinking tea together, and goii^
to prayers together, and learning Latin to>
getner, and conjugating amot amas, amavi to-

§ ether. The little language is over for poor
tella. By the rale of grammar and the
course of conjugation, does not omort come
after miio and amasf

ThebvesofCadenusandYanessa yon may
peruse in Cadenns's own poem on Uie subject,
and in poor Yaneesa's vehement expostnlatory
verses and letters to him, she adores him, im-
plores him, admires him, thinks him something
god'like, and only prays t^be admitted to he
at his feet. As they . are bringing him home
from church, those divine feet of Dr. Swift's
are found pretty often in Yanessa's parlour.
He likes to be admired and adored, H y prdd
gout. He finds Miss Yanhomrigh to be a wo-
man of great taste and spirit, and beauty and
wit, and a fortune too. He sees her every day ;
he does not tell Stella about the business: ira-
til the impetuous Yanessa becomes too fond of
him, until the doctor is quite frightened hy
the young woman's ardour, and coidbunded
Irr fcwrwarmdi. Ife wanted to marry nehfaer
of them — that I believe was the truth ; but if
he had not married SteHa, Yanesssa would
have had him in spite of himsdf. When he
went back to Ireland, his Ariadne, boI con-

BIZARRX AMOHQ TBI NBW BOOKa

lar

\ biography, Scott atkjs that
ke, of Dublin, has a lock of

teat to nnaiii io bar isle, pnraoad the ftici-
dre Dean. In vain he protested, he vowed, be
soothed and bullied ; the news of the Dean's
iDtiriaffe with Stella at last came to her, and
it killed her — she died of that passion.

'* And when she died, and Stella beard that
Svift had written beautifully regarding her,
"■ that does not surnrise me,*^ said Mrs. Stella,
*' ibr we all know tne Dean could write beau-
tified] j about abroomstick." A woman— « true
voman ! Would you have had one of tbem
Ibreive the other ?

Inanotein bis
his friend Dr. Tuke

Stella's hair* enclosed in a paper by Swift, on
which are written in the Dean's hand, the
words: *'Ofiiv atromon'sAatr." An instance,
says Scott, of the Dean's desire to veil his
feelings under the mask of (miical indifference.

See the various notions of critics ! Do those
words indicate indifference or an attempt to
hide feeling ? Did you ever bear or read four
words more pathetic ? Only a woman's hair,
only love, only fidelity, only purity, innocence,
beauty ; only the tenderest heart in the world
stricken and wounded, and passed away now
out of reach of pangs of hope deferred, love
insulted, and pitiless desertion ;— only that
lock of hair left : and memory and remorse,
for the guilty, lonely wretch, shuddering over
thepave of his victim."

tiSe notes which are given in connexion
with these passages are extremely interesting ;
but we have not space for extracts. Besides,
thev appear mostly in Scott's life of Swift.

Thackeray thus admirably expresses his
ideas toucbmg Congreve's plays.

'* I have read two or three of Congreve's
^vs over before speaking of him ; and my
uemigs were rather like those, which I dare-
say most of us here have had, at Pompeii,
looking a Sallust's house and the relics of an
orgy, a dried wine-jar or two, a charred sup-
par-table, the breast of a dancing girl pressed
against the ashes, the laughing skuU of a jester,
t perfect stillness around a^mt, as the Cice*
rooe twangs his moral, and the blue sky shines
calmly over the ruin. The Congreve muse is
dead, and her song ohoaked in Time's ashes.
We oze at the skeleton, and wonder at life
which once revelled in its mad veins. We take
the skull up, and muse over the frolic and dar*
iog, the wit, scorn, passion, hope, desire, with
which that empty bowl once fermented. We
think of the glances that allured, the tears
that melted, of the bright eyes that shone in
those vacant sockets ; and of lips whisper-
ing love, and oheeks dimpling with smiles,
tlttt once covered yon ghastly yellow
frame work. They used to call those teeth
pearls once. See ! there's the cup she drank
from, the ffold-chain she wore on her neck,
the vase which held the rouge for her cheek,
her looking-^ass, and the ^p she used to

danoeto. Inaieadof afeattwafinda^rftv^-
stone, and in place of a rnktreaa, a few haneB !
Reading in these idays now, is like shutting

your ears and lookinK at people daneiog^
What does it mean! the measures, the

grimaces, the bowing, shufflix^^d retreating,
the cavalier soul advancing upon those ladies
— those ladies and men twirling roond at the
ends in a mad galop, after which everybody
and the quaint rite is celebrated. Withoirt
the music we cannot undo^tand that comic
dance of the last century — its strange gravi^
and g^ty its deoonun or its indeeumm. It
has a iargon of its own quiet unlike life ; a
sort of moral of its own quite unlike life too.

I'm afraid it's a Heathen mystery, symbo-
lising a Pagan doctrine ; protesting, as the
Poropeians very likely were, assembled at their
theatre and laughing at their games^-as Sal-
lust and his friends, and their mistresses (mx)-
tested— crowned with flowers, with cups in
their hands, against the new, hard, ascetic
ideasnre-hating doctrine* whose gaunt di»-
ciples, lately passed over from the Asian shores
of the Mediterranean were ibr breaking the
£ur images of Venus, and flinging the altars
of Bacchus down.

I fancy poor Congreve's theatre is a temple
of Pagan delights, and mysteries not permitted
except anuHig heathens. I fear the theatre
cames down that ancient tradition and wor-
ship, as masons have carried their secret signs
and rites from temple to temple. When the
libertine hero cames off the beauty in the
play, and the dotard is laughed to scorn for hav-
mg the young wife : in the ballad, when the
poet bid bis mistress to gather roses while she
may, and warns her that old Time is still a-
flying: in the ballet, when honest Corydoa
courts Phillis undw the treillage of the paste-
board cottage, and leers at her over the head
of grandpapa in red stockings, who is oppw-
tunely asleep ; and when seduced by the invi-
tations of the rosey youth she comes forward
to the footlights, and thejr peribrm on each
other's tiptoes that pas which you know and
which is only interrupted by old grandpapa
awaking from his doze at the pasteboard dia-
lat (whether he returns to take another nap
in case the young get an encore): when Harle-
quin, splendid in youth, strength and agility,
arrayeain gold and a thousand colours, springs
over the heads of countless perils, leaps down
the throat of bewildered giants, and, daunt-
less and s|^endid, danoe danger down : when
Mr. Puncn, that godless okl rebel, breaks
every law and laughs at it with odious tri-
umph, oat wits his lawyer, bullies the beadle,
knocliB bis wife about ttie head, and hanss the
nangman,— Hlm't yon see in the comedy, in
the song, in the dance, in the ragged little
Punch's puppet-show, — the Pagan protest?
Does not it seem as if Life puts in its f^ea and
sings its oonmMitl Look bow the lovers

HZAIBX.

walk ftfid liold eMli other ^ brnds and whisper !
8ing8 the choras — **There is nothing like lore,
there is nothing like yoath, there is notbine
beMity of your spring time. Look ! how old
age tries to meddle with merry sport ! Beat
Imn widi his own cratch, the wrinkled old
dotard ! There is nothing fike youth, there is
nothing like beauty, there is nothing like
strengSi. Strength and valour win beauty
and youth. Be brave and conquer. Be young
and happy. Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy! Would
you know Segretto per esser fdice f Here it is
m a smiling mistress and a cup of Falernian."
As the boy tosses the cup and sings his song.
Hark ! what is that chaunt coming nearer and
nearer ? What is that drige which mU dis-
turb us ? The lights of the festival bum dim
— the cheeks turn pale — the voice quivers —
and the cup drops on the floor. Who is there?
Death and fate are at the gate, and th^ will
come in.*'

jwm. GOixjmnfm 01.0 fouio.

— Mr. J. Payne Collier writes a letter to the
London AtheniBumj under date of May 28th,
wherein heannounoes his having advanced an .
important step towards tracing the ownership
and history of his remarkable annotated and
amended folio. He says he has clear proof i
that it was in existence fifty years ago, and '
upon the foundation <^ this probably he .
thinks he can carry it back almost to the pe- |
riod when the volume was published. The ^
ikcts he offers are these : —

" John GUirrick Moore, Esq., of Hyde Park
Gate, (nephew to Sr John Moore, who fell at
Oorrunna, in Jan., 1809,) being in possession
(tf a copy of the 'Notes and Emendations'
founded upon my folio, 1632, happened to
show it to a friend of the name of Parry, re-
siding at St. John's Woods. Mr. Parry re-
marked, that he had once been the owner of a
folio, 1632, the margins of which were much
occupied by manuscript notes in an old hand-
writing ; and haviifg read my description of
the book, both externally and internally, and
having looked at the fac«simile which accom-
panied that description, he declared, without
a moment's hesitation, that this very copy of
the folio, 1632, had been given to him about
fifty years since, bv Mr. Gheorge Gray, a con-
nexion of his fomily — ^who, he believed, had
procured it some years before, from the libra-
ry of a Roman Catholic family of the name of
l^rkins of Ufton Court, Berkshire, one mem-
ber of which had married Arabella Fermor,
the heroine of the *Rape of the Lock.'

*' These particulars were, as kindly as
promptly, communicated to me by Mr. Moore,
with wlK>m I was not personally acquainted. —
and he urged Mr. Parry also to write to me
on the subject ; but that gentleman was pre-
vented from doing so by a serious fall, which
confined him to hii bed. Being, of ooorte,

moeh interested in the que^tioii, I soon afler
wards took an opportunity of introdwting mj-
selfto Mr. Moore; who, satisfied that Mr.
Parry had formerly been the proprietor of my
copy of the folio, advised me to call upon that
goitleman at his house, EQll Road, St. John's
Wood, — assurine me that he would by glad
to give me all *the information in his power.

** I was, I think, the first person whom Mr.
Parry saw i^ter his accident, — and in a loi^
interview, he repeated to me the statements
which he had previously made to Mr. Moore,
respecting the gift of Mr. Gray, half a century
ago, and his conviction of the identity of the
volume. He could not prove the &ci, bat he
had always understood and believed, that Mr.
Gray had become possessed of it on the dis-
persion of the library of the Perkins family, at
Ufton Court, and that it had been in his hutdi
some years before the concluaon of the last
century. Mr. Parry had himsdf had the cu-
riosity to visit Ufton Court about 1803 or
1804, when a Roman Catholic Priest, not less
than eighty years old, showed him tbe libra-
ry, and the then empty shelves, from which
the books had been removed.

" On referring subsequently to the * Magna
Britannia' of Lysons, under the head of
** Berk^ire," I found various particulars re-
garding the Perkins family at Ufton Court,
between 1635 and 1738, ; but I did not meet
with any mention of Thomas Perkins, whose
name, it will be remembered, is on the cover
of the folio, 1632, in question. The name of
the distinguished actor of the reigns of James
the First and Charies the First, was Richard
Perkins : and Ashrode's CoUect^ns, accord-
ing to Lysons, speak of a Richard Perkins as
the husband of Lady Mervin of Ufton Court
It is just possible that this Ridiard Perkins
was the actor : for although the ' Historia
Histrionica' tells us that he was buried at
Clerkenwell, that authority is by no means
final : just before it notices the death of Per-
kins, it speaks of Lowin having expired in
great povertv at Brentford, when we know
that this " player " (so designated in the r^
ister) was buried at St. Clement Danes,
Strand, on the 24th of August, 1653. How-
ever, it is a mere speculation that the Richard
Perkins who married Mervin may have been
the actor, — and I am not yet in possession of
any dates or other circumstances to guide
me.

** Having put in writing theparticulars with
which Mr. Parry had so unreservedly favour-
ed me, I took the liberty of forwarding them
to Mr. Moore, — and he returned the manu-
script with his full approbation as regarded
what had originally passed between himself
and Mr. Parry. After it was in type, I again
waited upon Mr. Parry, only three days a^
in order that I might read the proof to hmi
and introdnoe such additioBfl aad eoneotiaas

OUB WiaOOiT OOSSIP.

it»

18 h» willed to be made. They were few,
bat not Qnimportant ; and among them was
the fact (oonnnning the probability that Mr.
Qny had obtained this copy of the folio, 1632,
from the Perkins' library) that Mr Gray re-
sided at Newbury, not far from Ufton Court, —
a circumstance which Mr. Parry had previ-
oodr omitted. The connecting link between
the book and this library is, therefore, not
complete, — and we have still to ascertain, if
ire can, who was Thomas Perkins, and by
whom the notes and emendations were intro-
daced into the folio, 1632. A Francis Per-
kins died at Ufton Court in 1635. — and he
may have been the first purchaser, and owner,
of this second folio of the works of Shakes-
peare.

** At all erents, however, it is certain that
this very volume was for many years iif the
pofiseflsion of Mr. Parry (how he lost it he
knows not), — ^who obtained it from his con-
nciion Mr. George (3ray, of Newbury. Mr.
Parry was well acquainted with the fact that
rarioos leaves were wanting ; and he so per-
fectly recollects its state and condition, the
frequent erasures of passages, as well as the
band writing of the numerous mardnal and
other corrections, that when I asked him, just
before 1 wished him good morning, whether
be had any doubt on uke point of his previous
ownership, he answered me most emphatical-
ly in th^ words — *• I have no more doubt
about it than that you are sitting there/'

*• Snce writing what precedes, I am inform-
ed by a letter from a friend, who has just
made a search at I^ralds' College, that in the

Sgxee of the family of the Perkins of Uflon
rt, several members are named Thomas,
especially in the earlier dates, — but that lat-
terly Francis was the prevailing name. —
Richard Perkins, who married Lady Mervin,
•fa younger son, is not mentioned."

'* We would add. that Mr. Redfield, of New
York, has published the second part of the
Bew edition of Shakespeare's Works, amend-
ed and annotated in aco<H*dance with this ad-
mirable relic, and that the succeeding num-
bers will speedily follow. It will unquestion-
ably be the standard edition of Shakespeare,
and for all time.

•'JOHN RAIMOOt-^H OF ROAISIOKE.

—And other sketches of characters, including
WilKam Wirt, together with Tales of Real
life," is the title of an entertaining book,
from the pen of T. W. Thomas, Esq., author
of Clinton Bradshaw, which Mr. A. Hait, of
ottf city, has just published.

#ir Mccklg Gossip.

— The sculptors of Ch-eat Britain are to be
inrited to send in designs for the contem-
pbted monnment to the poet Moore.

— The MamiiMS of tfaa mottth hate mast ef
them, reached u& Puhumt, wbach oomes to
us from Stokes & Brother, Arcade, is certain*
a sterling publication : its success too, speaks
wdl, for the literary taste, of our people.
Godey is filled with its usual amovnt of various
reading, adapted to the ladies. The Ladies'
Keepsake for July, published in New York by
John S. Taylor, has many pleasing articles,
and a fine mezzotint, entiUed ** The hour be*
fore the Duel. " Hcayer and Qraham we have
not yet received, but both possess undoubted-
their usual amount of attraction.

— Several books remain on our table, unno-
ticed saving by announcement. They will
be attended to hereafter.

— It is said that Mr. George S. Hilliard. of
Boston, has a work in press, which will be
called A Year on the Coniinmt ; and which
gives the observation and thoughts of the
author during a residence in Europe.

— Putnam^s Magazine contains a very lively
and sparkling notice of musical matters, from
which we gather the following, touching cer-
tain operatic notables of the past and present.

"It is not our purpose to follow in detail
the flickering fortunes of the Astor Place
house. That, in connexion with copious re-
miniscences of the musical history of New-
York, will be done soon and at length, in these
pageK. But we cannot forget to mention
Salvi, the agreeable tenor, always much over-
rated ; Bettini ; Marini, the lm»o profondo;
Beneventano, the burly baritone, always
ready, willing, and happy — always enjoying
the oecasion of which he was an ornament
more than any one else : and Signora Patti's
II Segreto. Can the impartial muse omit
Biscaccianti's clock-work stockings in La
Sonnambvla^ or little Forti 's bootees, in every
thing? or the first night of Parodi's Norma,
Parodi who had been singing only second
in London, a fact known to most of the habitues
yet who was expected to develop into a re-
splendent prima donna by the magic of Astor
Place ? How sad was that failure ! How
the singer dwindled and dwindled in estima-
tion! How good her Lucrezia was! How
very bad every thing else ! How she starred,
one melancholy summer, through the interior
towns : and slipped back to Europe no one
knows precisely when nor how ! To our own
&ncy Stefianone was much the best singer
ever heard in that house. Indolent, luxur-
ious, Bacchic Steffanone, with the airy veil
over her voice, which, like delicate drapery
around a statue, made it only the lovelier !
Her Alice in Robert le Didblc was the best
thing we ever saw upon our operatic stage.
It was so full, so single, yet so ap^eciative
and ridi. How sad it was, whoi she lay
clinging to the cross and defying Mumbo-
Jumbo Marini who *' ditfigored or presented"

190

BIZARRB.

Bertram, to thli^ thst she wm presently go* '
ing to glide away into the mysterious wood i

and swig beer behind the scenes ! O \

Tempora! O Steffanone! What stories the!
OTofone tell of her. They even hinted s-^n—ff!
Then there w*s Bosio, frail and flower-like.
She was the **lady." She did evenr thmg
with an elegant naiveth that was admirable
when not out of place, which it was in Zer-
Una, one of her prettiest parts. It was a
mceful, and gay, and charming thing to hear
Bosio and to see her ; and we young America
IovckI the very front seals of the parquette
that we might worship our divinity at ease,
and show to our other and more domestic
divinities in the boxes and balconies that we
had all kinds of acquaintances and were sur-
charged with marvellous eiperiences. It was
the way of the world. We could not help it.
If Bosio glanced our way, why, perhaps she
remembered that bouquet, that oonboiimeTc,
Que seeds- jet «*Why shouldn't we have 2a
bonne fortune f

— Five thousand francs have been given in
Paris, as a pension, to the widow of the dis-
tinguished Orientalist M. Bumouf; and five
hundred francs to the mother of the celebrat-
ed Novelist, De Balsac.

— A correspondent informs the Editor of the
London Athetium, that the Pennsylvania Acad-
emy of Fine Arts, at Philadeldtua, have elect-
ed Sir Charlos Eastlake, Mr. Copley Fielding,
Mr. Dyce, Mr. Cousins, Mr. George Godwin,
Mr. J. P. Kniriit, Mr. Maclise, Sir Edwin
Landseer, Mr. Stanfield, and Mr. John Rus-
kin, honorary members of their body. The
Pennsylvania Academy is said to be the old-
est Art body in the United States.

— The private cabinet of coins belonging to M.
Rolin the famous lover of Numismatics just
dead, is announced for sale by auction about
the 18th of July next, by Messrs. Sotheby &
Wilkinson, of London.

— We gather the following musical extracts
from foreign papers :

Besides the collection of music belonging to
the late Earl of Falmouth disposed of not long
since in London, that nobleman's instruments
were also sold. The highest prices obtained
were 110^ for a violoncello by Straduarias, —
llOL for a violin by Guamerius, — and lOlL
for the late Kiesewetter's violin (also by
Guamerius). — * L'Epreuve ViUi^eoise,' a
comic opera by Desforges and Gr^try, has
just been revived at tn^ Opira Cormqus of
Paris, the instrumentation having been slight-
ly retouched for the occasion by M. Auber.
A Spanidi opera in three acts — * Maravilla,"
by M. Josi de Ciebra — ^was to be perfcnnned
at the Italian Theatre in Paris. The Gazzette
MmicaU also reviews at some length a Can^
tato by M. YaUdasioea, written by Orart

ocmniand for the birthday of the Princess of
Asturias.

— On the Evening of the 14ult., there was a
sale of books at Mackey's, which included
many valuable and curious works, formerly
in the library of John Bertram. The night
was hot, and the attendance thin, and in-
cluded few persons who could appreciate the
value of the scarce volumes offered for sale.
The prices, of course, were by no means what
they would have been, if the sale had been
fully announced, and a good descriptive cata-
logue had accompanied it — ^but there was
nothing of the kind. We observed Sir Hans
Sloane^ Histo Jamaica, a presentation copy
from the author : his catalogue of Jamaica
Plants, also a presentation copy : and books
that were presents from Edwards, Catesby,
Peter Colhnson and Gronovius — and some
more modern donors. The gem of the col-
lection, however, was a very fine copy of
Wilson's Ornithology, with the plates colored
by Wilson himself— this was a presentation
copy to William Bertram, with tne author's
autograph, and brought four dollars a vol-

debitors' Sans-S0ud.

ORAN-r THORBURN ANO HIS TMIRO ^ FK.

— Our old friend. Grant Thorbum, has Jnst
taken unto himself a third wife ! He writes
us aimouncing the fieict, and at the same tine
encloses an article from the Home Jowmd
which he desires us to print. We will
comply with the request, when space is
more abundant. Let us, meantime, congratn*
late bride and bridegroom, and wish Uiem
many happy years cSf wedded love. Grant
has twenty good years more to live, before he
is a hundred ; and the sunset of his life, from
all appearances, bids fair to be as warm and
genial as that of a fine August day.

New York 27th June, 1853
Friend Bxzarbb — If the enclosed is accq^
able, give credit to the Home Joitmd. Insert
three Yankee lasses, in place of two ; tar the
article in the Journal was in type, when I
was being buckled to the third edition. When
properly bound, gilt, and lettered, I think
the Yankee lass is the best article in all the
, domestic department. I speak from filty-6ix
I years experience, when I advise all bachel«n.
if they wish to begin to live, to catdi one cf
those neat articles, which they may find ran-
nine through the pumpkin-fields near Hart-
ford in Connecticut. I preach by examjk ;
having made a prize of one of (iiese only two
weeks ago, though in my eighty-first year ;
my wife is a comely lass of forty summers,
thus meeting me half-way ; she is two inchss

EDITORS' SANS^OUCL

191

tiJkr, and ftye pounds heft?ier ; so I UiinkoD

reflectioii, I have got the best of the bargain.

Thine sincerely,

Geant Thobbubw .

— The Hippodrome was to open on Thurs-
day eyening, and no doubt will cause an im-
mense excitement in our city. Gen. Welsh is
the manager, and such arrangements have
been made, as it is believed will give to the
entertainment extraordinary success. He
has imported riders and horses from Paris,
and all things have been secured without the
dightest regard to expense. The Hippo-
drome can be managed so as to be made an
amosement of a peifectly innocent character.
We hope and trust it will be. Our dever
young n-iend Mr. Richard B. Jones, has been
secured as Hippodrome Editor, and will
doubtless do peculiar honor to the post.

— Mb. Pbrham has stated a new Gift Enter.

Size, in connexion with the exhibition of
owarth's Grand National Panorama of the
Maimnoth Cave, Crystal Palace, Niagara
Falls, Ac. It comes m, too, at the Assembly
Buildings. The Panorama is to be exhili^
ited until the Fourth of Jul v, when the dis-
tribution of Gifts will take place. They
amount in value to $5,000, and a chance for
one G^ them may be secured, in addition to
thcT admission to the Panorama, bv purchas-
ing % fifty cent ticket A memorable Fourth
at the A^mbly Building will be that which is
approaching. Several exhibitions of the
Panorama will take place before the grand
and exciting distribution. We direct atten-
tion to the advertisement in our columns.

— Tbb BnccLET New Orleans Serenaders
do«e their delightful entertainments at Musi-
cal Fund Hall on the 30th.

— He. Sakford commences a new season
with hU Ethiopian Opera Troupe at the new
boofle, now preparing for them in Twelfth
streei.

— OoTTBCHALK, the excellent American pian-
ist, is in town, and was to give a concert on
Wedn^day evem'ng, at Sansom Street Hall.
Be stopped, we team, on account of a partic-
qIm* request to do so, from many of his friends
and admirers. He is en route for Cape May,
wbera it is possible the roaring surf of the
bench win suggest to him new Uiemes for the
eSerase of his genius. He still retains Mr.
Pratt as agent. In many respects Gottschalk
is tbe finest pianist we liave ever heard. We
hope, as we believe, he will return to us next
Antomn, and give as a series of concerts.

OOININO >A/ORO«.

— The liberty of coining words ought to be
uaed with great modesty. Horace, they say,
paye but two, and Vir^only one to the Lat-
in tongue, which was squeamish enoush not
to swallow those, even from such hands.

without reluctance. See Sketehes and es*
says on Yariout Subjects, by Launcelot Tem-
ple, Esq., Dublin, 1770, at page 156. The
author says ** It is the easiest thing imanna-
ble to coin words. The most ignorant <» the
Nobility are apt to do it every day." — Quere
—Who coined Nobility?

NOBI.K •TOOK OF Ol-O MORTAI_l-rV.

— Sir Walteb Scott savs in his Introduction
to Old Mortdityy that he had a son, John
Patterson, who settled at Baltimore, in Amer-
ica. This John made a large fortune there,
and had a son who mamed Marianne, daugh-
ter of Richard Caton, Esq. A daughter of
this pair married Jerome Bonaparte, and af-
ter her separation from him married Monsieur
Serrurier, the French Consul at Baltimoi*e. —
Marianne Caton survived her husband, and
afterwards intermarried with the late Mar-
quis Wellesley, being his second wife. What
would Old Mortality have said, as he pored
among the neglected grave-stones in Scotland,
had he foreseen that the widow of his grand-
son was to become an English Marchioness,
sister-in-law of the Duke of Wellington ; and
his grand- daughter Queen of Westphalia, and
sister-in-law <^ the Emperor Napoleon ?

■UMU -rOWNSKNO.

— This eminent merchant and excellent man
died at his residence in Union Square, New
York, last Sunday. He was connected with
many of the most brilliant enterprizes connect-
ed with the Stale and city of New York, and
his loss will be severely felt in the business as
well as the social walks of that proud city. —
Mr. Townsend commenced busmess in 1807,
in New York. He was, until within a very
diort time, a partner of the house of Nevins,
Townsend & Co. He leaves a large and ex-
ceedingly clever family.

SOIS/IIS/IKR souo.

— A new correspondent sends us the Mow-
ing:—

A Bundle op As-bs. — " The light <rf other
days is filled," as the whale said when he
heard that people had taken to burning lard oiL

" I left tnee where I found thee, love," as
the man said who was unable to pull his
sweet- heart out of the swamp.

'* Cool and collected," as tne man said who
huddled himself up in a snow-bank.

** Come, rest in this bosom, my own strick-
en deer,'* as the man said who was eating
venison steaks.

** Railroads annihilate tame and spare not
to mention a large number of passengers."
says Theodore Hook.

— Leigh Hunt, after giving an aocoont of the
frtezing of a poor woman to death, who had
been mused admittanee to a number of hou-
ses, adds— *' It is snrprisiDg how few Christ*

192

HZABBE.

ians there are, conaderiBg the number of
them."

— Mr. Christopher Crawfisb is respectfully
informed that there is another Irish family as
old as that of O'Rion, — as is proved by Vir-
gil, book 2, lines 311, 312.

— " Jam proximus ardet.

— **Ucalegon."
O'Callaghan flares up next.

— Havb wb a Bajioon among us? — On
Thursday week, as Price, Sturgess & Robin-
son ^s menagerie was crosing the Green Moun-
tains, in Vermont, one of the w^^gons was ac-
cidentally upset, and an old baboon, who has
been for years attached to the company, made
his escape, and had not at the latest intelli-
gence been caught, although frequently seen.
The various contradictory accounts of his
whereabouts have made the question — *' Have
we a baboon amongst us ? a most exciting
one among the Green Mountain boys.

— The following profound paragraph lately
appeared in a daily paper in this city : —

" The * Seven Ages of Man ' better known
perhaps, than any other portion of Shakes-
peare s multitudinous creations, is said not
to be an original idea. The trustees of the
British Museum have recently acquired a
rare and curious impression from a wood
block, representing the seven ages of man in
a series of quaint figures, in the costumes of
the fifteenth centunr — one hundred years bet
fore the birth of wiakespeare."

Is there any engraver now living who
would find the slightest difficulty in engrav-
ing figures in the dress worn one hundred and
fifty years ago ?

KRAWFISM-IANA.

— '* The high school examination wUl begin
on the 5th of July."

Some of the folks who get high on the 4th
of July, will be examined on the 5th at the
Mayor's office.

— You flat'ter me, as the clean dickey said to
the smoothing iron, as it passed over.
BueiNsee is/ieis/ia.

— Col. Maurice sticks to his desk at No.
123, Chesnut street, despite the hot weather.
He will, however, unquestionably, soon be
rolling over in the surf at the Capes, or at
Mewport In the meanwhile, the best of ev-
erything in the stationery line may always
be found at his place.

— Beautiful dressing-cases, writing-desks,
port-monies, indeed everything in the fancy
and toilet goods way may be purchased of F.
H. Smith, Arch street, below Sixth.

— The Music trade of Philadelphia has rapid-
ly increased within a few years past, and will
now compare favorably with that of New
York. Toe fires that a year or two since de-
vasted so large a portion o£ Chestnut St. re-

sulted in some advantage to the appetnuiceof
oar city and seems to proved the old adage
that, '' Its an ill wind tnat blows nobody any
good." Among the new and spacious Doild-
ings erected on the ruins of the past, is
Swaim's Buildings, standing on the site of
" Bamum's Museum." The middle store of
those comprising the block has been well fit-
ted up by J E. Gould and there now can be
found at 194 Chestnut St. a stock of Pianos,
Music Books, Sheet Music and Musical Mer-
chandize, not excelled by any in the United
States.

Our old friend and much esteemed fellow
citizen, A. Fior after upwards of twenty
years of Music trade, disposed of his stock of
music, plates and copyrights, to Mr. J. £.
Gould, about six months since. The long ex-
perience of Mr. Fiot not only in the music
trade of this countrv. but of Europe, rendering
his acquaintance with the musical literature of
the world, perfect would cause his suspension
business a severe loss to the public were we
not assured that he is active in his efforts to
impart the information he possesses to his
successor ; so that customers may rely upon
him with as much confidence as upon Mr. F.
Mr. Gould, also, is no stranger to the busi-
ness. He has been for several years in the
music trade in New York, — ^recently of the
firm of Gould & Berry of that city. He has
also been known for many years as a talented
and popular composer, and has compiled nu-
merous collections of Sacred and Secular mu-
sic. His knowledge of the wants of the mu-
sic public, especially of Seminaries and pri-
vate schools, — he having been for many yeare
a most successful teacher — renders his <^b-
lishment worthy of the patronage of the
South and West. The arrangements between
Mr. G. and other publishers are of the most
liberal kind, and all that is wanted by Pro-
fessor, Amateur, or Scholar, will be found at
his store.

His arrangements are such as will enable
Mr. G. to furnish dealers and Seminaries, with
the works of all the largest dealers in New
York and Boston, at the same prices at which
they would be charged, were they to order di-
rectly of these publishers.

There will, therefore, be two great advan-
tages derived by purchasing from Mr. G.

First. The expense of freight from New
York and Boston will be saved ; and

Second. Much time will be gained, and
the Music deliverable to customers three or
four days sooner.

The long experience of Mr. Fiot as a dealer,
the many years practice of Mr. Gould as a
composer, combined with an untiring industry
and energetic enterprise, presents to the mu-
sical public facilities for the furtherance of
their objects unsurpassed by thoBe to be foand
in any other city.

VERNON; OR, THE BRAMA OF LIFE.

193

fOK no irUK KMPCKO

■ ATITRDAT, jri7I«T 9, 1853.

VERNON; OR, THE DRAMA
OF LIFE-*

CHAPTER IX.

Mr. St Clair led the disconsolate party into
his rag room, and endeavored to cheer them
br assnming an air of confidence, he felt not.
while they were in the act of being seated,
the door opened, and in rushed Peter and
Maiwet The children, who thought the
worfi and all of them^ evinced actual joy,
while Mrs. Vernon and Alice were really glad
to see them.

•'Come, Peter, old friend," exclaimed Mr.
^ Clair, " you sit down here; we are not
quite as comfortable as we once were, but no
matter, we are at least all together."

" Why, look here, Mr. St. Clair, we all have
oor ups and downs. I have had downs, my
ops are to come ; but there is no use of repin-
ing, and so you see, Maggy and myself have
hid a little talk together — "

"0, Sally, tell your dream, your dream,"
was touted by the children.

"There, she is at her charms again — about
t spider, T suppose."

"No such thing; now listen — ^I dreamt
that Mr. St. Clair — ah, there he sits— I
dreamt that I saw him dressed up as a law-
yer, and that he was sitting on that very pile
of nga reading a huge sheet of paper, filled with
straoffc characters, when all of a sudden, I
saw me heap of rags open, and great bags
of gold tumbled out. Feter, let us look un-
der this heap, I know they are there."

««Hdd your tongue, won't you."

"Indeed, Margaret," remarked Mr. St.
CItir, *■ your dream is a strange one, perhaps
moreao than you are aware."

" Wen, Mag^, now out with your business,
iDdktusbe^."

"Madam, Peter and me, that is me and
Peter, come here on some business. Peter
arid— no— I said — ^well, there's no use of
ttUdng, we want to lend you some money, —
that's it, and there's the purse, I knit on pur-
pose to put it in."

" Why, Margaret, this is full."

"Clmck, Madam."

"And this for me?"

•"Andthecbildt^n."

iisi.

<' I cannot take it"

" O, madam, do not say that; Peter, will
be o£fended, I will be offended— do take it, it
will make us so happy ; I know yon most
want it."

" Indeed we do, but—"

" Borrow it, madun, do borrow it."

" Well, Margaret, I will, for I know I will
shortly be able to return it. This kindneas
overpowers me."

"Dear Margaret," exclaimed Alioe, throw-
ing her arms around her neck, << how I do love
you for this."

" Now dont, Alice, don't, — I will cry next,
I know I will."

'* And so, Peter, you think Robert a big
boy, — ^but hark — I hear the clock strike, it is
time te resume our labor. To-morrow, Pe-
ter, you and Margaret come and dine wtth us ;
it is a holyday, and it will afford our little
friends much pleasure, particularly if Marga-
ret were to dream to-night."

" 0, that she will, — ^na^, I insist upon her
dreaming, it is only for this occasion ; so fare-
well."

Thus they parted, and we ask (^ oar read-
ers the indulgence of the elapse of six years
between this and the next chapter. Many
changes, many events, — ^bat we will not an-
ticipate.

CHAPTER X.

■'Time hurries cm

WKh a rofllitlMB, nnranltttDC ■treMB."

Blair

Six years seems but a small space in the
callendar of a man's life, yet how maay chan-
ges, how many events, — some of a {Measiaff,
others of a startling diaracter, — may mark
these few years. They have rolled awajF—
children Mve become men and women, the
wrinkle on the brow of age has become more
deep, more frirrowed, — eol things, nve the
face of nature, change with time.

Our scene opens in the bar-room of a very
clean neat public house, situated at the con-
junction of Broad street and the Ridge Road,
Philadelphia. Ev^ything in and about it
beiqpoke the sober landlord and tidy landlady.
The former entered the room, and seeing the
latter b^nd the bar, thus addressed her : —

" Now, Mrs. P., I must insist upon it, the
man is a gratkman, say what you will."

" Bah ! Mr. Peter, how can you distmgnish
a genUeman that dont know the first prind-
idesofone?"

" Mrs. P., my wife, you are personal : it is
true, this strai^ier looks a little the worse Ibr
wear; ah ! we all look so, particularly we
married ones, — ^it's too bad."

«' What's too bad? Out with it, I know
you mean something. ' '

" Well, I intended to say, it is not too had
that matrimony diould so change us,"

If4

MZARRB.

«Bah! Mr.P., voa are a fool, nor haye
yea any reasoe to mid fault withmj conduct.
I have been a true wife, and I never would
have had you if I had not seen you when I
tried that title charm. It is true, you look>
ed a little like Dr. Faustus, but conjuration
will change the likeness a little."

''Mrs. P., — ^but no matter, you have been
a very good wife, apart from yonr seeing M
many ghosts, upsetting salt-cellars, divirg
into tea-grounds, and sticking pins in can-
dles : and then our business has prospered
so.'*

** Indeed it has : then there is that good,
sweet Alice, kind Mrs. Vernon, and the diil-
dren ; only think, thpre is Robert, a youns
gentleman, James and Anna, and all so f<ma
of us."

** And, Mrs. P. , let me remind you of anoth-
er. You are very apt Mrs P., to think of
every one before you look at home. Mrs. P.,
have you forgoten that we have a child, an
angel hoy. It is true, he has the mark of a
spider on his shoulder, but that don't show ?"

"Forget our little Charley? no indeed;
and Peter, do you know I last night had a
dream?"

** Now, Mrs. p., once more let me advise
you to be still, — ^you are now touching upon
ticklish grounds. I am content, Mrs. P.,
with your nonsense when it does not come
near our boy. You may place chicken bones
over the door, you may nail old horse-shoes
to the kitchen door, you may cut up house
leeks to stuff your shoes with, you may enter
the bed-room backwards, do all sorts of
things, but I will not aUow you to dream
about our boy. I will be master in my own
house, BOW mark that. Nay, Mrs. P., you
have death watches enough in the house to
set up an establishment, — an estaUishment
for the purpose of selling vratches for cast, or
trading them for ill omen'd crickets, or won-
derfol spiders."

" Mr. P. , you are a downright brute. You
are dull, stupid and ignorant; you know
nothingof the mysterious operations of na-
ture. Did not the great horosoope man tell
us that a great change would come over our
dreamoflS[t,eh?"

**Yes, but a much greater one came over
his, for the last I heard of him he was taken
up and sent to prison for a vile swindler and
imposter."

" No matter, I had the dream. Butabout
this stranger, this gentleman, as you caU
him."

<*Hnali, — ^whoeomeshere? Ah, it is the
very ihan. oar new lodger. Good morning,
sir,— <how did you deep last night, sir ?"

** ToloraUy, <ndy totorably, I was fever-
ish."

<«8*r^y^ Betep,: I have seen that &oe be-
fore. •♦, ■ w .

" Yes, in your dreams."

'* I think you told me, landbrd, that Ifrs. i
Vernon lived in that beaatiliil house yonder I" i

"Yes sir."

" Delightftil property, beautiful and exten-
sive pleasure grocmds. And they say sbe is
richr'

" 0, yes, she inherited a vast property |
some six years ago."

" Peter,— it is,— it is—" !

" Who, — what— bless my soul— but it ia — i
MaiUand !" ,

The stranger, who, in foct, was Maithmd, ;
had stepped toward ^he window, and alter \
glancing his eye for a moment down the,
road, a&ed if any one had enquired for lum. I
" You know my name it is Brown." |

" What a lie ! — Oh, yes, sir, I know your |
name : no one has been here. i

" Wdl, if they should call, I will be back in
a few moments ; bid them be seated, aad
await my return. By the way, landlocd,
who lives at the manor house with Mrs. Ver-
non?"

"Mr. St Clair, and Mr. Howard. idK> is
going to marry Alice. Ah ! you start ! |

•* Did I ? — that name,— I—I knew one by 1
that name ; and so they are going to get mar-
ried?

*Yes."

" Well, I win walk down the lane."

No sooner had Mailand left the room thaa
Peter, half frantic, fastened the door, and
sinking down upon a chair, overcome with
dread, exclaimed ; — " The devil's come back,
villainy's afloat! 0! but he is a desperate
villain ; there is mischief brewing !"

" Yes, for the yeast last night woeldhit
rise a bit."

" We must keep our four eyes on him»
Mrs. P.

" Yes, and these ten fingers and thumbs^
too."

"No Mrs. P., no, be not too extravagant ;
such luxuries as your finger nails attd tha|
excdlent tongue of yours cannot be wasted
strangers. Keep them, my dear, far
tic uses."

" You are a brute ; but go to your
I must to mine,"

" Take care of that spider, Mrs. P.,'
there it crawls."

Peter enjoyiiu; the fright of his wifo, fbl«
lowed her out of the room, crying with a load
voice : — " beware the spider, the death watchi
the cricket."

CHAPTER XL

"And fMnat long pMt of Jot and Pola»
Ouie \tSldoiing o'er hit ■cm brmhu^

Mrs. Vernon having, without aoy cBAoot
ty, proved the vUidity of the will, had t^^
possessbn of the property, and was now *^

stedo^

doDaeti

■ lllll ■! II I

VERNON; OR, TUE I^AMA OF LIFE.

195

in what wis called the old manor house. It
Ddigbt be well to explain the nature of the dis-
rate in relation to the property, and why the
beirs of ber uncle, those whom the law would
baT6 recognized if there had been no will,
were depriyed of their share. It appears
when Bejnold St Clair died, and by the wav,
he wag a Strang eccentric character, a wild
dissipated relation, who had been living with
him, recorded a will which the deceased had
made in his &vor, some ten years previous to
his death. Two witnesses, and tne lawyer
who drew up the last will, reversing the first,
tad leaving the whole bulk of his property to
Mrs. Vernon, came forward and gave evi-
dence to this fact, but no will was found. —
The matter, therefore, was held in abeyaneet
coDunissioners were appointed by the court,
and a general search was made for the lost
vilL The claimant to the property on the
iirst win was suspected of making way with
the second but its subsequent discovery prov-
ed bis inDocence. The will had been hid
away by old Mr. St. Clair in a closet a-
moog all kinds of rubbish, and which found
their way to the old room where the will was
fiwod by Mrs. Vernon's father, as related.

We now convey our readers to a «)lendidly
famished parlor, in the old manor nouse : —
with elegance was blended all the pleasing
productions of art, and the tables were loaded
with the choicest productions of the best au-
thors of the day. On the occasion were as-
mnbled together the family, in addition to
which were Mr. Howard, the artist, and Mr.
Gilbert. Mr. St. Clair was seated at a table
with Robert, James and Anna, Mr. Howard
and Alice were at another, discussing the
hetoties of Italy, while the former displayed
tbeu to her view, sketched with his own
hand. Mrs. Vernon, and Mr. Gilbert, who
WMnow their neighbor, adviser and friend,
were talking over matters appertaining to the
estate. We c<»nmence the conversation with
4e latter:—

''And so, Mrs. Vernon; you have purchas-
ed tbe Briar farm r

"Tea, it was the birth place of my poor
^wband^and on that account I bought it."

And have yot heard nothing from him
■acer

"* Ko, I traced him to New Orleans, and af-
ter tbat all traces have been lost, the adver-
^KKments unanswered."

'* And Maitland, the companion of his jour-

/'He was taken up at Cincinnati, and was
tried and convicted for swindling. I have
l»eard that he is at liberty."

*' My poor husband."

** One thing, madam, is calculated to render
«itbsoefioe,nay, his very loss, less afflicting
to7<><^ is the fact that m, Vernon has never
ccBMBitted an act of dishonor."

'* Thank hearen for that, — his name is yet
imstained I"

* • • • *

*' Alice, how can you say so ? I tell you
that the scenery is lovely, the climate delight-
full ; the nights, Oh, the nights are a panSUse
in disguise."

" I don't care, Howard, ours is equally
beautiful ; the climate in every respect supe-
rior, and as for nights, what can be more
lovely than even this — ^look out? how the
moon shines, how the stars twinkle, and lis-
ten, you can hear the water falling over the
dam at Fairmount, sounding for all the worid
like the music you once spoke about as accom-
panying the growth of flowers. "

" Why, ^ce, you have grown quite poet-
ical."

'' But, Howard, you know what you prom-
ised to- night, ^Kjome, mother, Mr. Gilbert,
grand pa, all, come listen to Mr. Howard's
adventures at Naples."

'* Oh, it is romantic, I assure you, for truth
is strai^zer than fiction. Well, to my inci-
dent. I had been about a week in Naples ;
my dwelling was at the foot of Vesuvius, in
one of those delightful villas which border on
the Gulf of Isdiia. One night I was startled
from my sleep by a sharp, sudden shock. I
flew to the window, a blood-red brightness
glared into the apartment, and lit up all the
sky ; a hoarse hurricane howled, a snower of
fire was falling. I at once perceived that I
was about to witness one of those awful erup-
tions of which I had so often read, and longed
to witness. Scarcely had I time to hurry on
my dress and fling my mantle over me, for
the stairs trembled and cracked at each step.
I darted into the street. Oh, it was terrible
to behold the whole population of a mighty
city outporing in wild confusion upon the
heaving earth, between long rows of edifices
whose towering walls swung to and fro above
their heads, like taU trees reeling in the tem-
pest. Before me hurried two unprotected fe^
males, heedless, helpless. I caught them by
the arm. I observed a path leading to the
sea. I took it, and led them with me. A
fisherman had just put ofi" his boat to seek
the safety of the opposite shore. I plunged
inU) the wave,^-detained his boat,^ — forced
mj companions into it, and, sheltering them
with a canvass from the falling flakes, the
boatman spread his sail — he resisted not —
and our bark cut the waves like a belated sea
bird."

** Why, this is like a romance, Howard."

*' W«il, Alice, did I not tdl you it was
truth?"

<* Don't interrupt him, " was the general ex-
exclamation, for thejr all seemed mocsh inter-
ested in the recital.

'' From the moment when the two fonales,
whom chance bad thxown under mj pvotio-

196

BIZARRE.

tion, were in safety, the desire of witnessing
the wonders of the scene shut out all other
thoughts ; propped against the mast of our
little bark, I stood and gazed. Oh ! my
ftiends, let me not even attempt to picture
what I saw ! Fancy a column of broad flame
shooting two nundred feet in the air, and
trembling, then, in flakes ! streams of burn-
ing lava leaping in cuscades ! — a sea of fire
mshing down to the sea of water — first
driving before it, then recoiling— alternately
repelling and repelled. Two dements strug-
phng like gladiators for the mastery: nature,
m the last convulsion, seeming to implore for
mercy. In a sky of blood, disheveled shad-
ows, like the damned of Dante, hurrying in
throngs, — some one way, some another, — a-
long the palpitating shore ! Fancy all this,
andyou will still have but a feeble idea of a
night at Naples from the Gulf of Ischia, du-
ring an eruption of Vesuvius."

"And what became of you 1" asked Mr.
Gilbert.

** I stood immovable, with folded arms, eyes
fixed and bosom heaving, when in the tossing
of the baric I felt an arm involuntarily grasp-
ing for support at mine, and heard a voice
exclaim t — ** Is it not indeed, a stupendous
scene? sublime beyond conception? more
than the awe-struck mind could long endure,
and not go mad!" The tones of the voice
thrilled through me, I turned, and beheld one
of the lovllest of Naples' beauties, — ^I mean
that I ever gazed upon. The piercing eyes —
black, the flowing rinelets dancing in the
breeze ; but I will not describNB her, for Anna
looks serious. My sketch is done, I had res-
cued the wife of a nobleman, and that, my
friends, made Naples my home.'*

** I should think," remarked Gilbert, " that
this would be a splendid subject for your pen-
cil."

** No, sir, its very splendor awes me, — it is
a subject beyond the 'reach of art."

•• Indeed, Mr. Howard, you have pictured a
fearful scene," observed Mr. St. Clair, ** our
young friends here are silent with wondering
bow nappy should we be in a land blessed by.
heaven, and never subject to these convulsions
oftheearrh."

"True," replied Gilbert, "but still we
have those inflictions of the heart, the earth-
quakes of the soul, which produce sufiering
more intense than those which proceed from
natural causes. Listen to my story : I had
been married about two years, my wife bore
me a girl, our little Ellen, the fondness of a
fkther would picture her, as she seemed to us,
a little cherub ; — ^to us indeed she was, when
about three years old, — no, not three, two
years and six months, that was her age We
were sitting at the door, it was a lovdy night
in June, the breeze came down from the hill
Bide laden with the rich perfume of deeping

flowers: the busy hum of the day was gradual*
ly dying *wa}% and a soft mellow light came
up from the West, as the mesenger mxn day
to welcome in the night. Oh, I remember it
well, for we were so happy — so joyoas — eo
blessed. Ellen was on the lawn, her gay
laugh was still ringing in our ears, her hnghi
smile still before us : for a moment our eyes
were withdrawn from her, — a dark flluMkyw
passed between us and our child,— one
scream and she vanished, as if in the arms of
a demon, from our sight ! Never can I forget
that moment : maddened I rushed in the di-
rection of the sound — all was still — ^from that
time to this no tidings have been heard of
her."

" And her mother?" asked Mrs. Yemon.

"Pined away and died with the nante of
Ellen on her lips. Alas ! my friends, alUro'
fortune has showered her gifts upon me, al-
tho* I have prospered in au my undertaldiigs
amid it all, I am wretched."

" That Providence, Mr. Gilbert," obflerred
Bfr St. Clair, " that Divine Power whose mys-
teries we cannot fathom, knows what is best
for us here ; — there is a hereafter."

A servant came to announce that tea was
ready, and they all arose. Howard offered his
arm to Alice, who insisted on his conducting
Anna and Mrs. Yemon, as she had to arrange
something in the room before she left, •• I
will be but a moment, Howard, so be rec-
onciled to your fate."

They had all then left the room but Alice,
whose object was to secure a side door lead«
ing to the garden. While in the act of dos-
ing it, a man stepped into the room; she
started back. " Hush ! on your life, hrtA !"
was the abrupt address to her.

" Who are you , sir ? what means this intru-
sion ?"

"One word, Alice."

"Speak, sir."

" Don't you know me ?" •

"Ha! that voice !— that face !— it is— "

" Your guardian, — Maitland."

" It is, indeed ! ! leave this houae, Mr,
do not stay here !"

" And you would desire me hence, you,
Alice!"

"No, not that."

" Aye, I know, I am lost, an outcast."

" What would you, sir, with mit ? There
can be nothing in common between us : you
have never acted the part of a guardian, or
friend, — what would you now ?

"Hark! they call,— I must secure ttie
door, — ^what I have to say must be said now,
and you must hear. Your father, girl, — "

" Mjr father ? 0, speak of him."

" Will you meet me in an hour ? — ear two
hours from this, in the garden, by the Wer
' gate,— there you shall know aQ ?"

" I will,— the hour will be ten."

THE EVILS OF SOCIETY.

**Good. — omil then, farewell. Iwillpaas
throosh the side door ; — remember, ten
o'clocL There, I heur Howard^s voice : go,
go to your lover, ha ! ha !"

Alice hearing Howard call, immdei&tely
laa to the door, and meeting him at the Uires-
bold, they both left for the supper room.

" So," murmured Maitland, as he cast his
e^es around the room, *' they are rich, very
nch; tM)w elegantly furnished, too. Let me
lee, I must make somethinff out of this busi-
ness, the secret is too valuable to be thrown
iway. Now, if I could get Vernon to join
me, for he has returned as poor as ever ; so
moch the better, then, to roo this house. In
that there is no crime if he joins me, for he
only takes what is, or at least should be, his.
He most be my tool ever, and to use him now
pranises better than ever. Well, I must re-
tire throi^ this secret passage. Ah, what is
tkt? a silver snuffbox, as I live, and a gold
pcpdl, too. Carelessness is a species of
crime, I will correct the evil it produces, by
RiDOTiDg the cause." So savipg, he pocket-
ed the articles named, and with cautious
st^ traced his way to the garden.

(CoiitlaaedteNo.40.)
THE EVILS OF SOCIETY.

THIRD PAPER.

That universal education would be a par-
tial remedy for the growing evils which now
cone our beautiful land, wo think no intelli-
gent person will deny That proper education
vouki be the great remedy it is our purpose
to prove.

To make education a remedy for these evils,
it most be mftde a very different thing from
what it now is.

We live under republican institutions ; and
it is one of the fundamental principles of our
republic thateverr individual has the right to
''the pursuit of happiness;" and while he
pirsses his own happiness, or pleasure, and
does not directly intnnffe the rights of others ;
be has the protectkm of law in doing so. The
nan of wisdom and experience may perceive
^ many who are seddng their pleasure or
t^^iness are really pursuing a course calcu-
li to bring rum and unhappiness upon
ifattii, yet while they commit no unlawful act,
we cannot by force constrain them : for liberty
is the fundamental principle of our govem-
inent

The majority roust determine what is law-
fol and what is unlawful ; and they cannot be
prerented.

If therefore, the people be ignorant and un-
ci|Uivated, it will necessarily follow that they
win seek pleasure in vicious indulgences,
cxeitcmentt and sensual gratifications. It is

the proper business of education to correct
this propensity to low indulgences and excite-
ments, which exist where there is no mental
or moral culture. We are told fai the language
of holy writ, that "The heart of man is
prone to evil," and our every day experience
proves the truth of the saying.

It is not our purpose to speak of what re-
ligious education snould do for the youth of
our community. We wish merely to set forth
the advantages of a superior secular educa-
tion. The refining, humanizing and elevat-
ing influences which proper mental moral and
artistic culture, exercise upon the minds and
and hearts of men.

The government which expects obedience
to its laws, owes education to those it expects
to govern ; and it is an act of iiyustice, for a
government to punish conduct which is a
natural and necessary result of its own ne-
glect.

Education with us is not what it should be.
In a community like ours ; *< so highly favored
of Heaven :" so blessed with all that should
^make life delightful, there is no proper ex-
cuse for a want of intelligence ; and yet, a
very large portion of the people of our coun-
grow up grossly ignorant, and uncultivat-

Even here in Philadelphia, which boasts of
being the seat of learning and refinement,
there is a mass of ignorance and rudeness
which should bring a blush of shame to the
cheek of every one who has any part in mat-
ters of public instruction.

Education in Philadelphia does not perform
its proper work.

The people of Philadelphia are more sujper-
ficially educated now tnan they were ufty
years ago.

We have numerous chartered institutions of
learning, an expensive system of public
schools, numerous private seminaries and
hosts of peripatetic teachers : and yet nine-
teen twentieths of the people grow up with-
out learning to speak or write their native lan-
guage correctly.

Venerable institutions confer degrees, upon
graduates, and give diplomas to men who 0011-
not read them : and who do not know, that it
is not ** writ down" in Latin, that they are
asses to pretend to be doctors, — that is learned
— ^when they do not know the rudiments of
English Grammer.

Education in Philaddphia does not perform
its proper office; inasmuch as it does not
create a love for learning. It does not refine,
purify and elevate the mind

There no mental, no moral, no aesthetic
culture in it. The education which most of
the children in the public schools get is of the
crudest kind, and that which most of those
get who are educated in private schools, is of
the most superficial kind imi^^ble. Many

198

BIZARRE.

of the directors of the public schools are
erosslj ignoraQt. Many of the teachers are
incompetent and poorly paid : and are requir-
ed to teach a much larger number than one
person can do justice to.

Among fashionable people, it is the custom
to have private teachers. It being thought
more dignified to have teachers come to their
houses than to send their children to shool.

Several families will sometimes club toge-
ther, and have a private teacher come to one
of their houses. This is cheaper and more
dignified than sending their children to
school. Fashionable education consists of a
smatterof French and Italian, an extravagant
expertness in music : an affection of foreign
airs and mces ; and a shocking bad know*
ledge of the vulgar tongue.

When we say that our city lacks refine-
ment, intellectual culture and artistic taste,
we do not speak at random. Let us look at
the amusements and entertainments of the
people. Are any of these of an intellectual
character? We have for half a million of
people a few courses of dry lectures in the
winter season. We have an Academy of
Fine Arts, open sometimes, but very rarely
crowded with visitors, and we have a number
of theatres, which are much more attractive
but it is because their entertainments are
usually of a low order.

Private entertainments usually consist of
music, dancing, eating, drinking. &c. We
have not the austerity of a hermit, nor do we
wish to be understood as censuring these
things : but certainly they are not evidences
of intellectual refinement.

Education here, does not create a taste for
intellectual pleasures.

What kind of books do the people read !

Thousands have read ** Uncle Tom's cab-
in," who have never read •* Shakspeare,'*
nor "Milton."

Authors who pamper vulgar prejudices,
grow rich, but those who attempt to improve
the public taste are left to starve.

The onl^ regular courses of popular lectures
on the sciences, delivered in our city, are '
those of the Franklin Institute, and the audi- |
ences at these lectures will not average over ;
three or four hundred persons many of whom I
arc children, sent there by their parents. 1

Education in our city is of a superficial
character.

. Formerly a knowledge of the classical lan-
guages was considered an essential part of
education. Now we are told by the author
of one of our most popular school books, that
" the course of instruction in schools, is so
extensive that there is not time for pupils to
go through the classics Ac."

One of the sapient regulations of our pub-
lic schools, requires that children shall be
taught to pronounce all words which occur in i

quotations, &c., from forden languages, as if
they were English words. The effect of which
is to make meaningless jargon of them. '

Let a person reiMl a line of French in snchj
a manner, and can either Englishman ori
Frenchman understand it ? The necessity for
this regulation arises from the fkct that the
teachers are unable to teach the correct pro-
nunciation of those foreign words which oc-
cur in the childrens exercises.

There is too much " old fogyism" about
our institutions of learning. Too much learn-
ed stupidity : and too much unlearned self-
sufficiency.

There are too many of—

** Tbom Uxv owl*, thom baleftd undean birds,
" Who perrned near wl«lom*ii roof, rit only there
"To cuff down new flodired ThrtuM. that would vn
**To nobI«r height*, and maketba grove bannooioai.'

While the education of the children of our
city is neglected, as it now is, there can be
no reasonable hope of any great improvement
in the popular morals. Thousands of chil-
dren are growing up amongst us who have no
I ^ more attention paid to their education, than |
have the children of the Camanches. Our
city is indeed^

** An un wMdad garden, that growa to aMd*

*- TbiDgs rank and gross in nature \ oaaoM it morely."

In another article we shall endeavor to
show what education should do, for the chil-
dren of our community.

THE FESTIVAL OF THE ASS.

This festival was for a oonsidflrable time
celebrated at Beauvais, in Burgundy. It was
held in honour of the ass, which was, aocord-
ing to tradition, the animal upon which the
Holy Family rode into £g3rpt. A baadsooie
girl, richly attired, represented the Viigia
Mary. She was seated on an ass, which was
covmd with a cloth of gdd, and superbly
caparisoned. The ass, accompanied by a vast
concourse of laity and clergy, was led from
the cathedral to the parish church of St, Ste-
phen, and was finally conducted into the
sanctuary. High mass began with great pomp,
and the Ass was taught to kneel at oertaoi in-
tervals. Meanwhile a hymn was sung in his
TOraise, in a language of mixed Latin snd
French, of which Dr. Edgar has given the
following translation.

The Ase he came from Eastern climes.
Heigh ho! my Aney!
He's (air and Ht for the parh t all tiniM.
SinR Father Asa. and you shall get graaa,
Ana Biraw and hay. too, in plenty.

The Asa is alow and laijr too

Heigh ho! my As^ey!

But the whip and the spur will make himga

SiriK Father A»9, nnd you shall get grass.

And straw and hay, loo. in plenty.

The Ai« was born and bred with long ears,
Heigh ho my! Assey!

SKETCHES OF GIORGIA.

199

And yet the Lord of Aaet spoMiv.
Gria Father Am and you tball get graa,
Atid straw and hay, too. in plenty.

Tbe Aaa eiceb the hind at a leap,
Hekh ho ! my AiMy !
And fatter than hoiind or hare can trot
BraT Father Am. and you shall have graM,
And Btraw and hay, too. in plenty !

The worship coDcluded with a braying be-
tween the Clergy umI laity in honour or the
Ass. The ofiBciating priest turned to the
people, and in a fine treble voice and with
great devotion, brayed three times like an
183 — while the people, imitating his example,
brayed three times in concert.

SKETCHES OF GEORGIA.

SKCTGH TBIKD.

ffistortent AsModations. — Locd Attachments. —
I Tomochichi,

"Yes it Is dear,— fair southern clime,
Of genial hearts and suns Binoere."

WaUon,
"Wbese erery battle-field Is holy ground,
Which hreathes nt nations laTod, not worlds undone;
How sweetl J on the ear sucJi echoes sound 1
WhOe the mn« Tlrtors msy appsl or atun
The eerrile and the vain, snch names wOI be
A wstchword, 'tUI the Future shall be trf."— -Byron.

The European vifdtw, in his conceit and
pride, not unfreqaently expresses his surprise
at the ordinary appearance of our dties — at
the lo^rroed rude aad uncouth character of
our villages — at the destitution of remarkable
localities and venerable monuments, comme-
morative of deeds and personages at once an-
cieiit and extraordinary. Sneeringly does he
iuBtitote a cbmparison between the historical
inociations of this, and nations on the conti-
Doit True, the Baronial castle, with its ivy-
iBantled lowers, gray walls, deep moats, and
high tttirets, does not, from its rooky founda-
tkms, frown upon our rivers and lakes ; — true,
the prolonged conflicts of lord and vassal have
MTtt* involved whole communities here in one
comnon quarrel, linking the story of some
<teadly feud with forest and mountain; — ^true,
we glory not in crowns and palaces — ^parch-
■mt rolls and *' blazoned heraldry r' we
never yet have learned to bow in stupid ado-
ration before some vain pageant, whose only
i Htle to respect is, that for years mankind
have yielded an unmeaning reverence ; nor
<lo we renrd, with holy feelings, some ruined
catbedral, because in early times a devout
fcther with his obsequious satellites once
|>la8ed its walls, and hallowed the spot. The
ir^-boond tower, with its damp, dark dnn-
S^ons and bloody instruments or death, does
^ rear its ^oomy fhont to recount the fear-
fi^tale of tlM wan cheek and headless corpse

of the pure and noble, — of the queenly per-
sonage who had there perished, a victim of
cruel jealousy and determined hate. True,
the Qothic arch of five centuries, with its
deep-toned organ, stained glass, and magnifi-
cent adornments, may not lift its head amid
the cities of America, still the God of Heaven
is worshipped, with equal devotion, in the
sacred temple of not half a century. Kings
have never stamped the impress of their gory
feet upon these plains— their chariots have
never run riot amid the blood and carnage of
'' ten thousand slain." Within these United
States, the moss does not cluster so thickly
around our battlements — and still we can
proudly point to fields where the sword of
liberty was often unsheathed, and never re-
turned in dishonor. We can look with feel-
ings of the warmest satisfitction upon the
ruins of comparatively rude fortifications, and
grass-covered embankments — ^we can name
heroes whom the world would not blush to
own : around whose memory eather national
associations far more honorable than the re-
membrance of the acts and efibrts of crowned
and jewelled monarchs. There are a thousand
places suggestive of patriotic emotions, where
the American breast feels the power of local
attachments, and cherishes, most ardently,
the recollection of events which have alike
signalized the actors, and the localities where
they so admirably performed their parts.
Reverence for deeds— exalted deeds — the
scenes where they transpired, and the heroes
who there figured, is a noble instinct, planted
in our hearts for noble purposes. The emo-
tions suggested by local associations and na-
tional attachments, have in every age, and
among all nations, proved of a most interest-
ing character to the citizen. To them no one
can possibly be indifierent, and he feels them
most thrillingly, whose soul is duly sensible
of the importance of his country's nom^ and
reputation. The recollections of past events
cluster around the places where they trans-
pired : encircling every object there with a
garb of attraction, awakening emotions of a
strikingly engaging character, and causing
scenes whose visible traces have long since
vanished, divested of their shadowy forms, to
live again in active being. There is a secret
and powerful satisfaction, possessed of no or-
dinary interest, in knowing and feeling that
we are actually surveying the spot whttre
some remarkable occurrence has happened —
and treading the hall, or the battle ground,
where a distinguished personage has lived,
acted, and died. Leo AUatries wept over the
ruins of Homer's house. How beautifully
does Dr. Johnson, in his tour to the Western
Islands, express his feelings, as his foot first
pressed the soil of that Iskmdy so long the Lu-
minary of the Caledonian regions. Demos-
thenes selected Athens, that war-field of

288

BIZIBRE.

migfaty (Motors md dueftaans, as the spot
wlKQce, in enthusiastic appeds, he could
most effectually arouse the sea of popular pas-
sion — more powerAil than the deep blue waters
of the Mgieiaif whose billows, diashing near,
mingled their roar with the thunders of his
eloquence. It was in the Church of St. Mafia
d'ara Ooeli, on the Capitoline Hill, as Ctibbon
sat musing over the ruins of the imperial
city, during the calm hours of eyening, when
bare^footed friars were chanting their vespers,
that he conceived the idea of writing the de-
cline and fall of the Roman Empire. Cicero,
in his work ** De Finibus," tells us that often,
when he entered the Senate Chamber, the
shades of Scipio, of Cato, of LsqUus, and es-
pecially of his venerable grand-father, rose in
miaginaticm before him. And Schiller de-
clares, that the scenes which beneficent and
heroic spirits have visited, remain hallowed
to all time — still blest, though robbers haunt
theplace.

With what ardent attachment then, should
the American cherish the remembrance of
those events and localities, so intimately con-
nected with the honor of his country. The
voices and the forms of our grand-sires who
participated, in the glorious revolutionary
strug^es, are fast Beulmg away. Their ton-
gues no Icmeer recount the incidents of many
a well fought action — that arm once strong
in the defimce of freedom and of right, now
lies motionless and cold. Tet how does mem-
ory linger around that monument commemo-
rative of the brave deeds of our fore&thers —
how does the hand love to handle that rusted
and time-worn cannon, which once proclaimed
the death warrant for all tyrants, and oppres-
sors on these shores, — how does the foot de-
light to press that grass-grown fort — and hew
eagerly does the eye search for every relic of
those noble deeds, and noble men. In ihe
presence of these scenes, imagination dwells
not upon the present, but proudly revels in
the consideration of the past, losing herself
in the contemplation of the illustrious events
connected with the spot now before her view,
— ^in the veneration of those

« men of old, whme tempered bladea

DUperaed the sbacUes of usurped control.

And hewed them link horn link — ^Tbon Albion's sons

Were sons indeed ; they fdt a filial heart

Beat high within tbem at a Mother's wrongs ; |

And shining each in his domestic sphnre, j

Shone brighter still, when called to public riew.** j

Let the American never cease to cherish
these places with the deepest attachment. |
Let him feel that the grave of the patriot, is \
the Mecca of Liberty — that upon tne battle-
fields where freedom was won, all may unite
--forgetful of party intrigue and sectional '
differences, in rekindling those sentiments of
regard for the whole country, which will <

prompt each and every dtiMn to defend it if

need oe, from invasion, — to protect its ri^ts
and honor with untiring vigilance, and mam-
tain its laws and institutions, in vigor and
purity. Although he may wander intoforei^
climes, and find objects of wonder and admi-
ration, still let him send back his thoughts to
these shores, and dwell with increasing rap-
ture upon the battle-fields — the heroic cfajo^
acters — the intrepid councils of the Atlantic
Coast. Almost every city and village, rfv^er
and mountain, in the older portions of tliis
countnr, has witnessed the struggles between
she rifie and the tomahawk, or proved the
arena, upon which was achieved some noMe
triumph of 76. Savannah is not destitute
of historical associations of this charaotery
Here it was that Tomochichi,thedi8tingai^k-
ed chief of the Creek Nation, extended the
open hand of fellowship to the stranger, and
swore perpetual frienduiip — an oath samAy
kept imtil his hoary head was bowed low in
death. In the presence of the colonists, and
his Indian warriors — in a manner at once so
natural and appropriate to the Aborigines of
this country, he presents General Oglethorpe
with a buffalo skin adorned with the head
and feathers of an eaele, thus addressing him
<* The eagle is an emblem of speed, and the
buffalo of strength. The ^glish are as
swift as the bird, and as strong as the beast,
since like the former they flew over the seas
to the uttermost parts of the earths and like
the latter are so strong, that nothing can with*
stand than.'* Wisely did the old chieftain
foresee in this small band, the seeds of a
great nation, which by reason of its superior
intelligence and acquirements, should one day
sweep as surdy and as rapidly over the do-
mains of the red-man, as does the wild-fire
over the grass-covered prairie. He adds fur-
ther — <* The feathers of the eagle are soft, and
signify love— the bufiiido skin is warm, and
denotes protection, *' and therefore he hoped
the English would love and protect the liltle
families <^ the sons of the forest. How sadly
have these fond desires of the Indian warrior
remained unrealized in subsequent years!
The members of his tribe, scattered as leaves
before the blasts of autumn, have been hor-
ried from the land which gave them birthu
Their venerable King, Tomochichi, realized not
in person the terrors of that day, when, an
exile band they were driven from the beauti>
fill plains and attractive mountains of Gear-
gi*.

Firm in his friendship, at the advanced age
of ninety-seven he breathed his last, and 4y*
ing, desired that his body might be intcnvd
with his friends the English in Savannah*
This request was cheerfully complied wilJi,
and his corpse wasaccording^f brought there,
and buried in Percival Square with militanr
honors. Yet it has ju^ly hew^ inqoUed^

BIZARRE AMONG THE NEW BOOKa

201

wbar« is Us moBmiieikt ? Skvaimah oWMit
to lieraelf— she owes it to the memory of Gen-
eral Oglethorpe—for it was his design that a
svilable trihate of that character should haye
heen erected — die owes it to her first and hest
feknd among the red men — ^the noble-hearted
> brave — ^the generous Tomochidii.

(OondiMtod is No. 40.)

^i^mxt anumg il^t Jefe $o0ks.

■Nouisi-i HUNiomanra of tmb xvih.
OBisrruR:v.-s«»od Ntxicc^

— We last week gaye extracts fVom a book
with this title, wtuch has been just published
hj the Harpers; and which embraces the
course of lecture delivered by Thackeray last
winter in Hdladelphia and other principle cit-
ies. It partakes of his apt thought, exuberant
fkiej* and rich humor, and is spiced to a high
deme with original dashes of satire.

The lecture on Steele is particularly inter-
estin|^9 both on account of the idea it gives of
Sir Richard himself, and the times in which
he Hred. We present some extracts : —

"We possess of poor Steele's wild and
chequered life some of the most curious mem-
monuida that ever were left of a man's bio-
graphy. Most men's letters, from Cicero
dawn to Walpole, or down to the great men
of 4Mir own tmie, if ^ou will, are doctored
compositions, and wntten with an eye sus-
pidotis towards posterity. That dedication
cC Steele's to his wife is^ an artificial perfor-
mance, possibly : at least it is written with
thai degree of artifice which an orator uses in
arrangii^ a statement for the House, or a poet
CDj^oys m preparing a sentiment in verse or
for the stage. But there are some 400 letters
of Dick Steele's to his wife, which that
thrifty woman preserved accurately, and
which could have been written but for her
ukd her alone. They contain detaUs of the
businces, pleasures, quarrels, reconciliations
of the pair : they have all the genuineness of
ce n t ersa tion : they are as artless as a child's
{»a*tle, and as confidential as a curtain-lec-
ture. Some are written from the printing-
ofiee, where he is waiting for the proof sheets i
of his '* Gazette," or his '^Tatler:" some'
are written from the tavern, whence he |
promises to come to his wife ** within a pint
of wine," and where he has given a rendez- ,
vons to a friend, or a money-l^er * some are
oomposad in a high state dT vinous excite-
ment when his head is flustered with Burgun-
dy# and his heart abounds with amorous
warmth for his darling Prue : some are under
the tnfloence of the dismal headache and re-
pentance next morning : some, alas, are from
the Is^-np house, where the lawyers have im-

pounded him, and where he is waiting for
bail. You trace many years of the poor fel-
low's career in these fetters. In September,
1707, from which day she began to save the
letters, he married the beautiful Mistress
Scurlock. You have his passionate protesta-
tions to the lady ; his respectfulproposals to
her mama ; his privateprayer to Heaven when
the union so ardently desired was completed ;
his fond professions of contrition and promises
of amendment, when, immediately after his
marriage, there began to be just cause for the
one and need for the other.

Captain Steele took a house for his lady
upon their marriage, ''the third door from
Germain-street, left hand of Bury-street,"
and the next year presented his wife with a
country house at Hampton. It appears she
had a chariot and pair, and sometimes four
horses : he himself enjoyed a little horse for
his own riding. He paid, (ht promised to pay,
his barber fifty pounds a year, and i^wavs
went abroad in a faced coat and a large black-
buckled periwig, that must have cost some-
body fifty guineas. He was rather a weU-to-
do gentleman, Captain Steele, with the pro-
ceeds of his estate in Barbadoes (left to him
by his first wife), his income as writer of the
*' Gazette," and his ofBce of gentleman wai-
ter to his Royal Highness Prince George.
His second wife brought him a fortune too.
But it is melanchuly to relate that with these
houses and chariots and horses and income,
the Captain was constantly in want of money,
for which his beloved bride was asking as
constantly. In the course of a few pages we
begin to find the shoemaker calling for money,
and some directions from the Captain, who
has not thirty pounds to spare. He sends his
wife, '* the beautifullest object in the world."
as he calls her, and evidently in reply to ap-
plications of her own, which have gone the
way of all waste paper, and lighted Dick's
pipes, which were smoked a hundred and
forty years ago— he sends his wife now a
guinea, then a half-guinea, then a couple of
guineas, then half a pound of tea : and again
no money and no tea at all, but a promise
that his darling Prue shall have some in a
day or two ; or a request, perhaps, that she
will send over his night-gown and shaving-
plate to the temporary lodging where the
nomadic captain is lying hidden from the
bailifis. Oh that a dhristian hero and late
captain in Lucas's should be afraid of a dirty
sherifi^'s ofScer ! That the pink and pride of
chivalry should turn pale before a writ ! It
stands to record in poor Dick's own hand-
writing ; the queer collection is preserved at
the Bntish Museum to this present day : tnat
the rent of the nuptial house in Jermyn-street
sacred to unutterable tenderness and Prue,
and three doors from Bury-street, was not
paid until after the landlord had put in an

20fi

BIZARRE.

exeeutioD ob Captain Steele's ftirnitare. Ad-
diaon add the house and furniture at Hamp-
ton, and, after deducting the sum in which
his incorrigihle friend was indebted to him,
handed over the residue of the proceeds of
the sale to poor Dick, who was not in the
least angry at Addison's summary proceeding,
and I dare say was glad of anyaaleor execu-
tion, the result of which was to give him a
little ready money. Having a small house in
Jermyn street for which he could not pay,
and a country house at Hampton on which he
had borrowed money, nothing must content
Captain Dick but the taking, in 1712, a much
finer, larger, and grander house, in Blooms-
bury-square: where his unhappy landlord
got no better satisfaction than his friend in
St. James's, and where it is recorded that
Dick, giving a grand entertainment, had a
half dozen queer-looking fellows in livery to
wait upon his noble B:uests, and confessed
that his servants were oailifl^ to a man. ** I
fiired like a distressed prince*" the kindly
prodigal writes, generously complimenting
Addison for his assistance in the ** Tatler," —
** I fared like ja distressed prince, who calls in
a powerful neighbor to his aid. I was undone
by my auxiliary ; when I had once called him
in, I could not subsist without dependence on
him." Poor, needy Prince of Bloomsbury !
think of him in his palace, with his allies from
Chancery -lane ominously guarding him.

All sorts of stories are told indicative of
his recklessness and his good humour. One
narrated by Doctor Hoadly is exceedingly
diaracteri sties ; it shows the life of the time :
and our friend very weak, but very kind both
in and out of his cups.

*Myfkther,' (says Dr. John Hoadly, the
Bishop's son) — * when Bishop of Bangor, was,
by invitation, present at one of the Whig
meetings, held at the Trumpet, in Shoe Lane,
when Sir Richard, in his zeal, rather exposed
himself, having the double duty of the day
upon him, as well to celebrated the immortal
memory of King William, it being the 4th
November, as to drink his friend Addison up
to conversation-pitch, whose phlegmatic con-
stitution was hardly warmed for society by
that time. Stede was not fit for it. Two re-
markable circumstances happened. John Sly,
the hatter of facetious memory, was in the
house ; and John, pretty mellow, took it into
his head to come into the company on his
knees, with a tankard of ale in his hand to
drink off to the immortal memory ^ and to re-
turn in the same manner. Steele sitting next
my fi&ther, whispered him — Do laugh. It is
kwnanity to laugh. Sir Richard, in the even-
ing, being too much in the same condition,
was put in a chair, and sent home. Nothing
would serve him but being carried to the Bis-
hop of Bangor's, late as it was. However,
the chairmen carried him home, and got him

up ttihv, when his gMA «oai|4ai8uice would
wait on them .down stairs, whkh he did, aad
then was got quietly to bed.'

** There is another amusing sboftj whick I
believe that renowned collector. Bur. Jos^di
MiUer, or his successors, faltve incoiporated
into their work. Sir Richard Steele, at a time
when he was much occupied with theatrical
affairs, built himself a pretty private theatre,
and, before it was opened to nis friends and
guests, was anxious to try whether tha haU
was well adapted for hearing. Accordingly
he placed himself in the most remote part of
the eallery, and begged the carpenter who
had built the house to speak up from tlie
stage. The man at first said that ne was un-
accustomed to public speaking, and did not

I know what to say to his honour : but tbe

' good-natured knight called out to him to saj
whatever was uppermost ; and after a moment
he began, in a voice perfectly audible: *&r
Richard Steele !" he said, ** for three months
past me and my men has been a working in
this theatre, and we've never seen the oAmr
of your honour's money : we will be very

I much obligied if you 11 pay it directly, for
until you do we won't drive in another nail.'
Sir Richard said that his friend's elocution
was perfect, but that he didn't like his sab-

I ject much.'

I ** There exists a curious document descrip-
tive of the manners of the last age, which
describe most minutely the amuaementa and

' occupations of persons of fiishion in London
at the time of which we are spfaking ; the

I time of Swift, and Addison and Steele.

' '* When Lord Sparkish. Tom Nevenmi, and

I Colonel Alwit, the immortal pemonagea of
Swift's polite conversation, came to breakfi»t
withmy Lady Smart, at elev^d o'ckM^k in

'' the morning, my Lord Smart was absent at the
levee. His lordship was at home to dinner at
three o'clock to receive his guests ; and we
may sit down to this meal, like the Barmecides,
and see the fops of the last century before us.
** Seven of them sat down at dinner, and
were joined by a country baronet, who told
theip they kept court hours. These yenoos
of flEtshion began their dinner with a arlotnof
beef, fish, a shoulder of veal, and a tongoe.
My Lady Smart carved the sirloin, my Lady
Answerall helped the fi^, and the gallaat
Colonel cut the shoulder of veal. All made a

' considerable inroad on the sirioin and the
shoulder of veal with the exception of Sir

I John, who had no appetite, having already

I partaken of a beefsteak and two mngt of ale,
oesides a tankard of March beer as soon as he
got out of bed. They drank darei, which
the master of the house said should always
be drunk after fish; and my Lord Smart

I particularly recommended some exodleni oi-

I der to my Lord Sparkish, which caused ione

I brilliant remarks firom that nobtraaan. When

BIZARRE AUGSQ THE NEW BOOKa

20S

the host calM fbr wine, he nodded to one or
other of his gnests, tnd said, " Tom Neverout
my serrice to you."

" After the first course came almond pud-
ding, and fritters, which the Colonel took
with his hands out of the dish, in order to
help the hrilliant Miss Notahle : chickens,
black puddings, and soup : and Lady Smart
the degant mistress of the mansion, fining a
skewer in a dish, placed it in her plate with
directions that it should he carried down to
the cook and dressed for the cook's own din-
ner. Wine and small heer were drunk dur-
iitt: this second course : and when the Colonel
c«led for beer, he caHed the butler, Friend,
»nd asked whether the beer was good. Va-
rious jocular remarks passed from the gentle-
folks to the serrants ; at breakfast several
persons had a word and a joke for Mrs. Bet-
tr, my lady's maid, who warmed the cream
Mid had charge of the canister (the tea cost
thirty shillings a pound in those days).
When my Lady Sparkish sent her footman
out to my Lady Match to come at six o'clock
and play at quadrille, her ladyship warned
the man to follow his nose, and if ne fell by
the way not to stay to get up again. And
when the gentlemen ask^ the hall-porter if
his lady was at home, that fanctionary re-
plied, with manly waggishness, •• She was at
home just now, but she's not gone out yet."
** After the puddings, sweet and black, the
fritters and soup, came the third course, of
which the principal dish was a hot venison
pasty, which was put before Lord Smart, and
carved by that nobleman . Besides the pasty ,
there was a hare, a rabbit, some pigeons,
partridges, a goose, and a ham. Beer and
wine were freely imbibed during this couse,
the gentleman always pledging somebody
with every glass which they drank ; and by
this time the conversation between Tom
Neverout and Miss Notable had grown so
brisk and lively, that the Derbyshire baronet
; began to think the young gentlewoman was
Tom's sweetheart ; on which Miss remarked,
that she loved Tom *• like pie." After the goose,
some of the gentlemen took a dram of brandy,
which •* was very good for the wholesomes,"
Sir John said ; and now having had a toler-
ably substantial dinner, honest Lord Smart
baoe the butler bring up the great tankard
fon of October to Sir John. The great tank-
ard was passed from hand to hand and mouth
to month, but when pressed by the noble host
iipm the gallant Tom Neverout, he said, " No
fiuth, my lord, I like your wine, and won't
put a churl upon a gentleman. Your hon-
oar's claret is good enough for me." And so,
the {dinner over, the host said, ** Hang sav-
ing, bring us up a ha'porth of cheese."

xlie cloth was now taken away, and a bot-
tle of Burgundy was set down, of which the
hidks were invited to partake before they

went to their tea. When they wWidrew the
gentlemen promised to join them in an hour :
fresh bottles were brought, the " dead men,"
meaning the empty bottles, removed; and
** d'you hear, John f bring clean glasses," my
Lord Smart said. On which the gallant Col-
onel Alwit said, "I'll keep my glass: for
wine is the best liquor to wash glasses in."

" After an hour the gentlemen joined the
ladies, and there they all sate and played
quadrille until three o'clock in the morning,
when the chairs and the flambeaux came, and
this noble company went to bed."

A lecture on " Charity and Humor," in-
cluded in this volume, was not delivered in
Philadelphia. It contains many admirable
passages, and in some respects surpasses all
of its predecessors. One extract is all we
dare give, and with it we take leave of this
very agreeable book : —

" I look back at the good which of late
years the kind English Humorists have done :
and if you are pleased to rank the present
speaker among tnat class, I own to on honest
pride at thinSng what benefits society has
derived from men of our calling. "That

* Song of the Shirt,' which Punch first pub-
lished, and the noble, the suffering, the mel-
ancholy, the tender Hood sang, may surdy
rank as a great act of charity to the world,
and call from it its thanks and regard for its
teacher and benefactor. That astonishing
poem, which you all of you know, of the

* Bridge of Sighs,' who can read it without
tenderness, without reverence to Heaven,
charity to man, and thanks to the beneficent
genius which sang for us so nobly ?

** I never saw the writer but once ; but
shall always be glad to think that some words
of mine, printed in a periodical of that day,
and in praise of these amazing verses (which,
strange to say, appeared almost unnoticed at
first in the magazine in Which Mr. Hood pub-
lished them) — I am proud, I say, to tnink
that some words of appreciation of mine
reached him on his death-bed, and pleased
and soothed him in that hour of manful resig-
nation and pain.

** As for the charities of Mr. Dickens, mul-
tiplied kindnesses which he has conferred
upon us all : upon our children : upon people
educated and uneducated ; upon the myriads
here and at home, who speak our common
tongue : have not you, have not I, all of us
reason to be thankful to this kind fHend, who
soothed and charmed so many hours, brought
pleasure and sweet laughter to so many
homes: made such multitudes of children
happy : endowed us with such a sweet store
of gracious thoughts, fair foncies, soft sympa-
thies, hearty enjoyments. There are crea-
tions of Mr. Dickens's which seem to me to
rank as personal benefits ; figures so delight-
ful, that one feels hapjner and better for know*

204

BI2iLBS£.

ing tbem, as one does for behig Ivoagfat into
the society of very good men and women.
The atmosphere in which these people live
is wholesome to breathe in ; you feel that to
be allowed to speak to them is a personal
kindness ; you come away better for your con-
tact with them ; your hands seem cleaner
from having the privilege of shaking theirs.
Was there ever a better charitjr sermon preach-
ed in the world than Dicken's Christmas
Carol ? I bdieve it occasioned immense host
pitality throughout England ; was the means
of lighting up hundreds of kind fires at
Christmas time ; caused a wonderful outpour-
ing of Christmas good feeling : of Christmas
punch-brewing ; an awful slaughter of Christ-
mas turkeys, and roasting and basting of
Christmas beef. As for tnis man's love of
children, that amiable organ at the back of
his honest head must be pofectly monstrous.
All children ought to love him. I know two
that do, and reiul his books ten times for once
that they peruse the dismal preachments of
their father. I know one who, when she is
happy, reads Nicholas Nickleby ; when she
is unhappy, reads Nicholas Nickleby ; when
she is tired, reads Nicholas Nickleby ; when
she is in bed, reads Nicholas Nickleby ; wheo
she has nothing to do, reads Nicholas Nickle-
by: and when she has finished the book,
raids Nicholas Nickleby over again. This
candid young critic, at ten years of age, said,
' I like Mr. Dickens's books much better that
your books, papa ;" and frequently expresses
her desire tiiat the latter author £^ould write
a book like one of Mr. Dickens's books. Who
can ? Every mai^ must say his own thoughts
in his own voice, in his own way ; lucky is
he who has such a charming gift of nature as
this, which brings all the children in the
world trooping to him, and being fond of him. "

THS OL.O HOUttB BV T>-ie RIVKR.

— This book, published by the Harpers, con-
tains a number of very pleasing sketches of
life, various in sentiment, yet one in natural-
ness and rare. The morality is good, without
possessing any features stamped with striking
genius : there are, at the same time, frequent
evidences of a warm heart and ardent temper-
ament, while there is, also, a sound practical
sense. The book will find a plenty of read-
ers, e^tecially at this summer tide ught-read-
ing season. It responds to every good im-
pmse of the human heart, at the same time
it charms the fancy. Now and then one
may imagine one has fallen upon a new se-
ries of the Sketch book, but it is only now and
then. It wdl and happily portrays country
life ; — to our mind the only life that is worth
living. As a specimen of the author's clever-
est style, we give the following, one of the
good things told at the '* Old Bouse," and
entitled

Me. Siuabt's Sroar.

*' I was a lonely sort of a bachelor, and had
never yet known what young men syle ' the
passion.' Of passion I had enon^, as m^
old man yonder can tell you. I broke his
head twice, and his arm once, in fits of it,
but he has always seemed to love me all the
better, and he clings to me now very much as
two pieces of the same ship cling together,
when drifting at sea. We are the sole surviv-
ors of a thousand wrecks : and of the gallant
company that sailed with us two years ago, no
other one is left afloat. I had oeen a sailor
from boyhood, and when I was twenty-five I
may safely say no man was more fit to com-
mand a vessel among the mariners of England.
And at this time my old uncle died and left
me his fortune. I had never seen him, and
hardly knew of his existence, but I had now
speaking evidence of the fact that he existed,
and eqiudly good proof that he existed no
longer. I was young, strong in limb, and I
think stout in heart, and I was possessed of a
rental of some thousands per annum. What
bar was there to my enjoyment of the goods
of life ? No bar indeed, but I fdt sorely the
lack of means of enjoyment. I was a sailor
in every sense. My education was tolerable,
and I had read some books, but my tastes
were nautical, and I pined on shore. Tou
will easily understand then why it was that
I built a yacht, and spent most of my time on
her. She was a fine craft, suited to my taste
in every respect, and I remember with a sigh
now the happy days I have spent in the Foam.
I used to T&A considerably in my calmi, and
occasionally, indeed weekly, invited parties
of gentlemen to cruise with me. But the foot
of a lady had never been on the deck of m^
boat, and I began to have an old bachelor s
pride in that fact. Yet, I confess to you a se-
cret longing for some sort of affection difier-
ent from any I had heretofore known, and a
restlessness when men talked of beautiful wo-
men in my presence.

** One summer evening I was at the old hall
in whidi my uncle had died, and was entirely
alone. Toward sunset I was surprised, while
over my book, by the entrance of a gentleman,
hastily announced, and giving indications of
no little excitement.

** ' Tour pardon, sir, for my unceremonioas
entrance. My horses have run away with
my carriage, and dashed it to pieces near your
park-gate. My father was badly injured, and
my sister is now watching him. I have taken
the liberty to ask your permission to bring
him to your residence.'

*' Of course, my consent was instantly giv-
en, and my own carriage despatched to the
park-gates.

** Mr, Sinclair was a gentleman of fortune, j
residing about forty mUes from me : and his {
father^ an invalid, fifty years or more of age, i

BIZARRE AMONG THE NEW BOOKS.

x205

on his way, in company with his son. to
that 9on*shoase, there to die and behuried. —
They were strangers to me, but T made them
welcome to my honse, as if it were their own,
and insisted on their so nsine it.

*' Miss Sinclair was the nrst woman who
had crossed my door-stone since I had been
the possessor of the hall. And well might
she hare been loved by better men than I. —
She was yery small and very beautiful— of
the size of Tenus which all men worship as
the perfection of womanly beauty, but having
a soft blue eye, strangely shaded by jet-black
brows. Her face presented the contrast of
parity of whiteness in the complexion, set off
by raven hair, and yet that hiair hanging in
clustering curls, unbound bj comb or fillet,
and the whole face lit up with an expression
of gentle trust, complete confidence either in
all around her, or el^ in her own indomitaUe
determination. For Mary Sinclair had a mind
of her own, and a fiir-sedng one, too. She
was eighteen then.

'^ Her father died in my house, and I at-
tended the solemn procession that bore his
remains, over hill ana valley, to the old church
m which his ancestors was laid. Once after
that I called on the family, and then avoided
them. I cannot tell you what was the cause
of the aversion I had to entering that house, or
approaching the influence of that matchless*'
giri. I believe that I feared the magic of her
beanty, and was impressed with my own un-
wortmness to love her or be loved by her. I
knew her associates were of the noble, the ed-
ucated, the refined, and that I was none of
these. What then could I expect but misery,
if I yielded to the charm of that exquisite
beauty, or the graces which I knew were in
her soul?

" A year pa^ed, and I was a very boy in
my continual thoughts of her ; I persuaded
mysdf a thousand times that I did not love
her, and a thousand times determined to
prove it by entering her presence. At length
I threw myself into the vortex of London so-
dety, and was lost in the whirlpool.

*• One evening, at a crowded assembly, I
was standing near the window in a recess,
talking with a lady, when I felt a strange
thrill. I cannot describe it to jou, but its
effect was visible to my companion, who in-
stantly said, * You are unwell, Mr. Stewart,
are you not ?' * Not at all, madam ; why did
joa think so ?' ' Your face became suddenly
nudied, and your hand trembled so as to
shake the curtain.'

*' It was inexplicable to myself, but I was
startled at the announcement of Mr. and Miss
Sini^ir. I turned, and she was entering, on
her brother's arm, more beautiful than ever.
How I escaped I do not know, but I did so.

<* Thrice afterwards I was warned of her
presence in the same mysterious way, tiB I

believed that there was some link between us
two of unknown but powerlbl character. I
have since learned to oelieve the communion
of spirit with spirit sometimes without mate-
rial intervention.

" I heard of her fluently now as eneaged
to marry a Mr. Waller ; a man whom T knew
well, and was ready to honor as worthy of
her love. When at length I saw, as I sup-
posed, satisfactory evidence of the truth of
the rumor, I left London and met them no
more. The same rumor followed me in let-
ters, and yet I was road enough to dream of
Maiy Sinclair, until months after I woke to
the sense of what a fool I had been. Con-
vinced of this. I went on board mv yacht
about mid- summer, and for four weeks never
set foot on shore.

" One sultry day, when the pitch was fry-
ing on deck in the hot sun, we rolled heavily
in the Bay of Biscay, and I passed the after-
noon under a sail on the larboard quarter-
deck. Toward evening, I fancied a storm
was brewing, and having made all ready for
it, smoked on the taffrail till midnight, and
then turned in. Will you believe me, I felt
that strange thrill through my veins, as T lay
in my hammock, and awoke with it, fifteen
seconds before the watch on deck called sud-
denly to the man at the wheel, * Port, — port
your helm ! a sail on the lea-bow. Steady !
so."

** T was on deck in an instant, and saw that
a stiff breeze was blowing, and a small schoon-
er, showing no lights, had crossed our fore-
foot within a pistol shot, and was new bear-
ing up to the north-west. The sky was clou-
dy and dark, but the breeze was very steady ;
and I went below again, and after endeavor-
ing vainly to explain the emotion I had felt
in any reasonable way, I at length fell aMeep,
and the rocking of my vessel, as she flew be-
fore the wind, gave just motion enough to my
hammock to lull me into sonnd slumber. But
I dreamed all night of Mary Sinclair. I
dreamed of her, but it was in unpleasant
dreams. I saw her standing on the deck of
the Foam, and as I would advance toward her
the form of Waller would interpose. I would
fancy, at times, that my arms were around
her, and her form was resting against my
side, and her head lay on my shoulder ; and
then, by the strange mutations of dreams, it
was not T, but Wafler, that was thus holding
her ; and I was chained to a post, looking at
them, and she would kiss him, and again the
kiss would seem to b6 burning on my lips. —
The morning fbund me wide awake, reasoning
myself out of my fancies. By noon I had
enough to do. The ocean was roused. A
tempest was out on the sea, and the Foam
vrent before it.

"Night came down gloomily. The very
blackness or darkness was on the water as we

2Qf

BIZARRK.

flew before that terrfiic blaat. I wm on deck
lashed to the wheel, by which I stood, with a
knife within reach to cut the lashing, if neces-
sary. We had but a rag of sail on her, and
yet she moved more like a bird than a boat,
irom wave to wave. Again and again a blue
wave went over us, but she came up like a
duck, and shook off the water, and dashed on.
Now she staggered as a blow was struck on
the weather-bow, that might have staved a
man-of war, but kept gallantly on ; and now
she rolled heavily and slowly, but never abat-
ed the swift flight toward shore. It was mid-
night when the wind was highest The howl-
ing of the cordage was demoniacal. Now a
scream, now a s£iek, now a wail, and now a
laugh of mocking madness. On, on we flew.
I looked up, and turned quite around the
whole horizon, but could see no sky, no sea,
no cloud— all was blackness. At that mo-
ment I felt again that stranee thrill, and at
the instant, fancied a denser blackness ahead;
and the next, with a crash and a plunge, the
Foam was gone! Down went my gallant
boat, and with her another vessel, unseen in
the black nieht. The wheel to which I had
been lashed had broken loose, and gone over
with me before she sank. It was heavy and
I cut it away; and seizing a spar, went
down in the deep sea above my boat. As I
came up to the surfoce, a hand grasped my
coat. I seized it, and a thrill of agony shot
through me as I reoc^gnized the delicate fin-
gers of a woman. I drew her to me and lash-
ed her to the spar by my side : and so, in the
black night, we two alone floated away over
the stormy od^n.

*' My companion was senseless — for aught
I knew, dead. A thousand emotions passed
through my mind in the next five minutes. —
Who was my (Companion on that slieht spar ?
What was the vessel I had sunkf Was I
with only the body of a human being, or was
there a spark of life left ? and how could I fan
it to a flame? Would it not be better to let
her sink thah float gS with me, thus alone to
starve or die of thirst or agony?

''I chali^ her hands, her forehead, her
shoulders. Jtn the dense darkness I could
not see a feature of her face, nor tell if she
were young or old — scarcely whether white
or black- The silence on the sea was fearful.
So long as Iliad been on the deck of my boat,
the whistlidg through the ropes and around
the spars had made continuid sounds; but
now I heard nothing but the occasional
sprinkling of the spray, the dash of a foam
cap, or t^ heavy sound of the wind pressing
on my ears.

*' At length she moved her hand feebly in
mine. How mv heart leaped at that slight
evidence that I was not alone in the vnld
ocean — ^I redoubled my exertions. I passed
one of her arms ovor my neck to keep it out

of the water while I chaied the other hand
with both of mine. I felt the clasp of that
arm around my neck tighten, and I bowed
my head towards hers. She drew me close
to her and laid her cheek against mine. I let
it rest there— it might warm hers, and so help
to give her life. Then she nestled closely in
my bosom and whispered, * Thank you.' —
Why did my brain so wildly throb in my
head at that whispered sentence ? She knevv
not where she was; that was clear. Her
mind was wandering. At that instant the
end of a spar struck some heavy object, mod
we were aashed by a huge wave over it, and
to my ioy were left on a floating deck. I cot
the lashings from the spar and deistened my
companion and myself to a part of the new
raft or wreck, I knew not which, and all the
time that arm was wound around my neck
and rigid as if in death. Now came the low
wild wail that precedes the breaking of the
storm. The air seemed fiUed with viewless
spirits mournfully singing and sighing. I
never thought of her as anything but a hummn
being. It was that humanity, that dear like-
ness of life that endeared her to me. I wound
my arras arouhd her, and drew her dose to my
heart, and bowed my hoad over her, and in
the wildness of the moment I pressed my lips
te hers in a long, passionate Kiss of intenae
love and agony. That kiss again unlocked
the prison of her soul. She ^ve it back, and
murmuring some name of endearment wound
both arms around my neck, and laying her
head on my shoulder with her forehead press-
ed against my cheek, fell into a calm slumber.
That kiss bums on my lips this hour. Half
a century of the cold kisses of the worid has
not sufficed to chill its influence. It thrills
me now as then ! It was madness with idol-
worship of the form Qod gave us in the image
of himself which in that hour I adored as
never God ! I fed the unearthly joy again
to-day, as I remember the clasp of those on-
known arms, and the soft pressure of that
forehead. I knew not, I cared not, if ahe
were old and haggard, or young and fair. I
only knew and rejoiced with joy untold that
she was human, mortal, of my own kin by the
great Father of our race.

** It was a night of thoughts and emotions
and phantasms that can never be described. —
Morning dawned grayly. The first faint

geam of light showed me a driving doud a-
>ve my head,it was welcomed with a shudder.
I hated light ; I wanted to float on, on, over
that heaving ocean, with that form clinging
to me, and my arms around it, and my lips
ever and anon pressed to the passionleBS Ups
of the heavy sleeper. I asked no VuAt. It
was an intruder on my domain, and would ,
drive her from my embrace. I was mad. |

*' But as I saw the fiu^ of mj companion I
gradually revealed in the dawmng lights as '

EDITOBfir SAK8-S0U0I.

907

nj eyes hcguk to make oat one by one the
fc ii tmea , ai^ at length the terrible tnith
owne dowl J harning into my brain, I moaned
akmdinagooY, *G^of hea?^, ^eisdead!'
And it was Mary Sinclair.

"Bat flhe was not dead«

** We floated all day long on the sea, and at
midnight of the next night I hailed a ship and
^bev took us off. Every man from the Foam
and other vessel was saved with one excep-
tion. The other vessel was Uie Fairy, a
schooner-rigged yacht, belonging to a friend
of Miss Sinclair, with whom she and her
brother and a party of ladies and gentleman
had started but three days previously for a
week's cruise. I need not tell you how I ex-
plained that strange thrill as the schooner
cvoased our bow the night before the collision,
and which I felt again at the moment of the
crash, nor what interpretation I gave to the
wild tumulc of .emotions all that long night.

'*I married Mary Sinclair, and I boried
her thirty years afterward, and I sometimes
have the same evidence of her presence now
that I used to have when she lived on the
i earth with me.".

** UIMOUS ROBIN IN Hid OABIN

— In Virginia, and Tom without one in Bos-
ton," is tne title of a neat 12 mo. just pub-
lished by J. W. Randolph, of Richinond, Va-
It is from the pen of J. W. Page. Esq. Its
object appears to be to disprove statements
nuide in Northern romances, touching the
evils of slavery, as wdl as to show that what-
ever ills attend the life of the Southern n^ro,
there ills are produced by the imprudent sym-
p«ithy of self styled nhilanthropists, like 6ar-
rison Pillsbury, Aoby Kelly and Beecher
Stowe. We have examined the volume but
ciurMmly, and are inclined to think it well
worth a perusU. It is written in a plain,
sabstantial style, and with an earnestness,
thoa^ of the shape in a colloquy, among the
characters introduced, which is strongly
marked.

^Ibitors' Sans-Soati.

OONB AT- UkmT,

— Two large willows were blown down at
Beverly, N J.,— our old fish-honored Beverly
—during a thunder-gust, which swept over
that jdaoe on Friday week. These trees were
«l least one hundred years old, and had wit-
nesBed many events connected with stirring
scenes at Dunks* Ferry, during and after the
Bevolation. On one occasion General Wash-
ington sat for some hours under their shadows.
It was juat previous to his return to the Penn-
tvlvaoia shore opposite, on his march to
Trenton. He had crossed the river with the

view of attacking a body of Hessiaas and
English, encamped at Mt HoUy, but after a
little deliberation save up the plan, recrossed,
and subsequently fought the battles of Tren-
ton and Prinoeton- The period was, however,
winter ; and hence the General did net seek
their shade, as the writer has many a time
done, to escape the scorching rays of a mid-
summer sun. At a later period, a party of
Americans, understanding that there was to
be a meeting of Tories and Hessians at the old
tavern — the house is still standing — which
these trees fhmted, went over from Pennsyl-
vania, at dead of night, to the house of meet-
ing ; and stealing slowly up the bank, paused
under the shadow of these trees until they
had fhlly arranged the plan of attack. When
all was ready, the^ made a dart upon the
house, securing their enemy while they were
in the midst of a merry-making over ** apple-
jack," — a popular drink in Jersey.

Other events transpired in the times that
tried men's souls benath the branches of these
venerable willows, but we have not time to
recount them. They can tdl not an unenter-
taining tale of experience since, too ; not the
least marvellous portion of which is, that they
have seen a very respectable town rise up
about them, as it were in a night, by the ma-
gic of Alladin's lamp. Certainly Beveriy,
the town to which we allude, was six years
ago only a very respectable pickle-fkrm, and
a part of the old Vansciver estate, to which
these uptom and downfallen willows bdonged.

We have something to say of the storm
which so unceremonioosiy gave the finishing-
stroke to these willows. It dashed upon the
steamboat ** Richard Stockton" when she was
just below Beverly wharf, and when the wri-
ter and some score of others were just pre-
paring to go ashore. Never was there a more
sudden surprise for all on board. We had
seen a very m)wniiig black cloud at the north-
west, and thought it might make a call when
we were well ariiore. It chose to come a
little sooner than we had expected, and to be
even surlier and more furious than its very
ugly face indicated in the distance. There
was with it a rush of wind, a falling of hul-
stones as large as English walnuts, a perflect
deluge of rain, and the pinkest and at the same
time the spitefuUest hghtning we ever saw.
It was now found there was no landing at
Beveriy ; so on we went, plowing throng a
darkness, a din, and a dampness, aU which
we can but faintly picture. We were all
suddenly cast, as it were, into an Srebns;
and there was, for a few moments an exchang-
ing of very wry faces. Where the boat was
no one could have ffuessed from looking out
upon the water. The presumption, was that
we were somewhere oetween Beverly and
Boriington; that was alL At last ddiverance
came in the abatement of the storm, but in

BIZABRE.

the meanthne serious danutge had been done
ashore : one melancholy feature of which was
the destruction of the two willows which ftir-
nished the text for this article. Other fine
trees were unrooted, but we did not sit down
to speak of them; and what we have spoken is
altogether more considerable in amount than
was at first designed.

TH« FOURTH

— Passed of with the usual obserrances ; in
other words it was signally honored, by mer-
ry-meetings, orations, cheers, dinners, drink-
ings, and the burning of much gun-powder.
China spoke loudly, as usual for the glory of
76. BizA&RB was kindly invited to pass the
day with the Editorial fraternity at Cape
May, but he could not avail himself of the
pleasures tendered, for reasons which need
not be stated. No doubt Col. Fitzgerald^s
oration was very good, while Harwood*s wood-
cock and champa^e, were also of the best.
No doubt, too, both were heartily enioyed by
the press-gang present. Bizarre did not fire
a cracker : neither did he see a champagne
bottle ; but afler killing some four dozen fine
rock-fish, he sat down in a shadv spot on the
banks of the Delaware ; and while he ate gin-
ger-cakes also quafifed pure sparkling water in
honor of the anniversary, which he could
perceive by distant boomings of cannon and
more adjacent poppings of pistols, guns and
crackers, was properly observed on 2l hands.

AOAOKMV OF ARTa

— A connoisseur has sent us the following,
the first number of a series of notices whidi
he proposes to write on the exhibition of paint-
ings at the Academy : —

*♦ Seeing the announcement that the Acade-
my of Fine Arts was now open, we strolled
in to take a look at the pictures, and shall
proceed to notice a few of the most conspicu-
ous.

No. 2. View of Chalons.— This is one of
that species of mechanical water paintinss,
manufactured at so much a yard. The sky
is brown, water brown, builaings brown, in
fact it is decidedly a brown picture.

No. 8. England, 60 years ago, J. Peel.—
What a contrast between this and No. 2. —
This is a veiy graceful composition, and beau-
tiful in color. The figures are artistically
grouped, and the whole effect is very fine.

No. 9. Histoiy and Poetry, Z. Grousteer. —
We cannot see the appropriateness of this
title. History is represented by a gigantic
individual with a very red nose. Poetry bv
a young Female overrun with ^eat grief,
the cause of which we are unacquamted with.

No. 23. William Penn's Treaty with the
Indians, B. West. — Every one is familiar
with this picture. We have it in the spelling
books of our youth, in the histories of our
country, in our monthly Magazines, and, in

I &ct, go where we will, we always see
' thing to remind us of the worthy old Quftker
driving the red-men out of their broad hunt-
ing grounds, for bits of red tape, calico sod
strings of baids.

No. 52. David playingthe Harp before
Saul, P. F. Rothermuet.— This is a very gay
picture. White, red, blue and lilac are very
conspicuous. The same model seems to have
sat for all the figures, for they are aU of one
family, and strifingly alike each other. Saul
looks anything but refi-eshed, as the rerse
fix)m the Scriptures tell us. His legs are
stretched wide open, and he sits as if he were
determined to break his back : his counte-
nance indicates that his mind is made up on
that point. David does not appear to be
playing on his harp, but his hands gesticulate
as though he were offering it for safe to Saul,
and was pointing out what a bargain he was
offering him. The attendmts look greatly
annov^, and each one tries to appear noore
indifferent than the other, yet afraid to more
lest they should arouse the sleeping lion. —
We turn with pleasure to—

No. 59. Luther Burning the Pope's Boll, C.
Schlessengir. — This admirable composition
represents Luther about to consign to the
flames one of those commands of the Pope
which had been, till tben, received by all ^-
rope with so much awe and reverence. There
is nothing violent or extravagant aboat this
picture, either in composition or color, at the
same time the terror or the bystanders is ad-
mirably pcH'trayed, while gazing on the bold
act of defiance b^ the great Keformer, as
though they were m doubt whether to consid-
er it as one of heroism or sacrilege. We think
our young aspirants to historical painting
would do well to study this picture. i

No. 68. Antonio's Letter, P. F. Rotherm^. i
This picture would do very well (or a young '
beginner, but from Mr. Rothermel, we have a |
right to expect better. The expressioo of j
Bassanio is too violent, too exaggerated ; he |
looks like an enraged Frenchman reading an
exhorbitant bill for his dinner. Welleducat- '
ed people do not show their feelings in such a '
manner. Any one who has seen the print of
the same subject, after Stuart and Newton,
will acknowledge the justice of our remarks. ** '

KRAWFIBM-IANA.

— ** Bloody noses and cracked crown", will
soon be the order of the day in Europe. The
Russian bear intends to devour the old Turkcnr.
which has roosted so bng on the shores of toe
Black sea. The British lion will growl ; the
Gallic cock will crow ; and Brother Jonatbui
will read the news,

— A perfumer in Chestnut street, says that I
his Cologne Water is " scent pur-secnt'* bet- '
ter than any other.

VBRNON; OR, THE DRAMA OF LIFE.

209

Ri«A»»»^ WO AT SAT TOD, Madcap?"— Far^uAur.

i^arrt

SATURDAY, JUI«T 16, 1853.

VERNON; OR, THE DRAMA
OF LIFE.*

CHAPTER Xn.

** Remorae Is Tlrtna^i root ; ita fair Increase
Are fruits of innoooDoe aud blo80edn««<.'*

Tbe dark shadows of the old oaks lengthen-
ed themselTes across the road, and fancy
might haye imagined them the sleeping forms

! of as many giants. The birds had ceased to

I warble, and the murmuring of the breeze came
8Bolian-like on the air, making that lone spot
musical with its notes. The figure of a man,

I the only living thing discemable, made the
whole scene even more desolate ; and yet the
place we are describing was the very spot
whereon now stands a mansion, and around
and about eyidences of a progressing citv. —
The figure moved out from the dark shaae of
an old oak, and as he glanced his eyes around,
a deep and bitter sigh came up, as it were,
from the depths of a sorrowing heart.

** So, here I am, once again. Six years have
passed away, — ^long, tedious years. I am
again within sight of all I hold most dear; my
feet press the play-ground of my youth, and
my voice sounds as an echo of the long past.
^ years! — Oh! time, how leaden has oeen
thy chains on this heart which bind me to
thee, — and yet I have not loved for nothing.
No, thank heaven, I have lived to conquer
one vice, and lay the foundations, I hope, for
many virtues. Gracious Power, — ^Heavenly
Father,— to Thee I look for aid. The past, —
Oh ! may it fade away from menoory, and be
like retrogressive shadows only, — may the
dsA days of my madness and folly be but as
the incentives to better deeds. And my wife !
my children ! — ^I — ^I have seen them, I have
looked in upon them, in their quiet, happy
home, — they seemed happy, — can they be
happy ? Nx), no, for I heard my boy, my no-
ble bi^, exclaim, *Poor father,' and a tear
came mto the eye of my wife as she gazed
upon the lad. bare I approach them ?— the
oulcut*— the lost,— at least, still so in all
meo's eyes. Dare I venture— home— is it my
home?''^

'* No," and Mailand, following up his word,
stepped in front of Vernon. " No, Uiey are

I roQing in wealth. What would you do there,
A?"

npagelf?.

" True, true,— what could I do there?"

** Much, if you follow my advice. Ghanoe,
or fortune, has once more thrown us together,
and may fashion out for us a new spto*e of
action. Tour wife is now the heiress of the
great St. Glair estate. You are afraid to ap-
pear. Tou, who ought to boldly demand a
share, now play hide and seek in these woods.
I am playing at that game, too.

"It is not the fortune, Maitland, I would
not take one dollar if it were not accompanied
with my wife's forgiveness and love. That
is what keeps me loitering around the house
and grounds like a thief."

"And why not a thief? — ^have you not
been one since we parted ?

♦* Maitland, you have the right to talk thus,
but listen, as there is a heaven above us, as
sure as you see those sparkling stars, — ^I am
free from crime : — these hands are unstained,
— the heart only debased, and that by the
person we have made our worship."

*^Umph, — ^I have fared worse, then. —
BLnow, Vernon, that I am instout of prison —
a convict— aye. a convict, hardened and ready
made by the schools of our penetentiary, for
all sorts of villainies."

" Wretched man !"

"None of your pity, — ^I despise, can't and
will have none of it. But no more of this. I
know the secret entrance to the house. I
know all its turnings and twistings, — you are
its owner, — who has a better right to enter its
walls ? — answer that."

" What mean you ?"

" Robbery, — that is, if taking what is yours
be robbery."

" No more, no more, — ^I will not listen to
this."

"By hell! but you shall! Look here,
Vernon, I am now desperate ; — I have been
abused by the world, taunted by your wife,
and I ask you again, — ^will you join us ?

"Us?"

"Aye; I am not alone, — there are more
convicts at large in this city than Bob Mait-
land."

•'Then your prison life has effected no
good?"

"Grime, Vernon, engenders crime, and
within the walls of a prison it thrives most, —
the very atmosphere becomes infected ; and
what care have the iron-hearted jailors, or
the pompous inspectors, fbr the morals of the
prisoners? None."

"This is strange."

" Listen, — the man who is sent to the State
prison for a trifling offence, comes out of it
prepared for a greater one. While there, he
learns all the art and mystery of crime. Our
laws are said to be predicated on justice,-HM>
such thing, Vernon, th^ are the sand-hanks
of crime, a stream of gold from the pocket of a

210

BIZARRE.

rich rogue washes it all way. Bah ! justice
is a humbug.'*

" Give mo until to-morrow to thiuk of your
design.''

" To-morrow ? well, — to-night I meet Al-
ice; I expect to make something in that quar- !
ter, — so farewell, and remember, you but
taste your own, and repay the kindness of
those who deserted you.*'

** He is gone, — thank heaven, he is gone. —
Rob my own house ? poor fool, he knows me
not, he only judges from the past."

** Let me see, there's no time for delay, I
must act, — but how? This man is leagued
with rogues, as bad, perhaps even worse than
he is. I will keep my promise to see him a-
gain. But there is one promise made him in
our compact of crime, which must be broken.
Years have passed since that, reason has re-
sumed its throne, and his conviction for a
crime releases me from it Alice must know
her father. I have already written a state-
ment of the— but surely, here comes Alice :
she stoops at the gate, — that figure, it is
Maitland. I must step aside, the mystery in-

** So, Alice, you have kept your promise,
and it is only nine o,clock.

** Mr. Maitland. my time is limited, — tell
me my father's name."

** Don't be in too great a hurry."

** Do not keep me in suspense."

" Well, my secret is worth a price."

** Oh ! name it — here — see, I have money."

** Bah ! child, you cannot carry money e-
nough to buy it

" What am I to do?'

*' Take this letter, give it to Mr. Gilbert,—
he is rich,— on reading it, he will furnish you
the means of buying my secret ; say nothing
to him of what has passed between us: if you
do, the secret dies with me. Tell him it was
handed to you by a stranger, — well a stranger
to him : — to-morrow night meet me here, and
bring roe his answer. The money I receive,
of course, when he is in possession of the se-
cret — a secret which concerns you only."

" Why not get the money from Mrs. Ver-
non, she is rich, and will buy the secret, if it
concerns her daughter, as she calls me ?"

^* Ha ! ha ! well, perhaps she would, but
Mr. Gilbert is a man of business, him I have
selected, no other shall know it."

" Give me the letter."

" There it is,— now, farewell ; remember,
to-morrow night."

** To-morrow night, and — he is gone, I
feel relieved bv his abscence. To-morrow I
perhaps, may know my father."

As she was about entering the gateway lead-
ing to the lawn, Vernon stepped from the
hedge. She started, and was nastily pursu-
ing the path, when his words caused her to
stop: —

" Alice,— Alice."

••Who speaks?"

** A poor traveller, a wanderer."

** Here is money for you, sir." (As she
hands the money towards him he accidental-
ly, as it would appear, strikes the letter &om
her hand.)

** Lady, you dropped this letter." Unneen
by Alice, he takes a letter from his pocket,
and hands it to her, — ^replacing Maitland 's he
accepts from her hand a small piece of money,
to keep up the character of a mendicant,
which his dress would almost indicate.

•* You called mo Alice, just now, if you are
a stranger how knew you my name V

** Did I call you Ahce? Yes, so I did, I
remember : your name, lady, is familliar to
me."

*• Good night, sir,"

** Farewell. Now, Maitland," he exdaiin-
ed, and rushing into the wood, *• we are
quits, — ^letter for letter."

CHAPTER Xm.

•• Our doubts are tntton,
And make us Iom the good we oft mif ht win.
By finriDg to attempt.'*

We now conduct our readers to a rocm in
Mrs. Vernon's house. The door of a small
chamber opens, and Mr. St. Clair, followed
by Robert, enters hastily.

** Now, my poor boy, you know my worst
fears. I saw them both, — both,— your &ther
and the scoundrel Maitland. The liopes we
had that abscence and repentance would have
produced, are now destroyed.

** Oh ! my poor father ! how can we save
him? Once so fond and affectionate, now
lost to us forever ! But, dear grand-pa, is
there no way to save him ?"

** Robert, leave that to me- I will go
down to Peter's tavern, and endeavor to trace
his whereabouts. Keep up your spirits, bov,
if he be not totally deprived, he may yet be
saved."

•• I will not tell mother of this, it woald
break her heart."

" No, by all means keep this from her. If
I can only get to see him. Ah, here coeies
Mr. QillJert. Welcome, sir, we may want
your assistaace."

•* That is what I come to offer, — yon know
aU."

•'All,— what?"

<• Know you not that Vernon has retomed,
and with turn that villain Maitland? Years
of crime have only filled up her measure of
guilt still higher."

Yes, we kiK>w this ; I was just teUing Rob-
ert, and propose now to .seek him out''

•• Do so, but I am afraid, even hope, he is
dead."

•• Say not so, Gilbert, hope never dies while

VERNON; OR, THE DRAMA OF LIFE. 211

one ray of reiison guides the snnless heart on picking it up, he must have substituted this.*'

its drciry way to the grave ; let us hope for | *♦ Oh ! my friends, I am so happy to find

the best. Here comes Alice in haste." i my child thus ; how shall I ever be able to

" Oh ! Mr. Gilbert," she exclaimed, run- ! repay the kindness you have all shown her ?

mng up to him, '* I am so glad to see you, — ^I . Come, Mrs. Vernon, all must know my source

was just going to your house." | of joy. Come, my child, dear beloved one.

" And for what, young lady ?" i Oh ! when I lost thee, a little laughing cher-

" Oh, I have such news, and so good." ub, — but no more of this. Come, my friends,

" What is it ?" 1 be witness of my accidental joy in presenting

"You mi|st all know, that my old guardian, , her to Mrs. Vernon as my daughter."

•* Oh ! my father, I -am so happy !"

Maitland, has returned, and I have met him.
"Grand-pa —
"Silence, Robert. Speak, my child, you

met him ?" asked Mr. St. Clair. t a secret for the present.

" Why, you all look astonished. Well, I
met him, and he gave me this letter for Mr.
Gilbert, it will tell who my father is."

" Gracious heavens ! what means all this?
Give me the letter."

"Oh ! Robert, look how the letter affects
hfaiL"

It does indeed, Alice."

" Robert, be silent in relation to your fath-
er. Mr. GHlbert, keep the arrival of Vernon

I will.
" Now for the inn w find if possible the
wretched outcast."

The inn kept by Peter, was one of those
old fashioned edifices built in the year 1750,
and some of which are still standing in the
neighborhood of the scene of onr story. They

The reading of the letter had, indeed, a won- , were of Swedish architecture, having neither
derful effect upon Mr. Gilbert. He staggered convenience or order in their arrangements,
and would have fallen if Mr. St. Clair had ' In an upper room of the one in question, sat
not caught him. | two men, — Maitland and Vernon. It is true,

"Be calm, my friend, you are either over- j their appearance was rather, what is called,
jgredor astonished at this man's villainy. — the »* worse of wear, "yet on this occasion, the
What does it mean ?" table was not cursed mth the burden of liquor.

" My friends, bear with me a moment ; the j " And so, Maitland, you have engaged sev-
contents of this letter have, I confess, unman- i end rufi&ans to aid us in the business!"
nedme. Let me peruse it again." I "Ifyou term brave men, educated in the

"Will you have a glass of wine ?" | State's prison, ruffians, — I have.

"No, no, — let me recover, one moment. — j ** So to-nignt you propose to call them to-
other of Mercy ! — I thank thee, Mr. St. gether on the lawn, aud I am to find the en-
Clair,— Robert, I— I have found my long lost [ trance, and conduct you ? Is that it ?"
child; — she whom, for sixteen years and i ** Exactly. How cool and collected you
more, I have mourned as one lost to me for- ' have grown Vernon."
erer,— she whose infancy was to me as a ' "No matter, — now listen, Maitland. Have
beauteous flower, blooming in the sunshine of | you told the men anything ? given names
a mother's happy smile, — that flower passed ! or place ?"

away in the vnnter of our grief, — is now I ** No, I am not such a fool as that, — time
found !— joy ! joy ! joy !" enough."

"Dear, Mr. Gilbert," timidly inquired Al- ** Well, we do not want their aid, we can
ice, " I — ^I thought the letter was to speak of | do it ourselves ; and mark me, Maitland,
My fiikther ?'* whatever the result of this night's work may

**K does speak of your father, — Alice, — \ be, — we part, forever. No time, no place, no
child, — here, — to these arms ! come, let me confidence, — nay, name itself must pass a-
embrace the thus, thus,— ever thus !" way from between us like the mystic shad-

We drop a curtain over this scene, — let joy | ows of evening, leaving no trace of their ex-
have her way. \ istence behind ; — to this you must swear."
••*♦** ♦"I will swear, for I believe, Vernon, you

" And did Maitland write ^ch a letter ?" have grown honest — ^no, I mean wiser."
isked Mr. St. Clair. " Maitland, you have sworn. Now mark

'* No, not Biaitland. but one long lost to i me, — from this time forth we are strangers. —
you and us alL " i Tour crimes have drawn a broad line between

" Hush ! breathe not that name here yet, — I us. Tour acts have been wicksd, base and
much is to be done. But Alice says Maitland revengeful, — this night ends all connection
gave her the letter." ; between us, — ^you have sworn."

" Oh ! I remember, just as I was about en- "I have, and now you have preached quite
tering the gateway, a mendicant applied to | enough. But here comes old Mr. St. Clair up
me, as I thcmgfat, for alms, while in tne act of ' the lawn. I have my reasons for avoiding

?>ing him some, he, as it seemed accidental- j him, so I will go down the back stairs. Ver-
, itmck the letter from my hand, and in | iiofi» one word* Ton have caUed me bas e I

212

BIZARRE.

am 80 — wicked, I know I am. One act may
add a deeper crime to the last, — ^murder ! —

" Murd^ !"

" Aye, for if you act the traitor in this mat-
ter, I will blow your brains out on the in-
stant."

** The result, Maitland, will show."

Maitland left the room.

** So, once more I have engaged in an act of
crime. The result will prove how much it
deserves that name. Come in."

This was in reply to a knock at the door,
which being opexied, gave entrance to Mr. St.
Clair and Peter.

**This, Mr. St. Clair, is a sort of sitting
room ; there he is, a poor devil, no doubt he
wants assistance. Mr. — I don't know your
name— this is Mr. St. Clair, who expresses a
desire to — "

" Leave us, Peter, I will introduce myself."

*'Well, iust as you like, — good old soul,
how I do like him."

After Peter had left the room, Mr. St. Clair
walked up towards where Vernon sat, and
placing his hand upon his shoulder, said : —

" My son, — ^look up."

Vernon started, gazed for a moment on the
beniffn countenance of St. Clair, then placing
his hands over his face, fell back sobbing on
the chair.

" Look up, Vernon, this looks like repent-
ance. I will not ask you about the past, let
us talk and hope better things for the future.
If crime has not crintsoned your fair fame,
the curse of liquor can easily be removed."

"I am not a criminal; — ^miserable, — but
not vicious."

*' Thank heaven for this ! and now. Vernon,
now here, in this silent chamber, receive from
me an old man's blessing !"

"Thanks! my father, thanks! But my
poor wife! my long neglected ohildren! —
wronged, and by me ! But heaven has taken
them in its keeping, — fortune, at least, is
their 's. They, — can they forgive me ?"

** Man ! how can you ask that question ? —
Tou do not know a woman's faithful heart,
you have yet to learn the secret springs of its
inward affection. Your life has been of a
mixed character, — ^you have err'd from your-
self; time, I hope, at least, has mellowed down
the wayward passions of the reckless man,
and you can now look back over the dark and
fearml path you have trod, and brighten the
future with a new existence."

" And can I do this ?— dare I hope forgive-
ness from her I have injured ?"

" Ask it first of heaven."

** I will," — and Vernon knelt down, and in
silence offered up a prayer.

*' Now, my son, you make glad an old man's
heart ; and oh, Vernon, had you seen the joy
one act of yours has already produced, I am
certain you would foevar £orsw«ar the past

Tou see, I know all about the letter. One
thing more, Vernon, — ^I will not ask of you a
history of the past, your present appearanctt
speak of penury and want, — ^but why» why
do I find you in company with that man ?*'

** Do not question me now, my dear sir, —
father, let me call you, — ^much remains to be
explained; but rest assured of one tlmig,
this day ends my connction with that nmn.
And more, a drop of liquor has not paased
these lips for five years."

"WelU but why not come to your own
house, — ^your famihr ?"

" The man, my mtber, who has acted as I
have, feels the guilt of years upon his soul ;
he cannot, with a smileless face, meet those
that he had met with tears. I — ^I cannot
step into the presenoeof my wifcand children
with the deep, dark spot of guilt, at least, as
regards my treatment towards them, witlioiit
a blush. I feel it here, I feel it crimsoning^sj
very cheek, — ^I am yet an outcast."

*^ No, you are the prodigal son retoraed,
and ask forgiveness."

*'I do ask it, — but in day -light, in the
glare of yon bright sun, I cannot meet thein.
Let it be when the moon has gone down, as
well as the sun. when all is dark and drear as
is this heart, — let it be in silence and ^oom,
— this is my wish."

" My son, this indeed is contrition, — it is
repentance.

** For reasons which will be explained here-
after, I would prefer meeting my family in
the large room, a door of which leads out on
to the lawn. Your pardon, but grant me tida
favor, and let the hour be ten o'clock."

" My son, your wish is granted, until then,
farewell. Oh! but this will be a joyous meet*
ing."

** He is gone, the dear, good old man is gone.
Such is life, such the change from crime to
repentance, repentance to happiness. This,
Oh ! sweet religion ! is thy work ; let me
fast to-day, to-morrow for feasting, — thai
heavenly feast which contrition brings the
soul."

A noise at the door interrupted him.

**I tell you, Mrs. P., I will speak, now
hold your tongue. Excuse me, sir, but my
wife says — " t

** Be silent, Peter, I tell you."

** Whvit is the matter ?" asked Vernon, as
Peter and his wife came wran^lng into the
room.

" Why, sir, —Oh ! it's no use ; Mr. Vernon,
don't you know us ?"

•* So you know me, I see. Know yon, my
friends f indeed I could never forget yon*' —
and 80 you are married? well, happy days
are in store for all."

** I knew it, for the crickets chirped ten
thnes louder to-day than ever. Gome this
wa^, Mr. VemoB, Oh, I hate sadi nioe tea

VERNON; OR, THE DRAMA OF LIFE.

313

and toast; take care of the stefMS, — get out' of
the waj, Peter. Come akmg. sir. * '

So saying, she led Mr. Yemon out of the
room in triumph.

'* Wdl," exclaimed the astonished Peter,
'* this beats all, women take the lead in eve-
lything, — here I am as nothing, take two
Crom Uiree and remains. That wife of
mine, with all her &ults, is a rare woman, af-
ter all. Some of these days I will tell her all
aboot the manor buaness; she has told that as
gospel to a thousand people.''

CHAPTER XIV.

" Onr indisoreUon rometime* mrren u» well;
When onr deep (dots do pnll : attd tbat should taadi ns,
Hmtb's a divini^ that shapw onr ends,
Bougb-hew tb«m how we wlIL**

It was a family circle ; how dear to every
heart that deligntful expression — the family
circle is home ; it is there all that can make
man happy on earth, is to be found — it is
there, and there only, that the dreams of the
future are in part realized. Home is man's
paradise on earth — if it be not one— chaos
were better than such an Eden. It was a
fiimily circle, religion, virtue, peace, and com-
kri, with the happy embellishments of
genius and art to render all there even more
perfect, surrounded that little group. We have
already discribed such a scene — the same
parties were here, but oh ! how changed —
thete sat Alice beside Howard, their marriage-
day was already fixed, — Mr. Gilbert and Mr.
St. Clair, were both gazing upon the young
lovers. The latter remarked : —

" Are they not a lovely couple ? see that
smOe, ah Gilbert her young heart is now in-
deed ha3rpy."

" And yet St. Clair — it is our nature to be
dissatisfied — ^blessed as I am — do you know
I have another grief, a sorrow here, which I
think in itself sinful ? — my poor wife, when
I recall her last words — they were for her
||i child — I grieve now that she is not with me

!r to witness this scene. ' ' But see Mrs. Vernon
is fiu* from being happy ; as yet she knows
notof this visit.^'
•* She does not even know of his return,"
hark, the time approaches."
•* Some one is on the steps." The door was
, opened and two heads were visible. Robert
who was near the door, started up, and suc-
ceeded in fordng in, our two old acquaintan-
ces, Peter and Maggy.

Mrs. Vernon rose up and met them with
tffectionate greeting: indeed, such kind hearts
were not to be treated coldly: wealth may ren-
der the outside warm and richly clad, but it
can never make that heart feel for others
woes, as does the cold frosty hand of sorrow,
whea crushing human affections to ruin and
death.

Peter who seemed as if h6 were treading on
thorns ; at last succeeded in reaching where
Mr, St. Clair sat, — ** He has come sir— but — "
here he whispered a few words in his ear.

*' Ah ! well perhaps this is better. I will
prepare my daughter for the interview." So
saying he approached where Mrs. Vernon and
Maggy were talking.

*' My daughter, Peter informs me, that a
gentleman arrived at his house to day, who
is enabled to give us some information of
our unfortunaie "

" My husband^h — speak — say — ^where is
he?"

" Be calm my child — ^he is well — the stran-
ger is here. " As he spoke, Vernon stepped in-
to the room ; as he stood on the threshhold of
the door, the light beamed full upon his face,
one step brought him into the full glare of
light from a dozen lamps ; and there, statue-
like, stood the outcast. But how changed !
He was dressed in a ftiU suit of black ; his
face was like it was in his days of temperance
and of honor; his eye rested calmly and affec-
tionately upon all; no one stirred — ^no one
moved — all there seemed as if they had been
transformed into living statues, deprived of
the power of limbs.

For a moment — but for a moment, this pic*
ture varied not ; but, like the dissolving views
in those combinations of art and science, a
change became visible — Mrs. Vernon gave a
scream, and was rushing with outstretched
arms towards her husband—fthe children, as
in one voice cried, father! — but one word,
one motion from Vernon, and they were all
again as if spell-bound.

"Back — touch me not — the parent owes
something to children — ^the husband to the
wife — the man to his friends — and oh ! how
much — ^to his Qod ! I stand here before you
all — the ban, the curse, the upas breath of
the past, must be removed — ^you — all must
see it depart, not as the dull heavy vapors of
the morning, but quick and su(Jden as the
lightning flash : the change from vice to vir-
tue, should always be sudden ; progression is
doubt.

I left you in miseiy; I left you in sorrow; in
poverty — in want ; I left these, my children,
clinging to their mother and crying for bread.
I left you in madness — ^I return to you restor-
ed to reason. He comes back to you now,
not the wanderer, not the medicant-— but one
on whom fortune has in part smiled. I had
learned, my dear wife, children, and friends,
of the recovery of the will. You were pro-
vided for, and I, had now to provide for my-
self ; no, not myself, but for name, and honor,
to make me worthy of you ali. I come back
to you, not the discarded outcast ; but the
repentant, humbled man. I come back to'
you, my friends, honored with an office under
our government ; pr<^ered me when, as tbih

■ H

214

BEK^ABBE.

hamble secretair t6 a foreigh minister, I pre,
ferred the office here, to the one abroad, for it
brings rae to the feet of those I love, and
wronged."

" No William, not to our feet, but to our
arms." Once more Vernon found himself
with those who had learned in adversity those
lessons, which make our moments in prosper-
itv seem as the consequences of the inflictions
of poverty.

The clock now struck eleven — a knock was
heard at the side door, already alluded to —
*-Be not alarmed," remarked Veruon, ** but
all step aside, I have one other scene to act."

'*Come in Maitland," he exclaimed in a
loud voice. The door opened, and that wor-
thy mufSed in a cloak entered.

*' Is all ready ? ah ! betrayed ; then look to
yourself Vernon."

** Hold Maitland, be not rash, all are friends
here. I planned this Maitland, for your good ;
you have been linked to me for years ; remem-
ber your oath, after this night s business we
part forever. Betray not your purpose here."

** But our contract — I am a desperate man
every way."

'* Shall be fulfilled. My friends, Maitland
leaves us, Bjid forever : he goes into another
land, he intends to leave off fdl his bad habits ;
to reform ; to become an honest man. He
wronged your Either Mr. Gilbert : he acknow-
ledges it. He has wronged me — ^wronged all
— ^he acknowledges that too.

*' I do, I do ; but what am I to do, in pov-
erty, without a home ?"

"Maitland." observed Mr. Gilbert, you
have wronged me, you have tortured me, aye,
you can never feel such agony as that one act
inflicted upon me ; let that pass * this is is a
night of rejoicing. So shall it be of forgive-
ness ; promise to reform, promise to do this,
and you shall not lack the means to effect that
that object."

* * I do, I do promise. " And the man of crime
was humbled to the dust.

** Then Maitland, Mr. Gilbert and myself
will see you in the morning. Peter here will
attend to your comforts until then."

" Yes, that I will Mr. Vernon," replied Pe-
ter.

" Hold your tongue." And Mrs. P's hand
was in an instant on her husband's mouth.

** These tears. Vernon, tell me that I am
still a man. God bless you all. Alice will

S^u forgive me, Mr. St. (^air, and dare I ask
rs. Vernon, and these dear children to for-
give me too ?"

** You may ask it, Mr Maitland." for that
repentance which has brought a beloved hus-
band to my arms, may once again restore you
to sodety. You have our forgiveness."
• • • • «

Our story is ended. A house of mooming
was turned into a house of joy.

I Alice was married to Mr EoiWKtd, Peter
' and his wife still kept the Inn in good repute,
j although the several doors of tbe main oi-
I trances, were literally covered over with eld
! horse shoes ; and it is said, that several ghosts
; were seen in the neighborhood, bnt their tran*
; sit fW)m the other world was predicated alone
on the evidence of Maggy, which we r^^ret
to add was somewhat questionable.

We have endeavored in this story to pre-
sent the vices of men in such a light, as will,
we hope point out to others the way to avoid
them. Again, we have attempted to raise a
standard for poor human nature, in the esti-
mation of those whose sole object is and ever

has been to abuse and lessen it

Thbse abb the Drunkabds of Socibtt.

SKETCHES OF GEORGIA.

SKETCH FOURTH.

Mary. — Bosomworth, — Noble Jones. — Jos-
per^s Spring — Sceite there. — Siege of Sai^Qn'
nah. — Puuiski. — Major Jones. — Sergetmt
Jasper. — His last Words.

** Not to the swift, nor to the utroo^
The hattlee of the right belong;
For he, who itrfkee flor freedcMn, wean
The »nB<nr of the raptive's prayers;
And Nature pn^ers to his canm
The strength of her eternal laws."

** Combfaaed by honor s sacred tie,
0\ir word is, Laws and Liberty I
March forward, one and all.'*

Soon.

Around this infant settlement of Savannmli,
for many long years, clustered the hopes and
fears of the colonists, who scattered amid the
surrounding forest, looked thither-ward Ibr
protection and counsel Many were the dsa-
gers, numerous the difficulties which beset its
onward progress, and once in particular a
cloud of darkness had well-nigh settled
gloomily and fatally upon its pathway. When
the tribes of Southern Georgia, duped by the
intrigues of the designing Mary, had hailed
her queen, and were persuaded to adopt the
perfidious counsels <^ traitorous Bosomworth,
it *was deemed proper to convoke a grand as-
sembly of the natives in this city, in order to
convince, if possible, the Indians of their Ibl-
ly in forwarding the intentions of aa artM
woman. While with tranquilizcd minds they
are listening to the voice of reason, sudd^saly
the frantic Mary escaping from her confine-
ment rushes wildly into their presence, and
with awful denunciations of wrath upon the
whites— calls upon the Indians to raJIr aad
proteet their queen. The entire asBembly is
m an instant tnrown into an umxMur. Eveiy
warrior with brandished tomaaawk

SKETCHB8 OF Q90RGU.

215

to ln» feet. For a xnomeiit the war-ciy trem-
bles upon his lips, and the eagle eye glares
with demonical rage. For a moment t^ fate
of this infant colony swings doubtfully in the
belance. There • is but a handful of men
among the English, but their hearts are stout,
and their arms are strong. At this critical
junction, Noble Jones, a man of commanding
aspect, with the personal bearing of a hero,
sword in hand steps forward, seizes in the pre-
sence of her warriors this Mary, and leads '
her again to her place of confinement. The
eflfect produced is magical. By this act of
consummate bravery, the natives are over- i
awed, and the dignity of his comrades main- i
tained. • Who can limit the influence of one
determined spirit, when momentous issues are
at stake ? The wild and angry tiger shrinks
back from the fixed gaze and marble front of
the undaunted hunter amid the Jungles of |
Africa, and the sons of the forest dare not <
oppose the measures of him, whose intrepid
daring, and r]4)idity of action, paralyzed their ,
arms, and over-awed every emotion that would
prompt a resistance. Great minds should not
only be able to compr^end an occasion and
its requisites — ^but also to make opportunities
and improve them, in the furtherance of some
desired end. Alexander dragged the Pythian
priestess to the temple on a forbidden da^ —
she exclaimed — My son thou art invincible.
Again with his keen-edged steel he severs that
Gordian Knot, whose intricacies his hands
were unable to loose. Brennus cast his sword
into the poised balance, and Nelson snatched
laurels from the doubtful hand of victory,
hedtating where to bestow them. Although
the time-honored maxim '• slow and sure,*'
shoold be carefully observed when plans are
merely formative in their character, yet when
they have been maturcKi, the delay of a sin-
f^ moment may prove fatal, where instantan-
eous action would have crowned with brilliant
success the proposed undertaking. Two miles
from Savannah a ^rin^ now almost covered
with water lilies, is pomted out as a locality
possessed of more than ordinary interest.
Sorely, judging from its appearance, its chief
attraction cannot consist in the limpid water;
nor are the deep green forests around, more
beaatiful than many others which are passed
with scarce a casual remark commendatory
of their luxuriance. Another cause indepen-
dant of these natural attractions, has render-
ed it remarkable. Associations of a national
aad patriotic character have designated it as
a spot never to be forgotten by any Georgian,
<v perhaps — any American. It was here, that
one of those extraordinary feats of partisan
warfare was performed, which so signally
characterized the Revdutionary conflict in
these young States. Sergeant Jasper at this
tiiBe ^iga^d in examining the str^gth and
pottlkm of the English oamp at Ebeneier,

was moved with the deq)e8t sympi^hy at the
distresses of a Mrs. Jones, whose husband
had just been captitred ; and being r^arded
as a deserter from the royal cause, was soon
to be carried to Savannah — there to atcme for
his devotion to the cause of liberty perhaps
upon the gibbet. Savannah was now in the
hands of the British, and was strongly gar-
risoned. A guard of a sergeant, corporal and
eight soldiers was despatched to conduct him
thither. The design of rescuing Jones i^nd
several others in irons from their impending
fate, was immediately conceived by Jasper,
and communicated by him to his only compan-
ion Newton, who with enthusiastic ardor im-
mediately enlisted in the generous undertak-
ing. The odds were fearful, circumspection
absolutely necesj^ry, and under the circum-
stances they were unable to suggest any de-
terminate plan of operations. Passing the
guard however, and finding that the proxim-
ity of the enemy in Savannah, every moment
rendered the hope of delivering the prisoners
more precarious, considering this spring as
the spot most favorable for the enterprise,
they accordingly concealed themselves within
the dark undergrowth in its immediate vicin-
ity. The main road runs just by this place,
and this route the British guard had taken
for Savannah. The spring is reached. An
air of mingled heroic resignation, and mag-
nanmity of soul sufiuses the countenances of
the priscmers, as they halt, firmly bound.
Only two of the sddiers remain to guard the
captives. The others carelessly leaning their
guns against the trees, leisurely approach the
spring. In an instant the sentinels are shot
do¥m, and before the remainder of the guard
have sufficiently recovered fix)m this unex-
pected attack, every musket is in the posses-
sion of Jasper and his comrade. It was l^e
exploit of a moment Two of the seized mus-
kets are levelled at the group, who springing
to their feet, with their lips still moistened
with their cool draught, are petrified and as-
tounded at the suddenness or the attack, and
the complete success of the victors. Resifl-
tance is useless. The chains are loosed from
the captives, and with them the English sol-
diers are confined. What must have been
their surprise and mortification, at finding
themselves so suddenly, so unexpectedly cap-
tured by an enemy, only one-fifth their num-
ber: just too at a time, when they had deem-
ed their mission accomplished, and were ac-
tually not two miles from the head quarters
of their army ! Now, instead of a weeping
mother, and a pinioned husband, with his
companions in chains, we behold a joyous
wife, and liberated captives, enlisted once
more in sujpport of American freedom, con-
ducting theur oppressors completely in their
power, to their own brave bend at Purya-
Durgh. With what pround emoti(»w of satia-

ai6

BIZABRX.

tigikctkm most Uie breMts <^ JMper and I
Newton hftve swelled, as they regaraed the
socoeflsfbl aocomplishment of t^ir daring
project Gallant exploit ! Worthy the heart
and arm of an Am^ican Patriot ! In this
short sketch* it were impossible to reooont all
those Revolutionary incidents connected
with the history of Savanni^, so deu* to the
heart of every true lover of his country. The
pen need not trace them, for they are already
written on the tablets of memory. Yet, we
cannot forbear alluding to that memorable at-
tempt made by the combined armies of the
Americans and French, under Count D'Estalng
to rescue Savannah from the dominion of the
English. True, it proved unsuccessful, yet
the chapter containing an account of the
brave deeds, and the intrepid warriors who
there fought and fell, is a bright and glorious
one in our national history. It was here that
Count Pulaski the noble Pde, who an exile
from his country sought these shores in order
nobly and g^ierously to enlist in a vindication
of the rights of an injured colony struggling
for a name and station among the nations of
t^e earth, received a mortal wound. The
post of danger was always to him the post of
honor, and on this occasion he appeared fore-
most in battle. Bravely did he struggle to
win the day — but his eyes never beheld that
vision of a people free and independant, which
his soul so long and fo ardently coveted. The
defender of Polish and American liberty, fell
before the walls of Savannah. His gallant
comrades perceiving the absence of their es-
teemed companion m>m their ranks, and sus-
pecting the cause, rushed through fire and
smoke, and succeeded in bearing him black-
ened with guu'powder. and faint with loss of
blood, in triumph from the field. Afler the
battle, he was placed in a vessel, to be con-
veyed to Charleston, where he might receive
better medical treatment. He died however
during the passage, and his body was con-
signed to the deep. The announcement of his
decease, cast a gloom over the advocates of
libttiy in this r^on ; for they sensibly felt
tiiat one of their most valuable coadjutors,
had been taken from their midst. His nineral
rites in Charleston were performed with mili-
tary honors : and the citizens of Savannah
have erected a monument (which we noticed
in a ft)rmer sketch) as a tcMStamonial of their
regaiHl, and under a due sense of the lasting
obligations which they owe. Georgia officers
with no command, and private gentlemen,
here fought as common soldiers, and with
them shaded the dangers and the destruction
of the day. Major John Jones, an aid of
Brigader General Mlntosh, while bravely
heading an attack upon the Spring-Hill bat-
t«7, was instantly killed by a four pound
ball. SergeMM Jasper also fell here. During
tbe bloody assault, two officers had been cut

down, aad oae wo«ided, in aMempting to
plant the American colors upon the enemy^a
parapet at Spring-Hill redoubt. He, who had
proved himself a Hero at the '* Sming^** wIm
at Fort Moultrie on Sullivan's Island, » '
the flag-staff as it lay in the diteh,
by the £kiglish cannon from the men of ^
and leaping upon the rampart, supported it
there single-haaded and alone, while iron balb
were crashing around him, he now attempts to
rejdace tfa« standard upon these works, and
in the brave effort received a mortal wound.
That flag was a lady's gift to his raiment,
sacred in his eyes. Fired with chivalroos
emotions, he raises his bleeding bod^, grasps
it, and bears it from the scene of conflict.
Exhausted with the exertion, he sinks upon
the ground. A few more throbs, and tnat
brave heart must cease its pulsations. Tak«
ing his sword in his hand, with his dying
breath he said to Major Horry, *' That siwotd
was presented to me by Governor Rutledge
for my services in the defence of Fort Mom-
trie : give it to my father, and tell him I hare
worn it with honor. If he should weep,^ teO
him his son died in the hope of a better *life.
Tell Mrs. Elliot, that I lost my life supporiiDg
the colors which she presented to our regi-
ment. If you should ever see Jones, his wife
and son, tell them that Jasper is gone, but
that the remembrance of the battle wfai<^ be
fought for them, bnnight a secret joy to bis
heart, when it was about to stop its motioD
forever." Perhaps there was no partimi of-
ficer in Georgia, whose merit was more duly
appreciated, and whose death was more sin-
cerely mourned than Sergeant Jasper. No
one could have more admirably fitted the
position which he occupied, no one more com-
pletely secured the esteem of every one who
knew him. His name will remain so long as
Georgia endures; fi^in honor of him they
have called one of her counties — Jasper. The
spot is still pointed out to the stranger, where
the soldiers who perished at this siege of Star-
annah lie buried. Tall pines wave over, and
grow above the mounds : yet who can a^tnd
and view this sacred spot without experienc-
ing emotions of the most interesting charac-
ter! Who acquainted with the circumstanoes,
does not regard the actions of that day as

** I>eed8 that should not pns away,"

and the names of the heroes who there strag-
gled, as,

** NaoMS that mutt not wither I"
Cowper in his interesting manner has said,

" And when recording History displays
Feats of renown, though wrou{;ht in distant days.
Tells of a few stout hearts, that fttoght and died
Where duty placed them at their Country's side,
The man that is not mor'd with what he reads,
That takes not flre at their heroic deeds,
tmworthy of the hlessin^ of the brare,
Is base in mlnd^ and bom to be a ottne,*

RES CUMOflLS.

217

Biow vswah wfcver ooodMiioatiaii tbcn must
rest upon him, who can lightly reeard these
spots, nallowed with all these midearing re-
colleoti<»iB ef blood'hoQght liberty. We es-
teem it one of the highest pririleges to visit a
l^aee like this, and we would fain linger long,
to give imocmBtrained utterance to oar emo-
tions, and dwdl with increasing rapture upon
the glorioas risions of the past, as they pass
beftire us, —

•• Tni an without begins to fnde,
Like Bommer clond« In ere'ning shade:
And bright befort our wond'ring eyes,
W« mark the vivid picture rise."

RES cumosiE.

We have been faT<»red by a learned friend,
with the file of a very curious periodical, pub-
li^ed in Philadelphia many years ago, enti-
tled the JEseukqnan Register, from which we
propose, under the above heading, to offer a
series of extracts, which will continue through
many numbers of Bizarrb. The gentleman
to whom we are indebted for this singular
woric, was one of its principal Editors, and
wrote, without question, many of the most
learned articles. He is now far advanced in
life, but still retMus his love for science and
literature. His collection of old and rare
works is probably the largest and best of its
kind in the country ; and he has drawn from
it, DO doubt, largely, in order to his contribu-
tions for the work in notice. But to our ex-
tracts: —

— "Rbposb of the Heart. — Mr. Laennec,
in his interesting work on Mediate Ausculta-
tion, has given a very curious and ingenious
calculation of the quantity of repose allotted
to the heart. This muscle has generally been
thought to perform its functions without
rest, and to be a kind of perpetual motion. —
As there are, perhaps, many who have not
read this work, or probably this part of it,
we give here Mr. Laennec 's statements. Af-
ter some observations, &c., he proceeds thus :

**It fdlows from these observations that
the heart, far from being in a state of continu-
al moti<m, as is commonly thought, presents
alternations of repose and action, whose com-
IMirative sums scarcely differ from the propor-
tions which many other muscles of the animal
economy, and particularly the diaphragm
and intercostal muscles present in this respect.
In effect, in admitting oy an apiHX)ximating
calculation very near to exactness, that of the
total duration of time occupied by the com-
plete succession of the movements of the
heart, one fourth is occupied by an absolute
r^^oae of all its parts, one half by the con-
traction of the ventricles, and a fourth by
that of the aurides, we will find that out it
i!wmtj4fmr haurs, the ventricles haive twdve

hours of repose, and theauricles eighteen. In
individuals, whose pulse gives haStually less
than fifty pulsations a minute, the repose of
the ventricles is more than sixteen hours a
day. The muscles of vcduntary motions
themselves have often not more, in men en-
gaged in laborious occupations, and amongst
those especially which sore to maintain the
trunk Mid head in an erect j^Mition, there
are some certainly that repose less; the
more so as their action is not perhaps always
completely interrupted by sleep."
— *• And again he says ; — * "We may there-
fore conclude that in a healthy man, and one
who, following the rules of hygiene, habitu-
ally takes, or pursues scone exercise propor-
tioned to hjs strength, the sum of motion is
nearly the same in each order of muscles, and
that the heart offers no exception in this res-
pect.

**He concludes the paragraph thus: —
' This nearly equal distribution of motion in
the muscular system, in spite of a great ap-
parent inequality, seems in fact to be the re-
sult of a general law in nature. Thus, the
medium duration of the day, the medium
temperature, do not differ sensiblv, spite of
contrary appearances, at Senegal and at
Petersburgh ; and one year in the same
climate, does not present in these respects any
more than under that of the quantity of rain,
a notable difference from the year preceeding
or following.

" Whether these last items are correct, or
whether all will agree with our learned au-
thor therein, is a matter perhaps Q. E. D."
— " What is a Journal f — What is a Jour-
nal ? I ask, for I hear of daihjy weekly y mouth'
ly^ quarterly, aye onntio/ journals. Formerly,
the word was restricted to the first, and gave
an account of things that happened from day
to day, — a quotidian affair, — a diary, — ^but
modem improvement has wonderfully extend-
ed its signification, and consequently its
sphere of utility. Now, gentlemen, I cannot
agree with a friend of mine, who says the pro-

?rietors, editors, Ac., of these things are all
libcmians, and therefore, until some of your
learned and ingenious c(nTe6pondents will af-
ford me a more rational explanation, I must
conclude that custom, by its sanction and
support, has triumphed over derivation. *

** If six hours sleep is all that is absolutely
requisite to health, what pcnrtion of a man's
life, who arrives to three score years and ten,
is actually lost to him for ever ?^*
— ** We are requeued to ask whoever it may
concern, by what auth<nity the public stairs,
running from Front to Water Street, are in
several j^aces shut up, — and have been for a
great length of time ? It was very proper
during the yellow fover, but what has called
for its continuance ? IfthisisBOtsoonobvi-*
ated, what is jnMc property will ]Mrofaably

1UL8

BIZARHR.

aooD be daimed u pnyate. It is hi^y
probable that by some entering tDedge like the
present, the citizens have b^ deprived of
that beautiful esplanade and fine prospect
which William Penn contem];dated in the
original plan of Philadelphia, by allowing of
buildings on the West side of Front street
only ; — and although the measure proposed
some time ogo by Mr. Beck, seems at present
slumbering, we hope that a plan adapted both
to beautify and improve the city, may still
be carried into operation within a few years."

— ** Gbntlembn,— I think the following old
verses will prove a good translation of your
Latin line on a deaf man : —

*A DBAF MAN.

* Deaf, gfddy, helploM. left alone.
To all bin frtendsn burden fm>wn ;
No more he hcam tbo cburcb> beU,
Than If It ranir out for hi" knell :
At thundnr now. no morn he starts.
Than at th« rumhlinji; of the carta;
And what's In'TitUblo nlak!
C:'n -caroelf h«»ar a woman's dack *

"P. S* Can any one inform roe why the
tolling of the bell at a funeral is called the '
knell?" I

— " Sack, the favorite beverage of Fallstaff, i
seems to have been equally acceptable to some |
of the physicians of nearly two centuries ago. |
Witness Dr. Uodges, who, in his Loiraologia, I

}). 217, thus extols it : — * But before I proceed
urther, gi^titude obliges me to do justice to
the virtues of Sodk, as it deservedly is ranked
amongst the principal antidotes, whether it
be drank by itself, or impregnated with worm-
wood, angeUca, &c., for I have never yet mot
with anything so agreeable to the nerves and
spirits in all my experience. That which is
best is middle-aged, neat, fine, racy, and of a
walnut flavor ; and it is certainly true, that
durmg the late fatal times, (the plague of
166^,) both the infected and the well found
vast benefit from it, unless they who used it
too intemperately.' "

— " 1767, January 24,—' One Patrick Red-
mond having been condemned at Cork, in
Ireland, to Im hanged for a street robbery, he
was accordingly executed, and hung upwards
o£ twenty-eight minutes, when the mob car-
ried ofif ue body to a place appointed, where
he was, after five or six hourst actually re-
covered by a soi^geon, who made the incision
in his wind-pipe called Bronchotomy, which
produced the desired efifect. The poor fellow
nas since been pardoned.' — Gent, Mag. v. 37,
p. 90.

'* In Vol. 58, p. 616, of the same work, is a
long account of one Ambrose Gwinnett, who
was executed for a murder that was never
committed ; he was brought to life again and
escaped into a foreign country, where he lived
many years, until lie accidentally met with
the man (or whoie sapposed murder he had
been hung.

** An interestiBg deductaon may be m doobt-
edly drawn from a knowledge of these fiusts*
viz; — the importance of long conlinusd exer-
tions to secure success in asphixia from anj-
cause : too often, content with an hoar, an
hour or two perhaps, we leave the unfortunate
patient to his fate, when probably on tbe
point of a happy issue to our exertiona ! —
Another deduction of as great importance, i«,
perhaps, the influence of bronchotomy, in »
case of asphyxia of less probable success than
that from drowning."

— ** The following account of the discovery of
a drowned body, is very gravely given in the
Gent. Mag. above adverted to, p. 18? — onder
the head of the Historical Chronicle :

* The body was discovered by a very singa-
lar experiment, ( OCT* singular indeed, and
unique, for we presume it will never occnr
again,) — ^which was as follows: — After diK-
gent search had been made in the river Ibr
the child, to no purpaw, a two penny loaf,
with a quantity of quicksilver put into it, was
set floating from the place where the child, it
was supposed, had fallen in, which steered
its coast down the river upwards of half a
mile, before a great number of spectators, when
the body happened to lay on the contrary side
of the river, the loaf suddenly tacked abofftt,
and swam across tbe river, and gradoally
sunk near the child, when both the child and
loaf were immediately brought up with grab-
lers ready for that purpose."
— ** May 3d, 1767,--*Francis Gorman, for the
murder of T. Griffith, was executed pursuant
to his sentence. A young woman, with a
wen upon her neck, was lifted up while he
was hanging, and bad the wen rubbed with
the dead man^s hand, from a superstitious no-
tion that it would effect a cure. — Gent Mag.
V. 37."

— *' Idem. — A sugar baker in Cheapside,
put into fresh earth up to the chin, in wln^
situation he remained 6 hours, by way of rem-
edy for an inveterate scurvy, that had baffled
the skill of eminent physicians."

— " In the archives of St. Claude in the monn-
taneous part of Burgundy, is preserved the
following sentence : * Having seen all the j
papers of the process, and heard the opinions
of the Doctors learned in the laws, we declare
Claude Guilcon to be fully attainted and con-
victed of having taken away part of the flesh
of a horse, and of eating the same, on the 1st
of March, 1629, fbeing a fish day)— For this
offence, on the 28th July, in the same year,
he was beheaded.*

~«Inthe 28th v. of thePhflos. Traoa. p.
273, an account is given by Dr. Slare of hia
grand-father, who, at the^ of 86 jetn, had
a oomi^ete new set of twth, ana his hair,
which was as white as snow, becaiae fra4»i

BIZABRB AMONG THE NSW BOOKS.

219

tUj dftrker; after this be lived about 14 years
in great bealtb and vigour, and in tbe lOOtb
year of his age, died of a plethora for want of
bleeding/' ,

— ** * I know an old man (says Turner, Syph'
tHs„ p. 164.) who, although disaUed in his
feet by this disease (Qout) for 20 years past,
jret sets upon his chair with his legs upon a
stool playing almost every night with his
friends at cribbidge ; when instead of chalk,
he scores with this kind of animal fossil,
{chaih'Stones, or more properly urat of soda,)
dug out of a mine in the joints of ^s great
toes : of which he never is without a supply
in a box at hand.'"

— ** Feb. 1, 1763. * Being a very clear day, a
gentleman at Wentworth proeured a circular
piece of ice two feet nine inches in diameter,
umI five inches thick, which he reduced to
the form of a lens, and about noon, being ex-
posed to the sun, the rays transmitted through
it, (converged to a focus at seven feet dis-
tance,) fired gunpowder, paper, linen, and
other combustibles.' "

— '' Among the deaths mentioned in the sup-
plement to the Gent. Mag. for 1793, p. 1215,
we find that of ' William Lewis, Esq., in the
ict of drinking a cup of Welch ale, containing
about a wine quart, called a tumbler maur. —
He made it a rule every morning of his life,
to read so many chapters in the Bible, and in
the evening, as a digestion of his morning
study, to drink full eight gallons of ale. It is
calculated that in his life-time he must have
drunk a su£Scient quantity to float a 74 gun
ship. His size was astonishing ; it is suppos-
ed the diameter of his body was no less than
two jrards, He weighed forty stone. He
died m his parlour, a lucky circumstance, as
it would have been almost impossible to have
got him down stairs ; as it was, it was found
necessaey to have a machine, in form of a
crane, to lift him on a carriage, and after-
wards to have the same brought into the
chorch-yard to let him down into the grave,'
Ac."

" vEaoaTATioK. It is scarcely possible to
imagine the ancients altogether unacquainted
with the principles of aerostation. The Fairy
Tales and Arabian Nights, afibrd a strong
presumptive of this in those excursions through
the air, by wooden horses, Turkey carpets,
Ac., which they so delightSfully describe to
the astonished and bewildered fancy of the
youthful inquirer into the accounts of former
ages!

Can we not discover some vestiges of the
same in the tale of Fortunatus ? and, long be-
fore those tales were penned, we may peniaps
traoein the flight of Icarus and Daedalus some
proof that balloons were even then known
nd employed. The downfall of the former
WIS but the prototype of the celebrated de

To demomrtrate this beyond all cavil, is
perhaps impossible, and we shall thereifbre
conclude, by stating, that a legend exists res-
pecting the Chinese emperor Ram, who reign-
ed about 16 centuries ago, which adds plausi-
iMlity to the opinion. The festival of the
lamps in China is an annual exhibition, said
to be in commemoration of the downfall of
the emperor Ki, who shut himself up from
the light of the sun, in a palace perpetually
illuminated. So splendid was the spectacle
that the emperor Aom irresistably inclined to
behold it, but not daring avowedly to leave
his court, he put himself into the hands of a
magician, who enabled him, seated on a fine
throne, io sail through the air, and contemplate
from above the whole solemnities of the festi-
val. Whether all the above notices are ade-
quate to demonstrate the fiact I shall not say ;
but it seems scarcely possible that there
should not be some {solid) foundation f(^
such notions of the ancients ; or that the
whole of these legends should be but the pro-
duct of an excursive imagination ! We were
long ago informed by the wisest of men, that
there is nothing new under the sun.^^
Letter from Dr. Wilcocks.

Sir, — Tbe Conde D'Ericeyra, a nobleman of
letters, and curious in natural knowledge,
brought from the frontiers of this coimtry,
(Germany) a woman, without a tongue, who yet
speaks very well. She is 17 years old, but in
stature exceeds not one of 7 or 8. I was with
her at the Conde's house, and made her pro-
nounce every letter in the alphabet, which
^e can do distinctly, except Q, which she
calls Cu, after the common pronunciation of
all her country people. She hath not the least
bit of tongue, nor anything like it ; but the
teeth, on both sides of her jaw, turn very
much inward, and almost meet. She finds
the greatest want of a tongue in eating ; for,
as others, when they eat, move their meat
about with their tongue, she is forced to use
her finger. She pretends to distinguish tastes
very well, but I believe doth it imperfectly.
Her voice, though veij distinct, is a little
hollow, and like that of old people who have
lost half theiif teeth. The Conde, who is a
friend to the muses, has written the following
epigram on the occasion :

** Mon mirum elinKuii mailer quod Tvrbii Inqimtar,
Mirum est cam lingae quod taoent muHor."

^i^aru aimmg \\t |tetii §oolis.

HOK/ia mo-ruRsa.

— The Harpers have just issued a book with
this title, which is from the pen of Mrs. M. A.
Dennison: a lady of refinement as well as
genius. It consists of what its name implies
*' Home Pictures: " and embraces graceful and
winning manner and matter. The author has
acquired no little reputation, by her oontribu^

220

BIZABRE.

tkms to the coltmms of a Boston newsu ftp er,
under the siroAinre of '* M. A. D.'* As be-
tween hersdf and <« Fanny Fern;" the latter,
to our mind, is left sadly in thevocature ; not
so much on the score of original thought,
happy expression, grotesque but appropriate
comparison, as on the score of refinement,
delicacy; without which, to us, woman's
writings lose their ereat charm. ** Fanny
Fern'* is vulgar. You laugh at her droU
conceits, as you do at those of a fish-vender in
Market street. She is tender and touching at
times neverthdess ; she draws tears from un-
willing eyes : but you can't help thinking af-
ter the quick-breathing, after the strong blow-
ing of the nose is over, that the tish-vender it
still is, who has excited you : indeed the fish-
woman will impel to a conviction of this
kind — ^by a sudden leap which she makes out
of an uncongenial atmosphere ; where her gen-
ius has helped her to shine, into a congenial
one, where she literally blazes with glory.

We give a few specimens of ** Home Pic-
tures." Take the following : it is entitled

" THE OLD CHURCH."

** I was venr young when I was first taken
to church. I remember how my little hand
trembled as we went up the two square stone
steps — my mother and I — ^and how I gazed
around with a vague, indistinct idea of vast-
ness when fairly within the sacred portals.
The house seemed so large, so silent, so awful
to me. I wondered if the minister always
lived in that square box, and if he ever went
up to the great sounding-board above. I
thought possibljr the carved cherubs were
real angels lookmg down from the pulpit. I
wondered why every body was so silent, and
clung to my mother that I might continually
assure myself of her presence. If I had been
suddenly thrust upon an isolated shore with
beings of another race, speaking another ton-
gue, and all possibility of rescue out of the
question, I do not think I should have felt
more deserted— only my mother was there. I
started at the minister's voice ; and though
the old gray-headed man had held me often
on bus knee, he seemed as far removed from
me and sdl the earth in that holy plaoe as the
light of the gray dawn is from the darkest
shade of midnight.

The first hymn oppressed me ; it was a sad
melody, and softly sung— I knew not then
what for ; and the prayer, the silence of a
moment seemed to he prolonged to an age.
Undefined thoughts took tangible shapes, and
I had strai^e visions. I can remember them
distinctly, though there is no need that I
i^onld portray my childish fancies.

Marion Summers was christened that day.

I sat on the little cricket at my mother's
feet that evening, just after tea, looking with
her upoa the changing beauty of the sky,

when a neisfabor eame hurriedly in, and, Bit-
ing her vail, said, with a burst of tears,

** Its all over, dear lamb !"

<' You don't mean that Marion Summers is
dead ?" said my mother, starting, and bend-
ing forward.

*<Yes, like the going out of a candle it
was : nobody thou^t it, you know, but her-
self. Qeorge is well-nigh distracted. So young,
and onlv just married ! Who didn't love Mar-
ion ? And there she lies — beautiful ! beanti-
M ! You wouldn't think her dead. But I
must go. I am trying to get some one to
watch with the corpse tonight."

And so she went out ; and for an hoar my
mother sat and looked steadily out into tKe
wanning twilight, and I dared not speak. A
haunting question in a form intangible kepi
floating through my mind — "What can Uus
death be?"

When my mother went with me to my lit-
tle chamber, I begged her to stay till I slept ;
and, kind creature that she was, she under^
stood me. So I fell to sleep with my fingers
clasped in her hand, and dreamed of Marion
Summers.

I have been watching the lake ; it seems to
have a pulse this morning, and the lily leaves
shake upon its bosom, Beautifhl lake ! you
will lose the wild companion whose hand has
broken your crystal clearness to shower its
diamonds against the slant sunbeams. The
mallows are creeping out, with little specks of
blossoms, and the crimson flowers of the
peach make the garden brilliant.

Herbert has just gone, repeating "next
week ;" and — and T believe I am rather sor-
rowful than otherwise.

I have not planted yet ; I always have be-
fore now. Somehow I dread to bury the
seeds, and leave them while the earth is black
over them.'

The heroine is a simple country girl who
becomes interested in a city gentleman. She
marries him, and the pictures she presents are
those which rose up before and after that
event. We have stricking scenes of real life,
aod the reader, whether male or female, mav
gather useful lessons from them. Such a book
is destined to do much good. Without being
great it may easily accomplish great re-
sults.

BLLAN, OR HTMS OHAINSO fV^OTHER.

— This is the title of another negro romance,
or * tomitude,' which comes to us from Cincin-
nati, where it was published for the author.
Mary B. Harlan, by Applegate A Co. Its
design is to show the practical workings €l(
slavery in Kentucky, where the institution is
thought to exist in its mildest fonn. The
scenes, too, are declared to be sketches of real
life. Whether this be really the fact, we
cannot say. We should judge, if true, th^

OUR WEEKLY GOSSIP.

are drawn inmi the exception rather than the
eeneral rale. They portray, too, features of
debauchery and crime, which cannot but ex-
ert a pernicious influence upon the pure mind.
We feel surprised that any woman should
have mane a book of them. We shall won-
der all the more, if that woman can find an^
considerable class of readers, amoue the deli-
cate and refined of her own sex. The author
writes very well. It is singular she should
write about such vulgar, disgusting things,
as she does in the course of this volume. —
However, Mrs. Stowe is the chief of sinners
in publishing these revolting pictures. She it
was, at any rate, who first tested their capac-
ity for bringing in the dollars. Finding them
splendidly productive, she has aroused the cu-
pidity of others of her sex, to say nothing of
that of certain things who call themselves men.
We question whether the author of the
" Chained Mother " will get either gold or
glory. Like the rest of those who have trod
in the cloven foot- tracks of Stoweism, she will
only find a few husks in the path. The
cream of the glory of negro romance writing
belongs to Mrs. Stowe ; and she will feed upon
it as long as she lives. If we are not mistak-
en, the day is coming when she will reap the
bitterness of fatness ; it will come, too, with
tbe uprising of Uie bloody hands of insurrec-
tion, which will incarnadine the memory of
'' Uncle Tom," and consign its author to an in-
fiuny greater than that which attaches to the
name of Benedict Arnold and Judas Iscariot.

HARRV OOVBnOAcK»a OOURT'SHIP.

—This story comes to us from H. Long A
Brother, New York, through Peterson, of our
city. The author has written one or two en-
tertaining works, and enjo3rs considerable pop-
ularity am(»)g a certain class of readers. The
style is easy, and there is, upon the whole,
much to interest, particularly at this dull,
dreamy season. One wants a book like < ' Har-
ry Coverdale's Courtship " to while away the
time, when the thermometer rises up among
the nineties, as at present. Deep and elabo-
rate books invite action of the mind, which,
in the hot summer months, excites perspira-
tion of the body. A light story, however,
wdl besprinkled with incident, is decidedly
seasonble. There is wit and pathos of de-
cided character in ** Harry Coverdale," while
it also contains certain limnings of character
really and truly those of an accomplished artist.

SeoONO BOOK IN LATIN

—The Harpers have published a work with
this title. It contains syntax and reading
lessons in prose. The author is Professor
John McClintock, late of Dickinson College
in our State, and a fine classical scholar. —
I The name of the work implies a predecessor,
ind one actually exists, to which the present
is a complement The readings are taken

from Csesar and Cicero, sources than which
none in the whole range of the classics are
purer. The selecticms and the arrangements
are excellent. The author ackkowledges
himself indebted to Klaiber's " Lattcinische
Chrestomathie,'' Kraft's '* Chrestomathie Cio-
eroniana," Merrinff's " Memorirbuch," and
other standard authorities.

#Mr WitM]^ §mip

— The English papers notice the death of
Joseph Cottle, well known from his conneo-
tion with Coleridge, Wordsworth and Southey,
and as being one of the brothers of Amos
Cottle, who was handled so severely bj Byron
in his '' English Bards and ^tch Reviewers,"
as follows : —

** Ohl Amos Cottle I PboebuB, what » name,
To fill the fpeakhig tramp of fatnre fame,
Oh I Amoe CotUo ! for a moment think
What meagre profit« apread Arom pen and ink !
When thus deroted to poetic dreams.
Who wiU pemeo thy proctitated reams?
Oh, pen perverted I paper misapplied I
Had Cottle still adom'd the counter side.
Bent o^er the desk, or, horn to nsefiil toils,
Been taught to make the paper which he soUa,
Ploughed, delred, or plied the oar with lust/ limh|
He had not sung of Wales, nor I of him."

On re-perusing these lines in 1816, Byron
adds in a note : — ** All right. I saw some
letters of this fellow (Joseph) to an unfor-
tunate poetess, whose productions the poor
woman by no means thought vainly of ; he
attacked her so roughly and bitterly, that I
could hardly resist assailing him, even were
it unjust, which it is not, tor verily he is an
ass."

This same person has the honour to be no-
ticed also in the ** Antijacobin," probably by
Canning, thus ; —

«* And Cottle, not ho who that Alfred made fkaoQa,
Bat Joseph, of Bristol, the Brother of Amos."

— A writer in the ** Notes and Queries" says
that he has in his possession a book presented
by Addison to Swift, with the following in-
scription in Addison's hand-writing on ,the
fly-leaf at the beginning : —

" To Dr. Jonathan Swift, the most Agree-
able Companion, the Truest Friend, and the
Greatest Genius of his Age, this Book is pre-
sented by his most Humble servant the Au-
thour."

This is a more pleasing picture than that
presented by a late writer, who being bom
three quarters of a century after the era of
Swift, is not likely to be so good a judge of
his character as a'contemporary.

— France has determined to send a compli-
mentary mission over to attend the inaugura-

222

BIZARRE.

tion of the New York Industrial Exhibition. ]
M. Sallandroox De Laroornaix, who is about
to visit Dublin on special service in connexion
with its Exhibition, has been selected for the
transatlantic journey. He receives instruc- ,
tions to represent his country on ceremonial I
occasions, — to examine the articles exhibited, I
—and to report on such new markets as may 1
be open to French industry, and on the na- ;
ture of any treaties which might be conclud-
ed in favour of tJie enterprise and conunerce
of his country. ,

— Messrs. Ingram. Cooke & CJo., have reprint- 1
ed a work by an American author, entitled ,
• Money ; How to get, how to keep, and how j
to use it,' — not being, as they say, aware that !
the said American author had taken — ** * con- 1
veyed,' the wise it call," — a quantity of his t
matter from an English writer, Mr. Henry j
Taylor. The publishers have made the pro- '
per acknowledgments. The Athenanim in '
announcing this fact says : —

** While writing on this subject, we may
take the opportunity of refering to a kindred
topic : — the appropriation of well-know and
popular titles to American books reprinted in
this country. We sec advertized * The
Chronicles of Clovcmook' by one of the cheap
reprinting houses, in a series : and on looking
narrowly, we find that it ^s a * Chronicle' by
** Aunt Gary," or some such person. — and not
the well-known work of Mr. Douglas Jerrold.
This is in any case improper : and we should
think it is a breach of copyright. A title is
always a significant and often an essential
part of a book ; and, as such, has a claim for
legal protection."

In the matter of stealing, John Bull is fully
as expert and unscrupulous as ourselves. The
habit should be denounced on all hands.

At a recent meeting of the London Etomo-
logical Society Mr. Westwood mentioned some
curious circumstances which had lately oc-
cnred in his apiary. About ten days pre-
viously one of his hives threw off a swarm
which settled in the front of the bee-house,
and stopped the entrance to the next hive,
the inhabitants of which at once commenced
fighting the invaders. Mr. Westwood then
sought for and removed the queen, and having
released her, she led the swarm to the en-
trance of another hive, where a second battle
began. The queen being again removed ; this
time to a rosebush ; she flew away, and the ;
swarm returned to the hive whence it had \
come, probably following the queen, for this
day a fine swarm had come off. Yesterday, a
dinerent hive gave forth a swarm from an-
other hive : much fighting ensued, but to-day
all was quiet, whence it might be presumed
that one of the queens had been killed. Mr.
Waring knew an instance in which four
had united, and the hive had to be

enlarged, being too small to hddthe bees.
Mr. Wallace read a paper, *0n the Insects
used as Food by the Indians of the AmasoD,'
several different kinds bein^ mentioned wiiich
are sought for and eaten with avidity.

M. Demetrius Galanos, a learned linguist at
Athens, who for more than twenty years oc-
cupied with distinction the Chair of Sanscrit
at the College of Benares, inHindoostan, late-
ly died, at the age of sixty-nine ; bequeath-
ing to the University of Athens, on condition
of its cau.^ing them to be published, his nu-
merous works on the idioms of Asia : for
which purpose he has left sufficient funds.
The University accepts the gift and the office ;
and has appointed its rector. Dr. Qeorgio Thy-
paldos, to conduct the publication. The works
will make about ten folio volumes.

Among the latest acts of Louis Napoleon
has been, his award of a pension to the
Mdlles. Comeille, descendants of the great
tragic dramatist of France.

A Neapolitan boy, by name Tito Mattel :
aged twelve years, is now in L<mdon, says the
Atherknumt adding to the list of musical pro-
digies past and present, by his precocity in
pianoforte playing, his **rare organization"
(to quote Mr. Ella's * Record') "for analys-
ing sounds," and, most of all, his cleverness
in the making of melodies. He has crossed
the Alps, it is added, to study.

The brilliant painter-poet, Buchanan Read,
received a handsome testamonial from his
friends on leaving this city, in the shape^ of
some thousands of dollars, forwarded to
him by the liberal donors.

The Library and Garden an excellent week-
ly paper published at Buffalo (N, Y.) thus ,
kindly notices Bizarre : — j

** " Bizarre ' is an original weekly journal, ,
for fireside and wayside, published by Church
& Co., Philadelphia. We hail the weddy
visits of this beautiful paper with pleasure. •
It is edited with ability, and contains muofa ^
valuable literary matter. In fact it is one of |
the best literary papers of the country. Grare
and ga^, young and old, will ever find some-
thing in its columns to please them. The
Editor's sans'souci is a spicy dish well served
up."

The sisters of Kossuth have established
themselves in New York city, where they are
supporting themselves and their children bj
the sale of laces, embroideries, tnuslins, siUs,
jewdry, and such articles of value or neces-
sity, as pertains to a woman's wardrobe.
Their address is No. 1 Irving Place, comer of
Fourteenth street

The Knickerbocker for July is glorious. Hie
work has been increased in size sixteen' pages.
In consequence of his enlarged qualities, the
editor '^spreads himself exceedingly. HeteUi

EDITOBS' SANS^SOUCI.

228

empttal stories and tells them well. Even the
«* Joe Millers" gather grace and interest under
his pen. We perceive he is again sojourning
at " Dobhs, his Ferry," up the North river.
There may now be a helium pentia? between
«* Old Knick" Clark, and ** Idlewild" WUlis.

Mr. Rbdfisld, has issued the fourth part
of Collier's new amended edition of Shak-
neare's works, and we have received it from
Peterson of our city. This edition as we
have before said must take precedence of all
that have as yet appeared ; in other words, it
will be the standard edition.

The Qermanians are concertizing with great
success at the West. They have Jaell and
little Camille (Japonica) Urso with them.

Max Maretzec is really to hazard an opera
season at Castle Garden in New York, with
Sontag, Salvi, Marini, andPozzolini for stars.
Will Uie Coimte.ss consent to sing to fifty cent
admissions? If yes, she has come down
amazingly.

Me. a. Habt of our city, has just publish-
ed a new tale by Mrs. Lee Hentz, entitled
" Helen and Arthur, or Miss Thusa's Spin-
ning-wheel;" which has an inviting look.
We shall notice it hereafter. Meanwhile let
us beg our readers to cast* their eyes to Mr.
Hart's list of " Summer Reading" books, ad-
vertized in our pages.

** Democratic Monthly Rticit," is the
title of a new periodical published at Washing-
ton, by William H. Lewis & Co., the first
number of which has reached us. It is built
up, as we learn, upon the ashes of the old
Democratic Review, and we trust, for the
sake of its editors and publishers, it may be
SQooessfuL We find some excellent things
in its pages, among which are the introduc-
tion and sevoiil opening chapters of a new
"Tomitude," entitled **A Peep into Uncle
Tom's Cabin."

The London Atheruxum of June 18th, con-
tains a most favorable reveiw of Ross Brown's
" Ynsef." It closes as follows :

«< Everywhere Mr. Brown aims at being
lively and grotesque. Some of his drawings
are full of satire. His 'General View of
Oonstantinople' (with a foreground full of
lean dogs quarrelling, with a few domes and
minarets in the distance), is capital.

" Bleak House," No. 16. has been publish-
ed by the Harpers. The story is swelling to
a bursting point.

C. J. Ptice & Co., of our city, has pub-
lisfaed '* Mind and the Emotions," from the
pen of Dr. Cooke, which we shall notice here-
after. The same enterprising house has re-
oeired '*The Popular Educator" for July,
and other admirable works issued in New
Yoi^ by Alexander Montoomery. Their
place of basiness is No. 7, Hart's Buildings.

0iTAm §>msSm,

THK HIPPOORON/IS.

— The ent^^inments at this place are of a
novel and extraordinary character. We have
never before had anything like them in Phila-
delphia. The old-fashioned circus round is
almost entirely discarded: while a strange,
wild, exciting series of doings occupies their
places. No longer does the horse travel at a
regular clock-work gait around a circle
called the ** ring," with a man or woman
on his back, who goes through a precise ster-
eotype of leaping garters, and jumping through
balloons, while at stated intervals Mr. Merri-
man cracks jokes which are musty with an-
tiquity: but wild restless steeds, two and
three and four abreast, leap into a kind of
race-course, either with a rider who dances
about upon their backs, as if they were the
flooring of Mons. Jules Martin's saloon, or
attached to chariots, which flv about the
elipse as if they were propelled by lightning,
driven bv men who are entire strangers to
fear. Then comes a troupe of ladies seated
seemingly, on untamed chargers, who perform
the most daring races, often leaping hurdles
and barriers three feet high : and causing the
thousands who look on to raise all manner of
evidences of their satisfaction. It is often the
horse and rider tumble over together in the
dust, a confused blending of main, muslin,
tails, gauze, hoofe and ankles shadowing forth
verv, very palpably, a violent death to one or
both of the prostrated : but all eventuates
most happily, for both lady and beast soon
find their feet, and after a shake or two are
ready once more to enter the field. We
might speak of other features of the Hippo-
drome, and especially of the very funny mon-
key hurdle race, but we have no more space.
We are told that the present is the last
week.

PAIN-riNOS ATT THB AOADa^4V.

The series of notices of the present exhibi-
tion of paintings at the Academy of Arts,
commenced in our last, will be continued in
our next. The writer is rather severe. He
is, however, a connoisseur, and we have con-
cluded to give free scope to his opinions in
our pages. His first notices contained a
number of typographical errors, which, it
appears, offended him prodigiously. Very
sorry, indeed.

BONFISL.O, TMB PAINTER,

Has taken up his residence at Beverly, on
the Delaware, where he is at present occupied
in the production of several admirable works.
We visited his Atelier a short time since, and
examined these eflorts at leisure. They are
mostly river and coast scenes, and are paint-

224

BIZARBJL

ed to fill orders from citizens of Philedelphia,
among whom James G. Claghom and William
B. Johnston. Esqrs., may 1^ specified. Bon-
fidd has a fine reputation which is destined
to be largely increased. His style is ex-
tremely chaste. As an evidence of merit, a
brother artist of high standing conceded to
him, it shotid be stated that Birch, the great
marine painter, on his death bed, desired that
the paintings he left unfinished, should be fin-
ished by Bonfield, and we saw in his collec-
tion one of those pictures, to which the artist
was giving the li^t touches. Several studies
of Bonfield, embracing views of Mount Des-
ert Maine, Nahant Massachusetts, and New-
port Rhode Island, struck us as being admi-
rable. We hope one of these days to see
large pictures executed from them. Our
friend Bonfield, we should add, finds recrea-
tion of suitable kind at his present sojourning
place. Much of the recfeation is obtained
from fishing, and whether the firuits be rock-
fish, eel or cat-fish, Bonfield is equally pleas-
ed. He does not pretend to be an Isaac Wal-
ton, he cares not for the honor to be pronounc-
ed a sportsman, it is enough with him that he
is a disciple of Claude Lorraine.

FAOETIOUS BrnTA^nrHS.

— Mr. Joseph Simpson has recently published
in London, a book of epitaphs monumental
inscriptions <Sbc., from which wo gather the
following extracts : —

On a Linendraper.
Oottona, and cambrics, all adieu.

And mutliuM, too, fitfewdi;
Plain, striped, and figured, old and new,

Three qnartert, yard, or ell ;
By nail and yard I've measuro^d ye.

As oufltomera inclined.
The cbarchyard now has meaaur'd me,

Aud nails my ooffln bind.

From CumcaUow Churchyard, Cornwall,

SbaU we all die?
We shall die aU,
^ All die shaU we—
Die aU we shalL

Prom King Stanley Churchyard, Gloucestershire

Twaa as she tript from oask to cask,

In at a bung h<^e quickly fell ;
Suflbcatton waf her taak.

She bad no time to say fiu«weU.

Let the intemperate be warned by the M*
Uming :—

My grand&tber was buried here.

My cousin Jane, and two uncles dear ;

My fikther perlsh'd with an inflamation in the thighs,

And my sister dropp'd down dead in the Minories:

But the reason why Tm here interred, aooording to my

thinking,
Is owing to my good living, and hard drinking.
If iherelbre, good Christians, yon wish to lire long.
Don't drink too mnoh wine, brandy , gin, or anything strOBg.

Explicit enough is the following : —
From Broom Churchyard.

God be praised!
Here is Mr. DUDLEY, wnior.

And Jauil his wife, also.
Who, whilst livfni?, was his superior :

Bat Me what Death can do.
Two of his sons aJ«) lie here,

One Walter, t'other Joe :
They all of them went in the year IftlO bdknr.
Father and Mother and I

Lies buried here, as under :
Father and Mother lies burled here,

And I lies buried yonder.

A Mrs. Greenwood's epitaph, ends thus ri-
diculously ; —

My grief for this good woman la to sore
That I can really only write fbur lines mora.

OONB.

Three weeks ago we lost six subscribers.
Does the reader^ ask why ? We answ^ , be-
cause we condemned the Montreal riots, and
upheld Gavazzi and free speech ! The reader
may guess what was the religion of the indig-
nant six, and what a charity and liberality
and republican doctrine it preaches. Last
year we printed a- long and glowing descrip-
tion of the Sacred Heart Conyent, near Tor-
resdale, on the Delaware, while we have
frequently had occasion to applaud the move-
ments of the Roman Catholics, yet not a Pro-
testant subscriber was indignant tiiere at
Pshaw!

auaiNBse n^sn^s.

Col. Maurice, 123, Chestnut street, is sat-
isfied with the fruits he has gathered from
liberal advertising, for they are many and
abundant. The Colonel cannot help succeed-
ing ; he was bom to succeed. Wherever be
has planted himself fortune has snuled upon
him. As we write, the Colonel, in company
with the great tragedian Forrest, is luxnn-
ating at Cape May : perhaps at this nunneiit
the pair are rolling oyer like porpoises in the
surf which lashes the beach at that place.
We consider Forrest the best Damon, Sparta-
cns about, while as for our friend Colonel
Maurice, he is at the head of all stationers,
whether here or elsewhere.

Messrs. Hickey & Co. manufacture a cap-
tid leather trunk, one indeed which will last
for years, no matter how much travelling its
owner may do. i

Several communications await notjoe at I
our hands. Some look as it they might be
consigned to the stove for next winter's kiod- ,
ling staff, while others will assuredly a^ {
pear. Among the last is *' A City Sketch,"
and ** A son in seardi of the Murderer of
his Father." i

HAVE YOU DINED JACQUOT ?

225

WMAT SAT Tou, Uasoat f—Porqukar.

won fu wm lamre
SAWBDATy JUI.T AS, 1858.

HAVE YOU DINED JAOQTTOTP

7&0M THE FBEKGH.

Jacqnot was the 8<m of a yiUage cobbler :
his parents were poor, but industrioiis, and
he lost them whilst in infancy: at an early
age he gave ample proofs of sagacity, for he
aTsiled himself of every resource that pre-
sented to accumulate the pomy ; he attended
the goats and cows ; conducted the horses to
water, and waited in the eyening at the only
inn in the village, where, by chioice, a " god-
send" induced some solitary traveller to stop.
Thou^ sleeping on straw; subsisting on
brofwn bread, fruit, and milk, he sang from
the Inreak of mom till its close : and on gain-
ing 8a£Bcient to allow of alight recreation,
none footed it so nimbly or merrily in the
Sunday's dance. His native village, was in
his eres, a beautiful city ; the notary's house,
a palace ; and the villagers, so many lords
and ladies — the most exalted of the creation :
thus he doated on the fields, woods, lawns and
riTnlets, and also on a certain litUe peasant,
named Susan, though not even gifted with
wisdom, wealth, or personal charms, was ne-
vertheless, in his eyes, an angel of perfection.
Jacquot had but just attaint his eighteenth
year > when a ^oung nobleman passing through
the village, discoverine something pleasiDg in
the j^ysiognomy of the industrious peasant,
proposed to conduct him to Paris and insure
his fortune. Jacquot had then but little idea
of the advantages gained by homage to this
volatile deity, but desire of seeing the capital,
a feding of curiosity, and a secret presenti-
ment of future greatness, induced him to ac-
cept the offer. He wept bitterly on bidding
adWo to his fields, his dcg, Pnn, his goats,
cows, and Susan, ejaculatiug, '* Ah, well ! I
won't be long ere I return ; and then I shall
tell Prinand Susej all the wonders I have
seen in the great eity."

Jacquot arrives in Paris : first figures as a
groom, then footman, afterwards valet de
cf i a i nbr e, when he dropped the name of Jac-
quot (or Jem,) as being too vulgar for his as-
piring ideas ; mi appellation that also occa-
sioned the laughter of the housemaids. He
asBumed that of Jaques (Jemmy,) as a desig-
naiion far more imposing ; and ere the termin-
ation of the year. Mister Jacques had entire-
ly forgot his favorite dog Prin, his cattle,
woods, haodet, and his Susan : in the interim

he studied with assiduity ; learned to read and
write ; became steward ; knew how to calcu-
late, and with stnmg intellects, soon became
initiated in subtraction and multiplication:
most stewards know the first rule Quoted — to
their employer's cost. A oomprdiension oi
division was essential, with which he soon
became perfectly acquainted : he learned to
divide, and next preiseeded to interest ; this
he managed with equal facility, by lending
money on interest f by which an enormous jnt)-
fit was obtained : briefly, after occupying the
multifarious situations of steward to a naval
and military contiactor; secretaiy of the
opera, and confidential agent to a Russian
prince, and member of the chamber of Sen-
ate, a handsome fortune crowned the anxious
endeavours of this deep plodding politician.
Courted by all; he entm^i into extensive
financial speculations, in which he was ever so
fitvored by fortune, that on attaining his
thirtieth year, an income of 30,000 Uvres was
at his disposal. ''Booing, booing" did the
business.

"Nor e'en Sir Pnrtloftx tnch homage abowed
As this, blfl prototype upon the great beetow'd.''

Jacques now began to think that he had
pruned sufficiently from the garden of Plutus,
resolved on enjoying the fruit that he had so
amply reaped. His dream of fortune was not
now ideal : he purchased an extensive estate ;
established an elegant e<^uipage ; engaged his
livery servants ; assuming the title of M. de
la Jac^uiniere, or Squire James ; here was a
prodigious change, but true : thus

Mmhiooms from miDgled garbage rin.
And are to ro tarit e ot taste a priae.

Repairing one day to the country villa, his
carriage was overset by accident at the en-
trance of a poor villia|e, and whilst, workmen
were sent in quest of, to place it in repair,
our imfortunate squire alighted, and looking
around, exdaimed, '* Heavens! what a filthy
hole! what a wretched receptacle! what a
despicable country ! stag^te pools, filthy
quagmires, dirty hovels, frightful rustics, not
a single spot where a person of consequence
can with decency repose! My organs are
quite affected at the bare idea of bemg com-
pelled to remain here till my vehicle is put in
order — confound the rascally coachman, he
shall be discharged immediately I reach
home" — ^for this hamlet — have it in his own
words — ^for M. de la Jacquiniere presumed
now to be a man of letters — a poet, forsooth
— and no mean one either, at least he was so
flattered by numerous parasites, who admir-
ed the delicades of his table —

** Tie a d ege mrat e a Tile abode,
Whkdi oooHier'e ftet bath never trod;
And I, who half the eonrtiert reign,
Oan only view H with dlMain."

iSI6

BIZARRE.

Whilst makiiig these si^ptent obBenrftdons,
our aqaire had advaiioed to the hank of a
puriing rill, whose denadug hanks fi>rmed, in
his eye, an nnconth contrast with the level
emhankment of his artificial canal, although
hi the crystal wave, he hdield the finny
brood gaily disporting, as he seated hknseif
on a sward beneath an ancient wilk>w — a
jnt^spect that had never greeted him in his
own torpid reservoirs,

M. de la Jaoquiniere had been seated but
for a tew minutes when he was surrounded
by a flock of shecna, goats and cows who were
imder the surveiUoMe of a swarthy female
peasant and her dog ; the latter though near-
ly blind from t^, distanced the flock, and
hastened with land and anxious familiarity
to lick the hand of the astonished, alarmed,
and indignant squire of the town. '' Lud, lud,
lud !" shouted the lusty conductress, *' what
may be all this ? I never saw Prin so affec-
tionate to any one in all my bom da^rg, ex-
voor Jacquot. On the mention of this ide-
Dian name, the wealthy gentleman blushed
deeply ; a thousand conflicting thoughts pr-
vaded his mind : can it be ; yes, it is so f he
is in his native village : Susan is before him,
under the very willow, beneath which he has
so often slept and dreamed— dreamed ; — ay,
but never of moving in his present sphere !

Oh, M. de la Jaoquiniere ! what must be
your sensations ; what those of one devoted
to ancient friends and place of nativity ? Im-
agination pictures you pressing in your warm
embrace, Uie poor girl whom you formerly so
Ibndly cherished : your tears distilling on your
parent's humble sod: your bounties falling
like refireshing April showers on the inhabi-
tants of your native hamlet ; the companions
of your infancy enjoying the social ddightof
greeting your prosperity in the garden where
once you passed with them so many hours in
revelry: — ^leam the reverse — Prin, poor faith-
ful Prin, the dog so afiectionately faithful,
was spumed from him with indignation ; me-
thinks lus melanchdy howl still peals on my
ear, awakening grievous contrasts. He has-
tened from Susan and the village : ascended
his coach, and on reaching the splendid villa,
caused the neck of a beautifid parrot to be
twisted, for having had the misfortune to ex-
claim, '' Have you dined Jacquot ?"

lSi» wns a love of ira^Ui; so strong^sj rare,
Ab neither time ooald change, or art coold core.

SKETCHES OF OEORGIA,

SKETCH FIFTH.

Sir Walter RaUifih— Early Settlement of Oeor-
gia-^-Generd Vgfetkorpe^s Letter — Motives
which geturaUy conduce to the Peoflemg of
a Colony — De Soto—Reasons why our Forc'
fathers lovgiU this CowUry — Ikret impres-

sions of Georgia — Her common sed — Des-
crijftions of Scenery, natural aivantetges,
resources, qc.

** Happy adiploes of a happy ftiturity ! Who vonU vldi
that his Country's existence had otherwim hegnnf Who
would deiire the power of going hack to the ages of fchlef
Who would wish Ibr an origin ohsenred in the daitaww
of antiquity f Who would wish for othw aiUasOBlsg of
his country's heraldry, or other oraamenta of her gaaee l -
ogy« than to he aMe to say that her flni eirist—c e was
with intdligenee ; her first hreath the laspleatSoM of 1ft.
erty ; her flrtt principle the truth ofdirina raHgloii t

Sir Walter Raleigh is the reputed discover^
er of that porti<m of the United States now
denominated Georgia. It appears highfy
{NTohable, judgiiig from the ohservatioDS con-
tained in his written journal, that dunag his
memorable and extended voyage along the
American coast, he entered the mouth of the
Savannah river, and surveyed the country on
either bank for several miles. This is further
confirmed by the traditions of the Indians.
On one occasion, General Oglethorpe was
holding conversation with several of them,
prominent warriors, and during the course of
it, casually inquired whether, previous to his
arrival among them, they had ever seen a
pale face in their country ? The ready reply
was, that their fathers long ago hdd a con-
ference with a great chieftiun who had come
from beyond the big seas, and that they had
ever been taught to revere his memory. They
also pointed to a high mound near Savannah,
where they affirmed the Indian King was in-
terred who talked with the English. — be hav-
ing expressed an ardent desire to be buried
on the spot where he had conversed with that
''great good man." Appropriately may
Georgia be proud of her discoverer, for tM
name of Raleigh stands '* highest am<»ig the
statesmen of S^land." Posseflsed of a cour-
ageous mind which was never daunted ; dis-
tinguished not only as the bravo, judicious
soldier, and the accomplished scholar, but al-
so as the determined opponent of burdensome
taxation and lucrative monopolies, — a noble-
hearted and zealous adventurer in every pro-
ject of amelioration, — a man whose inteueot
shone brightly through the ravages of physi-
cal decay and the baneful influence of a dao^
dungeon, — whose upright and forgiving heart
within a palsied frame, still beat hich with
an undying devotion to his country, idtbopgh
he himself was reduced to hemsy bytl»t
sdf-same government, and wiu an ingrati-
tude which defies all portiayal, finally he-
headed. His fame is ever-enduring, ana will
brighten forever. Possibly Ribaiilt's eyes
rested upon the coast of Georgia, as he sou^t
some suitable location for C^igny's Frendi
Huguenots. The first permanent settlement,
hower, established in this State, was that un-

SKETCHIS OP CffiORGlA.

dor General Jamas O^ethorpe, in January,
17Sd. The colonists landed at Yamaoraw
Bknffj deeming it the most healthy and eon-
▼enient situation. This received the appella-
tion of Savannah, from the Indian natne of the
riyer which flows by. General Oglethorpe,
in speaking of the position of the colony, soon
after its foundation, says : — *' Our people are
all in perfect health. I chose the situation
Sot the town upon % high ground, forty feet
perpendicular above high-water mark; the
soil dry and sandy, the water of the river
firesh, and springs coming out of the side of
thehilL I pitched upon this place not only
Ibr the pleasantness <» the situation, but be-
cnose from the above mentkmed and other
aigBB, I thought it healthy ; for it is shdtered
from the Western and Southern winds (the
most in the country) by vast woods of pine
trees, many of which are an hundred, and
lew under seventy feet high "

Tbe.last and fullest conviction of tbeheal-
thfaiess of the place was, that an Indian n»-
tiim who knew the nature of the country,
ckoseit for their situation. Experience has
clearly demonstrated the prudence and pro-
priety of the choice. There is probably no
dty on our south-eastern coast more flourish-
ing, or which enjoys a greater deme of
hMlth, than Savannah. It is an established
ftetthat the earliest accounts rendered of any
new plantation are always more or less exag-
gerated. What more natural? £very ob-
ject is novd, ; the imagination is taxed to its
utmost capacities, and the emif;rant either
revels in beatiflc visions of coming glorious
tnecess, or shrinking from the prospect of fu-
ture privations, laments the seventy of the
undertaking and the miseries of his present
situation. Should the balmy air of spring
blow sofir over green-waving forests, should
the starUed deer leap nimbly with its felk>ws
over the luxuriant meadow, and joyously
sport

* Amid the ai>cleiit Ibreeto of a Innd,
Wnd, gloomj, Ttrt, magnificently grnnd,"

should the fish dart swiftly through limpid
waters, and Uie song-birds warble their soft
notes in HnJced sweetness on the summer air,
as it comes ladened with the perfume of flow-
er and fruit, then, in rapture he is wont at
OBoe to pronounce his new home a paradise
on earth. At such a season, judging from
the encomhims bestowed upon every object,
and the entire scene, one mi^t readily sup-
pose that the golden age of Ovid had again
dawned upon a new world

** Ver erat »icmum, placidlqae t^pentibtis aorli
Vokcbaot fephyrt natm idne ramloe floret.
Nos ettam frnges tdlos Inareta ferebat;
N«e reoovatat ager grarldis cmnebat arlstis.
TIOBlnB J«o lactia. jam flomina ntetariaibaat.

B«t, let the storms of winter dash the snow-
flake against his rude cabin, — let the savi^
string his bow, and speed the feathered arrow,
— let the jocund, merry face^of autumn be
exchanged fi>r the wan and pale visage of him
with the frosted locks, and he is immediately
prepared to denounce the spot as the direst
land on the globe. It is interesting, and of-
ten equally amusing in after years, to exam-
ine the onginal descriptions as presented by
government agents, or by those who having
recently landed, and hoping to find a perSeet
Eldorado, indulge in the most extravagant
portrayals of the beauties and the luxuriance
of every object, even those highlv triviaL
The poet, finding ample scope for the play <^
his imagination, has delighted to paint in
glowing colors the future ^ry, the present
attractions, and the capabihties of the youth-
ful colony. The Hist<Mian also deriving his
information from some casual observer or
common report, endeavors to embody such
floating images of ** ikr off life,'* and to im-
press upon them the permanent stamp of
truth to men at ordinary seascms, when their
minds are calm and free from excitement;
not a few of these attempts sav<»> of the ludic-
rous. Mankind too often manifest a prefer-
ence for the marvellous. A love of the won-
derful invested with an air of novdty, has
ever characterised our race. OreaUires of
sympathy, many live only on the excitement
of the moment, and readily lend an assenting
ear to the relations of strange oocurrenoes,
which their own limited personal experience
will not enable them to contradict. In flM^,
the charge brought by Demosthenes against the
Athenians will apply to almost every nation in
every age. Desirous of change, attracted by
the glaring prospects of the future, multitudes
will fbllow the goddess Fortune wherever she
Uindly leads the way— will dwell with rapture
upon the ideal creations of some heated imag-
ination,— regard with deference the garnish-
ed tale of some romance writer, — deem the
sands iji new-found-lands as abounding in
golden ore, and be willing to forsake in an in-
stant the occupations and mediate inrofits of
the present, in confident expectations of
reaping sudden and rich harvests in the fu-
ture. The die is often cast by the daringad-
venturer, but the passage of theRubioon does
not alwavs ensure the diadem of the imperial
city. The apple of Sodom hangs fair and
beautiful from the green bough, but it crum-
bles into dust and corruption upon the lips of
him who would taste. Pure water in abund-
ance surrounds the parched Tantalus, but
before he can quench that burning thirst, it
has idl vanished, and the arid earth mocks
his missry. History fhmishes meoKHrable
examples of bright hopes unrealised, of pres-
ent advantages completely lost invainpor-
soitofimagiiiedgainsintna latQie. AinoDg

288

BIZARRE.

the mvaj Adyentoroas bands seeking their
fiirtiiikes m this Western World* not a few
proni|yted by de«rv8 and expectations of real-
inng unmense'gains, were sadly disappointed. '
Why came De Soto and his six hundred caya-
liers, — ^the knight in glittering array of bur-
nished armor ,--the Castilian buoyant in hope {
and dftd in silken robes ? Was it for religious i
liberty ? The court and camp of Spun were |
at that time eminently Catholic. Was it in
order to humanise and christianize the na- 1
tives ? Let those dark deeds amid the la- i
goons of Florida, and the fires of Mavila res- 1
pond. Far from all this. Regardless of the
distinctions of honor and the endearments of
home, they rallied around a standard sui^)ort- 1
ed by that hero who had himself shared in
the spoils of Peru, in ocmfident expectation of
discovering beyond the seas that elysium of
bliss where wealth abounded in wild profu- ,
sion, and purling brooks imparted an immor- 1
tality. They were animated by an ardent |
desire fiw gold, as unrestrained as that spirit i
which inspired the breasts of the crusaders,
unrelenting in its pursuit, deaf to the voice
of mercy, blind to the cautions of judgment. I
Were these gorgeous anticipations realized?
Let that lurid glare illuminating the dark
forests, — ^let the savage war-hoop of the In-
dian, as with one hand he applies the burning
tordi to the tent, and with the other smites
the t«rroir-stri<^n ^Muiiard to the ground, —
let that dull, g^my, heart-rending plunge
into the depths of the Mississippi, — kt the
hiDt and side murmurs of those dying along
the banks and upon the bosom of that river,
reply. Despite the sad example thus pre-
sented, and osiers of a similar character, the
golden spoils of Peru, and the apparently in-
exhaustible wealth of Mexico, had flashed
forth before the eyes ei the dd worid like a
piUar of fire; on the one hand encircling every
daring scheme with a halo of glory, on tlie
other, obscuring every difiiculty and danger.
Every possibility of foilure being thus pre-
cluded, resistless desires were awakened to
behold the magnificence of America, and
reap a share of her treasures. It is surpris- !
ing to what an extent this spirit of Uind ad- 1
venture, — this ardent longing after sudden |
wealth, ccmduces to the peopling of newly '
discovered regions. Many deeming them |
lands of pleasure, as affording reUef from the |
responsibilities and necessary exertions of;
thmr present occupations, eagerly seek their j
diores. With what feelings of pride do we '
look back upon the origiiud settlers of our |
OQuntry, attracted hither by considerations of |
a fitf Ingher, purer, and more honorable char-
acter than those which we have just now been {
noticing. Those noble few who first pressed
Plymouth Rock, sought a land where they
might worship the God of their fethers, un-
trammeUed by the oeremoDies of the Englidi

Churdi, and the burdensome impositions of
an aristocratic deray. Fr§edcm to worMf
Qod, and Uherty of conscience, were Hie two
great principles emblazoned on their banners.
The Colonists of Jamestown desired amid the
(dains of Virginia that liberty and equalitf
which they had long found so incompatible
with the severe restrictions «id royal preroga-
tives of the mother country, — that li bo-ty a^
terwards so nobly defended and supported by
a Henry and a Jefierson, — not to mention
him whose very name is the waehword cfhk*
erty. The original settlers of Georgia were
men who could brave the dangers of the sav-
age and the inhos^ntable vrelcome of a coast
rough with dark forests and tanked swamps,
in order to establish and enjoy <^inion8wfak;h
they could never with safety entertain 00
long as they remained vrithin the immedttle
jurisdiction of England. Here was planned
an asylum and a new destiny in America,
" where former poverty would he no reproach,
and where the simiAidt^ of piety could in-
dulge the spirit of devotion, wi^ut fear of
persecution from men who hated the rebuke of
its example.''

The common seal of the corp<»«tion bore
on one side a group of silk- worms at their
toils, with the generous motto, *' non sibi^ $td
afets," — thus expressing the difinteresttd
purposes and designs of the patrons. On the
other side, the device represented two fignreS
reposing on urns, while between them stood
the genius of Georgia with a cap of libeity on
her head, a spear in one hand, and a cornuco-
pia in the other. So illustrious were the aus-
pices of the design, that hope at once painted
brilliant visions of an Eden that was to spring
up and reward the ardor of such disinterest
ed benevolence. Georgia was intended as the
place of refiige for the distressed people of
Great Britain, and the persecuted of Europe.
The disabilities of villeini^ were here ex-
changed for the high prerogatives of freemen.
The faint heart of a de facto bondman was
left far behind at the manor of his lord, and
be here received another from this new land,
of firmer mould, abounding in nobler fedings,
more exalted hopes. Divested of those bur-
densome demands of a superior in the eyes of
the law, no longer the villein of England, the
boor of Denmai%, or the traal of Swed«i, he
could now stand with open brow and <^ right
among the noUest of the land, and feel tw
sensation of equality and fraternity so dear to
the American heart. He could look upon Ub
son and cxultingly feel that for him hence-
forth there should be no taunts of ^e onpras-
sor, no lips of scorn to utter wwds or con-
tumely and approbrium embradng the partner
of his bosom, he could j<^fully dedare tlmttiie
hated epithet of Ndfe was removed, that the
lash of a brutal lord could no longer be raised
with impunity,-— and then with pride regard-

THE EVILS OP SOCIETy.

229

ing the broad and comprehensiTe foundations
of his gorenunental policy, as jet in embryo,
confidently expect that the revelations of the
fntufe would bring to light still more complete
and glorioua representatives of national hon-
or. The constitutional arch of Georgia is sup*
ported by three enduring columns : — Wisdom^
Justiee^ Moderation. It is quite entertaining
in the present day to examine the various
descriptions of the country and its natural
resoorces, prepared during the first years of
the colony, wi^ a yiew, no doubt, of attract-
ing emigrants and advancing the plantation
IB roval &Tor. For example, in a pamphlet
which appeared in London, in 1733, entitled
** A new and accurate account of the Provin-
ces of South Carolina and Georgia,'* we find a
most favorable impression of the country,
conveyed thus: — ''The air of Georgia is
healthy, being always serene and pleasant,
never subject to excessive heat or cold, or
sodden changes of the weather. The winter
la regular and short, and the summer cooled
by refireshing breezes ; it neither feels the
cutting north-west winds the Virginians
complMn of, nor the intense heats of Spain,
Bartory, Italy and Egypt. The soil will
produce anything with but very little cul-
ture : all sorts of com yield an amazing in-
crease,— one hundred fold is the common es-
tiinate, although the husbandry is so slight
that they can only be said to scratch the earth
and merely cover the seed. All the best sorts
of cattle and fowls are multiplied without
nomber, and therefore without price. " After
eoBlinaing this strain of eulogy for some
timey the author finally concludes in the
foUowing words : — ** Such an -air and soil can
only be described by a poetical pen, because
thare is no danger of exceeding the truth ; —
therefore, take Waller's description of an Is-
land in the neighboriiood of South Carolina,
to give you an idea of this happy climate : —

■"TlM Sptring wblob bat mlutes us bwe.
lahftUU there, and oonrtt Umob aU tlM ytar;
RJpefridt and Uomohm on tho mote int> li?e^
AtoBM they promiM wb»t el once they gWe.
So eweet th« air, fo noderste the oUme»
Heme sickly lives, or diee befbre his tlme^
Beavea sure has kept this spot of eerth unennt,
To Aov bow mU thiDiOi were oreeted iUft"

Add to this floral picture of an American
terrestial paradise the fact that the Indians
would furnish any quantity of fine deer at six
pence sterling, and wild turkeys weighing
forty pounds for the small consideration of
two pence : that land was so abundant that it
was freely given away, and the soil so fertile
that it produced almost spontaneously all the
necessaries of life, and you will readily per-
ceive the reason why those who once visited
thaeoloay never, or least, seldom, expressed
a deore of leavinc the attractive spot. Never
was heard from ^plantation of Georgia such

a doleful lamentation as this; — <'Our drink
is unwholesome water, our lodgings castles in
the air ; were we as free from all sins as from
gluttony and drunkenness, we might be can-
onized for saints." The truth is, that al*
though the descriptions of Georgia may have
been exaggerated, and somewhat clothed in
the bright c(4ors of fWicy, still, the actual ap-
pearance of the country must have been pre*
possessing, and the abundance of its resources
very gratifying to him, who. perchance at his
own frugal board in his former home, bad
never felt his appetite completely satisfied. —
The extended forests presetted an air of ex-
panaon entirely novd to the eye aocustomed
to the fitrm and grove of a few acress. The
luxuriant under growth and tall tree, in all
the virgin beauty of the one, and manly maj-
esty of the other, attracted his attention, and
encouraged a firm belief in the extreme feir"
tilitPT of the soil. A Bjpint of freedom pervad-
ed his breast as he tmreaded the dark mazes
of these woods, or chased the swift deer with-
out fear of game, laws and foresters. He
could now exercise ad libitum those privileges
which were allowed only to the nobles of other
lands. He now needed no sanction of law,
granting commons of pasture, Piscarry and
Estrovers. The vegetation, the entire aspect
and advantages of this Southern dhne, must
have struck the beholders with wonder and
delight. The phenomena of nature w^^ here
displayed in greater perfection than he had
ever beheld them. Tne terriUe wrath of the
thunder-storm, — the dark recesses of the mat*
tied swamps, — ^the endless variety of birds, —
the number of wild animals and reptiles,—
the rude dwellings, habits, customs and wor-
ships of the sons of the forest, — all these
were novel, and possessed powerful attne-
tions. But it is time thi^ we should dcetch
Georgia as she is. Leaving her then, as she
appemd in 1733, we proceed to present soms
of those features whicn she now exhibits.

THE EVILS OF SOCIETY,

FOUBTH PAPER.

How to destroy Rowdyism.

The newspqier accounts <^ the manner in
which the seventy-seventh anniversaiy of our
national independence was odebrated in our
city and its vicinity : as well as in other oit*
ies and towns of our oountry, should be sufil*
cient to oonvinoe every one, who feels any in*
terest in the prospenty of our country and
the progress of repulican institutionB, of the
necessity of some measores caleolated to iai^
prove tl^ pubMc morsis.

NiunsroBS editorial remarks and oommirai*
oatioBS in the papers, rikow Uiat, to some a-
tent, the pobUe are awaie of Uie axislSDOO of

230

BIZARRE.

tbeae nMmstroos evils ftnd their rapid growth ;
but no practical remedy for them is proponed.

In one of these articles, it is said that
'< nothing has been done to prevent these evils,
except, in the way of education." And in an-
other it is said that the great fault of Ameri-
can education is in bestowing too much atten-
tion upon the development of the intellectual
faculties, &c."

Here are some of the errors, under which
the people of our country labor, and which
are greatly in the way of any improv^nent.
Our system of public education is entirely in-
efficient. It does not educate the people. And
there is not enou|^h attention paid to the de-
veloping of the intellectual faculties. -The
rowdies who disgrace our city by ruffian
flffhts and brutal indulgences: are not those
whose intellectual faculties have been too
much developed : but they are persons en-
tirely devoid of any mental or moral culture.
They are not educated at all, and that is the
reason they are rowdies.

We say that our present system of public
instruction is entirely inefficient. Inefficient
inasmuch, as it does not improve the public
morals ; which are far worse now than they
were befi>re our public schools were establish-
ed.

What is education good for, if it does not
improve the public morals ? The reason why
our system of public schools does not improve
the public morals, is that it does not develop
the mental fiiunilties. Intellectual and moral
onlture go hand in hand ; but our system of
public inatruoti(m has very little if any more
intellectual, moral or aesthetic culture in it.

The fact that ruffian violence and rowdvism
exist to sudi an extent as they do, and in-
crease as they do, may be taken as evidence
that our school system is utterly inefficient ;
that the great mass of the children of our city
grow up without any proper education.

A few of the ^oung men of our city are
educated in *'hieh school." Do these be-
come rowdies? No. And why not? amply
because they are educated. Do those educat-
ed in the tlmversity become rowdies? Do
those who are really educated anywhere, find
amusement in burning houses to get up a
fight : or in catching a single person and mal-
treating him because he nappens to be one
aad they are twenty ? — ^No.

Then we may find a remedy for these evils,
give every child a ** high scbcxd" education,
and rowdyism will be greatly lessened if not
entirely suppressed. Peiiiape it will be said,
'* this cannot be done, the expense would be
too great." Then it is manifest that the sys-
tem is defeotire. But a few can be taught in
the high school, and these are generally the
bri^Uest boys. Those who give teachers the
least trouble, while those of duller wits, and
who consequently require the most careful

teaching, are left to be taught by the poorly
paid anS overtaxed subaltci-n. In another re-
spect our system is defective. The " High
school" only gives instruction to such as are
not required to labor for their support. And
as the great mass, when old enough to be ad-
mitted to such a dcfaooU have to work fer
their subsistence, it offers no advantages to
them. It thus itakes, in effect, an invi-
dious distinction between rich and poor,
which is discouraging to the latter. A jnMc
hift;h school should be an evening scfaooL
There are many other defects in our pnblie
school system : but it is not our purpose at
this time to point them out.

We wish to show what education dxNild
do and what it is practicable for a system of
public instruction to do.

1. The first instruction <tf children should
be of a kind, calculated to create a lore of
learning.

Children cannot find pleasure in commit-
ting lessons to memory which they do not
understand. Where a child is really learning
— that is receiving new ideas, — ^it is always
gratified.

Children can understand thinf^ befbre they
can knotp letters, and they should not be re-
quired to learn by rote, what they do not un-
derstand.

In primary schods there should be nothing
like punishment ; nor any unneccessary re-
straint. And children should not be k^t in
a school longer than they desire to be toere.
The school room should be made a pleasant
place and then children would love to be in
it. But while we make a penitentiaiy of it,
it is no wonder that children regard it with
loathing.

The subject of punishment in schools was
submitted to a committee of *'sage g^ve
men," in the city of Baltimore a few years
ago, who, after deliberation and discussion,
reported that it was impracticle to preserve
order in the schools without the rod. As we
live in a progressive age, it will perhaps be
found in a little time that *' chains and a dun-
geon" are equally necessary,

2. Education should cultivate a taste for
what is beautiful in nature and in art.

There are few children who have not a
penchant^ if not a talent for something, in art
or in science. A love of music is idmost uni-
versal, man^ children show, by their rude ef-
forts to depict objects, a fondness for drawic^,
all children are fond of pictures. It shookl
be the aim of education to develop and culti-
vate whatever powers a child m^ possess:
but to do this, would require a different kind
of teaching from what we have in our puhtie
primary s^iods.

Children cannot be educated mechanically.
The teachers of primary schools should M
persons of intelligence and education ; fond

RES CURIOSA

231

of teftchiDg : and should not have too many
chndren to teadi, in order that proper atten-
tkm might be given to each individual.

3. Education should furnish agreeable
amusements, to children such as would enable
them to pass their leisure time pleasantly and
profitably.

4. Education should stimulate an honorable
ambition to improve. Not to gain a victory
at the expense of a less fortunate rival ; but
tlie prize should be placed within the reach
of every one, who will use proper energy and
industry to win it. Some are less favored by
nature than others, and the dullest intellects,
are those which require the greatest stimu-
lants.

5. Schools of the highest order should be
opened to the poorest youth ; and at such
tunes as will suit his convenience, so that
poverty should be no bar to any who may feel
an ambition to learn.

6. Education should cultivate the moral
aensibilities, and excite an honorable ambi-
tion in the mind of youth. A desire to do
right and refrain from wrong, because it is
hoDoraUe and manly to do so.

** Tbft fear 0^ bell'a a hanfmAn*! whip,
To hand the wretdi to order:
But where 7011 fral yoor honor gripe,
Let that aye he your horder."

There is pride enough in the heart of every
boy in our community, to make a decent man
of him, if it be properly directed.

7. Females should be better educated than
they now are.

Women are neccessarily the first teachers
of children, and when ignorant and unrefined
they make very bad teachers. When proper-
ly instructed they make the best instructors
of young children. Where women are well
educated the men who associate with them
will not be ruffians.

The trite proverb so often quoted,

** Joft ae the twig is hent, the tree's lacllned."

is as true now as ever it was.

I No intelligent person can doubt as to the
the powerful innuence of proper education

' upon the manners, feelings and character of a
people.

I It will perhaps be said that it is not practi-
Ue to give a good education to every child
in the community, because of the great ex-
pense. Under the present abortive system
we admit that it is.

But with a better system. With a system
that would combine instruction with amuse-
ments.

The amusements of the people might be
made to pay much of the expense of their ed-
ucation.

We believe that institutions might be es-
tablished which would aSbrd attractive amuse-
ments to the whole community, which would

instruct old as well as young persons, which
would cultivate a taste for science, literature
and arts, afford recreation fbr the young and
keep them out of mischief, without taxing
property at all.

In our next article we design to offer a plaa
of an institution, which we ^lieve with pro-
per management would bring order out of
chaos, and turn the very elements of disorder,
which now dismce our city, into the means
of security and protection.

RES CURIOS^E.

— We continue our extracts from the JEsctA'
Utpian Refristeu in our last. As we stated a
paper published in this city some thirty or
forty years ago, and edited by an association
of savans.

A correspondent thus gravely suggests the
introduction of hogs as street scavengers :

*' It is of importance to our city to derive
advantage from the experience of others, in
every piuiicular in which health is concern-
ed. I nave therefore read with pleasure some
remarks in the N. Y. Daily Advertiser relat-
ing to the cleaning of the streets in Boston.
Now, although I adopt the sentiments therein
for the most part, I cannot acquiesce fully in
what is stated against the permission of hogs
to run at large : because, although fuUy per-
suaded of the necessity of two*le^;6d scaven-
^rs, with scrapers, brooms,^., yet, as it is
impossible that they can always be in every
part of the city, much offal mattef must ne-
cessarily be accumulating before a repetition
of their visit. Unless, indeed, a sufficient
number could be daily employed, the offals
must either accumulate in our houses, or be
thrown out into the public streets and alleys ;
a measure infinitely oetter than the first ; for
exposed thus to view, they are more likely to
be removed by those paid for the purpose,
than if left concealed in cellars to which they
have not access.

During our warm months, when vegetable
putrefaction almost inmiediately takes place,
amidst the vast amount of pea-sheUs, melon-
rinds, and other articles of like description, is
it not better that we should have an mterme-
diate description of scavengers, such as hogs,
which, if not the best, at least do immense
good, by speedily removing a large part of
those perishable materials, which would be-
come offensive in a few hours.

To allow an indiscriminate range of the
swinish multitude, is not my wish : on no ac-
count would I permit the rriaUs to run abroad,
for reasons that need not be pointed out : but
a sow with a number of young ones, will,
without any offence to our feelings, quietly
pursue their wajr, and devour so much of this
dangerous material as to leave little to be act-

BDSABBE.

ed <m by the heat of the weather, and oonse-
quently diminish greatly the labor of the
scaTenger himself.

It is a mistake, I think, to assert that
hogs do mischief, with the restriction above
mentioned. Within a period of more than
twenty years, I remchnber bat two or three
instances, and these probably owing to the
worrying of dogs, by which they are driven
to a rapid flight ; mr, of themselves, it is
su£Sciently obvious they are peaceable enough.
I have heard it objected that they injure the
streets by rooting up the stones ; it is impos-
sible they can do this when the stones are
properly fixed ; and if they occasionally de-
tect wluit escapes the eyes of our street com-
missioners, we should rather thank them for
thus pointing out the necessity of immediate
repair."

This communication draws out a correspon-
dent on the opposite side, whose article ap-
pears in the foUowing number. He says : —

" The article which advocates the proprie-
ty of permitting hogs to nm at large in our
city, upon the ^unds that they are good
scavengers, merits a reply, and, with your
permission, I will offer two or three reasons
why those creatures, of neither sex, should
be allowed to range the streets. They do not
remove entirely the offals thrown from our
kitchens. Pea-shells, one of the articles enu-
merated by your correspondent as a nuisance,
and which they consume, is not removed by
them. They chew it only, and then leave it
where they found it. They breed most abun-
dantly that terrible tormenting vermin, the
flee^ — they wallow in the gutters, — ^go on the
pavements, rub their mud<ty sides against our
oeautiM white marble steps, not unfrequent-
ly dash against a lady who may happen to be
in their way, soiling, and very often utterly ru-
ining her dress ; and worse than all, deposit
unceremoniously at your very door, what is
most disgusting to the eye, and offensive to
the sense of smelling. These evils have been
already much complained of, and are, accord-
ing to my notion of decency and propriety,
insufferable in a large and populous city like
Philadelphia. Men are the best scavengers,
they make no unseemly deposits in their
walks.

It is not a ftu^ that swine are altogether
harmless. They have been known to seize
upon young children with the view of devour-
ing them ; and it is not ten days since an oc-
currence of this sort took place in the neigh-
borhood of Ninth street. For these reasons,
Messrs. Editors, I protest against rendering
our beautiful city aconunon sty."

We think anti-hog has the argument decid-
edly with him. The Editors, however, en-
tertain somewhat different opinions, as ap-
pears from the remarks in which they indulge.
Hear them : —

*' Professing, as we do, in oondQctipg^ the
j iEsculapian Register, to have solely in Tiew
the wel&re of the oommonity , we are do &rtli-
I er interested in the subject of hogs as scaven-
, gers, than we conceive warranted by &ot8. —
I Althou^ advocating, probably, an unpopn-
I lar opinion in this respect, we are not the kn
i satisfied of the justice of those remarks ia
our first number, which have elicited the pre-
ceding observations. We shall merely reinaTk
as to the above, and others of a similar vm-
dency, which we have received, that the an*
thors argue against the use, from the i^bme
of the thing : and that by proper regulatiatts
as to age and sex, all thB terrible exposi-
tions of the danger of hogs may be set at
rest.

That hogs do not eat up oS the offids
thrown into the streets, is granted ; no dkMibt
they are epicureans tn fAetr troy, and wilL
when practicable, make a selection of a 6o»
bovehe ; — but if our correspondent had par-
ticularly observed the hoes in eating pea-
shells, he would have seen uiat they squeezed
entirely the soft and pulpy part from the in-
ner stringy portion, and r^ected only this,
which is less liable than before, to fermenta-
tion and putrefaction, and consequently less
injurious to the public health.

That these animals breed flees is true ; but
so do dogs and cats ; animals more domesti-
cated, and therefore more liable to ccmununi-
catc such unwelcome visitors.

We pity greatly the ladies who have been
80 unfortunate as to have their dresses iniur-
ed by such untutored beasts; all of them
have not the benefit of education, it is true, —
and in this respect we must be satisfied to
take them as they are, even if the washeoro-
man cannot retrieve their misdoings.

That th^ occasionally commit those inde-
cencies noticed by our correspondent, is, alas,
true! but do not horses, dogs, Sx., do the
same? and why, then, should they not be
prohibited our streets and pavements? let not
the hogs be enabled to say, ** An Englishman
may steal a horse, whilst an Irishman dare
not look over the hedge."

We regret the extreme sensibility of oor
correspondent's olfactory nerves ; mit reaBy,
for ourselves, we think no smeU more fumseoccs,
offensive and dangerous, than that of vegeta-
bles in a state of putrescency, and which we
are desirous the hogs should be permitted to
devour.

As to their danger, how few instances of
this can be adduced, compared with that from
dogs, either from simple tearing or bitii^ aa
in£vidual, or by beinff the source of, numer*
ous cases of hydrophobia ? How many po^
sons are endangered and killed by horses ?---^
short, how many sources are there not in ev*
ery street, of danger and destruction! If
limitations are put upon hogs, as to age aad

RES CCRIC^UB.

S3S

soSt we win T0ii(xure stiU to «ffinD, they will
be Tery peftce^ble uid indefotigable scaven-
gers : and we therefore join firmly in senti-
raent as to their utility, with the writer of
theilrBt commnnioation on the subject — Ed."
-'Thoe are many curious articles on ** Yam-
liyres." about as big a humbug as Spiritual
E^pingism, and 3ret fully as well backed up
by erideoce. A correspondent extracts much
touching the subject from a work of the Rer.
Aug. Odmet, entitled " Dissertations sur les
apparitions des anges, des Demons et des Es-
prit& Bt sur les Ravenaus et Vampires, de
Hoagie, de Boheme, de Moravie et de Sielsie."
Obsenre :—

'* Speaking of the apparitions or ghosts
which were so common formerly in Moraviat
he says, * I was told by the late M. de Vassi-
rocBt, Counselor, Ac. that having been sent
into Moravia by bis late royal highness, Leo-
pold I., Duke of Lorraine, on business of his
bother. Prince Charles, Bishop of Olmutz
and Osnabnich, he was informed by public
report that it was common in that country to
see men some time deceased, appear in com-
pany, and St down at the table with persons
of their aoquaintance, without speaking, but
podding to SMne one, who infiUlibly died with-
in a few dajTS. The fact was confirmed to
him by many, and by an old curate anKmg
others, who said he had witnessed it more
than once.

The bishops and priests or the country con-
salted Rome respecting this extraordinary
fiiet, bat no answer was returned, because it
was apparently considered as the mere result
of poprnlar ima|;ination. They afterwards
concluded to disinter those who thus return-
ed, aaid bum, or otherwise destroy, their bod-
ies. After which, said the good priest, they
were delivered ttarn the importunity of these
spectres, which are now much less frequent
than fiarmerly.*

>^ * These apparitions gave rise to a little trea-
^^uae entitled Mt^a posthuma, by Charles
Ferdinand de ScEertz. The author relates,
that in a certain village, a woman dying, was
buried as usual, with all the necessary rites.
Foot days after her death, the inhabitants
heard a great noise and tumult, and saw a
spectre, that appeared sometimes as a dog,
sometimes as a man, not to one person, but to
many, and giving them severe pain, squeez-
ing their tlvoats, and pessing on their stom-
adns nearly to su£focation. It bruised almost
evety part of them, and reduced them to such
a state of debility, tiiat they became pale and
emaciated. It even attacked animals, the cows
being fimnd thrown down and half dead,
sometimes it tied them together by their tails.
They expressed the piun they felt by their
bellowtng. Horses were seen overpowed with
fiitigue, in prDfuse sweats, heated, out of
brcttk, and roaming as after a long and pain-

fill race. These disasters oontinued several
months.

The auth(»r mentioned, examined the afiair
as a lawyer, and reasons much respecting it,
and asks, supposing these vexations and mis-
fortunes arise from the person suspected,
whether we can bum her, as is done to the
bodies of other apparitions who injure the liv-
ing. He relates several similar instances, and
the evils ensuing. A shepherd of the village
of Blow appeared for some time, and calM
certain pc^ns, who died within eight days.
The peasants dug up the body of the shep-
herd, and fastened it to the ground by driv-
ing a stake through it. In this situation the
man laughed at them, and told them they
were very good to give him a club to keep off
the dogs. The same night he arose and
frightened numbers by his appearance, strang-
ling more than he had before done. They
thwi delivered him over to the executioner,
who placed him on a cart to carry him out of
the village to bum him. The corpse scream-
ed most mriously, shook his feet and huids as
if alive, and when thev thrust stakes through
him again he roared loudly, and discharged
large quantities of florid blood. At length
they burned him, and an end was put to nis
appearance and his infestations.' "

Monsienr Galmet's bump of marvellousness
was evidently immense. We shall hereafter
show other extracts from the articles on
Vampires.

— An extract from the Kentish Gazette^ of
Sept. 13, 1796, is given, which speaks oi
British porter as a '^ noxious draught," clos-
ing up with the following doggerel there-
upon:

" No wonder, cries Ned, we are p<rfi>ODed by beer.
If you look to the jirocefls of hope throuph th© year,
Tls blabber and horr^^rt that roar up tbe plant,
Which in brought to perfection by brimrtone yoB'll

icraat.
Bat tbe brewer not finding them nauaeooa enough.
Adds Coccuhia^ Indicus, Quania and Snu^J*

— The old Nahant Sea Serpent comes in for a
notice as follows: ^

** Much doubt has been entertained as to
the existence of the Sea Serpent, which is said
to have been seen so repeatedly in our north-
em waters. Why this should have been the
case, under the existence of aich a crowd of
respectable witnesses, we have to learn : and
still less can we understand why the truth of
those statements have been ridiculed in so
extraordinary a manner. Ridicule is not al-
ways the test of truth, and perhaps the fol-
lowing account of a similar animal may s^ve
to substantiate the statements thus opposed
without the slightest reason :

'At a meeting of the Wemerian Natural
History Society, (1808,) Mr. Peter NdU read
the following account of the enormous Sea
Serpent which was driven adunre on one of

234

BIZABRfi.

the Orkney Minds a few weeks ago. The
serncns marinus marpnus of Pontoppidan has
hitnerto been considered as a fabulous mon-
ster, and denied a local habitation and a
name, by all scientido and systematic natu-
ralists, who hare afifected to pity the credulity
of the good Bi^op of Bergen. One of these
monsters, however, has, i^ectuaUy to prove
its existence, been heroic enough to wreck
himself on the Orkney Idands. He came
ashore at Rothesholm or Rogum bay, in Stron-
Sfr, near to Shearers. It was 55 feet long :
but its tail seemed to have been broken by
dashing among rocks ; so it is calculated to
have been 60 feet in the whole. Where
thickest it might equal the girth of an Orkney
horse. The head was not larger than a
seal's, and had two spiracles, or blow-holes.
From the back hung down numerous fila-
ments, 18 inches long, (the mane described
by Pontoppidan,) these filaments bear the
most perfect resemblance to the silk worm
gut, or Indian sea-grass used in trouting. —
The monster had three pair of fins, or n^er
paws : the first pair, five and a half feet long,
with a joint at the distance of four feet from
the body. Alas ! a tempest beat the carcase
to pieces before men and ropes could be col-
lected, and only a fragment (about 5 feet) of
the back bone, uid a whole paw are preserv-
ed. M. Laing, Esq., M. P., has got these,
and 18 to send them to our University Muse-
um, (Edinburgh.)"

Here we take our leave of the J^culapitm
Register^ until our next number.

#ar ^ttlilj Gossip.

— Philip m., King of Spain, having gnmted
a general amnesty to a rebellious city, with
some particular exceptions, a courtier inform-
ed him of the place whM*e a gentleman was
concealed, who had not been included in the
amnesty. ** You would have done better,"
said that Prince, ^' to have told him I was
here, than to inform me where he is."
— A French author, on the Elements of Edif
cation^ printed in 1640, says: — **I have a
good opinion of a young gentleman who is
careful about his mustaches. The time which
he takes in combing and acyusting them is
not all lost. The more attenti<m he pays this
way, the more is his heart nourished and sup-
ported with manly and heroic ideas." It ap-
pears, in fact, that the love and pride of hand-
some whiskers is the thing that died last in
the brave men of those times. The Fn nch
Mercury relates that '* while the executioner
was cutting off the hair of the Count de Boule-
ville, beheaded for duelling, in 1627, the
Count stroked his whiskers, which were
large and handsome : and the Bishop of Nan-

tes told him« * You should think no more of
this world, my son ; — what ! do you think of
it still V "

—Messrs. Henderson & Co., Arch and Foorth
streets, have sent us ** Edgar Clifton." a nev,
entertaining and useful stoiy, just jpublidied
by the Appletons. The author is C. A. Ad-
ams, and the work is very beautifully iUos-
trated. Right and wrong are here fully po^
trayed with their opposite results, loumg
and old may read this story with benefit.
— Several new works await notice at our
hands, among them ** Calmstorm the Reform-
er, a Dramatic Comment," <* Pleasure and
Profit," a series of short sUM-ies, by Mra
Manners, &c,

— Thb Tuokbb Familt in En^Umd had kog
boasted of their founder's immunity in appw-
ing covered in the presence of the Bntiab
Sovereign, when, lo ! some disagreeable anti-
quarian, (no doubt the counterpart of the
amiable Mr. J. H. Graham,) grubbed the fol-
lowing from the Harleian MS., No. 1160, &•
Uo 60.

" Copie of a Warrant of K, Henry VDI.,
whereby he gave licence to Stephen Tucker,
Lamartyn, in co. Devon, gentleman, to weir
his bonnet upon his head as well in his pret-
ence as elsewcere : t. e. at Divine Service, and
this in respect of certayne diseases and infirm-
ities (perhaps scald head or leprosie,) attend-
ing the said Mr. Tucker : dated 2nd July, aa-
no regni 10. &c."

It seems as if the descendants of the above
Mr. Tucker thought the warrant above men-
tioned to be a glorious mark of the King^s li-
vor to their ancestor and family, when really
it was only a liberty procured for him,that in
such places where he (as well as his supeii-
ors,) must otherwise have been uncovered, he
might by wearing a bcmnet or cap hide a
loathesome sight.

An instance may be seen in the Harleian
MS. No. 1856, of a like warrant to Bartholo-
mew Hasketh, ** because of divers infirmities
in his hede." ^

— Beppo says : — "We are no defenders of Mad-
ame George Sand or of her doctrines ; hot
could anything be more absurd than that a
letter wnter in the N, Y, Herald should use
such language as the following in reference
to perhaps the most conspicuous woman be-
fore the world. The helpless reader is in-
formed by this fountain of knowledge, * that
George Sand (known chiefly in the United
States as the writer of a not(»rious novel call-
ed *' Consuclo,") is a woman. She dresses in
man's clothes, gives herself a masculine name
— George Sand— and affects to be a man, and
is so in all but her sex.

This person has wntten a reoommendatovy
preface to a French translation of ** Uncle
Tom," and this person, with his (or bar)
friends of similar calibre, is the only party to

BIZARRE AMONG THE NEW BOOKS.

235

recdre Mrs. B. Stowe in Paris, and make a
HoQessofher.*"

— Godbt's Lady*s Book for August, is already
on our table, filled with its usual peculiar at-
tractions.

J^arrt amimg il^t |ttfe ^iroks.

TXK AUflTRAUAN 0RU90ES

— Wc have here a most remarkable story of
Australian life: full of interest, but at the
same time embracinfl; such an extraordinary
woof of incident that we are inclined to
consider it not altogether reliable. The author
says be does not know what induced him
after a loi^ and active life, passed for the
most part in laborious but pleasurable occu-
pations, to lay down the axe for the pen, and
to write an account of his life in that coun-
try. Perhaps leisure, perhaps a distaste for
ennui, perhaps the garrulousness of old age,
one €r the other was the cause. He thinks
however he was actuated by a better reason,
via., the desire to present a useful history of
a settler's life and to show by his own instance
•* how much may be accomplished by pru-
dence, industry and perseverance. " He gives
OS the story from the period when he was *' a
sOTt of half-farmer,*' in the County of Surrey
England ; carries us from thence to his em-
barkation for Australia ; and thence, through
the stirring adventures which he there en-
oonnters. His capital was $1 150 ; to say noth-
ing of a wife, four children, and wife's moth-
er, feather beds, bedding, blankets, and linen
in plenty. He sold his furniture or the bulk
of it, being told that it would be many years
before he could have a suitable place to put
it in ; and that the money it would bring him
woald be far more servicable. The fulvice
was good, too, he found ; and he was as happy
for many months sitting on the stump of a
tree, with his wife opposite him on another
stump, as if they had reclined on '« the soft-
est solas of Lon^km."

We give the writer's account of his arrival
at Hobart Town ; which occurred Feb. 3d
1817. He savs :

** Hobart Town is the chief town or capi-
tal of Van Dieman's Land, at the south end
of the island. The new ideas which the words
*norUi' and * south' conveyed in those parts
confused me at first ; for, contrary to the im-
pression which they convey in Europe, the
north wind on the opposite side of the globe
is the warm one, ana the south the cold one.

* These warm north winds' and * these c(^d
south gales' sounded oddhr, and it was some
time before I got used to the expressions. The
a^»ect of the new country was not encoorag-

ing, and I fdt a little damped at first. All the
oonntnr up the river, from Storm Bay Passage
to Hobart Town, had a mournful, desolate
appearance. The trees had a sombre look,
and the grass was a dirty brown, excepting
here and there a green patch, where i was
tdd it had been recently burnt. It looked
like tiie dose of autumn instead of the middle
of summer, which it was, we arriving, as I
said before, on the 3d of February, and the
months of winter and summer being revers-
ed here in this topsy-turvy place. A brown
and dusky autumnal tint seemed to pervade
all nature, and the place had a quiet, sleepy
appearance, as if everything had been stand-
ing still and was waiting for settlers to come
and improve it. Mount Wellington, as the
large high mountain, about four thousand
feet high, is calkd, at the back of the town
to the left as yoit go up the riyer, had a little
cap of ^ow on its summit, which I have ob-
served in summer several times since, but it
seldom rem/iins more than a fow hours at that
season of the year. The town had a strag-
ding, irregular appearance; a pretty good
house here and there, and the intervening
spaces either unbuilt on, or occupied by mean
little dwellings, little better than rude huts.
It is to be borne in mind that I am speaking
of Hobart Town as it was twenty-two years
ago; since then, great changes have taken
place, as will be found noted from time to
time in my journal. One thing I can't help
adverting to, and that is, the surprising num- "^
her of dogs that kept us awake for ;K>me
nights after we arrived in the town with,
their incessant barking. At that time every
one had a kangaroo-dog who could contrive to
keep one, and what with these and others,
first one set up a growl, and then another
caught it up, and he was of oourse answered
from another part of the town, so that pres-
ently hundreds of dogs, watdi-dogs, kanga-
roo-dogs, and mongreto of all sorts and azes,
all would set up such a barking and tearing,
that we thought to be smre something drtad-
fill must be the matter ; that the convicts had
risen, or Uie natives had fired the town. We
wished that all the dogs had their tails stuffed
down their throats, to stop their noise. But
we soon got used to this, like the apprentice
that was lost, and found asleep in the copper
that the workmen were hammering at 4Uit-
side ; and t^erwards we found the value of
the faithful and intelligent kangaroo-dogs in
the wild-bush ; for their vigilanoe saved us
all from being murdered by the natives, or
perhaps bum^ to death, as I shall have to
rdate in its proper place. Well, I did not
care, at this time, for the statistics, as the
term is, of the town or the colony ; I was too
much taken up with my own statistics, and
with arranging to settle ourselves on our land,
and get out of the town, for we soon found

236

BIZARRE.

that our money would melt away very fast if
wi staid there, and no return for it, every-
thing hcing so dear. I paid Zis. p«r week
for the wretched place that we got shelter
in : as to going to an inn, of which there were
one or two indifierent ones, of a public-house
order » that would have been ruin indeed.
Meat was 9d. and lOd. per lb : bread a lit-
tle cheaper than in London : as to milk and
butter, that we were obliged to ^o without."

The author did not like all this : and lost
no time in gettingready to retire to his land
in the country. He says : —

" I must own Icould not help feeling strange
in a new country, where everything was so
different from what one had been i^cd to at
home ; and the difficulty of getting a female
servant, and that a convict one, to hdp my
wife with the children and the house, trifling
as it may seem to speak of, troubled her sad-
ly. I fdt very queer myself among the con-
victs ; some with yellow jackets on, and some
without, and all with a pecular look, as it
seemed to me, vnth hero and there gangs of a
a dozen or more working on the roads with
chains on their legs, and making the place
look, as I must confess, not very respectable.
However, I had not expected to find plum-
puddings growing on the trees ready betked,
and beds of rose-leaves ready spread to lie on,
as some did, so I plucked up heart, and set to
work. My first care was to see all our goods
and chattels safely landed from the ship, and
properly housed in a store belonging to a m^-
chant in the town. This I had to pay dear
enough for. I was rather puzzled to know
what to do with my money, in a land of con-
victs, where every finger was a fish-hook ;
but the governor allowed me to deposit it in
the treasury. As it was ail in dollars, the
weight was pretty heavy, more than I oould
cany by mysdf ; and I said jokingly to my
wife that I had sometimes read of the embar-
rassment of riches, but that I had never felt
it before. After all expenses of outfit and
passage paid, I found myself in the colony
with 3600 dollars in hand, being about £780
sterling, having purchased the dollars in Lon-
don at four sluliings and fourpenoe a-pieoe.
With this sum I ha^ to set about establishing
myself in the wilderness."

We present an extract or two from the au-
thor^s account of his departure for his farm :

It is more than twenty-one years since I set
out oa this memorable jonmey , but the whole
scene is present to me as if it was an affair of
yesterday ; and I remember well my sensa-
tions at the sight of my wife perched on the
top of a feather bed in a bullock^cart, with
her old mother sitting beside her, and the
children higgledy-pig^edy about her, enjoy-
ing the novelty and the fun of being dragged
by bullocks in a cart There was something
80 droll in the set-out, and at the same time

the oocasiofi was so serious, that my poor
wife did not know whether to laushorx^ err;
but the tumblings that the rou^mess of the
road gave the children soon made them merry
enou^, and their joyous mirth set the rest^
the iMkrty a-laughing, so that the journey was
a merry one — in the beginning at least. The
old lady sat very quietlv in her place, a little
frightened, but resigned to herfatc. ^e own-
ed, afterwards, that she never expected to get
to the end of the journey alive by snch an
outlandish sort of conveyance, and she was
like to be right in her forebodings, at one
time."

On the journey he is joined by a man nam-
ed Crab, who he had previously taken into
his service and the whole party are finally
lodged on his acres. His arrival at the aetr
tlemcnt is thus given : —

'* It was now noon. The sun was intensely
hot, and we very tired, bullocks and all : hai
we had arrived safe, and we felt in spirits.
And here we were, our little party, alone in
the wilderness. To the west there was no
human habitation between us and the sea:
and the nearest 8ettler*s residence was not
less than eighteen miles. There was pastor*
affe for sheep and cattle fbr scores and scores
<M miles, and no one to interfere with them.
But I had not yet a single sheep, nor a single
head of cattle, except my eight working bul-
locks. We turned them out to graze on the
plain before us, through which ran the Clyde,
then better known by the name of the Fat
Doe River ; we had no fear of their straying,
for they were tired enough with their jour-
ney. The two men then set up the tents
without bidding.

I remember f sat on a &llen tree, with mr
wife and children and her mother stretcbcii
on the ground in the shade, for some time
absorbed in thoughts of mingled pain and

fleasure. Crab Imd strolled into the bosh,
t was a brilliant day. There was a solenra
stillness around that was imposing ; the sun
shining glorously in the heavens, and the
prospect around most calm and beautiftil. I
felt melancholy. Thought crowded thick
upon me. I had undertaken a vast task, to
establish a home in the wilderness. The first
stage of my enterprise I had accomplished ;
through toil, and labour, and difficulty, and
danger ; but I had accomplished it The first
object was gained. I had reached the land of
promise. I had taken possession of my land,
and a noble domain it was. But what were
the risks and difficulties that remained ? I
felt fearful at the work before me. No help
near in case of danger: no medical assistance :
no neighbor. I looked at mv wife and chil-
dren lying listlessly on the dr^ and parched |
grass ; I lod^ around me. and tried to pene-
trate into the obscurity of the future and
guess Uie end. Worn out with thought, and '

BEZARRB AMONG THE NEW BOOKS.

237

ireuT with trtvel, I insensiUy gave way to
tbe feeling of lassitude which possessed us
ill, and fell asleep on the grass. M^ wife
would not have me wakened, hut taking on
herself, without hesitation and without delay,
the duties of a settler's wife, she silently
gare directions for unloading the carts, and
preparing our canvass house. The smaller
tent she made the temporary storehouse fer our
multifarious goods : the larger one was con-
Terted into a general hedchamher for herself,
her mother, and the children. The store tent
was destined for me to sleep in. Two hoxes
formed a tahle on the outside, and fitting logs
of wood formed appropriate seats. A fire was
kinfflied near the spot, and dinner got ready.
It was quite an early setter's meal : boiled
salt pork and damper, with tea and brown
sagar, and rice for the children. All this was
prepared while I slept. I was awakened by
Crab, who had been absent about a couple of
hours on his ex^oring expedition.

** Holloa !" said he ; ** here's a pretty set-
tler, to go to sleep while his wife works for
him. Look here, IVe got something for you."

I awoke at this, and felt quite refreshed
And ready for action. Crab displayed a brace
of wild ducks, which produced a general curi-
osity among the party. Without stopping to
ask questions. Crab prepared them for the spit
after his way. But spit we had none, so we
contented ourselves with throwing them on
the hot embers, native fashion, and hooking
than oat with the ramrod of one of our mus-
kets. We distributed them among young and
old in equitable proportions. I had brought
up with me a five gallon cask of rum, rather
in compliance with the customs of the colony
than with my own inclination ; but on this
occasion, and to do honor to the splendour of
our repast of game, I served out a moderate
ration of it, much to the satisfaction of the i
two men, who were well pleased at the unex-
pected libation. We soon got very merry, and
at last felt so reconciled to our new position,
tliat I caught myself proposing three-times-
three to the success of the First Farm on the
Fat Doe River.

And now, having rested and refreshed, we
alt began to bestir ourselves in earnest to our
work. My eldest boy, Will, was set to watch
the bullocks, to prevent their straying too far.
The men busied themselves in erecting a sod
hut for themselves about' a hundred yards
from the tents. Crab got out the grindstone,
fixed it on a convenient stump of a fallen
tree, and prepared the axes. My first care
was to put our fire-arms in order, and handy
for use. I had two muskets with bayonets, a
fowling-piece, and two pair of pistols, one a
large pair of horse-pistols ; I had besides a
yeomanry broad-sword and a hanger, so that
we were tolerablv well armed. Crab looked

grim at my warlike preparations,

" Ah !" said he, " a pretty way of taking
possession of a farm, with guns and blunder-
busses, instead of ploughs and harrows. Well,
to be sure : the niadness of the people to come
to such a place as this to firiit with the na-
tives and tne bush-rangers. However, as yon
are here, I suppose something must be done to
get a roof over your heads. I have found
some capital timber not a quarter of a mile
off, that would do to bu|ld a log-house.
Toull find that the best thing you can do, is
to house yourself comfortably ;— comfortably !
yes, pretty comfort there is in the bush ! we
look very comfortable, don't we ? all idone in
the wilderness, without a soul near us to help
us, and not a drop of beer tobe had for love
or money. • Well, as you have made your bed
you must lie on it. You* are in for it for a
while, and so I suppose you must make the
best of it."

With these appropriate and gratifying ob-
servations, the cross-grained, but diligent
Crab, furnished himself with the heaviest axe
of the lot, and we went together, to the verge
of the forest ; our encampment having been
formed on a piece of ground nearly clear of
timber. We eyed some hard looking gum
trees for a little time, pausing to select those
most fit for our purpose.

" Now," said Crab, ** who is to strike the
first stroke ?"

'' That wiU I do," said I, and fetching a
blow at a gum tree before me, struck my axe
in the bark.

'' Well done for a beginning," said Crab ;
** here goes for another."

At this he struck a sturdy blow on the
other side of the tree, but without producing
much impression.

"Hard stuff this." said Crab. "I'm think-
ing we have harder work before us than we
thought for ! I wonder how long it will take
you and me to cut down this tree ! but let us
at him again."

We chopped, and chopped, and sweated,
and worked till we were fairly exhausted ; wo
made a pretty decent gap on both sides, but
the tree gave no intimation of coming down.

*• This will never do," said I ; ** there must
be something wrong here ; we must not be all
day cutting down one tree."

** Casting my eye on the axes that lay on
the ^und, it occurred to me that the fault
was m the tools. We had made use of heavy
broad axes, which after experience taught us
were quite unfit for felling timber.

" There's something wrong in these axes,^
says I, " let's try the axes which I bought in
the camp."

They were much longer from hedge to heel,
and much narrower, presenting not more than
half the breadth of edge to wood. The first

BIZARRE.

cut showed tbeir goperiority.

*♦ This is the wtide," said Crab, and with
that he gave a flourish with his' axe in the
air, and shivered (^ a prodigious slice of the
obstinate gum-tree. We went at it merilly,
and pres^tly the tree b^gan to shiver, and
suddenly it ML down with a prodigious crash
to the ground.

"That's number one," said Crab, "and
precious hard work it is, I must say. And
this is what we have come to t'other side of
the earth for! to cut down gum trees! A
nice employment for middle-aged gentlemen, I
must say. I'm thinking we might have had
enou^ of this pleasure at home, without
coming so fkr for it. However, every one to
his mind. And now for the next, master. —
Here is a good-looking chap; let's have a
chop at him."

** Let us try the saw," said I, " its ready
set, perhaps that will do it easier."

** Any way," said Crab, •* so long as we
are amused. I take it. in about six months
at this rate, we shall be able to get timber
enough for a hut. But here's a nice breeze

fot up. Oh, this is what they call the sea-
reeze that comes in the afternoon ; but sure
we are too far from sea to feel it."

"Well, never mind where it comes from;
it's too pleasant to be asked questions about.
Upon my word, I thought it was rather
warmish."

The wind now rose so as to bend the branch-
es of the trees, and its grateful coolness was
unspeakably refreshing, after the sultry heat
of the day. I saw the tents agitated by it,
and the loose things on the grass dancing
about, and the children merrily chasing them.
But I found the breeze more than pleasing :
it was a useful help in felling the trees, and
we quickly took advantage of it. Cutting
the side of the tree next to the breeze, we
found that the force of the wind saved us half
our labor, for the branches being full and
thick in leaf, they presented such a hold to
the wind, that a slight touching of them
brought them down. In this way we felled
eight trees, and gave the appearanceof a little
clearing to that spot

In the meantime the evening was drawing
in, and the shades of night soon fell on us. —
The men had raised the walls of their sod
hut, and covering it over with branches of
trees, they were content for the night. The
bullocks showed no disposition to stray : so
after seeing all things put in order, as well as
the circumstsnces permitted, we disposed
ouradves for rest. Crab insisted on keeping
watch with musket and fixed bayonet : and
with a cartouch box slung behind him, he
made a most formidable figure.

All was still : the stars were bright in the
heavens, and I could distinguish the &mt

outlines of the distant hills. It was long be-
Ibre I oould compose myself to sleep. I w««
fall of thought and anxiety. I had eveiythiii^
to do; mine was really a beginning. The
soil around me had not been disturbed by
civilized man since its creation. The -wmmt
wilderness seemed to have received os into
its ample bosom, and to have closed aroand
us, shutting us out from all coramunicatioD
with humanity. We formed but a liule
speck on the vast space of the uninhabited
country. I endeavored to picture to myadf
the future farms that mieht arise around os,
and the coming of neighbors to cheer and
strengthen us. But the reality waa too

E resent and too strong to admit of the conso-
itions of imagination. I felt committed to
an act of doubt and difficulty. I revolved my
past life in England, and wondered how may
state of misfortune could have been urgent
enough to induce me to embaik in so fearful
an undertaki^ as that of a settler's life in the
wilderness. But the very peril of my posi-
tion served at last to nerve me up to the en-
counter. I felt the deep responsibility of my
position as a father of a youn^ family, and the
nusband of an affectionate wife, who, by my
act, had been conveyed from home, from rela-
tions and from eaijy friends, to brave the
risks and adventures of a settler's life.

With the serious thoughts with which this
contemplation inspired me, I lay down to
rest, not without returning my grateful thanks
to the Great Disposer of all events, for having
arrived thus far with my family in health
and safety, and entreating the Divine protec-
tion and help in my solitary encampment ; —
with such prayer I addressed mysdf to sleep
to eathcr strength for the morrow."

We shall perhaps give a second notioe of this
book hereafter, wnen we shall rteume our ex-
tracts. It is published from the En^ish edi-
ion, and in very handsome style by Willis P.
Hazard of our city.

-THK BOVMOOO OF OREAT ^#f■^l

— The Harpers of New York have juat pnb-
lished a work with this title, got up in the
well-known el^ant style of all their worka —
It is a re-publication of an English work, and
embraces matter which young people in par-
ticular may read with profit and pleasure,
and which is of interest to aU. Touth is truly
the season of generous emotions, herdc impul-
ses and high resolves, and reading how maav
distinguished characters acted m boyhood,
is decidedly profitable. The author says in
his collection of authors, there is hardly one
instance of a man, however highly gifted,
and richly endowed by nature, who has risen
to a conspicuous position, and filled a large
space in the public eye, without the most as-
siduous and dilligcnt devotion to his chosen
pursuits. Could there be finer specicMiis on

EDITORS' SANS-SOUCI.

iliia point than Scott, Pope, Dr. Johnston,
Oamung, Webster, WilbeHorce, Galileo, New-
ton, Franklin, Nelson, Bonaparte, Davy, Han-
del, Moiart, Lawrence, WUkie, Paar, Ghal-
meni. Cooper and Andnbor ? All these, and
many more, fonn the sabjeets of this yolome.
It is handsomdy illostrated.

NATIOMAl- PORTRAnr OAUL^RV.

— This work is hastening to a conclusion, —
two more numbers only remaining to be pub-
lished. Since it changed proprietors, its man-
agement is, if possible, worse than before. —
Lives, that should have been re-written or re-
vised, appear as they were first published
twenty years ago. For instance : the fbllow-
ii^ sentiments, which were partially true in
1^, are not at all so in 1853. In the life of
Governor Thomas McEean, it is said that
*^ the extensive patronage of the Executive of
Pennsylvania renders £e possession of that
office essential to party ascendancy, and con-
sequently the acauisition a^tates the com-
monwealth with the most violent party ooih-
motions."

Every Pennsylvanian ought to know that
the alterations of the constitution of Pennsyl-
vania during the last fifteen years, have re-
duced the patronage of the Governor of Penn-
sylvania to a mere shadow of its former size.
The Life of Gov. McKean does not tdl the
whole truth. No one would learn from read-
ing it that after being twice chosen Governor
by the Republican pw^y, he deserted to their
opponents because that party were unwilling
to elect him for three years more.

We are gravely informed that Mr. McKean
was twice married: once in 1762 to Miss
Mary Borden, of Bordentown, and in 1774 to
Miss Sarah Armitage, of New Castle, Dela-
ware.

Very gross grammatical errors frequently
occur tlm>ughout the " National " work. It
must be carefully revised from a third edition
before it can be pronounced a standard work
for either our own citizens, or for foreigners.

debitors' Sans-^outi.

— The followine hints to those gentlemen
and ladies who have had the misfortune not
to learn French, may be usefbl to some of the
visitors at Cape May, Newport and Saratoga:

Bouquet is pronounced boo^kay, not 6o-
kau.

Soubriquet is pronounced so'bree'kay, not su-
bree-iay.

QtunriUe is pronounced kad-ril, not hwod'
ril

And the foUowin^^ may be usefid to sign-
painters and advertisers :
j Stationers sell stationery, not 8tatk>nary.

MiUiners sell millinery, not millinary. And
carpenters make joists, not joices In Broad
street near thti Ridge Road is the sign vt a
person who calls himself a joice turner,

A builder in Philadelphia being asked for
the plan of a house, said, *' If you will wait
a few minutes I will bring you a pomegrax^
ate of it," meaning to say a pro^amme.

Considering that the public schools of
Philadelphia cost us upwards of $400,000 a
year, it is strange that English Grammar is
not taught in them. The following is a spe-
cimen of the English to be heard at every
comer of our streets : —
" When did you see your brother, Tom ?"
" I seen him yesterday."
** Have you done all your work ?"
" Oh, yes, — ^I done it before dinner."
Some persons say, **I have saw the ele-
phant"

There is but one word in the English lan-
guage that ends with double T ; namely, the
wora butt, meaning, originally, a target : and
now, metaphorically, an object of ridicule. —
Therefore the auctioneers and othei*s who ad-
vertise setts of chairs, sette of china, setts of
books, &c., &c., for sale, are giving the type-
setters unnecessary trouble.
— The citizens of Boston, twenty years ago,
erected an elegant monument over the remains
of Josiah and Abiah Franklin : a gentleman
of the same city is about erecting a monument
to the memory of their son, and Powers, the
American Sculptor, is engaged on a full
length statue of the Philosopher and States-
man, for some gentleman of New Orleans.

TRKATY OROUNO.

— The project of making a public square
around Fenn's Treaty Ground, in Kensing-
fon, has fallen through, — the owners asked
too much money for it. It gives us pleasure
to state, however, that that wealthy body,
the Society of Friends, are thinking of buy-
ing it by subscription. The income of this
denomination resident in Philadelphia, would
make the purchase. As Penn was the most
distinguished professor of the doctrines of this
society, thev have every motive to preserve
the Treaty Ground of Shackamaxon from vul-
gar uses.

THE ORV«l"rAl- PALACS.

— BizABRB visited the Palace last week, but
everything was in a top^-turvy state ; too
much so, to talk about. We shall go again
one of these days, and then we will tell our
readers all we see. The building itself is
beautiful : the most unique and striking we
have ever seen. Did it sit upon a rise of
ground by itself, and without the miserable
apologies for buildings which now surround it.
it would present an indescribably splendid

I appearance. But now — shanties and bad
I brandy ! We have said eooogh.

240

MZABRE.

— Continues open only the present week.
The attractions are very great and the enter-
prise thus far, has been crowned with bril-
liant success Gen. Welch does things well,
if he does them at all. He has at present, we
may add, strong support in his advertizing
agent, Mr. Richard B. Jones, who, we learn,
accompanies the *»show" during its entire
journeyings West, South and West India-
ward- It will be absent for at least eighteen
months, it is said ; a long time to wait for
those who do not visit the Hippodrome the
present week.

— Col. Maubioe, our enterprising stationer
friend, at lfi3 Chestnut street, continues to
enjoy the best patronage of the mercantile
class, and to deserve it moreover. The blank-
books he has placed in the Crystal Palace,
New York, attract great attention.

— Fry 227 Arch street has a display of Ton-
bridge- Wells ware in the Crystal Palace. He
is rapidly preparing to go into his new store,
opposite his present stand.

— Mason removes the present week from his
dd stand Ko. 48, to his new one 204 Chest-
nut above Eighth.

— Simes' Hock and Soda, they say, is very
good, medicinally. Simes keeps the best of
syrups — His fountains too produce about the
most aerated water we have drank.

FO«-rY-FIR«|-r -TRAOe SALK.

— Our friends, Messrs. Thomas & Sons, are
preparing a catalogue of their forty-first
Trade Sale of Books, Stationery, &c., and it
will be issued in the course of a few days. —
The sale, as will be seen by advertisement in
our pages, commences August 22nd, and con-
tinues until September 3d. It will take place
in the superb brown-stone building, iust erect-
ed in Fourth srreet, by Messrs T. & Sons : a
large hall, 52 feet wide and 150 deep, having
been set iq>art for the purpose. The invoices
embrace most valuaMe lists, and the sale will
tinquestionably be the largest and most bril-
liant we have ever had in Philadelphia. The
invoices have steadily increased in amount
since Messrs. T. & Sons commenced tiieir
Trade Sales. Evidences of this may at once
be gathered from the hci that thev in the
outset only averaged about $75,0(>0, while
the sale soon to be held, will reach the immense
sum of $250,000.

TMB OPERA.

— At Castle Garden, New York, is trul^
grand. We have never had an3rthing in this
conntry to surpass it. Steffenone however,
creates quite as much excitement as Sontag.
She never sang half so well. The Countess

must look to her laurels. Steffenone rolls out
an unbroken succession of pure rich notes ;
the Countess is neccessarily obliged to hop
over bare spots now and then as Sne ascends |
or descends the scale. Still Sontag is decid-
edly the greatest artiste who has ever visited
us.

PROFESSOR FERRAOAV,

— Of London, says that table-moving is the
result of involuntary muscular contraction :
and the English papers, and editors who toady
everything English in the United States, are
making a great fuss about it Dr. Samud
Jackson of this city, discovered the secret
many months ago, and so stated to his class,
it is said : therefore all the noise about Fam-
day is ridiculous.

n.LAJSTRATaO RECORD.

— We have received the first issue of the
Illustrated Record, puhM&hed by G. P. Put-
nam & Ca, at the Crystal Palace New York.
It embraces two numbers in one, and is an
honour to the country as a work of art. The
typography is beautiful, the illustrations are
executed in faultless style, the paper is white
and fine, and the matter is admirably con-
ceived and expressed. A number, we leam,
is to be issued every week during the contin-
uation of the Exhibition. The directors could
not have put their organ into better hands
than those of Mesrss Putnam & Co.

OMAROOAL. 8KSTO*-Ka

— Messrs Getz & Buck, No. 4 Hart's Build-
ings Sixth above Chestnut, have just issued
a new edition of ** Charcoal Sketches" from
the pen of the late Joseph C. Ncal. It is got
out in beautiful style, and cannot fail to ex-
cite a new demand for a work which hi^ al-
ready commanded an extensive sale, and
which is really one of the cleverest things of
its kind in the language. The various
sketches arc perfect pictures of life. It should
be added that the book is handsomely illus-
trated.

THHE AOADBMV OF ARTO.

— Our critical reviewer of the pictures lately
exposed at the Academy of Fine Arts will
pardon us for not inserting his second paper.
A great press of copy having prior claims has
excluded the article so long that, by the
closing of the exhibition, it has at length lost
its interest We hope to receive the profit of
our critic's discriminating taste at the next
exposition.

KRAWF18H.

— A number of tratch cases are every morn-
ing brought to the shop at the corner of Fifth
and Chestnut streets, to be mended ; very few
of them are true metisd, and in most of them
the guilt can be detected without any add. ,

ROMANCE OP TOIL.

241

^'BauB&iyBaAMtE, what sat tou, MAMAPr" — Parqtihar.

rofE THB trm tsiaxo
BATURDAT, JUI^T 30, 1853.

THE ROMANCE OF TOIL.

AN ORIGINAL GITT SKETCH.

At the back of a house in W street,

wherein once lived the individual who now
has ^e audacity to wield thf little feathered
engine whose countless, multiplied scratchings
have 80 wonderfully influenced the fortunes of
mankind — there stood, and probably still
stands for aught she knows to the contrary,
three wretched looking, tumble-down houses,
of irregular height and width, which hare
more than once claimed a share of her atten-
tion, when, during her not often recurring
hcmrs of idleness, sne has been sitting unem-
ployed at an open window of her dining-room.
To speak in my own person, I know not if
these queer looking structures possessed any
remarkable character of their own, or in what
respect they differed from other half decayed
masses of brick and mortar, but I had always
found a singular attraction about them, and
from a constant habit of turning my eyes in
their direction whenever I occupied my favor-
ite seat at the window, had insensibly learned
to take considerable interest both in them and
their inhabitants. From my earliest youth I
have always had an eye for the picturesque,
and perhaps there was somethmg of that
character about these dilapidated mansions.
They ran parallel to the garden wall of the
boose in which I lived ; and the one nearest
my own dwelling appeared to be more at the
mercy of the wind and rain than its fellows,
fir its variouslj^-sized windows could scarce-
ly boast an entire pane of glass among them ;
sorry looking substitutes of rags and hat-
crowns protruding in their stead, while their
iU-hung Yenitian shutters flapped idly in the
wind as if like the stars in theXfilesian ditty,
** thc^ had nothing else to do. " From a plen-
tifol besprinkling of vitrified brick upon their
diaoolored surfaces, the^ had evidently been
built with some pretension to ornament, and
many years ago had no doubt occupied what
was then con^dered a prominent situation in
a respectable street, their honest builder little
supposing that their degenerate walls would
serve to shelter the very humble inhabitants
whose movements should fall under the fre-
quent inspection of an obscure individual like
myself.

Over the little sheds, or '' leans to" as they
are sometimes graphically termed, which

projected firom the back of each of these
quaint looking buildings, might be seen a
coarse deal -box, filled with earth and contain-
ing some precious plant, a bright-flowered
geranium or even a rose, the cherished me-
mento of some tenderly beloved friend, a rda-
tion whose memory was still fondly preserved
in those delicate buds and blossoms — at least
so I was wont to fancy, loving to trace, as it
were, a fine thread of gold running across the
rough-woofed natures of their humble pos-
sessors ; like those springs of crystal clearness
that wander sparkling among sand and stones,
looking all the brighter for the rude bed over
which they glide. I have often thought as J
have observed many little acts of kindness
and affection among the lowly inhalntants of
these old houses, their patient industry, their
daily struggle with the debasing influence of
poverty, that we take too little heed of their
class, and are too apt to let our disgust at
their coarseness, blind us to many gentle
traits that ought to claim our sympi^hy. In
confirmation of what my imagination sug-
gested, I afterward frequently observed an
old white-haired man, owning such a face as
Cruikshanks alone could have done justice to,
one-eyed, knotty, hard and grim ; one of whose
chief occupations seemed to be the carefbl

S reservation and'tender nursing of some of the
elicate floral embellishments to which I have
alluded.

I knew from his peculiar rolling gate and
inordinate love of tobacco that he must have
been a sailor, besides other unmistakable in-
dications; for instance, iVom out the tiny
enclosure at the back of the house which
had been, no doubt, originally intended to re-
present a garden, there rose a tall white
painted pole, on the top of which, stood a
miniature frigate, evidently the result of his
own ingenuity—Kloing duty as a weather-
cock, and which, as it vered about at the
mercj of wind and rain, served not inaptly
in his imagination, to represent the fierce
struggles with the dements of some noble
Seventy-four, on board of which he had
bravely hazurded both life and limb for many
a year. No doubt as he sat gazing up with
evident admiration at this by no means con-
temptible proof of his genius for ship build-
ing, his busy fancy peopled its deck with
many a Tom Bowline and Jack (jh*ammet,
whose hearty cheer and vociferous oath, seem-
ed once more to ring in his ear amid the war
of the storm and the crash of falling masts
until his dim eye brightened, and his old
heart throbbed at the bare recollection of
those busy stirring scenes, where life seemed
only prized as a means of incurring danger.
Well, I have seen this roueh old son of
ocean, in whom few but mysdf would have
discovered a love for anything beyond his
tobacco-box, busy himself with the most

24^

BIZARRE.

woman-like tenderaess among his geraniums ,
and roses, watering them, carefully rcmoying
the dead leaves and wood from about them, |
proppLo^' their drooping buds and branches,
placing them where in some favored spot the I
sua shone brightest, and then while his hands {
were employed, perhaps, converting a morsel of
wood into a minature jollyboat, seat himself |
near them and gaze from time to time upon |
Uiem' with his harsh features strangely soften- ;
ed ; perhaps by some mental association of
their delicate beauty with the danefater to .
whom they had once belonged. If his poor !
Sally had lived, he would not have been left !
so desolate in his old age. How he missed '
Ihe slight Corm that he used to see day after
day with the eternal ** stitch, stitch, stitch,"
ana the pale smiling face that would look up
so cheerfully whenever he entered the room.
How glad would he be to have her back again,
to hear the monotonous needle, and even the
dry, short cough, that at length took her
away from him forever. He had gathered
together some trifles that had once belonged
to her, ^ings he had himself given to her,
sea-weed, shells and a little ivory needle case
that he had brought from China, and placed
them all carefully away in the same old chest
that in her girlish days she had so loved to
** overhaul," as he would have expressed it,
whenever he returned from those long, long
voyages. These and the flowers, the geran-
iums and roses, which she seemed to have
loved as if they had been children and which
he would watch over until they too died —
were all that were left of his kind-hearted
daughter Sally.

To the industrious inhabitant of the third
and last house, I found it difficult to assign
any particular train of thought or under cur-
rent of sentiment. The poor fellow was a
tailor, and see Mm when I would, I w&s sure
to find him in that crouching position of the
limbs, which, contracting his feeble looking
figure as it did, might truly be said to reduce
him to the small mmlicum of manhood usually
assigned to men of his sedentary and miuch
abused profession. I could learn nothing from
his face, since I never saw anything but a
very sallow profile generally exhibiting an un-
shorn chin and dark neglected looking hair,
covering a head that /aithfully repeated the
jeric of his hand, whenever he drew out his
needle. If he changed his position at all, he
<inly did so, to bestow a little more wax upon
Ins tiiread, or to receive the hot goose from
the hands oif his white-haired apprentice : but
never by any accident chanced to turn his face
towards the open window, as if he feared the
allurements of the fresh air that occasionally
fluttered the remnants of cloth that lay on
the board near him. I never discovered that
he had any hxoalj ; not even aa much as a
baby's ni^toap gracing the line that onoe a

week betrayed the poverty of his own wmrd-
robe, and that of tne slipshod damsel who
once a week submitted his red flannd mnd
check to the cleansing influence of soap and
water. And yet there must have been some
one dearer thiui himself for whom he labored
so unceasingly — some bed-ridden father or
mother perhaps, who, while enjoying their
scanty comforts, little knew at wbiat a sacri-
fice they were obtained. No flowers were
ever seen blooming in his industrious nei^-
borhood, unless a rather vigorous lookine
houscleek that flourished in a highly glased
brown bowl — probably the property of the
above-mentioned damsel — might be called ao:
and this valued only on account of its
medicinal qualities. The only thing thai aft
all enconn^ed the idea of healthful, cheerM
existence about the humble dwdling of the
poor tailor, was a little, frisking. jetUack
kitten, that would sometimes sit upon his
window sill, blinking its bright green eyes,
with its velvet paws tucked comfortably un-
der its sleek fur, now snapping indolently at
some inquisitive fly, as if for pastime, now
robbing itself with aflectionate solicitude
against the thin shoulders of its toiling mas-
ter who never by any accident, appeared to
observe the little animaVs enticing endear-
ments, by even so much as a hastily bestow-
ed pat of the hand, or by anything that could
withdraw his attention from his monotonous
task ; so that the life full young creature, as if
inspired with a desire to awaken his attention
in some way, would, with her gloMy black
fur suddenly enlarged by some nervous in-
fluence, spring from the window, dart across
the shed, and oe half wajr up the old sailor^
white pole and down again, in less time than
it would have taken her master to draw out
his needle. It was a hopeless task with the
help of all my strongest powers of imaginar
tion to weave anything tnat bore the moot
distant resemblance to interest in connection
with the poor young tailor, whom I could only
r^ard as a living monument of commendable
industry and perseverance, deserving of &e
highest reward.

I have merely described the first of these
houses as being in a worse condition than its
fellows, without making any allusion to its
much exposed inhabitants,— who for that
very reason should have been the first to
claim my attention and sympathy — becaaae
in them really lay my chief interest, whidiof
course I reserved as a kind of ** bonne-boudie"
for my curious readers.

Now in this most forlorn and uninviting of
tenements, there lived — as my continual sys-
tem of espionnago soon discovered, a yoaog
giii and her widowed mother, to whose A^
ject poverty, was added ^e bitterness of bad^
ily sufiering, which, at times, evidently be-
came so great, as to incapadate her fbr 1l»

ROMANCE OP TOIL.

243

use of her needle, by Uie exercise of which
she alone obtained the bare necessaries of
life. Poor creatures, what a home was that
to comfort age and sickness, to foster the gen-
tle affections, to cheri^ the bright and hap-
pj hopes of a young girl of eighteen ! In
summer poisoned hj a close impure atmos-
phere: in winter, bare floor, bare walls and an
almost fireless hearth. And yet, I have many
a time seen the poor young thing move about
the room with a brisk and cheernil air, broom
in hand, dust the scanty furniture, such as it
was, and ha?ing carefully repaired the dis-
order of the day before, approach the window
with a smile upon her face, and sit down to
her daily task, apparently as fresh and gay
as if no anxious tnou^t, no hidden sorrow,
no sickening sense of grinding poyerty were
always gnawing at her heart. May I have
known W to sing with a pleasant little yoice
as she bent above her endless labours, some
pretty air of a lively character, whose words
perhaps, spoke of such happiness as she
might only &ncy in her dreams ; so hard is
it while lUe and strength remain, to repress
the bright, hoping disposition of the young.
She was quite pretty too, at least she had
that kind of fair delicate Uppearance that
made you wish when you looked at her, that
you could transport her to some cheerful home
where her young mind would have room for
healthful action : where she mi^t be sur-
rounded by warm and loving hearts, whose
earnest care would be to shield her from rude
contact with a hard, unfeeling world. Her
small head was set so neatly on her well-turn-
ed throat — whose whiteness might have been
the ^ivy of many a well-bom damsel — the
soft braids of her dark hair lay so smoothly
on her fair forehead, and then all her actions
were so fhll of that unconscious grace we so
often observe in little children. I have often
wished when looking at her drooping figure
and fine profile relieved against the dark
background of the lowly apartment, that
Heaven had but blessed me with the power of
perpetuating so fair a picture upon canvass.
Had this young creature then, no one to care
for her save her mother ? was there not one
in the wide world beside to love her for her
quiet virtues, her patient industry, her filial
afiection? Not one I feared, — ^not one form
beside their own, ever crossed their little
uMffUnent ; no friendly face ever brightened
tadr window. There she sat, from hour to
hour, frxmi day to day, bending over her nee-
dle, her mother near her, equally industrious,
thooj^ pausing oftener, sometimes no doubt
from weariness, sometimes, to eaze thought-
foDj upon her, and, as I &nciea, with an ex-
preanon fuU of painful anxiety, feeling per-
ha|» that she, the faithful mother, must
aooa be taken from her child, and widiing as

T At A 4l*«f ITAAvan mrnnlA oATuI OAtiriA u r tt r m

and friendly heart to take her place when she
should be gone forever from her side. Poor
young thing, no dull thought like, this ever
appeared to weigh upon her spirit: the
quiet hope that had id ways given her strength,
was with her still, nor did she seem to ob-
serve the mysterious change which the poor
woman herself felt was gradually twjdg
place. No, the same little snatches of song
would occasionally, as usual, come in with th»
breeze to my window, and once I remember —
and it was not far from the time when I saw
her no more — she put down her work and
leaned out of the window to tie beneath i t aouat
morning-glories, that in their bountiful luxu-
riance, seined to have wandered there on
purpose to give her pleasure, — her whole man-
ner was puticularly careless and gay, and I
could almost hear the words of the meny
song she was carolling apparently from very
lightness of heart. Perhaps some pleasant
association, awakened by the graceful beauty
of the vine before her, lent this unusual ^ety
some bright recollection of a happier tune—
for better diysthey surely must have seen
— some fair vision of another home nestled
among rustling, healthful trees, the angles of
whose rustic porch were rounded by just such
fair morning-glories as those, whose windows
looked far over a lovely, rolling country,
broad fields of vmving grain and verdant sun-
lit slopes, where every breath of air came
scenting of new-mown hay. All this, the
weaving of my lively imagination, was as far
from the truth perhaps, as might be, never-
theless, it pleased my fancy to indulge in these
Sleasant little visions, nor did I wish to be un-
eciived with regard to them.
For five or six weeks, being absent from
the city, I of course lost sight of my interest*
ing neighbors, nor on my return did I find
them atjtheir usual place beside the window,
once only observing the mother, whom I had
seldom seen rise mm her chair without her
daughter's ever ready support — moving about
the room, but feebly indeed, and yet as if
some, to me, unknown cause had given h&t
new strenth, although her wasted figure ap-
peared if possible, more attenuated, and her
hollow cheek wonderfully pale. Two or three
more wedcs passed, but still my industrious
young workwoman did hot make her appear-
ance. The window was yacant, — ^I cocdd not
hear the fresh young voice — I missed the
pretty outline there. The morning Tories
missed her too, for during my absence they
had hung themselves all about the window
and were fairly peeping in, as it seemed, to
look after their absent young mistress. What
could have become of her !

The busy tailor still occupied his aooastom*
ed post, jerked his head and threaded hi^
neeale with his usual persereraaoe ; his

ffMwmiflAfl -mMirincF thftir Avnrv H&v ftjnwiftt. if

244

BIZARRE.

we except the addition of an almanac pinned
to the window-frame and a bunch of red roses
gracing a tumbler that rested on his cutting
board. The old sailor too, still came out upon
the ** lean to" to rest in the sun, busied him-
self as of old, amon^ his plants, and contin-
ued to indulge in his favorite amusement of
boat-building. The little black kitten how-
evef , with its additional six weeks of life and
experience, seemed to have lost its former
fondness for rapid feats of ability, and to have
grown into a sober-minded, reflecting and
well disposed cat.

The window of mv pretty neighbor was
the only one that no longer contained its ac-
tive, living picture.

When I chanced to scat myself in the
dining-room with my work-basket and family
stockings, I involuntarily glanced towards the
gloomj little house with those vine-bound,
dusty shutters, but there I never saw her
again. Once, for a whole day the shutters
were closed, and the poor morning-glories,
her cherish«i pets as 1 thought them, torn
from their support, were hanging all faded
and broken from the wall.

One night — it makes me sad even now to
recall it— my daughter, for I too had a dearly
beloved child, to whom my whole heart was
given with the warmest affection— had gone
to the house of a friend to meet some of her
young companions, with a maiden aunt, and
I, having recovered from a severe headache
which hwl prevented my accompanying them,
was awaitmg their return. It was a most
lovelv night in June. Myriads of stars glit-
tored Kke polished steel upon their dark back-
ground, a gentle breeze fluttered the leaves of
the plants in my gutlen and brought their
fragrant breath to the window at which I
was seated. A purer, calmer night I had
never known, and thoroughlv to enjoy its
dreamy, soothing influence, I had put out my
lamp and lay back in my comfortable chair,
allowing my mind to indulge in all manner of

Fleasant speculations, whether grave or gay.
must have sat in this indolent *' far-niente''
mood for upwards of an hour, with scarcely
a sound interrupting the perfect stillness, ex-
cept the monotonous ticking of the clock upon
the mantelpiece, and the ceaseless murmur of
insect voices from the garden, when my at-
tention was suddenly and painfully awakened
by a prolonged and fearful moan issuing ap-
parently from the young seamstresses room,
wherein a dim light had for some time been
burning. It is impossible to describe the sin-
gularly startling, nay, horrifying effect, of
this, at all times painful evidence of human
suffering; but now doublv fearful, from its
sudden interruption of a happy train of re-
flections, wherein half-formed plans for the
wdfare of my absent child, played a con-
spicuous part. Another and another follow-

ed. I leaned frx>m my window and fastened
my eyea upon theirs. I could distinguish
but little — the shadows of three figures, one
of which appeared to be stoopine, were
thrown upon the whitewashed wall of the
confined apartment, and that was aU— alas,
some one must be ill, very ill. Ck>uld it be
the poor young thing whose presence and
cheerful voice I had missed for so long a time
as almost to have forgotten her ? It must be
so, and the reflection gave me a strange feel-
ing of self-reproach. In that dull comer of
their miserable chamber, beneath the three
human shadows, she then perhaps lay dying !
Good God how terrible was this ! and I sat
there painfully aware of her sufferings and of
the deep grief of those who watched beside
her, and yet could do nothing. Again tbo^e
terrible sounds, louder, Wnger and more fre-
quent. The shadows moved away, — the fi-
gure of a man— no doubt her physician— pass-
ed the window bearing the lamp whose fee-
ble rays shone upon his bent figure and thin
white hair. I strained my ears to listen. I
heard the old man's voice in sad and pitying
tones, and then a half-stifled, choking sob,
wrung from the desolate heart of the poor
mother. I raised my eyes to the cold glitter-
ing stars — ** Help them. Oh Lord !" I almost
cried aloud, my heart sweUing with earnest
^pnpathy — "Help them, Oh Lord! in this
their hour of need ; thou only canst .***

Time passed, while I sat there alone, lis-
tening with tearful eyes. Fainter and fainter
came the fluttering breath — another hour went
by — the stars looked down still glittering and
cold, the breeze still murmured among the
plants, the insects chirped in the grass, the
clock ticked upon the mantelpiece— but all
was hushed in the young seamstresses cham-
ber, and no one knew save myself and those
who watched so silently within, that from
those humble walls, a human soul had just
passed forth forever !

SKETCHES OF GKOUGIA. '

SKBTCH SIXTH.

Physical Divisions of Georgia — The first of
these — Its Importance — Present Appeanmce
— Resources — Islatnd Retreats — Irttpressioos
formed upon the Minds of the First Settlers.

The hanghUest breast it^ wish might tooiid,
TbroQgh life to dwell delighted here;
Nor could on earth a spot he fbund
To Nature and to me so dear. — Byr§n.
Tei dear to Fancy's eye your raried scene
Of wood, hill, dale, and sparkllDg brook between;
Tct Rweet to Fancy's ear the warbled song
That soars on morning's wings your rales among'

Cai€ri4ft

Tacitus, in presenting us with the appear-
anoe of Germany, in accordance wito the

SKETCHES OF GEORGU.

245

usual i^tode of expre^icm and brerity, re-
marks : — *' Terra ctsi aliquanto specie diiOfert
in aniTersum tamen aut silvis horrida aut pa-
ludibas foeda: huinidior, qua Gallias : yento-
sior, qua Noricum ac Pannoniam aspicit : sa-
tis ferax: fhigiferarum arborum impatiens
pecorom fecunda, sed plerumque improcera.'.'
—By this striking generalization, and conden-
sation of presentation, we haye at once a bird's
eye view of the entire country ; meagre it is
true — ^yet sufficient to enable us intelugently
to follow him as he proceeds in unfolding the
peculiarities of each part. In pursuance of his
plan we may remark, that Uie State of Georgia
very naturfllly admits of four grand divisions
in her physical Geography. The first section
emWaces the sea-coast with rich tide-swamp
lands, luxuriant forests, and the various islands
which form an unbroken chain along the shore.
The second includes that tract of Country
usually denominated the Pine-barren. The
third, Middle Georgia, with its red-clay hills
and pretty villages ; while the fourth division
introduces us at once amid the most charm-
ing scenery, embracing richly- wooded moun-
tains, quiet valleys, gold mines, and the head
waters of those numerous streams which
irrigate the State. Of these in their order.
The sea-coast forms at once one of the most
interesting and important portion of Georgia.
Combining the advantages of foreign com-
merce with the abundant trade from the in-
terior, the large and principal depots must
necessarily be here establisned. Extended
rail-roads permeating the length and breadth
of the State, must here find a terminus ; while
the broad waters of the Atlantic washing the
shores, receive products of inland labor, and
upon their friendly bosom bear the freighted
bark to all parts of the world. Hence we find
a Savannah with wharves and river filled with
vessels from every quarter of the globe, — the
Dutch and English, Russian and Danish
flags floating side by side — while the French
and Spanish sailors are ever engaged in an in-
ter-chAnge of their stranee fargon. This is
also a distributing as well as a receiving re-
gioa. Foreign goods arriving are immedi-
ktdy convey^ by the iron-horse to the locali-
ticB whence he, so recently brought the cotton-
bale, wMle the steamboat and coasting vessels
receiving the cargoes, deposit them, secundum
noCam, all along the coast, and up numerous
rivers and arms of sea which will permit an
entrance. In this respect then our first
division assumes an air of an uncommon
commercial importance. Again : the produc-
tions of this r^on are peculiar and of great
value. Thus, for example— the Sea Island
Cotton, universally esteemed the most valu-
able, can only be planted and cultivated with
soeoesB in a tract of country, running paraUel
with the coast, not wider than twenty-five or
thirty miles, and flourishes with peculiar ex-

cellency on the Islands. This kind of Cotton
will generally command at least three times
the price paid for the Up-land. The superi-
ority of the former, consists in its long silk-
like staple, which can be applied to the manu-
facture of much finer and more beautiful arti-
cles than the latter. The peculiarities of each,
their modes of culture, and preparation for
market will form perhaps the bui^en of some
future sketch. Here also we find those exten-
sive rice-plantations, with their mills, thresh-
ing machmes, large fields — carefully guarded
by heavy dams against freshets — ^wiBi their
trunks for admitting the water when neoes-
sary and over-flowing the entire crop— with
their squares regularly laid out— ditched and
levelled in surface, as evenly as a table with
their well filled barn-yards, &c. These river
lands can be cultivated with greater proba-
bility of success, (provided they are at first
placed in good order and under control,) than
the island swamps ; and this for several rea-
sons. Imprimis : — the supply of fresh water is
nu)re constant, and far less dependant upon
casual showers. Again, the river forming a
large drain in case of a sudden freshet, car-
ries off the water rapidly. On the contrary,
however, in swamps you cannot generally
command a back-water in a dry season suffici-
ent to enable you to flow your fields when
they most need it ; and then, not unfrequently
a deluge of rain in Autumn, will glut the
swamp for miles, and the torrent disregarding
your side-canals pouring down the channel,
over-leaps the cross-dams, washing the grain
from the stacks if it be cut, and if still stand-
ing, damaging it to such an extent, that the
remaining portion uninjured will hardly repay
the trouble of reaping. Here too we behold
the beautiful sugar cane with its tall form and
dark men leaves, its top gracefuly bending
beneath the evening breeze with rustling ac-
cent, and its stalks variegated with purple,
green and yellow stripes. Here also are the
deep forests and tangled swamps, where na-
ture yet remains in her primeval robes of
beauty, the symmetrical Cypress and the rev-
erend figure of the Live Oak. Probably the
largest plantations in the State, will be seen
upon examination to lie in this section. The
character of the soil, the nature of the di-
mate and the peculiar requisites necessary for
the successful operation of these rice and cot-
ton places, all demand large numbers of Ne-
groes. In Southern Georgia the society has
ever been regarded of the first order. The
gentlemen bemg usually men of much leisure
are generally well educated, polished in their
manners, informed upon all topics of interest,
independent thinkers and actors, and uni-
versally hospitable. ** Honor and the ladies"
is the motto, which they wear within the left
breast. There is here a refinement of feeling
and sentiment, a gracefid dignity of deport-

246

BIZARRk

i»rat, a gentleness of ipanoer a superior cd-
vation of the heart as well as of the head and
and the fingers, which add a thousand
charms to the already fair forms of the gentler
sex. Nature and careful training have done
much for them, and an influence almost un-
bounded is that which they exert.

It is the established custcmi of the inhabit-
ants to spend only the winter months upon
these rice and cotton plantations, which are
located on or near a swamp, and to remove from
them in summer. Many seek refuge from the
malaria arising during the warm weather from
stagnant pools and these deep swamps, by
frequenting the Islands; others visit the
mountains, others still prefer the dry and
sandy soil of the pine-bmren, while not a few
spend the most oppressive months in some
pleasure excursion to the fashionable watering
places of the north. The Island retreats are
truly delightful. The cool sea-breezes es-
sentially modify the intensity of the vertical
rays of a summer's sun, the ocean abound
in attractions affording every facility for bath-
ing, fishing, sailing, while the woods are fill-
ed with deer, turkeys, squirrels and game of
various kinds. These Islands are but the
continuation of a chain, extending from the
coast of Virginia to the Southern extremity of
Florida. They are usually divided or separ-
ated from each other by sounds, into which
the rivers disembogue themselves. The views
here presented, although possesed of no very re-
markable or striking features are still interest-
ing and pleasing. There is the far-reaching
beach with its pure white sand, upon which
the waves of the ocean are ever breaking,
with ceasless roar, coursing along the bars,
and crowning them with snowy foam. How
soul stirring thus to stand upon its very
brink to cast the eye over this wide expanse
of waters, and feast upon those grand emo-
tions of majesty and sublimity suggested by
its presence. Conceptions of boundless grand-
eur are there formed and enjoyed in the in-
most recesses of the soul, which cannot else-
where be gathered, and which to be realized
in all their power, must be received immedi-
ately from tneir mighty originator.

**Thoa boundless, shinhig, glorious ScaI
With ectascy I gaxe on thee;
And, M I gue, thj billowy roll,
Wakes the deep feelings of my soul **

There the extensive marsh unfolds its green
bosom, now refreshed and invigoi-ated with
the flood tide, as impelled by the sea-breeze
it flows in, covering shell-banks and the tall
verdant grass ; there are the proud f<»'n\s of
the Live Oak and the Palmetto, towering far
above the thick growth which borders the
the ^ore, not unfrequently throwing out
their branches so far, that they are washed
by the briny wave as it dashes upon the

brink. When a full tide has covered liieae

marshes, surrounding the small islands which
are interspersed here and there, covered with
dense foliage, where the live-oak and laurels
over-hanging the waters are thickly snxiDkl-
ed with white cranes, bine h^xms, and piidc
spoonbills, when the mild air of a sumoaer's
evening blows softly over the sea and island,
cooling the cheek of the observer as he con-
templates the scene — when the note of the
song bird is heard cheerfully caroling its last
lays to the setting sun, you are forcible im-
pressed with the appearance of composure,
and calm enjoyment which seems to perrade
the inhabitants of Nature. Tou would Ham
linger watching the sea-birds, as forsaking
their fishing grounds in quiet flight thej sedc
their resting places for the night, viewing^ the
last rays of the sun as they play for a mo-
ment upon the bosom of the deep, gilding
each ripple with a thousand golden hues, and
then forsaking the earth lin^r in beauty
amid the fleecy clouds, marking the almost
imperceptible advances of evening, as Nature
draws the curtains of night closely and still
more closely around her, until naught is heard
save the plunge of some fish, or the mtetrj
chirp, of the cricket, naught seen, save the dim
shadows of the trees upon the tide and the
varied outlines of the forests against the sky.

^ow oomee still evening on, and twilight gr^
Has in ber sober livery all tbinge clad :
Silence aooompanies; ftn* beasts and birds,
Tfaey to their grassy couch, tbeee to their neeta
Are sunk, all but the woenil Nigfatingaleu'*

The star is twinkling in the blue wave, the
falling dews '* with spangles deck the ^lade,*'
and home-ward you wend your way, indulg-
ing in those pleasant reveries so naturally
suggested by the circumstances of time and
place.

The emotions experienced by the early col-
onists as they first beheld these shores, must
have been at once peculiar and novd. Com-
ing as they did from the cultivated valhes and
small farms of England, where a person's lib-
erty was in a great measure connned by the
limits ci the manor, where his eye scarcdy
ever rested upon any forest, save the parks ^
the nobles, where the freedom and wildness
of nature had been entirely exchanged feu- the
terraced garden, cultivated, field and artifiaial
lake ; with what feelings of wonder and (niri-
osity must they have surveyed every object,
as Uidr ships neared these low-lying shores.
The trees appeared to have no paragons.
Luxuriant vines as they clambered up the
lofty cedars, formed graceful festoons, and
the surge of the ocean as it lazily rdled upon
the shore, with the winds of summer, daoaod
its spray upon their purple clusters. " Eveiy-
thing wore an appearance of freshness sad
beauty. The air agitated by pure and go^

RBSCtTBIO&fi.

247

iH^eses iosted arocmd the MpB, burdened
with the balmy sweetnees of oraDge-blossoms,
baj-bnd, jessamin, and those countless wild
flowers which as gems of beauty and redolent
of the sweetest perfhme, bedecked the forests.
The ses seen in the magnifience of repose,
filled with these islands completely covered
with the luxuriance of primeval forests, and
expanding in transparency from head-land to
head-land, bespoke a serenity before unsur-
passed. Nature reigned supreme, and her
vmce alone was heard, save when the dip of
the paddle from that swiftly gliding canoe,
raffled the placid waters for a moment, or the
Indian note of triumph resounded, as his
winged arrow pierced the side of some pant-
ing deer, or his barbed point was securely
fkstened in the back of a *'scaly monster of
the briny deep.'* Nor would the wild scream
of the eagle quiver through the air, as stoop-
ing from his serial height, he pounces upon
an unlucky fish-hawk, and bears ofi in delight
the trophy of the contest. Now the heavy
plunge of the alligator strikes upon the ear as
disturbed in his mid-day siest|i, he lazily rolls
from some mud-flat into the water : again the
the merry leap of the fish, the calls and
answers of the numerous varieties of sea-
bird, as they congregate in flocks around
oyster-banks in quest of muscles, shrimps, and
minnows, and the snort of the porpoise as for
a moment he raises to the surface, and then
with renewed en^*^ pursues his game all
these in turn attracted the attention of the ear,
and the eye, presenting objects of novelty
and interest Although nuiny of the forest
; trees have been destroyed, and the cotton
{ fidd now appears with its green stalks and
bri^t yellow blossoms were rormerlygrew the
cedar and the oak : still not a few, yet remain
preserving the features of by- gone days.
While the sea and its inmates are the same
as when the eye of the European was first
directed to these shores. The social inter-
course between familes at these summer re-
treats, is of a most delightful character. The
erening walk, the merry ride, the pleasant
saQ, the friendly tea-party — all in turn engage
the moments as they swiftly fly. Fruits of
the finest quality flourish here. "The frag-
rant orange with its bright golden rind," con-
trasts beautifully with the dark green foliage
of the tree. The purple, blue, and yellow
figs are here found m proximity to the pome-
{ ganate, with its scarlet grains, the melon
with its crimson core, while the peaches

*'Glow with niDDy dvcf,
Like maideiM^ cbreki wh«n bluihes rlro.**

The summer retreats abound in fVuits, but
Sowrally the best flower gardens are found at
the winter residences. Much care is bestowed
tad quite a rivalry exists among the the la-
te eadi, one dearing to have the prettiest

flower-garden. Many of them are indeed fill-
ed with beautiftd vaneties, and are cultivated
with great care. This is peculiarly a lady's
province. Theirs is the office to encourage
the graces and embellishments of the house-
hold, to plan an execute a thousand such little
impovements, which tend so largely to the
promotion of domestic enjoyment, and cause
so wide a difierence between the home of the
husband and the bachelor. An additional air
of refinement and of comfort, seems to dwdl
at that residence with its lawn and enclosure.

Where opening roeee breathing iireete dlffose,
And soft camttlonfl, shower their h^Imy dews;
Where lilies smile in -rirgln robes of white,
The thin undress of sri^rfldal light;
And Taried tolips show so danling gaj,
Blnshhig hi bright direrslties of dsj.

Probably this first division of Qeor^a, em-
braces more wealth, and greater intdhgence in
proportion to the number of inhabitants, than
any of the other three. But more of this here-
after.

KES CUKIOS^E.

We continue our JE^sctiloptan researches the
present week, satisfied that they cannot but
prove as interesting to the reader as they have
to ourselves.

I THB GLOWWOBM.

I Mr. John Murray in a communication made
I to the Royal Society on the luminous matter
of the £^ow worm, states some curious facts
j as the result of his own observations and ex-
: periments. He shows that this li^ht is not
I connected with respiration or denved from
I Solar light ; that it is not affected by cold nor
I by magnetism, nor hj submersion in water.
I Trials of submersion in water in various
\ temperatures, and in oxygen are detailed.
' When a glow worm was immersed in carbo-
nic gas, it died shining brilliantly ; in hydro-
gen it continued to shine and did not seem to

sufier. Mr. Murray infers that the Ijominous-
ness is independent not only of respiration,
but of the s<nar rays.

The luminous matter, in a detached state,
was also subjected to various experiments,
from which it appears to-be a rummy albu-
minous substance, mixed with muriate of
soda, and sulphate of alumine and potash,
and to be composed of spherules. The li^ht
is considered permanent, its eclipses bemg
caused by an opaque medium.

APOTHBOART.

In the Biography of the Rev. Dr. Parr,
Univ. Mag. 7. p. 298, we have the following
observation on the above name :

** The father of Dr. Parr was also an apo-
thecary, or keeper of a shop ; for this is the

246

MZAIBE.

rMl meanmg of the word which U derived
hom qpotheU, the Greek word for a shop. In
oar country we api^y the term apothecary
only to those shop keepers who keep medicinal
drugs in their ^ps; but the very same
Qreek word, which gave us the name of apo-
thecary, has given to the French the name of
bimtiquier, or shop-keeper in gentt^l. Thus,
as IS commcm with them, they struck off the a
in apotheke, and the word became potheke.
The letter p, beinK of the same order with
the letter 6, was <£aoged into 6, and the word
became botheke. But the French, as we all
know, cannot pronounce our th, or the Greek
Theta hence they transformed the word into
botelce, vulgarly spelt bouti<]ue, their name for
shop, whence came bouti(^uier, their name for
shop-keeper : and they thmk it a fine piece of
raillery to call us a nation houtiquiere, or a
nation of shop-keepers."

VAJfPTBBS.

We continue our extracts touching Vam-
pyrcs. An old writer very gravdy says : —

*' In proceedings against the bodies of Yam-
pyres, all the forms of justice are maintained ;
witnesses are cited and heard ; opinions are
weighed, and the dis-interred bodies are ex-
amined, to see if the ordinary marks of Vam-
pyrism are present, to enable a judgment to be
made, if they are those that molest the liv-
ing. These marks are mobility, and supple-
ness of the limbs, fluidity of Uie blood, and
incorruption of the flesh. If such marks are
discovered, the bodies are delivered to the
executioner to be burned. It sometimes hap-
pens, that the spectres still appear for three
or four days afier the execution. Sometimes
the burial of the body is delayed for six or
seven weeks, when suspected. If they do
not putrify, and their limbs continue supple
and moveable as when alive, they are then
burned. We are assured as a fact, that the
clothes of these persons move, without any
one touching them : and not long since, at
Olmutz, continues the same author, was seen
a spectre, who threw stones, and gave much
trouble to the inhabitants.

We come now to some details of the Hun-
garian Vampyres, who sucked the blood of
the living, — as detailed by Cahnet

It is now about fifteen years, that a soldier
being billetted with a peasant on t^e frontiers
of Hungary, whilst sitting at table with his
host saw an unknown person enter, who took
a seat beside them. Tne master of the house
was much frightened, as well as the rest of
the company. The soldier could comprehend
nothing of the matter, but the master of the
house dying the next day, he made himsdf
acQuainted with it. He was tdd it was the
father of his host, who had been dead more
than ten yean, who had thus seated himself

bedde him, and had annoiuiced and cftosed
his death.

The soldier immediately infcmned the regi-
ment, who mentioned it to the ofBcov. ThMe
save commission to the Ck)unt de Cabreras,
Captain of an Infantry corps, to inquire into-
the affair. Having, with other officers, visit-
ed the i^aoe, accompanied by a surgeon and
an auditor, they took the depositions of aU
belonging to the house, who attested uniform-
ly, that the spectre was father to the master
of the house, and that all the soldier had re-
lated, was strictly true. The same was affirm-
ed by all the inhabitants of the village.

In consequence of this, they dug ap the
body, and found it like that of a man just
dead, and his blood like that of a living per-
son. The Count ordered bis head to be cut
off, and he was then buried again. He alsa
received information of other apparatioos, one
of which was that of a man more than thirty
years deceased, who had thrice returned to
his house at meal time, had sucked the blood,
the first time from the neck of his own broth-
er, the second time from one of his sons, and
the third time from one of the servante^ who
all died immediately.

On this deposition, the commissary had the
man taken up, and finding him like the for-
mer, with fluid blood, as in a living persoo,
he ordered a large spike to be driven into his
temple, and then to be buried. He burned a
third, who had been buried more than six-
teen years, and had sucked the blood, and
caused the death of two of his sons. The com-
missary having made his report to the general
officers, they despatched him to the emperor*^
court, who ordered some officers of war, of
justice, physicians, surgeons, and several 6a>
vans, to go and examine into the causes of
events so remaricable. The person who in-
formed us of these particulars, had them £rara
the Count de Cabreras, at Fribourg in Briagau,
in 1730."

Could any diing be more absurd than this I
Yes replies the sensible reader, the whole
idea of ** Spiritual Rappings,"

IDENTITY OP PERSONS.

The fdlowing example of the difficulty of
identifying individuals is v^ curious.

A child named Francois- Michel Noisiu,
whose father was a poor bricklayer, was bora
at Paris, and was baptized at St. Jean en
Gr«ve, his parish, the 22d Dec. 1762. He
was put out to nurse in Normandy, until 16
months old. Sometime after, falling sick, he
was bled in the right arm. He had a scares I
the inner part of the left knee, from an ab-
scess, cured by caustic, by a surgeon named \
fVom^nf, who certified to It. TMs child had |
not yet had the small pox.

On the 13th August, 1766,vArocaett, then 3
years and 8 months old, was lost «n the Qoai I

RBS CDBIQfiJB.

24^

de I'enUnt*, and cooki not be founcL The
16th June, 1768, his god-mother saw two lit*
tk boys pass bj, and wasstrook with the ap-
pearance of one of them ; and called him to
W, and questioned him : his replies gaye her
no satisfaction, bat the sound of his voice
confirmed her in her first idea. At first she
merely saw a resemblance in this child to her
godson ; bat she soon recognized him as her
godson himsdf : several of his playmates col-
lecting together, also recognized him ; they
examine if he has a scar in the knee, and find
one; the mother informed of this, hastens
thither, and recognises, or thinks she recog-
nkes her son, by his features and by the scar.

Another woman however arrives and claims
the child ; she names his parents, and says
he has boarded with her for two years : now
the child Noiseu had been lost only 22
months. The dispute augments, the two
women are carried to the commissary, who
gives the child provisionally to the wife Noi'
seuy who declares she is the mother, expresses
it by her tears, and shows the scar on the
knee.

Presently a new mother reaches the place,
it is the widow Labrie. Sbec^txms the child
Nmseu as hers, of the ofQcer of the Police.
They were both of the same age, and both
had nearly the same scars. The magistrate
rders the parties to a higher tribunal. The
30th Sept. 1768, the Judges of the Chatelet
question the child in the presence of the two
mothers, to which he bdongs. He replies
that the widow Labrie is not his mother, for
she refuses kim food. The Judges confirm
provisKmally the decree of the commissary,
and adjudge the child to the wife Noiseu : —
whilst she is overwhelmed with joy, the other
the widow Labrie^ is overcome with grief,
and as if her own death had been pronounc-
ed, she fiunts away, in the arms of her sister,
who had not strength to hold her; on all
sides they exclaim, that is the real mother.

The joy of the wife Noiseu, was not of long
duration ; the mother Labrie solicits a new
trial ; the case is examined more minutely ;
it is discovered that the reclaimed child has
bad the small pox, whilst fi*om the testimony
of la Noiseu^ her own had not had it ; sur-
geons are consulted ; their opinions are con*
tra^etory on account of the scars : the sur-
geans of the Chatdet are in favour of Labrie ;
others of Noiseu; at length by a definite
JQ^ginent, the child is declared to belong to
LaSrie, The first sentence had filled the one
mother with despair : the second is not less
impressive on Noiseu and his wife ; they fall
down senseless at the decree : the public is a
witness of this tender spectade, and cannot
teQ whether their opinion should follow the
decision of the Judges, Noiseu and his wife,
coning to themselves, cry oat, we will ap-
peal ts psrUsmeat.

In ftct, the following day, their appeal was
made, and bv a decree of 19th Feb. 1770,
that court af&med the sentence of the Chat-
det, which had ati^udged the child to Labrie.

SNAKE-STONES.

Among the Panaceae of former times were
Snake-Stones of which Pfaioravant in his work
entitled •* Three Exact Pieces", publised in
1652 has the following :

For truly the virtue of stones are very
great unto those that know them. I saw
once two stones in Rome, of inestimable vir-
tue ; the one was a round Corall like unto
the Serpentine Pvrjihir, but therein was much
green, and was of that vertue that bdng laid
upon the flesh of a man or woman, it caus-
eui them to pespire freely, so that it
were to be wondered at. The other stone
was of Diasper, but bright, nnd thorough
shining with certain white veins, and was of
such vertue, that being laid on a wound, pre-
sently the blood stenched, so that there fell
not down one drop. The which stones were
in the hand of an old Spaniard, who said he
brought them out of India, fix)m Nova His-
pania. I have seen also divers and sundry
stones of most strange vertues.

The illustrious, but credulous Robert Boyle
in his work on **The ReconcileaUeness of
Specifick Medicines," 1685, p. 217, speaking
of the virtue of stones, says : —

*' And yet in these dangerous cases, many
that come from East India extol the great ef-
ficacy of some of those stony concretions,
that are said to be found in the heads of a
certain kind of serpent about Goa, and some
other Eastern counterys : for tho most phy-
sicians reject or question the power ascribed
to these stones, jfor curing the bitings of vi-
pers, and tho I do not wonder at their diffi-
dence, because in efiect many of the stones
brought from India are but counterfdt : and
of those that were really taken out of ser-
pents, several, for a reason I must not stay to
mention, are insignificcnt ; (imd such, per-
haps, were those that the learned and curious
Rwy made his tryals with) yet there are
others, whose vertues are not well to be deny-
ed. For, not to build on vulgar traditions,
which are but too often deceitful, one of the
eminentest doctors of the London College as-
sured me, that he had, with one of these
stones, done, tho contrary to his expectations,
a notable cure, which he rdated to me at
large. And (me of our diief English Chyrur-
ge<ms affirmed tome, that he had done the
like upon another person ; both of these cures
being performed by the bare application of
the stone to the place bitten by the viper or
adder. And a very intelligent person who
had the direction of a considerable company
of traders in East India, where he long lived,
assured me that he had with this stone cured

260

WBiUllB.

sererftl pwsoni of tlw harts of TOBomous
animals. But ibis testiiaonj is much less
considerable, as to the niimbor of cares, than
that of a great traveler into the Soathem
part of the same India, who, tho he were
ored by a famous Cartesian philosopher, and
were forward enough to discredit Yulgar tra-
ditions about the countreys he had long lired
in : yet being for these reasons asked by me,
what I might safely b^eye of the stones I
speak of, seriously aflBirmed to me, that he
bad cured above three-soore persons of the
bitings or stings of sereral sorts of poisonous
creatures: and that he perfonned most of
those cures by the outward application of one
stone ; because, finding it exceUent, he was
invited to keep it, especially in difficult cases.
And this same experience of my own, made
with a genuine stone of this kind, upon the
bodies of brutes, much inclines me to give
credit to. But, because this stone is afiEord-
ed by an aninudy I shall add the vertues of
another, that properly belongs to the Mineral
kingdom, in a diseiuae, whose symptoms,
though not so various, are sometimes danger-
ous, and too often mortal.

To show you then, that in spite of great
closeness and hardness, a simple remedy out-
wardly applied, may be a veiy e£fectual one,
I shall inform you, that though the solid I am
speaking of, past for a Blood'Stone, yet by its
colour and some other visible qualities, I
should rather have taken it for an Agat. It
was but about the Ingness of a small nut-
meg, and had in it a proration, by which a
string past through it, to fasten it to the part
afTeoted. This stone had been long kept in the
family that possessed it, when I saw it, being
for its rare vertues left by one to another.
But, to omit the reports that went of it, the
notable case, that makes it pertinent for me
to mention it here, was this. An ingenious
gentleman, that was a man of letters, and
when I saw him, was in the flower of his age,
and of a complexioD so highly sanguine, as is
not usually, to be met with, was from time to
time subject to hemorrhages at the nose, so

En^use and so difficult to be restrained, that
is physician, tho a person famous and very
well sidled in his a^, told me he often feared
he should loose his patient, and that he would
be carryed away by this unbridled distem-
per. But when good method and-variety of
remedies had been tryed, without the desir-
ed success, this Stone was at length obtained
from an ancient Kinswoman of the ^ntle-
man's, to tye about his nedE, so as to touch
his naked skin. This when he did in the
fits, it would stop the bleeding : and if he
wore it for some considerable time together,
he all that while continued well, as both his
learned physician and himself informed me.
And, because I was apt to aaoribe somewhat
of this effect to imagination, the patient told

me, that awhile befiiraoiieof^ie chief women
in the city (whom he named to me) Ml into
so violent a bleeding, that, tho' it brought
her into a swoon, yet that itoelf, which is
somewhat strange, did net hinder her to bleed
on, till the stone, having been tyed ahoot her
neck, made her cease to do so, tho* she knevr
noUiing of its having been api^yed to her.
And this itsdf is less strange thui what the
gentleman affirmed to me of the power of this
&em, as it may deservedly be called. For his
complexion inclining him, as was alcove inti-
mated, to breed great store of blood, hisdoc-
Un* thought fit to order him, for prevendoa,
to breath a vein from time to time, which
when he was about to do, he was obliged to
lay aside the stone for a while, because, whilst
he kept it on, the blood would not issue out,
at lea^ with the requisite fi*ecdom.'*

jl^arrt anumg % |tefe §0ab.

AUa-TRALJAN ORUSOSS.

— We promised last week to give fhrther
extracts firom this book, just published bj
Willis P. Hazard, of our city, and AmU. do so,
to a limited extent, in the present nnmlMr.
The author is a most spirited writer : and if
all he UUa us about his adventurers in Aus-
tralia be fiction, it is fiction of a most agree-
able character. That he knows muc^ of his
subject is certain ; indeed, no one who hid
not passed many years in Australia, oould
possess such an excellent knowledge of the
country.

We left him in our last extracts, the pes-
aeaaor of a large farm» some sixty or seventj
miles from Hobart Town, and settled <m the
same with his family and servants. He his
good luck, builds a home, stodcs his ton,
and becomes generally thrifty and wdl to do.
Finally, his neighbors are attacked by Boah-
rangers and natives, and he joins i^ party who
set out in pursuit of the villains. They o? er-
take them, have several ^hts with them, and
finally disperse them. While absent on this
expedition, the writer has a tetter from hki
wife, who has been truly a ** help-meet** to
him, which letter announces the destnictioo
of his house and bMns by fire. Such ua-
happy tidings induce him to turn his steps
homeward. We extract a portioD of his io-
oount of the adventures he met on the wvr.

** I shall never forget my su&rings en taftt
wretched ni^. It was piercingly ooNU is
the nights usually are in the month of ioae
in Van Diemen*s Land, and it was with thy
greatest difficulty that I oould oitttrive, he
incessant motkm, to prevent my Vaakst fren
becoming benuined.

The thoughts of my familft ^

BIZARRE AMONQ TfiB NEW BOOKS.

fmrm^ and of tlie disasters wfaidi seemed to
tliicken OB me, with the dreadful feeling of
mj-pfeBeot state of helplessness, almost mad-
d^Md me. At last, toward morning, I sat
down by the fire, and from mere ox£titstion
fell asleep.

I was soon awakened by the nipfnng cdd
of tbe early laondng My sleep, however,
short as it was, served to calm me. I began
oooOy to reflect on my position. "I certainly
was lost in a bash ; but was there no way
oat of the difficulty 1 If I continued in a
straight line in any one direction, I must at
last come to some stream, or perhaps to some
srock hut, or to some known point, which
woald be the^means of recovering my way ; —
the great dan^ to be avoided was strajring
to the west, m which direction there were
neither settlements nor stock-yard stations,
and nothing but the wild and untrodden bush
between me and the sea. If I could keep an
east-ward course, I must at last arrive at some
some broad track, and certainly at the high
road across the island.'*

Such were mv thoughts. I tried, there-
fore, to observe the rising sun, but the foggi-
ness ci the morning was too great to allow me
to do more than ascertain the point from which
light seemed to come. That was some help,
however; so, summoning up my strength,
and endeavouring to {H^serve the coolness of
mind neccessary to enable me to keep a
stright course, I set out.

But I had not proceeded may miles before
the same doubt, and confusion, and indecision
of mind, which I had experienced the day be-
fore, again seized on me. When I perceived
this fit coming on, I immediately paused and
tighted a fire. While I was lighting it, a
kangaroo hopped into sight ; the dogs pulled
it down in less than a couple of minutes, not
a hundred yards from the fire. This I looked
on as a good omen, and it reassured me. I
made a good bush meal, and felt my strenght
somewhat restored.

It was now past mid-day, and I again set
myself earnestly to consider the right direc-
tion. There was a barren hill to my right,
very steep, and without trees to obstruct the
view- I determined to climb up it, in order
to get a better prospect of the countiy around,
aod with that view I looked about for a stick
to use as a walking staff. I soon found a
yosng sapling fit for my purpose, and having
piovided myself with this help, I buckled my
gum behind me, that my bands might be at
liberty. I then climed, with a good deal of
aenoiUing, to the top of hill.

Hating gained the top, I proceed to ex-
aaodae the oonn^ around me very carefully,
hoping that I might catch sight of some point,
or hi^ hill* or particular tree, by which I
mis^t learn my jn-esent position.

1 was avaaously engaged in this manner.

and quite absorbed by my anxious survey,
when suddenly there was an obscuring of the
light above my head. I raised up my eyes
to ascertain the cause of it, when, to my ex-
ceeding terror, I beheld one of the largest of
the eagles of these regions poising itself on its
wings not twenty yanis abore my head, and
in the attitude of pronncing down on me.

I had more than once witnessed the attack
of an eagle on a sheep, which is by fixing its
claws on the body of the animal and digging
its eyes with its beak ; the sheep then became
an easy prey. The thought of this horrible
fate made me instantly put my hands over
my eyes, so inmoinent was the danger, and so
great was my fi*ight. I fancied I heard the
flapping of the creature's wings, and in a
sort of despair I whiried the stick which I
hdd in my hand to ward off the expected
attack.

Loddng up at the same mcnnent, perceived
a second eagle who had joined the first, and
they now flew in rapid circles just above me.
I guessed at once that I had approached the
spot where they were accustomed to build
their nest, and that they were an^ly at the'
intrusion. I slipped my fowling-piece from
my back, and fir^ both barrels first at one
and then at the other. They uttered a fi^erce
scream, but did not leave me.

I did not wait any lonser, but ran helter-
skelter down the hiU, making more than one
summerset before I got to the bottom. Luck-
ily, however, my gun esci^jed any damage in
this scrambling tumUe ; and alUiough I felt
a good deal bruised, I lost no time in reload-
ing it, and then I felt secure. The peril to
which I had been exposed shook me a great
deal, and I sat down at the foot of the hill in
a very disconsolate ,mood, feeling that my
nerve was giving away under the terrors of
being lost in the bush, for at any other time
I &ncy I should have been ^ad of the oppor-
tunity of getting such a go^ shot at an eagle,
and particulaly of getting a si^t of their
haunts.

This thought made me very sad ; but I still
kept up my spirits, and my bodily strength,
was not vet subdued. I was well umed, and
had my faithful dogs with me, and annother
effort might bring me to some known track.
Again, therefore, I braced myself up to the
task, and -choosing a direction which, accord-
ing my judsement, led eastward, I determin-
ed to make a vigorous effort. My efforts,
however, were all in vain, and the fourth
night found me stiU an almost hopeless wan-
derer.

The fifth day passed m the same wearisome
endeavours. My strength no began to ful
me : not so much, I thmk, fiom bodily fa-
tigue, as from the exausting operation of
anxiety of mind and uncertainty of direction.
Towards the close of the evening I arrived.

252

I =

BIZABRE.

at the foot of a rocky hilL The dogs were un-
easy, and whined a good deal» but I set it
down to their sympathing with my own ap-
pearance and dejection.

I had scarcely strength to rise a fire and
boil some of the flesh of the kangaroo which
I carried with me. I had no water, and
in the dark I could not discover any. A sort
of numbness of the mind had now come over
me ; a leaden feeling of cold despair. In my
strange frenzy, I rancied I must have wan-
dered towards the western coast, for I could
not otherwise account for my not being aUe
to dicover some tract or point known to me.

In this state I lay down by the side of , the
fire in a state of complete bodily and mental
exhaustion. My dogs crouched close to me,
and I fell asleep. I awoke once in the nisht
with a feeling of oold ; I replemished the fire
with some large fuel, and slept again.

I must have slept soundly : for in spite of
the cold, and of the thirst which was on me,
I did not wake till the light roused me. It
was a glorious morning ; very cold, but the
air was clear and bright. I tried to get up,
bat found my limbs so benumned that I could
hardly move. I contrived, as I lay on the
ground, to push with ray feet the loose pieces
dead timber about to the fire, which was still
faintly burning. Presently there was a good
blaze, and the warmth restored me a little. I
continued to heap dead wood on till I made a
complete bonfire.

This exertion and the heat of the blaze re-
vived me completely, and once more I endea-
voured to rouse myself to the labor of fresh ex-
ploring in the bush. This was the morning of
the sixth day.

Casting my eyes about me, I saw, not far
off, a sort of natural basin hollowed out in a
rook, about afoot deep, and as clear as crys-
ti^. Feverish with thirst, I took a good
drink, but the water was very cold. I then
sat down beside it to consider what I should
do.

In my tumble down the hill I had torn off
the strap of one of my leather gaiters, and its
looseness was an annoyance to me in walking.
As I always carried a house-wife with me in
my bush expeditions, I thonght I would
spend a few minutes in sewing it on again ;
so I undid the case, and placed it by the side
the rooky basin. I took out a needle, and
with my arms resting on the side of the basin,
proceeded to thread it when it slipped through
my fingers and fell into the water beneath ;
but instead of sinking it floated on the top.

I was struck with this circumstance, and
admired how the needle floated at the top of
the water, when I observed it slowly turn half
way round, and then remain stationary. It
instantly occured to me that the needle had
become magnetized, and I remembered, some
weeks ago, my youngest daughter had been

amusing herself with a magnet and the needle
in this case. I tried it again ; taking the
needle from the water,' I rubbed it dry and
dean, and then held it parallel to the sur&ce
of the water, I let it drop ; it floated, and
turned itself slowly to the same point as be-
fore.

I was full of joy at this discovery, as I now
had the means of acertaining the points of the
compass and my confidence in myself return-
ed. Without loosing any time, I prepared for
another start. I breakfasted gaily on some
of the kangaroo steak that remained, and
talking my dogs, proceeded on the way. I
had not gone far, however, ^hen I perceived
by the dogs' significant signs that tnere was
something in the wind. It was not a kanga-
roo, that was certain ; but I flattered myse4f
we were approaching some human habitation,
and that the sagacity of the hound had de-
tected its vicinity. I spoke to him therefore,
and encouraged him to look about him^ but
the dog exhibited a strange reluctance to
leave mc, and presently began to whine in
the manner which I knew indicated his
scent of the natives."

We here leave this book, adding to what
has been already said by us, that it is well
worth reading. For its authenticity, we re-
peat, we will not vouch.

"MEl-eN ANO ARTIHUR.

— Or Miss Thusa's Spinning- Wheel," a new
novel from the pen of Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz,
and just published by A. Hart of our city is
well worth reading. It was originally pub-
lished in one of our weekly papers and doubt-
less contributed largely to the extended list
of subscribers, which the said paper is re-
puted to enjoy. Were it not for the accom-
plished author of *' Helen & Arthur," and
kindred writers, who contribute to papers
like the one to which we allude, they would
never bt» able to satisfy the claims of prin-
ters and paper makers : for such unsufl^rably
dull, vapid, stupid creations, so far as editor-
ial labors are concerned, were never locked up
in a form.

RI.EASURB AND PROFIT.

— Messrs. Evans & Britten of New Yoric have

fublished a neat little volume with this tiUe,
t embraces lessons on the Lord*s Prayer, la
a series of very charming stories; and »
from the pen of Mrs. Manners. Just the book
is this to place in the hands of the little folks,
and we suspect it will enjoy high £uiie, for a
long time to come. The publiabers are enters
prising young gentlemen. They are at pra-
sent engaged in the puUication oi tba
'* ScfaoolfoUow," an excellent child's maga*
zine, edited by our old friend Wflliam O.
Ridiards Esq., assisted b^ his ladv, and tba
accomplished ' * Cousin Alice. " ' * Mrs. Man-
ners" by the way is one of this clever trio.

OUR WEEKLY GOSSIP.

253

#nr WitMi^ dossip.

— The ron^ Duke of Cumberland once appli-
ed to biB sister the Princess Amelia, for a loan
of jC10,000.--She took him to task, arraigned
his dissipated conduct, and said, she would
neryer be instrumental to it. He assured her
that the money he wanted was to complete
an nnproyement in Winsor Park, where it was
well Uid out in employing the surrounding
poor, and to convince her of it proposed to
take her down to inspect the works. He had
at that time near 500 men digging a canal.
She went to the lodge and he drove her around
the park in a one horse chaise : and had so con-
trired it with his manager, that as she passed
from one place to another the same set of
men as in a theatre, removed to another spot ;
which when she was brought to, were seen
planting trees ; at another, 500 men (the I
same) were found grubbing hedges. ^Well,'
said she, 'brother, I had no conception of
this : you must employ near 2000 people.'
•True madam,* said he. 'and was I to take
you to the other side of the park, I could
show you as many more.* No, she was
satisfied that his money was better ex-
pended than she had apprehended, and she
lent him the sum he wanted. The truth of
this was averred to me by an old servant
privy to the deception.

— Julien, previous to his departure for Ame-
rica, was to have in London a "grand testi-
monial concert,** at which an orchestra of
three hundred instruments was announced to
perform the whole of Meyerbeer's Strautuse.
BroQgh, is the Julien *s agent in this country.
A better selection could not have been made.

— The Dublin Exhibition advances in inter-
est. Over seven thousand visitors visit the
building on the shilling days: but it is curious,
thon^ characteristic of the Irish, the Home
Journd thinks, that on the half a'own days
the attendance is greater than on the days of
cheap admission. It is now said that the
Queen's visit will take place before the end of ,
July. I

— On Thursday the 30th, there was to be a '
sort of Shakspeare Jubilee on a small scale
at Stratford-upon-Avon : — the Tercentenary
Meeting of the Stratford Grammar School, in
which Shakspeare received all his Warwick- '
rinre education. The Meeting was to com- I

I ncnee with a procession and a sermon, — be
i supported hr a distribution of prizes at the ,
i Grnunar »;hool, — and conclude (English ,
Kke) with a dinner, at which the Earl of Del-
aware was to preside.

— The couplet from the Anti* Jacobin touching
Joseph Cottle, lately deceased in England,

was incorrectly published in No. 40.
should have read thus : —

And Cottle, not b« that Afted made I

But JoMph of Briatnl, the brother of Amos.

All three of the Cottles the Athemtum tells
us wrote verse : it wishes it could say poetry.
Amos, like Blackmore, dabbled in epics,
Joseph, like Stemhold and Hopkins, took to
translating the Psalms into English verse, —
and John was guilty of a poem called * Mal-
vern Hills.' Nor did Joseph " the brother of
Amos," confine his literary labours to verse
alone. His "Recollections of Coleridge and
Southey," contain many curious and well au-
thenticated particulars, which any future bio-
grapher of our Poets will be glad to make use
of. It is by his volume of • Recollections,*
rather than by his poetry, that Joseph Cottle
will be heard of hereafter. Mr. Cottle was a
Somersetshire poet, and a bookseller. Let
him rest in peace, say we, with all our
hearts.

— An elegant monument has been conmenced
in Trinity church-yard, New York city, to
the memory of the martyrs of the prison
ships — those American soldiers and citizens
who died in the English prison ships in the
war of 1812. It will be constructed of carv-
ed brown-stone, and its height will be seven-
ty-three feet. The base will be sixteen feet
square, and be placed at the top of a series of
steps twenty-four feet square at the bottom.
The Trinity Church corporation appropriated
seven thousand dollars for the construction of
this work, which will be in the style of the
monumental crosses of England.

— Messrs. Bradbury & Evans, of London,
announce that a ** New Serial by Mr. W. M.
Thackeray is in preparation, t|ie publication
of which will be commenced in the course of
the ensuing Autumn.

— We clip the following from the Lowell
(Mass. ) Patriot and Rejmblican : —

The Philadelphia Bizabre says it has re-
cently lost six subscribers, because it con-
demned the Montreal riots, and upheld Gavaz-
zi and free speech. It gave, one year ago, a
glowing description of the Sacred Heart Con-
vent, near Torresdale. on the Delaware, and
no Protestant subscriber was thereat indig-
nant.

Subscribers have an undoubted right to
stop their papers, whenever they choose, pro-
vided they will only pay up arrearages. But
it is a foolish trick to get offended at an edi-
tor because he has happened to say something
you do not exactly like. We have condemn-
ed the Montreal riots and advocated free
speech, and for the same reason that wo con-
demned the bumine of Catholic churches, in
Philadelphia, or the Ursuline Convent, in
Charlestown. We advocate free speech for

254

BIZAKRE.

ALL ; for the Catholic as well as the Protest-
and. We denounce all mohs, whether the
victim be Wm. Lloyd Garrison, the Sisters
of Charity, or Father Gavazzi. As it regards
the latter gentleman we say nothing about
him, good, bad or indifi'erent, as we have not
yet ascertained whether he upholds or de-
nounces the Baltimore platform.*'

— Graham's Magazine for August is the best
number of that capital periodical that we
have received. The illustrations are numer-
ous and the articles are from leading pens
foreign and domestic. Among the engravings
is a superbly executed mezzotint by Sartain,
called " Household Treasures :" there is also
a wood-cut entitled the ** Emigrants," from
the Devereux brothers, which is exceedingly
fine. We notice amoug the literary contri-
butions a charming bit of verse from Dr. C.
C. Vanarsdale, entitled " The Lonely Brook."
which we shall probably transfer to our pages.
Buchanan Read's " Pilgrims of the Great St.
Bernard," is continued.

— ** The Illustrated Magazine of Art," for
July, has come to us in due season from the
sole agent in Philadelphia Mr. J. W. Moore.
The work is published in New York by Alex-
ander Montgomery and grows better and bet-
ter with each successive issue. A prominent
engraving in the number before us, is a view
of the interior of the great industrial exhibi-
tion at Dublin.

— A New Haven paper states that the Em-
peror of Hay ti lately advertized for the where-
abouts of a coloured man whose name was
given, setting forth that he would hear some-
thing to his advantage on making himself
known. The person was found, and proved
to be a very intelligent man and capital bar-
ber in Bridgeport, where he has been for some
years doing a good business. He appears to
be the second cousin of the Emperor, who
wishes the barber to reside in Ha^ti, and ac-
cept a dukedom, or some other high office in
the realm. It is said that the fortunate indi-
vidual is so much of a Yankee, that he doubts
whether he shall accept the offer. Neverthe-
less, he intends to make a voyage to Hayti,
and see how things look there.

— We shall probably commence in a short
time, a series of spicy and graphic sketches
of the most prominent Booksellers of Phila-
delphia. The articles will be written in good
temper. Many of the subjects will not be

Eleaised with the pictures presented of them,
ut we can't help that of course.
— The following calculations are from the
Monthly Magaztne for 1816 :

** Suppose a man 420 years of age was bu-
ried in this church-yard, who left six chil-
dro), each of whom on the average had three
children, who again had, on an average, the
same number ; and that the same rate of in-
crease in the family continued in ev^ gen-

eration of thirty

years; then

in 420 years, or

fourteen generations, his descendants would

be as under ; —

1st generation,

2nd

- 18

3rd

4th

- 162

5th

- 486

6th

- 1458

7th

- 4374

8th

- 13122

9th

- 39366

10th

118098

nth

354274

12th

1062812

13th

«(

3188436

14th

9566308

That is to say more than nine and a half mil-
lions of persons (as nearly as possible the exact
population of South Britain,) wouid at this
day be descended in a direct line from any
individual buried in this or any other church-
yard in the year 1395, who left six children,
each of whose descendants have on the aver-
age three children.

** To place the same position in another
point of view, I calculated that every indi-
vidual now living had for his ancestor eveiy
individual living in Britain in the year 1125,
the age of Henry the First, taking the popu-
lation at 8,000,000, [In 1816]

Thus, every individual now living bad a
mother and a father, or two progenitors, each
of whom had a father and moUier , or four
progenitors, and so on, doubling their progen-
itors every thirty years, at least. He miigjit
thus be considered as the apex of a triangle,
of which the base would represent the whole
population of a remote age.

1815f living individual

1785, father and mother

1755

1725
1695
1665
1635
1605
1575
1545
1515
1485
1455
1425
1395
1365
1335
1305
1275
1245
1215
1185
1155
1125

128

256

512

1024

2048

4096

8192

16384

32768

65536

131072

262144

525288

1048576

20971JS2

4194264

8388528

That is to say, if th«e were a regolmr eo-Biii^

EDITORS' SANS-SOUCI.

255

tore of marrUges, ererj iBdiyidoal of the liying
rice would of necessity be descended from
every individual who lived in Britain in
1125. **

If, during the crusades, any of the English
intermarried with Greeks, or Syrians, or
Italians, all of whom must, by intermingling,
have been descendants of ereat men of anti-
quity, so all the En^di of this age must be
connected in blood with those intermarriages,
and be descended from the heroes of the clas-
sic ages.

This reasoning explains the cause of nation-
al physiognomy and character, the co-mix-
ture of foreign nations being inconsiderable,
and not sufficient to affect general character-
istic changes, while each nation becomes, in
the coarse of ages, one common and blended
fimnly, in physiognomy, character and ge-
nius.

May so plain a demonstration of this great
truth be a means of increasing their concord,
their love, the interchange of mutual good of-
fices, and their common happiness !

— We have received from Messrs. Lippincott
Grambo & Co. the following new books : —

"British Cabinet in 1853 ;" "Poems by
Meditatus :" Norman Maurice" by Simms ;
" The Wigwam and the Cabin" by the same :
" Pro-Savery Argument. " The last embraces
a series of essays from several distinguished
Southern writers, and is well worth reading.

€biim Sans-Soad.

Tmb YKLJ.OW SRRINGia.

— A glide over the Reading rail-road, a slight

booncing over hill and dale from Phoenixville

depot, and and you are at the Yellow Springs,

QDder the delicate and gentle guardianship of

Mrs. Neef. The trip is well worth taking :

sammer-traveUers may rely on it, very well

worth taking. You pass through romantic

scenery on we Schuylkill, and enjoy it even

tboa|h you see it with the blurr of rail-road

speed sticking to it Then, when you take

the stage, — if like us, of course you will se-

core a seat on the outside, — ^your eyes enj<^

A rise and fall of ground, beautifully diversi-

M, with trees, and shrubs, and grass, and

;nun, and flowers, and birds, and beasts

leattcred here and there all over it. Your

inigi inhale the purest draughts of country

ur, while your nose is saluted with a charm-

S combination of perfumes fresh &om the

boratory of Nature.

You are at the ^M-ings :-— yon arriye there
^th an appetite— olean white pants, changes
^ linen, all the requisites to make the best
impresBion, and a determination to have a
pMdtime. You are not disappointed, good

sir, be you young or old. There is a forty-
degree-cold bath; there is German J(^n to
curry you with a crash towel : there are rides,
drives, fine fare, and the loveliest of ladies, —
married and single, — with whom to converse.
These influences acting on you, you feel de-
lightfidly amiable towards *• the whole world
anid the rest of mankind ;" your body is free
from pain, your mind is buoyant, — indeed you
are strongly impressed with the idea that you
will live forever. The poet says :

"The sniMt vmA to bMlth, ray wliat they wfll,
In neTor to suppoM we shall bo ill.**

So fkr as we are concerned, the Yellow Sprines
help one to be oblivious of the ills of the flesh,
and most happily.

It remains for us to say that there is a
large company there at present ; but Mrs.
Neef, and her admirable assistant, Mr. Will-
iam Goodenow, assured us, that there were
still some superb rooms left. We came away
with regrets, which were " aerated " — see
Simes* advertisement— as it were, by ** Katy
Darling." which the band were playing in
fine style at the time. Our next excursion
will probably be to the Perry County Warm
Springs.

RHIILAOBI.RHIA ART UNION

— Mr. E. F. Dennison, has very kindly sent
us a copy of the Patrick Henry engraving,
got up for the subscribers to our Art Union
the present year. It is a tolerably well-exe-
cuted work, and will unquestionably prove
highly acceptable to those for whom it was
designed. The subscription to the Art Union
is five dollars per annum, which covers a copy
of the engraving in notice, and a chance of
obtaining a fine painting from the pencil of
one of our own eminent artists. It is stated
that the distribution for 1853 is guaranteed
from the commencement, whether the con-
cern pays or not, — in the subscription, by a
collection of at least fifty pictures, of an ag-
gregate value exceeding S4000. These works
are now in progress, and as soon as completed
will be exhibited in the Art Union Free (Jal-
lery, No. 210 Chestnut street, of which our
very polished friend, Mr. Dennison, is man-
ager.

TO THO«B INTKRSaTKO.

— The maxim of Apelles, the great artist of
antiquity, which he had written over the door
of his atelier y "Nulla dies sine linea," — no
day without a line, — ^should be imprinted on
the heart of every editor. And yet we sel-
dom, with all this writing business on our
hands, could muster courage to exclaim, to
those hourly rushing into the sacred precincts
of our ofQce, there to while away their idle
time, *»Procul, procul, este profani!" —
Away, away, ye profane ! — Our time seemt
everybody's ; our retreat the property of the

256

BIZARRE.

city. Might we relieve a dry subject by (h-
cetiousness, we would say of our sanctum>
looking to what is accomplished notwith-
standing, —

'* Railway speed
Ii realised here indeed."

t-AOlES* NAMES.

— In the year 1800, the following marriage
notice appeared in the New York papers :

"Marned at Wa.shington, Virginia, Mr.
George Hudson to Miss Seraphina Maria Ca-
rolina Maiilda Juliana Sophia Anne Mans-
field."

Had this long-named damsel lived in our
days, she would have been announced as Miss
Seraphinie Mane Carolinie Matildie Julianie
Sophie Annie Mansfield! Querij. Is there
any reason to suppose that any girl chistened
Sarah, will get a husband ten minutes sooner
by calling her— say Sallie ? As to first names,
by the way, the practice of the Quakers is
the most reasonable. Only a single name is
given to a female child ; and when she mar-
ries, her maiden name is retained as a middle
name. From this system two gocid results
follow. When a lady's name is triple, we
know that she is a married woman, and also
we know what her family name was.

A OH4ANOB FOR PUBUaMKRS.

— A gentleman of this city, celebrated for his
bibliographical research, is preparing for pub-
lication tne old plajTS — six m number — upon
which Shakspeare foimded his ** Measure for
Measure,** ** Comedy of Errors,*' ** Taming
the Shrew," "King John,*' "Henry IV.,*^
•* Henry V.,*' and •* Lear.'* Those in the pos-
session of our friend are probably the only
copies in the country, and bear date 1678,
1595, 1605, 1607, and 1611. Each play will
be prefaced by historical and critical remarks,
and such information of the old authors as
can be obtained from the almost forgotten
past.

It is Strang, that these old plays have never
been republished with us. They are men-
tioned frequently in the notes of Collier, Ma-
lone, Skottow)^ and Othns, and hence much
curiosity will oe felt to see them. We have
read tlvem with a degree of interest indescri-
bable, and now that everything relating to
Shakspeare, possesses a peculiar charm, m>m
Collier's new version of his works, it would
seem these plays cannot but prove interesting
to the reader.

Apart from the novelty of the pdays them-
selves, the introductions will be interesting,
as they establish the fact of the identity of
each play, with the evidence of Collier, Ma-
lone, and others, to substantiate it. Publish-
ers should note Uiis announcement, and act
accordingly.

AI\4U«SN/1BNnra.

— Sanford opens his new and beautifyd Ethi-

opian Opera House, in Twelfth bdow Chest-
nut, on Monday evening, August Ist. His
company will embrace all the talent of last
season, with the addition of Nelson Kneass.
author of •* Ben Bolt,** probably one fji the
best musicians of his stamp in the country.

— The Hippodrome lefl us on Monday for the
west, after a most brilliant season. Sxty
thousand dollars were taken in five weeks ;
an immense amount for the hot season. Gen.
Welch deserves all this and twice as much,
for getting up so splendid an entertainment

BuaiNeaa mems.

— Col. Wm. H. Mauriob, 123 Chestnut St,
the great model stationer of our city, cannot
be seen at the Cr3r8tal Palace ; but a set of
blank-books, splendidly gotten up. from his
establishment, occupy a prominent poation.
These blank books are a very good specimen
of what Maurice can do in this way, and we
should not be surprized if they «)t him a
large number of orders for New York and
other cities suburban thereto. Maurice adls
at low rates.

KRAWFI8M-^AN4.

— However disagreeable toes with corns may
be, ^oma- toes with com, are perfectly ddight-
ful.

— "I say, Tom, what do they mean by res-
taurant on so many signs at liquorin' houses ?"
"Why don't you know?** replies Tom:
" why that*s French for rum-shop.*'

— They have got a homed toad, a cow with
five legs, and a calf with two heads at the
big show in New York. Now, we have in
Philadelphia a somewhat curious " kritter :"
and it may be seen at the State House free-
gratis. It has four faces, but no head : eight
hands, but no arms ; and there is one great
tongue attached, which makes a great «Hse
whenever there is a house on fire.

— The Emperor of Russia has sent another
vUimaJtum to the Turk. If this will not do.
we presume he will send an vJUimatissnnMk,
which will be the '* most Utest last** demand
of all.

— From the way the folks ran to see the pre-
sident, one might suppose that he was thi
greatest man in the country ; but any tinkd
could make a grater.

— Some people are never satisfied. Thcvn
for instance, is the man who rings the Stat4
House bdl. He has the hi^est office in tl4
gift of Hoe corporation, and yet he is contiiiQ«
ally 5frtAing for hire waees.

— Brigham Young is about to establiahlHl
kingdom in the G^-apagos Islands. WHh «l
many wives as he has, he ought to be
ed to be still ranning so fiar after the gob.

— EmiOLOOT.— D«?t7 is from the Greek *»
bolost and signifies an accuser, or frosecuirtt\
attorney.

THE EVILS OF SOCIETY,

257

"timWIj Bll*BMIj WHA¥ BAT TOO, MaIWAP?**— /VlHTtfAor*

xmn.

FOE THE WKBX KlfMICO

BATURDATy AUGUST 6, 1893.
THE EVILS OF SOCIETY.

FIFTH PAPBB.
"Flnt let me talli with this pbUowpber."

It WW oar mtentiofn, in this article, to offer
% {toi of an institution, which would improve
the morals of the youth of our city ; but a
recent article in the Evening Bulletin has
attracted our attention, and we have thought
it proper to ofifer a few comments upon it, be-
cause it shows the notions which men of edu-
cation, in this country, entertain concerning
what Is proper education for the people. The
editor of tlis BuUetin is not alone in these
opinions, which we think have so pernicious
an influence upon the manners and moral sen-
timents of the age in which we live. Amongst
other remarks, which are reallj judicious, we
find the following :

** Oars is a practical age, we are practical
people. Few Americans can afford to be edu-
cated for a life of elegant leisure only. What
nine men out of ten want, is such knowledge
as will be useful in the profession they may
follow, and, as the years they have to devote
to study are comparatively few, they have no
time to waste on merely scholastic acquire-
ments. * # # *

" To the sons of merchants, to young men
aiming for distinction in political life, a know-
ledge of French and German is infinitely more
valuable than a knowledge of Greek and
latin."

Education is only valued because of its
utility in a business point of view. What
we wish to show at this time is the great er-
ror, now 60 popular, of undervaluing '* scho-
lastic acquirements." This error is twofold.
Rrsty in supposing that the study of the clas-
sical languages is of no value, on the score of
** rugged utuity ;" and secondly, in regarding
ntfcrmaiion as the great object of education.

If we consider scholastic acquirements of
BD yaloe in themselves, let us see if they may
BOt be found useful as aids in other depart*
aaaats of learning, of the utility of which no
ooa will doubt. That a good knowledge of
the Sbf^ish language is an important piurt of
adiicataon, — even in a busineaa point of view,
— aU will admit A full, easy, graceful and

judidous use of speech is valuable to every
one, no matter what may be his business. It
has made the fortunes of many. Now, how
can a person get a good knowledge of our lan-
guage ? Does any one get it without some
knowledge of Greek and Latin? A large
portion oi the words in our language come
from the Greek and Latin ; and thousands of
words which will yet be made, as science and
art progress, will be formed from the words
of those d^td languages;* and a person will
never be able to use these words with ease,
elegance, and propriety, if he have no know-
ledge of their origin and composition. Be-
sides this, the idiom of the English language,
its defects, and its redimdancies, will never
be imderstood, but by a comparison with other
languages, and a knowledge of the origin of
those peculiarities which we find in it. One lan-
guage cannot be properly imderstood without
a knowledge of others ;-— one language can-
not be learned alone. The English language
cannot be learned without a knowledge of the
elements of which it is composed ; and a per-
son who has mastered those elements, has got
the ground-work of a number of other lan-
guages. The ordinary process of teaching
children to read without knowing the meaning
of words is unphilosophical, and very injuri-
ous to a child's education.

It is said that ** a knowledge of French and
German is infinitely more valuable than a
knowledge of Greek and Latin." Now, how
is a person to learn French? About nine-
tenths of the words in the French language
are of Latin and Greek origin ! The shortest,
the best, and easiest way to learn English —
and French, too, — is to learn the classical
languages ; and in learning them, to get the
material out of which the whole family of
langui^es to which ours belongs, is made.
But to enable the people to do this, we must
have a different kind of schools from what
we now have. Our methods of teaching are
wrong at the beginning, and they are wrong
all throng^.

Those things which would make the first
education of children easy and agreeable, are
reserved for colleges and high schoolf ; while
children are expected to learn things at the
very start, which many who go through col-
leges do not learn. In our schools children
begin with learning letters ; they go through
their whole education, and at the end do not
understand them. How many of the children
educated in our public schools can tell why
is sometimes S, and at other times K ? and
what interest can they take in learning rules
where they perceiye no reason ? The sciences
which would affi>rd them amusing and agree-
able instruction are kept fixnn them. They
are not c(Hisidered capable of learning those
things. Cannot a chud distinguish between

258

BIZARRE.

an ox and a tree ? can it not see the difference
between a bird and a fish ? and can it not
understand the adaptation of the parts of ani-
mals to the purposes for which they are in-
tended ? the wings of a bird, the fins of a
fish» the legs and feet of a horse, &c. ? This
is the beginning of all knowledge of the natural
sciences. Cannot a child see the difference
between a group of four bright stars which
form a square, and three others which make
a triangle ? We l^gan our astronomy by ob-
serving the three stars in ** the belt of orion."
Yes, little children may perceive these things ;
hut tkcy do not understand the terms of science.
" Aye, there *s the rub." They have learned
no Latin nor Greek.

The article fix>m which we have quoted,
was suggested by the announcement that
Prof Chase, of Brown University, had given
a course of lectures on the chemistry of me-
tals, to persons not regular students. Now,
sup; ose these persons had learned no Latin
nor Greek, would the}*^ not be greatly embar-
rassed from not understanding the terms of
the science ? They are nearly all formed from
Greek words. Aid in every department of
science, a person without a knowledge of the
classical languages is embarrassed at every
step in his progress. A person ignorant of
these languages could not understand a scien-
tific description of many of the most common
animals, plants, &c. The ignorance of most
persons in science is a consequence of the dif-
ficulty of und^standing and remembering
the terms.

But the great error which most persons
make, is in regarding infomuUiontLa the great
object of education. There was a time, when
our ancestors were naked savages, or fierce
barbarians; and if we now are any better
than they then were, it is because we are
better educated. It is not merely that we
know more than they did, but because of the
humanizing and moralizing influences of our
education. There are thousands among us
now, who are in principle as much " wolves
to their fellow men" as ever men were : but
they are restrained by the influence of educa-
tion upon the whole community ; for the in-
fluence 6f education,is felt even by those who
are not the subjects of it. And this refining
influence is perhaps as much, if not more, the
ra««ult of the study of literature, as of any
department of science or art. An old proverb
says that ** a man is known by the company
ho keeps," and it may be said, with equal
truth, that a man is luiown by the books he
reads.

To say nothing of poetry, the man who
i\nd^ pleasure in reading the works of Homer,
UibS.iu or Dick, is a different sort of man
from the one who indulges in *» Jack Shep-
pard" or ** The Wandering Jew."

The man who has acquired a taste for lite-
rature or the polite arts, however immoral he
may be in some respects, will rarely be ** a
rowdy." The value of education shcmld not
be regarded as pertaining to the individual
who has it. A well-educated person is a be-
nefit to the community ; an ignorant one is
an injury. We have already said, that the
man who raises a family, and educates his
children intellectually, and in correct prind*
pies, is a thousand times more a benefactor to
nis country than the one who shoulders his
musket, to fight in a hundred battles.

Education is the great remedy for the evils
under which we suffer, whether those evils
be moral, social, or political.

But an opinion prevails, very extensively,
that there is not time for young persons to
learn the classical languages, and also to learn
what they regard as being more useful. This
opinion is founded upon the old-fashioned no-
tion that Latin and Greek can only be learned
in colleges and high-schools. Now, '* When
Greece was in her glory's time," did not the
little children learn Greek ? And when Rome
was *' in her palmy days" did not the little
children of Komans learn Latin? And if
little children learned these languages then,
why cannot American children, in this a^ of
progress, do it now? Simply becanse the
teachers of children have not learned these
languages themselves, and also because they
are not provided with proper means of in-
struction. It is not time that is wanting to
five American children a good edacation.
!very person who has gn^wn to the age of
thirty years, in this country, has icasted time
enough to get a good education. Most of the
children in our community have the time
until they are twelve years old; and after
that age, there are very few who could not
give one or two hours daily to mental im-
provement, if they desired to do so ; and this
would be sufScient to give every one of ordi-
nary mental capacity a good literary^ artistic
and scientific education, including at least a
reading knowledge of Latin and Greek. What
is wanting is such means of primary instcnc-
tion as would, at the beginning, create a taste
for learning, and affoni children pleasant
means of improvement, and hold out such
stimulants as would make the whole course
of education agreeable.

To a great extent, the people should be
educated through their amusements.

To improve the morals of the young, ve
must have a very diflerent kind c^ sdiool
from what we have now, and we must enlarge
our ideas of education, and understand better
the influences of proper education, in re-
fining, elevating, and ennobling the minds of

SKETCHES OF GEORGIA.

259

SKETCHES OF GEORGIA.

SKBTCH SEVENTH.

Second Physical Division, — The Pine-harren
Lninber trad^ — Polyphemus* walking stick —
Characteristics of the Back-woodsmen —
Houses — Manner of life — Religious educa-
tion — The eloquent ** Circuit Riaer*^ — Camp
Alertings — Anecdote of the Youth with a
variable weight — Electioneering Anecdotes.

''Bat His M>me Jnntioe to Mcrlbe to cbance
Tb« wrongs yon muKt «fxpect from tgnoranoe:
None oin the moulds of their croftUoa choose,
We tberalbro should man's Ignonmoe excuse:
When bom too low to roach at things sublime,
Tis rather thoir mierortune than their crime."

DaveTuint.

The second divesion introduces to our no-
tice a section of country, which, although
wholly devoid of any poetical or acctractive
features — whether you regard the inhabitants
or the production — still, certainly possessess
the attributes of novelty and singularity. The
name at once denotes the character and ap-
pearance of the land, to wit, a barren, covered
with pine-trees. Our subject for this sketch
is truly a dry one, yet upon examination it
will, I hope, be found interesting in some par-
ticulars. The Pine-barren region forms no
inconsiderable portion of the £astem slope
of our country. Beginnining with what are
termed the "Pines" in New Jersey, it ex-
tends through nearly, if not quite all of the
Atlantic States southward, until it is lost
amid the grass covered prairies of Alabama
and Mississippi. In some, its development is
more marked than in others. Thus, in North
CaroUna the body of the state is nearly en-
tirely pine-barren — with the exception of the
sea-coast on the south, and the spurs of the
Blue Ridge on the north. In Georgia, it se-
parates the tide-swamp lands from the red-
ciay hills of the interior, thus forming a bdt
of some forty or sixty miles wide. The soil
is universally poor, and the general appear-
ance of the country monotonous in the ex-
treme. Here and there however, you find
large swamps bordering upon the rivers,
seeking an entrance into the ocean. There
the tmlT cypress with its pleasing foliage, the
pendant willow, the sweet-gum tree, the lux-
uriant vines clambering even to the very tops
of the trees, and hangmg in rich festoons—
the impenetrable cane-brakes — the profusion
of water-lilies — myrtle bushes and sweet-
bays — the numerous varieties of birds, with
their melo^ous voices and gay plumage, all
conspire in presenting a scene, which con-
trasts strikingly with the tall naked forms of
the pines : devoid of undergrowth, unenliv-
ened, save perchance by the chatter of the
ibx-sqairrei, or the wild scream of the whoop-
ing-crane— rendered sad and mournful by

the continued sighing of the winds through
their tufted tops. Upon the banks of these
streams however* this silence is interrupted
by the merry ringing of the wood-man *s axe,
as he prepares the trunks for the saw-mill,
where they are speedily converted into boards,
laths &c. Throughout the adjoining country
may be traced the heavy ruts of the lumber
carts, and the tracks of oxen, as they draw
the trees so soon as they are felled, to the de-
pot on the river, whence^ey are rapidly con-
veyed to some city or town at its mouth,
where vessels are in readiness to bear them
to any part of the country. Georgia pines
are well adapted for masts and spars. The
Norwegian pine so long deemed almost indis-
pensible for such purposes, has been in a
great measure superceded, we find the same
article, equally excellent, much nearer home.
While looking at some of these long straight,
round trunks, we have been often remindol of
Polyphemus* walking stick, as described by
Virgil. Observe the dimensions and weight
of one of these, frequently an hundred feet
long, and then picture to yourself that huge
monster, as with his one immense eye, now
pierced and weeping bloody tears, in wrath
he shakes the mountains, and the rocky sides
of his hollow cavern with his more than Steu-
borian cries of agony, or, feeling hi% way with
his pine tree cane to the sea-coast, plunges
into the ocean, dashing aside its billows, and
grasping wildly, blindly, after the swiftly
gliding fleet, hasting away from this strange
and fearful r^on.

« Monstmm horrendnm, infi>nne, ingens, eui Inmen adem-

tum,
Tnmca manom pinus regit, et vestigia flrmat"

With how much power is the entire scene
depicted, and how completely is his immense
stature I'endered easy of comprehoision, and
levelled to the capacities of every reader, by
this simple descriptive sentence, *' a cut pine

glides his hand, and steadies his footst^ !"
ow readily is a definite conception formed
of the imaginary and unknown, when we thus
have some famiuar rule applicable, according
to established laws, to its admeasurement.

The manu&cture of ** pitch, tar and turpen-
tine'* is not as yet very extensive in G^rgia :
the lumber trade however along these streams
is active, for superior material can scarcely
any where be found. The average heieht of
the pine is perhaps a hundred feet, although
thousands far exceed this estimate.

The race inhabiting this tract of country is
as remarkable and singular in appearance and
habits, as the vegetation of the land, and the
nature of the soil. In fact, they seem to sym*

Sathize in character with both. Without
oubt, the natural physical constitution of
any country, exerts no inconsiderable influ-
ence as the formation of national peonliaritieB.

260

BIZABBE,

Schlegel remarks that the " power exercised
by nature and her outward forms over men, is
incomparably greater than is ccnnmonly sup-
posed, even in the state of artificial cultiva-
tion ; and still more mighty is it in that con-
dition of primitive simplicity, when man him-
self stanch in a nearer relation to nature, and
has therefore a deeper, more inward feeling
for her." He proceeds to demonstrate, that
the impressions made upon the soul by a plain
however fertile, caxL never elevate the mind
above the sphere of vulgar wants, or fill it
with those conceptions of majesty, derived
from mountains, the speaking monuments of
earth's greatness. What then shall we ex-
pect from the inhabitants of these pine-bar-
ren regions ? what ennobling traits has natur-
al scenery stamped upon their characters ? in
what manly mould have thdr faces and forms
been cast ? Tall, lank, sallow-visaged, with
drawling accent, they may readily be recog-
nized where-ever fou^id. C» teris paribus,
their appearance is the same, whether r^rd-
ed amid the pines of New Jersey or of Qeor-
|pia. Intermarrying with each other, thdr
identity is wonderfially preserved. Labor
haters, their subsistence is chiefly derived
from the numerous herds of cattle which they
own. Disposing of the beef, butter and hides,
they succ^led in obtaining such few necessar-
ies as their situation requires : not the least
of the articles deemed indispensable by them,
being liquor in its most common forms. Ad-
joining their dwellings you will usually find
a small spot of clear^ land, where potatoes
and com are cultivated. The fact is, the pov-
erty of the soil is so great, that the induce-
ment to prepare the land for cultivation is
very small. Hence you may ride for hours in
some sections, and scarcdy find a hundred
acres of cleared land. This porti(m of Geor-
gia will always wear the aspect of poverty,
until other methods than those now employ-
ed, are devised for enriching the soil ; and un-
til cultivators other than Uiose now in pos-
session, shall expend their more enterprising
efforts. In the meantime, however, the pas-
turage of oattle, and the adaptation of the
pine tree to the various purposes to which it
mAj be a{4)lied, can be pursued to advantage.
Various names are employed to designate this
peculiar race which here inhabit By some,
they ar^ known as «* Piney- woods-men" — or
*'tfuskwoodB-men," in other localities they
have received the appellation of *' Pine-knock-
ers or Crackers. ' ' Hence probably, arises the
origin of the term '' cracker-bonnet," as that
eiyle is the only one patronized by the dames
and damsds of the *'Piney-wooas." Their
manner of life is usually quite idle, and man^
of them, judging from the appearance of th^r
figtablishmeats, seem merely to vegetate.
TMr houses are generally ooostmcted of p<det
hi into each other at the ends in the nidesi

manner possible, in so much, that not onfre-
quently Vou can thrust your hknd between
them. On one side rises a huge day chim-
ney, into which, when logs are tumbled at
night, and the entire room is lighted up, to
the eye of the stranger at a distance the cab-
in appears like a large lantern, completely il-
luminated. Every thing transpiring within,
<^an sometimes be distinctly observed, for in
general they have but one room, or at most
two, one of which they denominate the hall,
the other the bed -room. The latter is occu-
pied by the lord of the manor and his fair
consort with the small fry, while the larger
children and visitors, find sleeping apartnH:Ats
on the floor near the fire. Not umrequently
you will meet a fiunily of eight or twelve in
one small house, not more than fifteen or
twenty feet square: the old genUeman and
lady quietly enjoying their pipes, one at each
end of the chimney, i^hile the little fcdks are
tumbling around upon the floor, or quarrel-
ling over a "pail of clabber."

From such a mode of life as this, one might
readily imagine that their moral condition is
far from being as elevated as it might be.
This conclusion in many instances is entirely
correct. To numbers, cannot be applied that
high comfdiment cmce bestowed npoQ the
Ancient Germans, <*Quanquam severa illic ma-
trimonia: nee ullam morum partem majia
laudaveris * * * £rgo septa predicitia
agunt, nuUus spectaculorum i1lecebris> noUis
conviviorum irritationibus corrupta."

Ignorance and an almost total want of re-
ligious instruction, have stamped their bane-
fril influence upon their characters and con-
duct. In some localities the sound of the
Gospel minister is seldom or never heard, and
when one does appear (generally a circuit
rider) the mistakes committed, and the in-
fluences exerted, are of such a nature, that
more evil is done than good accompUshed.
Often, such a jai^n of mis-shapen asser-
tions, perverted doctrines, and singular no-
tions are presented, (not unfrequently as al-
leged Bible truths,) that to the ear of the in-
telligent, they are mirth-provoking in the ex-
treme. While listening to some or these, wm
have been reminded of an anecdote related of a
zealous *' Brother," who, in one of the upper
counties of G^rgia, was upon a certain oc-
casion, unfolding to his audience, the scenes
which would pass before the eyes of all at the
final judgement. — The subject is almost too
serious to admit of such a ludicrous pcnrtrayal,
yet we present it in confirmation of our state-
ment, and as a fact, whose accuracy is undD
authenticated by creditable ear and eye wit-
nesses. After discribing the awful terrors «f
that momentous occasion, as jp;iyen in tlw
Seriptures, alter picturing^ the frilling mowi-
tains, the utter oonstemation of siiinera, the
earth wrapt in fiamea* and the heavens paa»*

SKETCHES OP GEORGIA.

261

ing away with a geeat noise, the parson paused
and surveying his congregation minutely,
with a long drawn sigh, solemnly proceeded,
"friends my feelings overcome me : it is utterly
impossiable for me to to portray properly the
dread terrors of that day. Words are inade-
quate to the task. The most powerful con-
ception I can convey to your ears, of your utter
consternation and helpless condition then, is
to tell you, that you will on that day be like
General Washington at the battle of Waterloo,
ithen he cried out **a horse! a horse! my king*
domfor a horse !!^* The effect was electrical,
and the preacher immediately pronounced by
many, ** one, what could not be beat for learn-
in no how." What reason have we to expect
or hope for religious improvment under such
ministrations of the word ? Multitudes are
gratified if they can liear the curcuit rider
once in a month, and attend camp-meeting
once a year. The injury caused by these
camp-meetings when injudiciously conducted,
far over-balance the good communicated.
Hundreds frequent them solely with a view
of having a general frolic. While the elder
^brothers' and ^sisters' are assembled around
the altar, now falling into devotional fainting
fits, now shouting "Glory HaUeujah" and
"River Jordan," the younger memliers in the
tents enjoy themselves in carrying on flirta-
tions, in various amusements, and in discus-
sing the merits of love affairs in general.
Their secular education is frequently no bet-
ter than their religious. If the school-mast-
er, can teach spelhng and reading, — a little
geography, with a knowledge of arithmetic to
Long Division, in some parts of the Country
be woidd be considered a prodigy of learning.
We would not however desire to convey the
impression, that the scenes and representa-
tions here ^ven, are nniversally applicable to
every section of the Pine-barren r^ion.
There are individuals of piety, principle and of
considerable attainments, residing in the very
midst of these people, whose influence for good
is largely exerted in behiidf of the neighbor-
hood around. These moral and literary lu-
minaries are however rendered more remark-
able, in consequence of the darkness which
surrounds them, so that the original proposi-
tions still remains, that these inhabitants
of the *Piney*woods' as a class, are ignorant,
and in many respects, far removed fh)m being
a religious, upright, community. In the va-
cinity of Columbia, South Carolina, numbers
of them are completely poverty-stricken, as
destitute of the good things of this life, as is
the soil upon whidi they live, incapable of sup*
porting any luxuriant v^etation : pine knois
and persimmons being the only spontaneous
ofikprings. You will frequently see them
comiag into town, with a small load of light
wood for sale, the driver straddling the pile,
the cart a rude specimen of his own manu-

facture, and ihe pony so small and ill-fkvored,
that when he raises one foot, he seems scarce-
ly able to replace it with the other. It would
i^pear indeed rational, that the driver, long
and lean as he is, should himself, at least now
and then, exchange places with his <<cretur."
His load is probable the fourth of a cord.
This disposed of, about one half of the pro-
ceeds is appropriated towards the filling of a
small stone jug, which you may have noticed
swinging quite conspicuousl^r by the handle
under the cart, and the remainder expended
for family supplies. Then home-ward bound
he proceeds leisurely (can he do otherwise J)
through the heavy sand, at frecjuent intervals
sipping the contents of that said wiskev jug.
A similar trip is made perhaps three times a
week, and thus a meagre subsistence is obtain-
ed for self and family during the year. Many
amusing anecdotes are told of the hand-to-
mouth manner, in which they keep soul and
body together. Thus take this one as an ex-
ample of the rest.

Scene — A Country Store, open piazza, some
five or six men seated on a wooden bench,
horses tied to the clap-board fence. — ^First
Dramatis Persona, — a portly Squire, intently
observing the index of a pair of scales upon
which he is standmg, the shop-keepr busily
engaged in the attempt to ascertain exactly
the quantity of adipose tissue with the bones
and other mortal belongings. Second Dram-
atis Persona, — A long, lank, youth with yel-
low complection, sandy hair, quite thin and
entirely unused to the brush, — ^pantaloons,
striped home-spun, too short by three inches,
cotton shirt, no jacket, and red suspenders,
an individual whom we immediately recog-
nize as one of our Pine-barren acquaint-
ances. Squire stepping fh>m the platfbrm
with much satisfaction displayed in his
countenance, soliloquizes aloud : — •* Well two
hundred and fifty for a Country Squire is
pretty good, very good." **Few City Alder-
men could beat that," says our verdant spe-
cimen from the Back- wood, who up to tnis
moment with lips decidedly parted, and eyes
considerably dilated, had been steadily view-
ing the rotund proportions of this dignitary.

" Well Ezekiel my boy, how much do you
weigh?"

]£ekid with considerable modesty. '<W«2I
ra-aUy Sqtare, I ca-ant edzactly say, my coT'
porosity sa^aciates so variable, in common
times tnougny I reckon I weighs ninety, in bhch"
berry season, ninety»five. cmd when persimmons
is in, ctbout ninety'Seaen ; the stones you knout
Squir-re counts considerable.^^

Here, in these Pine-Barren Counties are
the *Battle grounds,* upon which stump-ora-
tors endeavor, to win for tiiemselves a repu-
tation, sufiSioient to secure a seat in the State
Legislature. This aooomplished,— the Idtieet
hel^t of political prefement to which their

264

WZABSE.

sugar-plumbs in their ejet, as ther called
gazing close] J and amorously into eacn other's
e^es. They also exhibited their passion pnb-
kcly. A pendant lock of hair, often plaited
and tied with ribband, and hanging at tne ear,
was so fashionable in the age of Shakspeare,
and afterwards, that Charles I. and many
of his courtiers, wore them. This lock was
worn on the left side, and hung down by the
shoulder, considerably longer than the rest
of the hair, sometimes even to the girdle.
It was supposed to have the effect of causing
Tiolent love and was originally a French
custom. Wigs weye made to imitate it.
Burton adds to the love-lock a flower worn
u in the ear. Kissing the eyes was a mark of
y^ extraordinary tenderness. In the fore-part
^ of the stays was anciently a pocket, where

women not only carried love-letters and to-
kens, but even their money and materials
for needle- work. When prominent stays were
worn, lovers dropped the literary favors into
them. If a woman put a love-letter into the
bosom pocket, it was a token of her affection.
Willow garlands were worn by persons dis-
appointed in love, supposed from the tree's
promoting, chastity, or the famous passage in
the Psalms. The liberties allowed to lovers,
and even to intimate acquaintances, in the
times of Elizabeth and James, were very in-
decorous.

Here follows quite appropriately, does it
not reader ?

A LOVE LETTER OF THE FIFTEENTH GENTUBT.

To my right well'hdoved cousin, John Patson,
Esq., St this letter delivered, ^c.

Right worshipful and well-beloved Valen-
tine.

In my most humble wise, recommend me
unto you, &c. And heartily T thank you for the
letter, which that ye sent me by John Beck-
erton, whereby I understand and know, that
ye be purposed to oome to Topcroft in short
time, aiKl without any errand or matter, but
only to have a conclusion of the matter be-
twixt my father and you: I would be the
most glad of any creature alive, so that the
matter may grow to effect. And thereas
[whereas] ye say, and [if] ye come and find
the matter no more towards ye than ye did
aforetime, ye would no more put my father
and my lady, my mother, to no cost nor bu-
siness, fbr that cause a good while after,
which causeth my heart to be fUll heavy :
and if that ye come, and the matter take
none effect, then should I be much more
sorry and full of heaviness.

And as for myself. I have done, and under-
stand in the matter that I can or may, as €k>d
knoweth ; and I let you plainly understand
that my fkther will no more money part
withal in that behalf, bat an lOOi. and fire

flMrks, [81. 6«. 8d.] which is right fiu- fimn
the accomplishment of your desire.

Wherefore, if that ye should be oonteot
with that good, and my poor person, I would
be the merriest maiden on ffround : and if re
think not yourself satisfied, or that ye might
have much more good, as I have understood
hj you afore ; good, true, and loving Vmlen-
tme, that ye take no sudi labour upon jou,
as to come more for that matter. Bat 1^
[what] is pass, and never more be spoken o£,
as I may be be your true lover and beadwo-
man during my lifb.

No more unto you at this time, bat Al«
mightv Jesu preserve you both body and
soul, &o.

By your Valentine,

Margsbt Bbbwb.
Topcroft, 1476-7.

The Paris Journal of Medicine of 1817, con-
tains the^ following remarkable stmtement
touching an

EFFECT OF FEIGHT.

** Mary G\m, a widow, 70 years of a^^ and
who had enjoyed remarkable good heaith all
her life, was so astounded with horror, at team-
ing that her daughter, with two diildren in
her arms, had thrown herself out of a window,
and was dashed to pieces, that in one ni^
her skin, from head to foot, be came as Uiu^k
as that of a neg^. This blackness was per-
manent, and the woman having died about
two years afterwards of pulmonic infltonma-
tion at the Salpetriere, ^ was dissected by
the Suigeons of the institution, and the skin
was found to 'correspond in structure with
that of the negro."

MASQUERADE.

At a masquerade some years ago in Lon-
don, among the different characters, appeared
a ''dancing corpse,'* dressed in a shrowd,
with a coffin. The coffin was black, with
white ornamented handles : and on the breast-
plate was inscribed :

** Mortals attend I this pale and ghastly spectra^
Three moona ago waa plmnp and itoiit aa Baoter,
Oomely's, Almaok's, and the Ootarta,
Have now reduced me to the thing yon lee!
Oh I fhun harmonic routea, and midni^ nm^
Or yoa and I ahall soon be on a leTel."

OLD WOMEN A OUBB FOR HYPOCHOKDBIA.

A very old Sporting Magazine of London,
has an article entitled ** Loquacity ; or, an Old
Womans Lamentations for the loss c€ her
Poultry : beginning with a panegyric on Old
Women,'* from which we extract the follow-
ing:

*' Facts they say, are stubborn things ; the
writer will tl^refore evince his asaeriion with
one. Poor Mr. Vapourish was a |
a man possessed with tderaUe^

RES CURIOSJC.

265

I knofwledge, and he wm a man of classical
karnmg : but at times» and that firequently,
was droulfully affected with thehypochwidri-
scal malady. Able a^mtheoaries adininistered
drugs, famous physicians wrote him prescrip-
tkos, but all was without effect, at least with-
out the desired eflect ; for the poor suffering
patient received no remf^dy from either medi-
cine or advice. He was firequently wretched
in the extreme : he rung up his servants at
midnight ; said he was then dying as fast as
it was possible. He was afraid of everything.
One thing was too hot, another too cold ; one
too thick, another was too thin : one loaded
the stomach too much, another too hard of
digestion ; one was too sweet another too sour ;
one was too flatulent, another too inflamma-
torr ; every thing gave alarm and much un-
easiness, and his life was a grievous burden
to himsdf ; yet he was terribly afraid of dying,
which would have terminated his wretched-
ness. When he felt himself in tolerable good
health, then he was under continual fear and
alarm ; he was afraid of eating or drinking,
or of doing anything, lest the act should tend
to derange his system. In short he was in
continual bondage, and the worst of slavery ;
for he was a slave to his own fears and ap-
prehoifflons, and a plague to every body about

Good fortune brought him to the acquaint^
ance of an old woman, who afforded him great-
er relief than all the world had done or could
da She had felt every pain ; had laboured
and groaned under every wretched sensaticm ;
had experienced all the fears and doubts he
ooold possibly mention ; knew exactly how he
felt, and what thoughts were apt to harass his
breast during the paroxysms. She had been
subject to the whole for more than thirty
years : and yet, thank Heaven, she would
say, notwithstanding all. I am alive still, and
am now in my seventieth year. Come, come,
my good sir. do not be babberghasted : you
arc not a-dying nor will vou die yet : I know
what it is, and can and do pity you from my
heart and soul. Here the poor sufierer had a
little consdation ; a pleasing prospect stood
before him ; an old woman of seventy, who,
had suffered all his miseries for more than
thirty years, and yet was likely to hold it ten
or twenty years longer. He conceived hope.
But hope lu>w powmul and efficacious soever
it may DC, is insufficient to give relief long,
or much, to the wretched hypochondriacal
sufferer. No there must be something more
stimulating and fascinating to accomplish this;
which something the old woman possessed in
H sufficient d^ree. She was everything at
times, and in season ; she was gloomy as
December, tearful as Ainril, serene as October,
pleasant as June, just as occasion require : for
her words, looks, and whole deportment, were
sore to corpespend, and be wdl suited to Um

company tibo was with. Besides, she was
never at a loss : she had a why to every
wherefore ; had always ready an old saying,
to strengthen and corroborate her remarks,
and a proverb to illustrate and confirm her
assertions or opinions. Her discourse was ser-
ious and religious ; comical and facetious ;
and all in the space of a few minutes : nor
were the subjects of her conversation less
mutable ; for she would turn from what may
be said of heaven, to the dark regions below,
and thenoe to this busy world, and to any of
its concerns and transactions instantly.
These astonishing abilities are the prerog-
atives of old women ; and by the help of them,
this wonderful old woman frequently cured
poor Mr. Vapourish of his maladies. She
dirverted his thoughts from preying upon his
mind, and he would breathe more freely, and
consequently felt himself more comfortable.
The old woman was well acquainted with his
feelings, and saw his amendment so soon as
he felt it. She would then dap her hand on
his knee, and say, *come sir, shall you and I
cuff a pipe together before I go home." If
you think it will do me no harm,' he would
reply, *I dou't care if we do.' She had much
to say in recommendation of smoking ; so to
smoking they went. The fumes of the tobac-
co, a pot of ale, and noggin or two of his mead
or ald^ wine, made them both quite happy :
and poor Mr. Vapourii^ would sometimes con-
tinue pretty well for weeks. When fresh at-
tacked, the old woman was sent for, and al-
ways recovered him ; that is as long as there
remained in him any life or sinrits. She was
unable to rais^ the dead : she survived him,
though his senior by twenty years.

BATTONG AND WATERING PLACES.

"We now return to the JEscuLafian Register,
winding up our curiosities for the present week
with a seasonable article about Watering
Places, prepared perhaps by the eminent Dr«
Cox, himself: —

Notwithstanding the various means resort-
ed to at our Watering Places and Springs, for
restoring health to the invalid, and affording
amusement to the man of leasure and the
lounger, we are still behind some of our Eu-
ropean brethren, who have hit upon a plan
which holds out a pjomise of health and plea-
sure at the same time. In a small town in
Switzerland, called Leuk or Locche, six lea-
gues from Sion. and situated on the right bank
of the Rone, are sulphuraetted thermal
springs, of temperrture from 111 to 124 de-
grees of Fahrenheit, which are received into
a large basin, divided into four equal squares,
each of them capable of containing thirty
bathers. These square baths have dressing
cabinets, two of wnich, are kept at an elevat-
en temperature, bv the means of stoves.

Round eadi bath runs an estrade or bench.

266

BIZARRE.

on which, or on chairs, as may be most agree-
able, persons of both sexes, suitable attired,
take their seats. Thus situated^partially
immersed in the hot water, they converse,
read, or even take refreshments according to
their several tastes. Many bathers have be-
fore them a small floating table, on which are
placed their breakfast, glass, handkerchief,
snuff-box, books, and news papers. One may
readily conceive of this being an excellent
school for politeness, and for acquiring a cer-
tain easy, graceful, flexion of the body, and
movement of the hands and arms, either
by doing the honours of the tea-table, or
seconding the expression of admiration at a
favorate passage, by just giving your table
impetus enough to float it to some fair ladv
opposite, whose acceptance of a bouquet of Al-
pine flowers you may at the same time solicit.
For these tables are frequently decorated thus
by the Valaisan girls,— and the vapour of the
thermal water preserves for a long time, the

Srestine verdure fmd beauty of the plants and
owers exposed to it. To insure entire
equality, and keep away jealousies and dis-
cord, which might arise out of the emulous
adornment of dandies and belles, every bath-
er is required to put on a dress, which for its
plainess, would meet the approval of St. Fran-
cis himself It consists of a large flannel
gown, covering the whole body, and a tippet
of the same to protect the shoulders from the
cold.

Three weeks is the period of bathing, short
of which a cure cannot be promised. It is
customary to begin by an hour in the morn-
ing on the first day, two hours on the second,
ann so on, augmenting the time successivelv,
till the patient continues in the bath eight
hours a aay, — four in the mourning and four
in the afternoon.— i^/t6erf, Patissier sur les
eaux minerales de la France, Sfc.

Some might prefer (particularly in the pre-
sent season) the practice of the inhabitants of
Cumana. as related by Humboldt. They go
down to Manzanares river with chairs, and
seat themselves in companies in the water,
where they chat away the evening. Such a
situvation must certainly be favorable to the
effusions of sentiment and love, as fiimishing
so many apt allusions and illustrations.

ESSAYS FOR SUMMER
HOURS.

— M. W. Dodd of New Y6rk, has just pub-
lished the third and a revised edition of this
work. It is from the pen of Charles Lanman.
That it is popular, the numerous editions sold
of it fully esUblish. The author, has
written many works since the present appear-
ed, and they have been generally creditable
to him. lie lays no claims to professional
authorship, yet he deserves destinotion arising

from his works far above those which we too
willingly concede to others, who make great-
er pretention with far less ability.

The topics of '*Summer Hours,'* are sug-
gested by passing incidents ; and are as t£e
author states in his dedicatory epistle, accom-
panying the first edition, of a desultory char-
acter. They are the creatures of a momentary
impulse, written under, the influence of in-
spired suggestion.

As a specimen of them we give a charming
little sketch entitled

THE UNHAPPY STRAKGEB.

** I was a passenger on board one of the
noble steamers which navigate Long Island
Sound. The huriy-burly attending our de-
parture fix>m the great city was at last ended, ;
and I had a good opportunity to wander j
about the boat, studying, as is m}* wont, the
variously marked countenances of my fellow-
passengers. When the supper bell rang,
there was a general movement made towards
the after-cabin, and as I fell in with the
crowd, I happened to cast my eye upon the
only group left behind. This was composed
of a middle-aged man and his three children.
The latter were getting ready to retire to
rest, and the youngest one, a sweet little giri
of perhaps three years of age, ever and anon
kept questioning her father as follows—
**where*s mother, pa ? — pa, where's mother ?
When will she come back ?" The kind deli-
cate attentions of the farher, as he smoothed
the pillows and laid them in their nest, tend-
ed to interest my feelings ; and when at the
supper-table, my fancy was busy with the
secne just witnessed.

It was now quite late ; the lazily-uttered
joke, and the less frequent peal of laughter,
seemed to announce the spiritual presence of
repose. The newspaper, the book, and ch«k-
er-board, were gradually laid aside, and in a
liltle while nearly all the berth-curtains were
drawn up, and their occupants in the amis of
sleep. Many of the lamps were out, and those
that did remain produced a dim, solemn, twi-
light throughout the cabin — the only part at
all animated being that comer where the boot-
black was engaged in his appropriate dutj.
The cause of my own wakefulness it is unne-
cessary to relate ; suffice to say, it was en-
tirely dispelled by the following incident.

Just as I was about to retire, the sigh of a
burdened heart smote my ear, and as I turned.
I beheld an individual sitting near a berth,
with his fiice resting upon the pillow, weeping
bitterly. He was a fine, intelligent looking
man, in the prime of life : and on near ob-
servation, I found him to be the identical one
who had before attracted my attenticm. I apr*
preached his seat, and, in as kind a tone as
possible, inquired the cause of his unbappi-
ness ; adding tiiat I should be pleased to do for

LITERARY AND OTHER GOSSIP.

267

him anything he might desire. For a moment,
a fresh flood of tears was my only answer ; but
these he soon wiped away, and extending to
me his hand, he thus began to speak :

" I am grateful to you, my dear sir, for your
expression of kindness and sympathy towards
me, bwt the weight which is resting upcm my
spirit cannot be easily dispelled. I have been
sorely afflicted of late, and the associations
connected with the event are what caused
me to forget myself and give vent to my
emotions in tears. To be found weeping like
a child, in the midst of a multitude of stran-
gers, may be consiaercd a weakness, I hope
not a sin : but that you may understand my
conduct, I will relate to you the cause.

" One short month ago, as I paused to con-
sider my condition, I fancied myself to bo one
of the happiest of men. My cottage-home,
which stands in one of the fairest valleys of
New England, was then a peffect picture of
contentment and peace. A much-loved wife,
and three children, were then the joys of my
existence. Every pleasureable emotion which
I enjoyed was participed in by her, who was
my first and only love. From our united
heart*, every morning and evening, acended a
deep-felt prayer of gratitude to our Heavenly
Father : and from the same source sprang
every hope concerning the temporal prospects
of our children, and, to us and them, of the
life beyond the grave. We were at peace with
God, and with regard to this world, we had
everything we desired.

"The time of harvest being ended, and
an urgent invitation having been receiv e
from my father-m-law, I concluded to take
my family, and make a visit to the pleasant
village in the South, where my wiffe and I
were children together, and where we had
plighted our early love-vows. All things were
ready, and, leaving our homestead to the care
of a servant, we started on our journey, —
reaching in due time, and in safety, our place
of destination.

** We found our friends all well, and glad to
see us. Not a care or trouble rested on a'
single heart. Thankful for the blessings of
the past and present, all our prospects o? the
future were as bright as heart could desire.
* Old familiar faces' greeted us at every cor-
ner, old friendships were again revived, and
a thousand delightful associations crowd^
around, us, so that we had nothing to do but
be happy.

" Thus had two weeks passed away, when,
on the very night previous to our intended dO'
parture for home, my wife was suddenly taken
ill, and when the morrow dawned, — / was a
vidowtr and my children motherh ss. My wife,
ii^tead of returning to her earthly home, was
sammoned by her Maker, to that blessed home
above the stars, where the happiness of the
redeemed will never end. Qod^s will be done,

but, alas, it ahnost breaks my heart to think
of those bitter words — • never more.' I can-
not bear to think of it ; never more upon
the earth shall I behold that form, and listen
to that voice, which were my delight and
pride. To my eye the greenness of earth is
forever departed. O who can tell what a day
or an hour may bring Ibrtii ? How lonely,
lonely, is my poor, poor, poor heart !"

These last words of my stranger friend
were uttered in a smothered tone, and with a
drooping head ; and, though he held my arm
after I had risen to go, I tore myself away,
for I thought it my duty to retire.

When I awoke in the morning, after a
troubled sleep, I found the boat was at
the dock of the New England city, and the
day somewhat advanced. My first thought
was concerning the unhappy stranger, with
whom I longed to have another interview :
but in making diligent search I found that
he was gone, and with him his three sweet
orphan children. His form, and the words
he had spoken, seemed to me like a dream.
They were indeed the substance of a vision —
a dream of human life. Surely, shrdy life is
but a vapor, which appeareth for a little
season, and then vanisheth away. As Jeremy
Taylor has eloquently written: "Death
meets us everywhere, and is procured by
instrument, and in all chances, and enters in
at many doors ; by violence and secret influ-
ence, by the aspect of a star, by the emis-
sions of a cloud and the melting of a vapor,
by the fall of a chariot and stumbling of a
stone, by a full meal or an empty stomach,
by watching at the wine, or by watching at
prayers, by the sun or the moon, by a heat or
a cold, by sleepless nights or sleeping days,
by water frozen into the hardness and sharp-
ness of a dagger, or water thawed into the
floods of a river, by a hair or a raisin, by
vident motion or sitting still, by severity or
dissolution, by God's mercy or God's anger,
by everything in providence and everything
in manners, by everything in nature and ev-
erytUng in chance. We take pains to heap
up things useful to our life, and get our death
in the purchase ; and the person is snatched
away, and the goods remain. And all this is
the law and constitution of nature : it is a
puni^mient to our sins, the unalterable event
of providence, and the decree of heaven.
The chains that confine us to this condition
are strong as destiny, and immutable as the
eternal laws of God."

This piotnre of mans condition is indeed
most melancholy, but let us remember it is
not a hopeless one. Let us keep the com-
mandments, and confide in the promises of
the Invisible, and we shall eventually find
that the laws regulatii^ our final redemption
will prove to be as immutable as those con-
eeming our earthly ooiMiitk>&.

26d

BIZARBB.

OOLLEOE LIFE.

— The Southern Quarterly Reviewy for July,
puUished at Charleston and edited by Wm.
Gilmore Simns, is a very line issue. The arti-
cles nine in number, including the *< Critical
Notices, are uncommonly well written ; and
will doubtless produce a most farorable im-

Eression updi the reader. We especially
ke the following papers : " State of Parties
and the Country." The " Iroquis Bourbon."
"Stowe's Key to Uncle Tom\ Cabin," and
the "Aborignal Races of America." "College
and University Education,' however pleases
OS best, perhaps because it is short and to
the point. We extract from it the following
which we are bold to say, and from observa-
tion and experience of our own, is true to
the letter.

" Our Collies differ in their police discip-
line from the foreign Universities. In some,
the students are permitted to ** live in town,"
as it is called, and are, therefore, to a great
degree, beyond the reach of observation.
But, when they reside within the college
building, we observe, in our Colleges a greater
strickness than is cither, useful or proper.
We recollect one marked absurdity in the In-
stitution at which we were educated. We
studied of Course, in our own apartments,
and the hour for study was designated by a
bell. It was the duty of the Tutor, (there
being one or more to each of the College
buildinas,) to make a sort of official visit of
inspecuon three times each day, in the periods
allotted for study. If the student was in his
roOTa — looking busy — it was well, and he was
safe for one-third of the day. If he was out
a slight apology sufficed. If he ever engaged
in any mischief, or pursuit forbidden by col-
lege laws, the echoing tread of the Tutor,
down the long corridor, gave him ample
leisure for assuming the appearance of study,
though he returned the moment after to card
playing or drinking.

The English and German system is infi-
nitely better than this. They do not attempt
to discourage such convivial meetings as
students may enjoy in their own apartments,
and only require that order shall be observed,
and tha; the decencies of life shall not be out-
raged. The result is that such meetings are
matters of course, and naturallf accommo-
date themsdves to the restraints, which un-
forbidden indulgences soon learn to impose
upon themselves. It is true that evil results
might ensve in Bome cases, but they would
be less numerous that under the present
system. Every Collegian's experience will
assure him that the temptation to gross dissi-
pation is more in the hazard of the pleasure
than in the fieasure itself. Youths are at in-
finite pains t« eooage in frolics which are ft^-
biddcn— when, if left at liberty to ehooM, or

rcnect, their palates, if not good sense, wedd
wholly protect them.

But there is a better method of ensuring
the saftey of the scholar. Parents and head-
masters have an idea that they are advancing
their several reputations, if they can obtiUn a
mere Lad entrance into College. The children
are crammed with Greek and Lanin, and are
thus thrown into the unavoidable license of in
association with young men of twenty or
twenty-one years of age. Bad habits are
sooner learned than roots or formulae, and the
precocious child returns a profligate or a
drunkard. No youth sboula enter College
before he is seventeen. If he wishes to enter
professional life at an earlier period than such
a course will admit of, a parent had better
forego training the unripe morals of his son in
the heated atmosphere of a University life.
We may have fewer youthftil prodigies, but
more men will%row to honor and reputation.

Another wholesome lesson might oe incul-
cated. A Coll^;o is not a place for punish-
ment, but for voluntary instruction. The
true rule for the government of a Cc41ege au-
thorities, is to dismiss all who cannot restain
themselves within due bounds, when they are
left free to choose between right wrong. The
discipline of a penitentiary-house will never
fitly educate a student. It is sufficient to
give him the opportunity of learning. The
authorities of a University do not resemble a
a private tutor, who stands, to some extent,
in the place of a parent. Their sole bosinesg
is to afibrd facilities for instruction : and to
prevent vice and disorder, by the removal of
such as are dangerous inmates, fh>m their
characters or habitual example. These re-
sults can be effected without making every
well-disposed youth subject to system ^
espionage, and without converting College
Tutors into work-house overseers."

WILD OATS SOWN ABROAD.

— The author of this work has not contented
himself with sowing his wild oats alnxmd, but
has noted down the whole process and then
paraded it before the eyes and noses of his
fellow citizens. The book is a bad book, the
product of a sensual, low and grovelling mind,
and the liveliness with which some parts of
it are written only makes it the more danger-
ous to the young and inexperienced.

The writer speaks of his college education,
but it is evident that English Grammer was
not one of his studies. He has never master-
ed the difference between the verbs to lie and
to lay. The errors of the press are a match
for the errors of the pen.

It is to be regretted that any Philadelphia
publisher should let such a work iasue from
his store, but then we suppose his exeoM is,
that the people pay best fcur htA hooka.

POEBIS BY MBDITATUa

POEMS, BY "MEDITATUS."

— This little volume of Terse, got up in ex-
ceedingly neat style as to paper, type and
binding, comes to us from Messrs. Lippincott
Gnunl^ & Co. Who the author may be, is
not stated ; nor do we care to know. He is
right-thinking, clearly so ; the tone which his
poetry breathes^ is eminently religious ; no
one can read it, without inward profit ; the
heart will be improved, if the b^t poetical
appreciation is not satisfied. The subjects
have been presented by city intercourse. We
have for instance, ** Christ Church Bells,"
** The SUte House aock," " The Old Swedes
Church," "Crazy Norah" and the like.
There are beautiful thoughts in many of the
pieces ; but too frequently their execution as
to rythm or the mechanical, is hardly kindred
to, or sympathetic with, verse. The author
would have done much better to have clothed
his ideas in prose. In that dres^, indeed, they
would have been decidedly more effective ;
partaking of a character combining some-
thing of a Sterne, a Hawthorne and an ** Ike
Marvel," with a good deal more, however, of
a ** Meditatus" than either.

* Christ Church Bells" has the following pas-
sage, full of delicate, poetical, tender thought,
but jet expressed in such uncongenial, not
to say grating numbers : —

** To ancient bells! how many more than me

Toor cfalmee have moved I How many more, when I

Am ooTomd with the green wad gpringing tod,

Thej jei shall boyo! Nor ye alone, bat Boonds

That fill the air, and dghts unnoted by

The paasing crowd, shall to some Toioeleas heart

Call thooghts, to some averted eye bring tears.

I cannot know, I do not care to know

It now, by what nnseen and spiritual touch

Te thrill me: but I think how unoonoeiTed

Are the rascvptibUitiee that flU the soul,

Here tecpld. unsuspected, covered up;

Bui in the milder dhne of heaven, to be

Pttfaeted in new life, and to become,

Earh one, a separate entrance for our bliss/*

Observe how hard the following : —

** I cannot know, I do not care to know

It now, by what unseen and spiritual touch, Ac

Blank verse like this well deserves its ad-
jective designation : it is blank enoueh.

Again note the following from '< The State
Hoase Clock;'* «' Meditatus" addresses that
object thus :—

* Speak lo mel For these fifty yearsor more
Tbou hast been musing In this hermitage.
And yet doth no man ever hear thy voice
Save when it orieih the hours."

Thuk the Clock replies, quite as unmuai-
caOy:—

Wli9«aIlt(mB0 to speak f one of the throng
VmA dally thus^^mbs up to my abode,
BaMm • ma^entfa empty entertalMaeat ?

To which " Meditatus" says : —

** Nay, thou old fhithftil sentinel ! I seek
More scdid stuff; 'tis for instruction that
I come. Speak, then, and tell me what thou soe^st
From out those lofty windows, that like eyes
Look ever toward the North and South, the East
And West I"

The Clock then rejoins : —

*' stand where thou art, and for a little season
(Tet not long), Fll speak with thee.

This morning, ere my smaller hand reached five,
Out on the EaM I saw the approach of Day.
He came without a cloud, and roon with light
Filled the horixon, and the arch of heaven.
Then blue wreaths of smoke oiioending, rose
O'er the still city spreading far beneath,
Steeples and towers and a wante of roofs,
That cover happy and unhappy homes.
Since then fire timm my larger hand hath made

HisdrcuH."

In this very precise, eminently bell-clapper
style, the elock goes on and tallcs quite lach-
rymosdy, of various objects about town,
(frawing many a wholesome moral and admin-
istering many a worthv slice of advice.

From a poem entitled ** The River" we
extract the following: another illustration, of
how very fair thoughts are ruined in the
clothing given to them : —

** Far down the pebbly beach I walk alone;
The deep, wide river floweth by my side;
Oreen boughs bend o'er me. Oh, loved SoUtudut
Hark from the boughs! 'tis the wood-robin's note.
Sweet bird, thou speakest nnto me; I know
Who sent thee here.

Over the river now
The meadows look like velvet, and the woods
In rich dark clusters stretch to tii' edge of fight,
Crowned all with gold by the low sinking sun.
lifting my eyes up to the cloudless heaven
I see the creeoentf slender and new-bom.
Te burning w<»ld8 that lie t' the other side
Of the veil round me, ask I yet of you!
TIs nothing— I am but a worm— enough
Is shown to me.*'

Is not this positively jaw-breaking ?

The following is executed in a style much
better than any thing else in the vol-
ume. It is indeed an oasis in a desert of most
unmusical verse.

THE TWO aBAVBS.
** Here are two graves with flowers oveirgrowD,

No monument doth tell who lies beneath.
Or bow the swift-winged years have cone and flown.

Since they were laid here by the hand of death.
Tet was there onoe a time when, smooth and green,

This sod unbroken lay in the cool shade-
Renewed each spring its graaqr dren was seen.

Till autnmn froets returningv made It ta6».
This virgin soO, that ne*er was broke before,

To dust received those who of dust were bom,
Then dosed again, to be disturbed no more

TBI tliqr iball vend It on the Judgment son.

270 BIZARRB.

And I, a wanderer on a toilmnM way,
To view this quiet resting-place am brought,

And lingering here a« fiadee the gammer's day.
Find mid its quiet beauties, food for thought.

Thonirh Ftill and lonely now, I do not doubt
There has another scene been witnoned here;

Whnn from the stricken heart deep grief flowed out,
And where these flowers spring, foil the bitter tear.

But now perchance the stricken heart is gone,
That yearned for those who lie beneath this spot;

Pornhanco of all who tread the earth, not one
Rcmembereth their imago or their lot

And this is but the common fote of all;

The world forgets us. though we loTcd it well ;
And the few kindred hearts that weep our lall,

Soon following us, are Ikllcn where wo fell.

It is not, then, upon your earthly state,
Ye namuloss fdumb'rers who lie here at rest,

That liu;;erini; llius I mu^e and meditate
As fades the day along the golden west.

Though ye had many lorers and few foes,

Though wealtb with jewoU'd splendor clothed your
brow.
Though ye were poor, and aufltered all the woes.

Of keenest want, what doth it matter now?
Earth's sorrows and her sweetest joys forget.

The things ye sought in vain and those ye won,
That pitied and that envied in your lot

Are now alike all gone, forever gone I
Not to the fleeting things of Time, which die

As the frail body yeildeth up its breath.
Thought turns her silent retrospective eye,

But tp the soul, the soul, that knows no death.
Were ye among the lowly and the meek,

Whose new-bom he<irts are filled with heavenly love 7
Did ye pass by earth's empty charms, and seek

A purer portion in the realms above ?
It may be that the lowly path of prayer

Across lile's waste these mould'ring foot have trod.
And. cheered by fifdth, thro* all this night of care

With joyfW steps they hasten'd home to God.
In sweetest slumber rests the weary head.

If Jesus the still watches o'er it keep;
More soft than couch of down this narrow bed.

When here he glveth his beloved sleep.

— Harver^s Magazine for Augost, comes to us
througQ Messrs. Getz and Buck our neigh-
bors. It is an unusually rich number ; fiUed
with spirited reading and very handsome il-
lustrations.

— The Illustrated Magazine of Art for Au-
gust comes to us promptly, from Mr. J. W.
Moore, the agent for Fhiladelphia. It is a
superb number, if possible better than those
which have preceeded it. The publisher de-
serves credit for the elegant manner in which
he gets up his works.

— Old Knick for August is out, but our copy
coming by that slow coach the United Stat^ !
Mail has not yet reached us, and in all pro-
bability will not do so until the middle of the
month, or until all the post office clerks have
read it to their satisfaction. ** Old Knick'' is
too good a publication to reach us promptly.

— PiUnam^s Magazine for August contains an
unusual amount of excellent reading, particu-
larly in the prose department. *' Our Crys- '
tal Palace," is extraordinarily well done : so is
" Curiosities of Puritan History," ditto "Re-
jected Mss.," ditto and eminently so, "Rus-
sian Despotism and its Victims." Upon the
whole, Putnam is a credit to American litera-
ture,

— " Percy Effingham ' is the title of a new
novel by Cockton, author of " Valentine box,"
&c,, which T. B. Peterson of our city has
just published, and which is highly commend-
ed by the English press. It has a decidedly
selling look, a look by the way, which char-
acterizes all of T, B. P.'s books. As looks,
however, are oftentimes very poor data by
which to judge of men, so are they of books.

— H. Hooker, of our city, has in press, to be
issued early in August : " Pilate and Herod :
a Tale," illustrative of the early history of
the Church of England in the province of
Maryland, by the Rev. Harvey Stanley, Rec-
tor of Holy Trinity, Md. : in two vols. 12nio.

— Messr*. C. J. Pbicb & Co., hare in pre-
paration for publication *' Familiar Letters on
the Physics of the Earth," by Buff mod Hoff-
man.

— We have received the Fifth Part of Red-
field's beautiful republication of Colher's
amended edition of Shakspcare's Works. It
comes to us through Peterson, the enterpris-
ing "Top," as T. B. P. is universally
caUed.

— Several books still await notice at our
hands.

— Sir. a. Alison's second volume of his
•• History of Europe, from the Fall Napoleon,
will be published in October ; also Miss
Strickland's fourth volume of the " lives of
the Queens of Scotland."

— A correspondent of The Tribune, writing
from the classic shades of Cambridge says :—

*' I spent a pleasant day or two wandering
about tne beautiful streets and roads surround-
ing Harvard, and around the sacred shades of
Mount Auburn, but they close Mount Au-
burn too early, even before sunset. The gate
of Death should not be shut so early on the
weary wanderer seeking to find silence be-
neath her shadow, darkened by the drooping
wing of evening.

I stood beneath the sturdy dm, imder

EDITOBS' SANS-^UOI.

271

which Washington first unsheathed his
sword on taking command of the American
army on his appointment by Congress. I
gazed upon Washington's old residence now
tasteftilly kept by Prof. Longfellow ; a resi-
dence, I should think, worthy of a Poet, the
whole year round ; and near it I tried to
pierce the impenetrable shade of firs and
other erergrcens in which Lowdl has hid him-
self ; and I have returned to this city to gire
you this record of my observations of Har-
vard Commencement. I hope to witness sim-
ilar scenes at Yale next wedc."

— A SXOW-ARCH ON Mt. WASHINGTON: —

A party of travellers, just arrived from the
mountains, report that on the 13th instant, in
a<»cending tho summit of Mount Washington,
by a new route, they passed under or through
a natural archway of snow, twenty feet high,
one hundred and sixty feet long, the crust
above their heads forty feet in thickness. The
archway was worn by the stream known as
Ciystar Falls, which desends towards the east
through a chasm or gap, whose walls are
seven hundred feet on each side. They ex-
press the belief that this natural archway of
Sure snow will remain in its present state
uring the summer. The surface of this mass
of snow extends over several acres, and has
no agns of ice or crystallization.

— Tbk Matrimonial Creed. — ^Whoever will
be married, before all thin^ it is necessary
that he hold the conjugal faith ; and the con-
jugal faith is this : that there were two ra-
tional beings created both equal, and yet one
superior to the other ; and the inferior shall
bear rule over the superior ; which feith ex-
cept every one keep wnole and undefiled with-
out doubt he shall be scolded at everlastingly.

The man is superior to the woman, and
the woman is inferior to the man ; yet both
are equal and the woman shall govern the

The woman is commanded to obey the man,
and the man ought to obey the woman ;

And vet there are not two obedients but
one obedient.

For there is one dominion nominal of the
husband, and another dominion real of the
wife.

And yet there are not two dominions but
one dominion. For like as we are compelled
by the christian verity to acknowled^ that
wives must submit themselves to their hus-
bands and be subject to them in all things.

So are we forbidden by the conjugal faith
to say that they should be at all influenced
by their wives or pay regard to their com-
mands.

For hmh was not created for the woman
bat tbe woman for the man.

Yet the man shall be the slave of the wo-
man and the woman the tyrant of the man.

So that in all things as aforesnid the sub-
jection of the superior to the inferior is to be
bdieved.

He therefore that will be married must
thus think of the woman and of the man.

Futhermore, it is necessary to submissive
matrimony that he also bdieve rightly the in-
fallibility of the wife.

For the right faith is that we believe and
confess that the wife is fallible and infallible :

Perfectly fallible and perfectly infallible ; of
an erring soul and unerring mind subsisting ;
fallible as touching her human nature and in-
fallible as touching her female sex.

Who though she be fallible and infallible,
yet she is not two, but one woman ; who sub-
mitted to lawful marriage to acquire unlaw-
ful dominion: and prcmiised religiously to
obey that she might rule with uncontrolable
sway.

This is the conjugal faith ; which except a
man believe faithfully he cannot be marriol.

^bit0rs' Sans-Smui.

TO OOPtPtKePONDKNTa.

— Poetical contributors must bear with us a
short time. We have quite a stock of good,
bad, and indifferent rhyme on hand, some of
which we shall publish. Let the reader not
suppose, because we publish a poetical effort,
we consider it necessarily fit to publish.
Rising genius must be encouraged, and Bi-
zarre can afford to do something in its be-
half as well as any body else. ** The Autumn
Mom," which we present to our readers on
another page, comes from a gentleman of de-
cided talent and promise. He trots his Muse
around the course whereupon Buchanan Read
and others have attained distinction. The
animal gets unmanageable, now and then;
but this, of course, shows that he is spirited.

A U-m-K BOABTINQ

— We hope every body read " The Romance
of Toil," in our last number. It came from a
polished female writer, who we cordially wel-
come to our pages. Other articles from the
same pen are promised. The sooner they
come, the better. Bizarre will be consider-
ably enlarged at the close of the present vo-
lume, by the addition of several pAges. We
find we have not room, with our present di-
mensions, to carry out our wishes. There
mil be no increase of price ! Can't some of our
friends procure us a few hundred more sub-
scribers. We have already obtained a sub-
stantial list, but it will very well bear increas-
ing.

AMUaKIS^SIMTa.

— Sanford has opened his charming little
Opera House on Twelfth street, and Uie en.

272

BIZARRE.

tertainments there are very excellent. He
has all of his old attractions, with new ones
of marked moment; for instance, Nelson
Kneass, the clever composer and pianist.
The singing of Sanford's troupe is altogether
better than any we have before heard from an
Ethiopian corps ; while the instrumental per^
formances are also of a very high order. SU-
ter, the great champion dancer, remains ; and
Master Sinford is also put forth nightly for
his graceful pas — ^no allusion to old Sanford —
or steps.

— There is a talk of an opera season here,
early in the autumn, with Sontag, Stcffenone,
Maretzec, and the whole Castle Garden force.

PKRRV OOUNTTV e^RINOa.

— We find the following in one of our promi-
nent city dailies : —

** The Perry County Springs is one of the
choicest of the many country resorts in Penn-
sylvania. We are glad to learn, too, that
there is there at present a very delightful
company, made up of our own citizens, as well
as the citizens of other cities, towns, villages
and hamlets, both in and out of Pennsylvania.
The situation of these Springs is superb : in-
deed, it could not be better, whether for fine,
vigorous atmosphere, or for beautiful scenery.
Mr. Etter keeps the hotel, and keeps it in su-
perior style. He is one of your genial men :
everybody femcies him ; we suspect it would
be almost impossible to be dull or down-spi-
rited in his house. There are various sports
at the Springs, viz : riding, fiishing, shooting,
b6wling, ring and "schneevy" — is that the
way it is spelt, Dutchmen, say? — ^billiards
and so on. The trip there is short and agree-
able, performed as it is i)y cars and carriages.
We hear a large party set out for the Springs
the present week. We should like to be of
the number."

BSNJAN/IIN MORAN.

— This clever gentleman is i|ow established
in London, where he is engaged as correspond-
ent for several American papers. He is doing
well, but not a whit better than he deserves.
We received a kind letter from him by a late
steamer, and no doubt our readers, — embrac-
ing many of his warm friends, — ^would be
pleased with an extract therefrom, especially
as it relates to a subject of marked interest :

** London is gay, noisy, hauehty, intimidat-
ing, mighty ! It is like the flood of Niagara
— a terror, and yet a beauty to look upon.
No one can describe it. Men may try, but
will fail ; fail signally, completely and inglo-
riously. Picture to yourself houses in lanes,
courts, alleys, streets, places, squares, roads,
avenues and terraces extending over a space
included in a diameter of sixteen miles, at a
fkir calculation; — the houses to be of all
shapes, and sizes, and conditions, from the

hovel to the palace ; and fill them with tkrte
milUons of people ! What a host ! The mind
staggers at its immensity ! It cannot grasp
it—there is too much for contemplation. And
yet this vast army of contending mortals is
but a part of London, in reality. You must
take into the census of that great world— for
world it is — the necessary contrivances of
utility and pleasure— the vehicles, the vans,
the railways, the ships, the numberless articles
essential to the comfort, use, and purposes of
the whole. The roar of its streets, the occa-
pations of its citixens— the splendor and mi-
sery of its denizens. And yet, mighty as it
is, and great as are its wonders, its fascina-
tions, and its promises to the ambitious and
adventurous — a quiet village, where peace and
plenty dwell, is its superior in all that man
really wants. Great cities are said to be ul-
cers on the body politic ; and Cobbett, not
improperly, called London the ** wen of Epg-
land. He might have said of the world !

And yet it is something to be in this fes-
tering and spreading tumor of squalor and
splendor — at least for an American. It is an
event in his history, and an incident worthy
of record, if no more."

FOREIQN NKWS.

— The commercifA news from Liyerpool is
sometimes worded very strangely. Mr. Mc-
Henry is given as authority for some late in-
telligence respecting bacon and tallow.

" Bacon is moving more freely, but with-
out any improvement."

This is painful news for the friends of Ba-
con. What has been the loatter with Bacon,
we are not informed. Bacon is able to take
exercise — amoves more freely, and yet is no
better. Bacon has not been properly cured.

'< Tallow is more calm^* (meaning to say,
calmer.)

This shows that the heat of the weather is
abating. Tallow was anything else than calm
during the late hot weather. It moved as
freely as the aboye-mentioned Bacon. It was
not ** firm in first hands" or on first bodies.

" Shoulders are quiet." Perhaps they have
had too much to do lately, have had heavier
burdens than they can l>ear. It is well for
them now to take a little rest.

— Col. Mauwcb, 123 Chestnut Street, can-
not possibly be forgotten by us, so constantly
is he prominent in town. As a stationer,
none surpass him ; as a good citizen and man
he is also among the most notable.

— The Trade Sale of Messrs. TboiMs t Spds
will be found advertised in our pages. The
inyoioes will, it is said, oorer $250,000. This
is immense.

A SYRIAN TALE.

273

"BOAUO, fiXSABKB, WHAT BAT TOU, MADOAPr*— FongtlAar.

ximxt.

poft THE wm XyDINO
BATI7RDAT, AUGUST 13,

1853.

A SYRIAN TALE.

TBOM THK OESMAK.

Chaptkb I.

Noi far from the banks of the Orontes, and
aloof from any other habitation, stood a Syr-
ian cottage, where dwelt a peasant, his wife,
and'only son. It was the daily employment
of the latter to lead the few sheep of his fa-
ther to the hills, where the wild and sweet
notes of his Syrian pipes often cheered the
trayeller on his way : the caravans travelling
from Damascus to Bagdad sometimes passed
by, and purchased of his father's flock ; and
nothing could exceed the joy of Semid when
he heard the camel bell, and the mournful
chant of the Arab driver, and saw the long
train of the caravan winding up the moun-
tain path. One night there arose a violent
storm ; the Orontcs overflowed its banks, the
blast came wild and furious from the desert
beyond, and moaned through the lonely group
of fig-trees around the cottage with a sound
as oT destruction. Amidst the darkness and
the beating of the rain was heard a voice of
distress that seemed to implore admission and
shdter. Semid arose, and on opening the
door, a venerable man entered, whose green
turban and toil-worn features proclaimed him
to be a Hadgi, or pilgrim from Mecca ; his
beard descended nearly to his girdle, and over-
come by fatigue and the violence of the storm,
he threw himself on the coarse carpet which
was spread for him, an^ i imng over the blazing
fire ; and when he had drank of the cofifee
presented him, his faded looks brightened with
ioy» and at last he broke silence, and gave the
bfessing of a Hadgi, and adored the goodness
q£ Allah. The storm was hushed, the moon-
ligfat came through the lattice window of the
cottage: the pilgrim knelt, and folding his
hands on his breast, he prayed, fixing his ^es
on earth, with intense devotion; he thrice
pressed his forehead on the ground, and then
stood with his face to Mecca, and invoked the
prophet.

Semid gaxed on, the stranger ; he could be
no waodenng denrise ; his aspect and manner
were &r simerior to the poverty of his dress,
and on the hem of his garment was embrdd-
ered that passage fixnn the Koran, fit only for

the good. The next and several following days
the Hadgi was still a welcome guest ; he had
been a long and restless traveller, and when
Semid was seated by his side in the rude por-
tico of the cottage, as the sun was setting on
the Orontes. and the wild mountains around,
and he had given the chibowque into his hands,
he drank in with insatiable delight every tale
of wandering and peril on the wave and the
wilderness which tne other related. At last
the day of his departure came, and Semid
wept bitterly as he clasped the hand of the
stranger, who, during his short stay, had be-
come deeply attached to him, and who now
turned to the father and mother, and raised
his right hand to heaven, and attested his
words by the name of Allah. " I am alone,*'
he said, ** in the world ; the shaft of death
has stricken from my side relative and friend,
as I have beheld the Euphrates rush on its
solitary course through the wild, that once
flowed through the glory and light of the
bowers of Eden. Yet sufier your son to cheer
and brighten my way, and I will be to him
both parent and counseller ; he shall partake
of my wealth, and! when three years have
passed over our heads, he shall return to bless
your declining years."

It was long before the parents of Semid
would consent to this proposal ; but at last
the prospect of their son's advancement, and
of his return endowed with knowledge and
wealth, wrung a reluctant assen^. The sun's
rays had not penetrated through the grove of
fig-trees that shadowed his home, when the
youth and his companion directed their course
across the plain, and on the third day entered
the thick forests which terminated it, sleep-
ing at night beneath the trees around the fire
they had kindled. One night overcome by
fatigue, and the excessive heat of the way,
they had sunk to sleep in the wood, without
taking the precaution to kindle a fire. In the
middle of the night Semid was awakened by
a piercing shriek, and hastening to his com-
panion, found he had been bitten by a serpent,
whose wound was mortal : already the poison
began to circulate through his veins, his limbs
trembled, his face was flushed with crimson,
and his eyes had a fatal lustre. He clasped
the hand of the youth convulsively in his own,
and pressed it to his heart. *' my son," he
said, *" Allah has ciilled me at the midnight
hour, and the angel of death has put his cup
to my lips ere I thought it was prepared ; and
thou art left solitary like a bride widowed on
her marriage mom: — thy friend and guide
torn from thee, what wUl be thy fate? — and
the wealth, that would have been thine will
now be scattered amongst strangers."

He paused, and seemed lost in thought : the
young Syrian supported his d3ring head on his
knees, and his tears fell fast cm the face that
was soon to be shrouded firom him for ever.

274

BIZABRB.

Suddenly the old man drew forth fh>m his
bosom a memorial of his affection, that was
indeod indelible, and fixing his look intensely
on his friend, ** Semid." he said, " I have
hefdtated whether to consign to you this ring,
and darkness is on my spirit as to the result.
Place this ring on your nnger, and it will in-
vest YOU with surpassing beauty of feature
and form, which, if rightly used, will con-
duct you to honor and happiness: but if
abused to the purposes of vicious indulgence,
will make sorrow and remorse your portion
throueh life. Having uttered these words, he
sank back, and died. All night the Syrian
boy mourned loudly over the Iwdy of his bene-
factor ; and the next day watched over it till
sunset, when with difficulty he dug a rude
grave and interred it. Early on the second
morning he pursued his way through the for-
est, and the sun was hot on the plain beyond
ere he advanced from its gloomy recesses. He
had placed the ring, of a green color and
without ornament, on his finger, and already
amidst his grief for the loss of his friend, his
heart swell^ with vanity at the many advan-
tages it had given him. Oppressed with the
heat he drew near to where a fountain gushed
forth beneath a few palm-trees on the plain,
and formed a limped pool ; he stooped to
drink, but started back at beholding the
change a few hours had made. The sun-
burnt features of the shepherd boy had given
place to a countenance of dazzling fairness
and beauty; the dark ringlets clustered on
the pure forehead over stiU darker eyes,
whose look was irresistible ; his step became
haughty as he pursued his way, and saw each
passenger fix on him a gaze of admiration,
and he glanced with disdain on his coarse
peasant's dress.

The sun was setting on the splendid mos-
ques and gilt minarets of the city of Damas-
cus, now full in view, when a numerous train
of horsemen drew near : it was Hussein, the
son of the Pacha, returning from the course.
Struck at the sight of one so meanly clad, yet
80 extremely beautiful, he stopped and de-
manded whence he came and whither he was
journeying ; on Semid replying that he was
friendless and a stranger, ne bsde him follow
in his train, and added that on the morrow
he should become one of his own guards.
The next day, in his military habit, and rich
arms, and mounted on a fine Arab courser, he
pode by the Prince's side. Each day now
saw some improvement in the shepherd of the
Orontes ; possessing by nature a quick imag-
ination, and an enterprising spirit, he made a
rapid progress in the accomplishments of the
court of I)amascu8. Speedily promoted by
Hussein, whose favorite he had become, and
admired by all for the exquisite personal ad-
vantages he possessed, he joined with those of
his own rank in every amusement and plea-

sure the city afiforded.

Amidst scenes like these the memory of his
father and mother, the lonely cottage on the
river's bank, his few sheep, and his moun-
tain solitudes, grew more and more faint ; ill
love for simplicity and innocence of life tod
heart was lost irretrievably, and the senses
were prepared to yield to the first seductioii.
The favorite mistress of Hussein, a beauttfbl
Circassian, had one morning, while walking
beneath the sycamore-trees by the river's side^
seen Semid playing at the jerrid with the
prince, and his uncommon loveliness of coun-
tenance and noble figure had inspired her
with a violent passion. One day, as he sat
beneath the portico of a ooffee-nouse, one of
those women approached him whose employ-
ment it is to ml nosegays of flowers to the
Turkish ladies : she drew one from her bas-
ket, and put it into his hand; the varioos
flowers were so arranged as to convey a mes-
sage of love from that lady, the fame of whose
charms filled the whole city. DeefJy flatter-
ed as the heart of Semid was at this discov-
ery, and filled with intent curiosity to be-
hold such perfection, he still hesitated ; grati-
tude to his benefactor Hussem ; the memory
of the lessons of piety so often received fiom
his parents ; the dying words of the pierim
of Mecca ; all conspired to deter him. Bat,
to be the obiect of the love of such a woman,
and solicited to behold her ! — the thought was
irresistible. Night came, and the last call to
prayer of the Muezzin from the minaret had
ceased, when, disguised, he climbed the lofty
wall that encircled the harem of the prince,
and gliding through the garden, was admitted
by one of the eunuchs, who conducted him
through several apartments into the one tiiat
was the abode of the favorite. Dazzled at the
sight of such excessive beauty, Semid stood
motionless, unable to advance, or withdraw
his eyes from the Circassian, who rose, and
waved her hand for him to be seated on the
ottoman beside her. Scarcely had he obeyed
her, and recovering from his confusion, b^an
to declare the passion he felt, when the loud
sound of voices and steps rapidly approach-
ing, the Serei was heard. Semid stiirted np. ,
and paralysed by his feelings, gazed alternate- ;
ly at the lady, and at the door, through whidi
he every moment expected the guards to |
burst with the sentence of death. In the {
agony of her fear, she clasped his hand so
convulsively in hers, as, on his sudden start-
ing from her side, to draw unconsciously the
green ring from his finger.

At that moment she uttered a load ay, I
and fixed her dark eyes on him, but thdr ex- '
pression was no longer love : instead of Hie I
beautiful and matchless Semid, stood before '
her a venerable man, in ^pearance like an
Imaun ; his beard hung down to his girfle,
his thin gray locks were scattered orer 4n8

PENNSYLVANIA SCENERY.

275

wrinkled front, and his look was sad and im-
ploring. Just at this instant, Hussein and his
attendants burst into the apartment, and
searched in Tain with bitter imprecations for
the traitor Semid : the stranger, whose ap-
pearance bespoke him either a Hakim, or
physieiMi, orateacher of religion, was suffer-
ed to depart unmolested. He rushed wildly
into the streets of the citv ; they were silent
and deserted, for every inhabitant had retired
to rest ; but there was no rest for the soul of
Semid, no calm for the hopeless sorrow and
devouring despair which now agitated it. He
had cast from him forever the only gift that
would have raised him in the career of life,
and when he gazed on his whithered form,
felt his limbs tremble, and the chill blast wave
his white locks : he lifted his staff towards
heaven, and cursed the hour when the stran-
ger's steps came to the cottage of his father ;
and the still more fatal seduction of beautr
which now left shame and wretchedness his
only portion.

To fly from these scenes he resolved to quit
Damascus fbrever : and at sunrise he issued
oat of the northern gate that conducts to
Haleb. As he brooded over his sad destiny
he could not help acknowledging the justice
of Allah, since, had he not yielded to guilty
temptation, and fled in the face of the dying
coonsel of his benefactor, the wanderer from
Mecca, he had remained still happy, loved and
caressed. He gazed with joy afar off on the
nrinerets of HaJeb as the termination of his
journey, and night fell ere he entered it. The
streets were silent, and he roamed through
the populous city to seek a place of refresh-
ment and rest ; but as he passed by the door
of a splendid pi^ace, he heard sounds from
within of distress and f^ny ; he stopped to
listen : they became louder and more hope-
less, when the door suddenly opened, and
many persons rushed wildly out, as if in hur-
ried search of some one. At sight of Semid,
' they instantly addressed him, and drew him
' forward into the palace, conjuring him to
< qoioken his steps, and exert all his skill for
, that she who lay expiring was the beloved of
their prince, and adored by all who approach-
ed her.

They (juickly entered the superb saloon from
> whoM^ issued those cries of distress. On a
low ottoman, reclined helplessly a woman
of exquisite beauty, her delicate limbs writh-
ing in agony. On one white arm fell the loose
tr e ac o B df her raven hair, while the other was
lud on the bosom of her young and devoted
I husband, the Pacha of Haleb. The ravages
I of the poison, administered by a rival lady,
. were ah-eady visible on her forehead, and wan
: and beautinil lips; her eyes, commanding
even in death, were fixed on the group around,
wi& a look as if she mourned deeply to be
tlav torn tnm all she lored, but stul scorned

her rival's arts ; her golden girdle was burst
by the convulsive pangs that heaved her
bosom — the angel of death had seized her for
his own. Every eye was turned on the ven-
erable stranger, who had been mistaken by
the attendants for a physician, and who saw
instantly that all aid was vain ; he took her
hand in his to feel the pulse, when his finger
pressed, and his glance at the same instant
caught the green ring that had been the
source of all his misfortunes. The Circas-
sian suddenly raised her eyes on the venera-
ble form before her, knew instantly her once-
loved but ruined Semid, and with her last
look fixed on him, she gave a deep sigh, and
expired.

When the cries and wailings which filled
the saloon had subsided, and all had with
drawn save one or two favorite attendants,
Semid bent in anguish over the murdered form
of that young and ill-fated lady, and his tears
fell fast on those features which even in death
were irresistibly lovely; he then drew the
ring from her finger and placed it on his own,
and covering his face with his cloak, rushed
from the apartment. The moon-light was cast
vividly over the silent streets and dwellings
of Haleb, and on the sands of the desert that
encircled them without. What a charm had
that stillness and solitude for the heart of
Semid then ; in the fulness of its delight he
fixed his eagle eye on the blue and cloudless
sky, and on the dreary wastes around ; his
feelings were indescribable. As his firm and
haughty step passed rapidly along, his dark
hair fell in prorasion on his nock, and the folds
of his garments displayed the contour of his
gracefiil limbs. <' Again," he exclaimed,
** youth, and beauty, and power are mine ;
men will gaze on me with envy, and woman^s
eye shall be no more turned from this form
with pity and aversion ; and the worid is to
me once more a field of pleasure, triumph,
and love !" He resolved immediately to quit
the city, and enjoy the pleasure of travelling
through new and distant scenes, and having
purchased horses, and hired a servant, he de-
parted, and directed his course towards Bag-
dad.

(To be concluded In our next)

PENNSYLVANIA SCENERY.

AN EXCURSION TO FITTSBUEGH OySR THB PENN-
SYLVANIA CENTRAL RAIL ROAD.

[The great renources and beauties of our own State are
imperfvctly known to a large number of our ciUcens, who
make yearly pilgrlmagofl, in quest of pleasure and amuse-
ment, far away from our own borders. The writer of the
following notes of an Excursion to Ptttsbuxj^ has been
convinced of this by very late experience.]

In company with two friends, early in the
morning of one of the pleasant days late in

27e

BIZAEbRB.

July, we seated oarsdyes in a car at the Com-
monwealth Depot, Schuylkill Fifth and Market
streets, and a short time after were hurried
on our way to the Iron City of the West. On
crossing Market Street Bridge, the steam-
whistle sensibly apprises us of a notion of
speed. Here the cars are connected with the
engine, and away we fly, from the turmoil
of trade and the excitement of commerce,
through flowery meadows, green com-flelds,
and the health-giving verdure, shedding its
sweet perfume on upland and dale.

How keen our senses become to every thing
pure and beautiful; especially after a long
residence in the city ! The country — ^with its
trees, broad fields, rich crops, and verdant
scenery— embraces us with a kindness and a
charity, making us feel buoyant and glad ;
thankfil for Ufe, health, and a birth-right
in a free and glorious country.

White Hall, the second station, nine miles
from the city, and the end of the new track
to avoid the plane at the Schuylkill, is plea-
santly situated, and is made a place of sum-
mer-residence by many of our citizens. Pass-
ing Morgan's Corner, wo are at the Eagle
Station, near the junction of the West Chester
and Columbia railways, fifteen miles from the
city. This is a very pretty place, and we
judge healthful.

Paoli, (20 miles from Philadelphia). — Here
Chester valley commences to develope its in-
numerable b^uties of luxuriant scenery and
well-cultivated farms, which are spread out
on either side of our course. The Pequa and
Concstoga are crossed, and the Great valley
connects again with the Conestoga, and is
lead, by the course of this stream, south of
Lancaster City, to the Susquehanna, where
it is abruptly broken by the wilds of that
river.

Passing eleven stations, and sixty-eight
mUes irom Philadelphia, we are in the

CiTT OF Lancaster,

the capital of a county proverbially known
as " the Paradise of the State." Indeed, we
think it challenges the country for its equal
in richness and beauty of rural scenery. This
city is now improving very rapidly : it was
long at a stand, but latterly an impetus has
been given to its old citizens by the young
men. There are now, in active operation,
two large cotton fiwjtories, for the manufac-
ture of muslins and sheetings. The '* Conea-
toga Mills" have already gained considerable
cdebrity for their fine productions. The com-
pany employs 400 operatives. The city has
a population of about 15,000 ; and consider-
able trade is kept up with the rich agricul-
tural districts surrounding it. A new prison
has been erected, after the same order of ar-
chitecture as the Eastern Penitentiary, at
Philadelphia. The county commissioners aie

now constructing a court house, adapted, with
all the room requisite, for the c^ciarj and
county records. The marble is procured al
Ephrata, about fourteen miles north-eaat td
the city, and is peculiariy suited to arc&itee-
tural purposes.

DnxBBviLLE, one mile from Lancaster, and
sixty-nine from Philadelphia. Here we leave
the old State road, and pass on to the Httris-
burg Rail Road, thirty-six miles long. This
road has lately been highly improved, by the
laying oi a new T rail the entire route. The
persevering and energetic presideiit of thia
company, Josbph Ybaosr, Esq., is now bosily
engaged in getting the rail for a second trade.
It is manufactured at the Montour Iron Works,
Danville, Pa. The travelling public oiver this
route will hail this intelligence with delight,
as the old road has been a somrce of much
compl aint. These improvements will augment
the business of the nMtd, and Mr. Yeaga* will
soon learn that his libw is greatly appreciated.
This road is an important link in the route of
the Great Central Rail Road Company.

Passing by Mount Joy, and in sight o( Eli-
zabeth town, we cut through the tunnd of
one of the Conewago hills. The surface of
the country here presents a very ancient Kp-
pearance. * The trap-rock, a stone peculiar to
this locality, is distributed on these ranges of
hills alone. Its grayish and time-worn sor^
face is linked with remote convulsions. Maay
are round and dark, others sharp and diaggy,
standing out in naked peaks, monuments of
the great in nature.

The Conbwago Beidgb, — one hundred feet
high. — This is a beautiful bridge thrown
across a deep and frightful chasm, at a paint
where the stream forces its way through the
rocky hills. We were seated high ab^c the
the tall oak and hickory, but our view was
limited to the course of the hills as they ex-
tend themselves to the Susquehanna river.

MiDDLBTOWN,— ninety-five miles from V^
ladelphia. — The silvery waters of the broad
Susquehanna lay out before us here. T^
Swatara connects itself with the noble river
also at this point ; and the Union Canal, after
having been led by the gentle and mosBj
banks of the Swatara, is joined at Portsmooth
with the Pennsylvania Canal. Leaving tins
place, we are frequently directed in our view
to the banks of the Susquehanna, with its
Islands and green hiUs.

Habrisbubo, — one hundred and four miles
from Philadel{^. ^ After an elegaat dinaer,
provided by the diffisrent hotels in the vicinity
of the depot, for the nominal charge of twenty*
five cents, we change cars, and with ihe AtO'
Umta, a splendid engine, we are hurried on
our journey for HoUidaysbur^, 138 miles from
Harrisburg and 242 from Phdadelphnu

The Bridgb ovkr thb SD8QtnauKirA.*^-ax
miles above Hanisborg,— Hera, w« m^ say,

PENNSYLVANIA SCENERY.

277

I tii6 Hercideaii work of tbe Central
Ballroftd Compuiy. .The magnificent bridge
which here spans the river is nnsarpassed, for
worioBanship, and as a piece of fine masonry,
by anything in the United States. Its situa-
tion is at h point of yaried and picturesque
soenery. The traveller is immeasurably de-
lighted with the panorama which is here
stietehed before him. The Peters, Shar, and
BkvM Mountains appear in bold outline : the
Blue Ridge running far off into the wild south-
em counties, whilst the Cove Mountain casts
its cool shade upon us, we fly along its mossy
sides, high above the river — kissed by its
dew, and fanned by the foliage of the firs,
evergreens and laurel. A circuitous range of
the river, and steadily pursued by the rail-
rood » the mountains are thus thrown out to
us m magic array, presenting real labyrinths
of scenery, and perpetually unfolding some
new and unexpected combination of beauty
and sublimity. We are thirty feet above the
river, and fully inducted into the IGghlands
of western Pennsylvania.

The Village of Ddnoannon.— The Perry
County Warm Springs are located north-west,
and within 14 miles of this station. The
stages connect with the cars to carry visitors
across to the Springs — a place noted for hunt-
ing and fishing, on the margin of Sherman^s
Creek. A few minutes to exchange passen-
gers and luegage, and we pass on to the
Aqubduct. Here we leave the Susquehanna,
and follow the

"Bluo Juniata,"

which opens beautifully to our view. As we
pass its green banks, the mountain shadows
are thrown upon us, and the course of the
rail-road is now through one of the richest
and most beautiful vtdleys in the world;
abounding in mineral wealth, lime stone, iron
ore, as well as productive farms, which, since
the completion of the Central Rail Road, are
made incalculably valuable. The Tuscarora
and Shade Mountains skirt us on either side ;
the plunging cascades leaping from their sides,
and tbe gales that wander from the unclouded
west, redolent with the incense of a thousand
hills, were continually refreshing us in the
heat of noonday in July.

''You will pardon me for bdng dull and
disposed to sleep, amid this beautifid scenery,"
aatd one of my friends, who had, through the
whole irip, manifested the keenest perception
for the beautiful and magnificent in the varied
landscapes : ever and anon directing us to some
distant point in the far out-stretched garniture
of green, the umbrageous woods, or ti^e vernal
fiekl on the mountain's slope. She was court-
ed to sleep, as it is more sweet among running
brooks, and embowering woods, i3kr from
public haunts — but the cars, with their un-
ceasing song, frightened the fairy forms in

The locomotive's reverberatingwheels quick-
ly roll on their path of iron, and now we we
at TusoABORA Station. — The handsomest
station-houses are erected by this company ;
they are built generally of the timber in this
section of the country. The appearance of
the architecture is unique. They are but five
miles apart on the entire route, and everything
is managed with judgment and the nicest care
and precaution. The men engaged on the
road, use no stimulous liquors during the
time required for the carrying of passengers,
and it is comforting to the mind of the tra-
veller, to feel that he is entrusted to oarefiil
and sober engineers and agents, regarding his
journey as one, in a great measure, free from
accident or casualty arising irom negligoice
or intemperance.

MiFPLiN is next approached, and is situated
on the east side of Uie Juniata ; it is the seat
of justice of Juniata county. The railroad
company, opposite this place, have erected an
extensive hotel, called the *' Patterson Hoose,"
in compliment, no doubt, to the former presi*
dent of the c(»npany. Our next course, after
leaving Mifflin, is through scenery of the
wildest and most beautiful order, ami is worth
a dav's travel to behold. Huge mountains of
overhanging rocks, and immense quaniities of
small dark stone, rising up in perfect peaks,
covered with heavy folu^ to the very banks
of the Juniata ; which, after bursting through
this almost impregnable barrier, continues its
rapid course by grotto and vale.

Lbwistown, situated on the Kishacoquillas,
a lai^ stream which joins the Juniata on the
eastern side of the borough. — Here is opened
to us a broad and fertile valley, and on we go.
crossine the Juniata every few miles, until we
reach the snuglittle village of McVeytown,
on the canal. We keep parallel with the canal
now until we reach Huntingdon, the capital
of Huntingdon County. We commence an
up-grade of an average of twenty-one feet per
mile, and the mountains — some twelve in
number — present a rugged course, running
nearly north and south. Near by this place
are the Pulpit Rocks or Warrior Ridge. Pass-
ing Spruce Creek, Birmindiam and Tjrone,
great iron places on the Juniata, making a
sensible ascent through a heavy timber dis-
trict, we arrive at Altoona, the intersection
of the main line of railway. Great improve-
ments are being made by the company. They
have erected large engine manufactories and
machine shops. The town has risen as if by
magic; 1500 hands are employed at this
point. It will be a large town in a short time,
principally occupied by the artizans and ope-
ratives engaged by the company.

J. EdgwIR Thomson, Esq. , the intelligent and
energetic president, and former engineer, is
pushing everything to a speedy and success-

fiil nnmt\lAfi/\n Ann iinll kfttrp iht* fire^A\t xrfiAn

278

BIZARRE.

finished, as a chief instrument in carrying,
by the nicest and most practical and scientific
engineering, through a wild range of moun-
tainous country, heretofore deemed impracti-
cable and almost impossible, a railroad with-
out a plane. A branch road of about six miles
is made from Altoona to the Portage rail-road
and connects at the "Mountain House,'* (in
sight of Hollidaysburg), where we remained
for the night. The Bedford Mountains are
risible, laying 14 miles south— passengers take
the coaches, connecting at this place, for the
Springs.

Incident. — We here missed our baggage,
which had been carried to Pittsburgh, causing
some little excitement to the ladies about
their dresses and articles essential to lady
travellers. Such is the admirable manage-
ment of affairs, however, that everything, even
to the smallest package of newspapers and pe-
riodicals, left lying on the seats, were care-
fuUv placed away, and a manifest of them
maae out by the baggage-master for the su-
perintendent of the road. All were nicely
placed away at Pittsbui^h, and received the
following evening to the no little joy and sa-
tisfaction of my companions.

Morning, and the Alleghanies. — ^At 11
o'clock we commenced the ascent of the four
planes on the east side of the Portage Rail-
road: ascending plane after plane amid the
immensity of nature's loftiest works : moving
upwards among the blue clouds, high above
the lofty pines and maples that skirt the
moimtain sides. The scene is exciting and
grand beyond description. An evenness of
geen foliage, varied by light and shade, lies
beneath us, undulating and swelling, like the
waves of the sea, to their farthest extent, and
are again taken up in another line of hills, and
continued until the feeblest germ resolves it-
self into the fern or the violet bed at its base.
We have made the ascent, and we are on the
summit of the Alleghanies, twenty- six hun-
dred feet above the river Delaware. The pro-
cess of going over is slow, but for the first
time full of interest and grandeur to the tra-
veller. We are at Summitvillb, the very
highest point in Pennsylvania, and the boun-
dary line of Cambria and Blair counties.
The novel process of descending the planes on
the west side takes place now : and on we go,
passing numerous coal mines, and extensive
forests of timber, until we reach plane No. 4.

The Central Rail Road Company have a
formidable work at the Summit Tunnel,
through the Alleghany Mountain. It is 3,570
feet long, and h^ been worked at both ends
by shafts, some of which are 200 feet deep.
The viaducts, tunnels, and bridges required
on the western side has prolonged the work
somewhat ; the road, however, will soon be
completed.

At ^e foot of this plane we are
transposed, by the cars running off on^idie
new track in a northerly direction — ict an
right about face — and are obliged to cfaaoee
position to face the locomotive. We wart
here for the train coming east — about fifteen
minutes delay— when we pass the cars which
come flying along for the east, in onr coarse
for the Conemaugh station, where we are
again attracted by the hieh ridges, and gorges
in the mountains ; here the contractors have
had hard work. We pass through a cut of
rock one hundred and ten feet deep. The
viaducts and bridges along the Conemaugh
are numerous, and will stand as monaments
to the projectors of the road. Three planes are
avoided by the late improvements of the state.
The Conemaugh is fed by various little
streams, and has its confluence with the Kis-
kiminetas, which empties into the Alleghany.
The rail-road, for four or five miles, is at least
100 feet above the river, verging out on the
very blufis, and around the most precipitous
and apparently dangerous points.

Near Blairsville Intersection we leave the
Conemaugh, and the Alleghanies. Our subse-
quent way is through the centre of Westmore-
and. We now arrive at Latrobe, 315 miles fran
Philadelphia, and consequently but 40 from
our destination. The rich mountainous farms
through this section have long been noted.
Greensburg, the seat of justice of this countj,
is soon reached. The deep cut in the road
hides the approaching view from us. It is a
beautiful town, as seen from the embankment
of the road west of it. They are now con-
structing a road from this town to Wheeling, j
and it, with numerous other links along the
Central Rail-road, will throw much of the I
trade of the Ohio river into the metropolis of
our great and prosperous state. !

As the sun w;as declining, shedding its red
glare through the foliage of the hills of
the Ohio and the Alleghany, we were passing
over Braddock's Field ; the winding Monoo-
gahcla river, bendine in its majestic course,
unveils its fort-like banks beautifully to our
view, as we head for the station in Libertj
street, where the scene is soon interrupted b/
omnibusmen, hackmen, runners, and other
pestiferous creatures, who endeavor to prey ,
upon the traveller. The baggage was socm
tnmsferred to the St. Charles Hotel, in the
City of Pittsburgh.

The 355 miles are performed. Reflections
of the past — the toil and dangers attending
the journey in earlier times — and the progress
and greatness of the resources of Pennsylvania
at the present day, crowd upon us, and with
these thoughts we rest at the end <^ oar
journey.

SALAD FOB THE SOLITARY.

279

•SALAD FOR THE SOLITARY.'

This is the title of a forthcoming volume
of Easays, racy and fresh, to be issued im-
mediately by Lamport, Blackmail and Law,
New York. VYe give our readers in advance
a taste of its quaUty, in tbe following from
entitled

"THE TALKATIVE AND THE TACITURN."

Man is preeminently distinguished from
the brute creation by the faculty of speech, —
a noble attribute, aiid one indispensable to his
happiness as a social being. Tbe only excep-
tions, we believe, to the rule of his exclusive
possession of this rare gift, are first, that of the
serpent, whose seductive and persuasive argu-
ment despoiled the fairest of mundane crea-
tures of her innocence : the other that of the
despised ass who rebuked the disobedient
prophet : and these were miraculously confer-
red for the occasion.

Doubtless our first parents possessed a per-
fect knowledge of language, possibly a dialect
of Arabic or Hebrew, by intuition ;— of all
languages the most musicaU rich, and flexible.
We are unquestionably indebted to the first
of womankind, and her fair successors, for
the preservation of that common inheritance
— :Our mother'ton^no.

A source of such varied pleasure may well
elicit our profoundest gratitude, when even
the faithful and devoted dog has emulated
the possession of the gift by his bark, and the
birdis fill the air with their enchanting melo-
dy, Of chirp responsive to our call, while
many of the animal creation yield submissive
obedience to the voice of man. How many
I loved and well-remembered tones of some
sainted being, long since passed to the spirit-
I land, still holds us spell-bound, lingering in

the mysterious cells of memory I
' Whether induced by an undue or an exces-
sive appreciation of the gift, we pause not to
determine; but, certain it is, some persons
indulge the faculty to too great an extent, and
others, again, do the contrary. The former
class we denominate the talkative ; the latter,
the taciturn.
Among the first named there are many who
I talk a great deal, while in effect they say
< nothing ; others, by their ' 'expressive silence,
j are far more acceptable members of society,

• because when they do speak, they speak to
»Mne purpose. A still tongue, acccording to
an old adage, denotes a wise head ; and So-
lomon says, " The tongue of the wise useth
knowledge anght, and is as choice silver."

. There are maxims manifold for teaching men

' to speak, which are comparatively little re-

, quired, since nature prompts us to utterance :

• but few suggest the superior wisdom of main-
[ taining a judicious silence, which requires the

resiraifit of reason and prudenoe. We have
intuitively the art of saying much on a little,
whereas few possess the wit to say much in a
little. In the art of speaking, as in chemical
science, condensation is strength : and in both
cases the result is attained by a process of
experimental Moalysis. Presidential addresses
and Parliamentary or Congressional harangues
are celebrated specimens of the verbose, as
well as the rhetorical ; and the three memor-
able words of a classic hero— **Veni, Vidi,
Yici." — furnish a splendid specimen of the
multum in parvo, and an example especially
worthy the imitation of modem times. Wil-
liam, Prince of Orange, who made such a
formidable stand against Spain, and founded
the commonwealth of the United Provinces,
was a noble instance of a sagaciously silent
man. Cardinal Granville, a Spanish states-
man, well knew the importance of this per-
s<m's taciturnity, for, on receiving advice that
Count Egmont and others were taken, he asked
whether 'Hhe silent man" was apprehended ;
and, having been answered in the negative,
herepUed, "Ah, then nothing is done." This
gift of speech is the electric diain that links
mankind together in the social comnact ; it is
the living medium through which the re-
sources of the realm of thought become an in-
tellectual currency. This prerogative of our
rational nature, therefore, should be devoted
to the dissemination of truth, for, like all
other endownments, it may be desecrated to
unworthy ends, and be made the means of
the most complicated evil.

Let us glance at a few of the venial sins of
the talkative, — ^for they are manifold, and to
classify them all would require the nice dis-
crimation of ethical Linnaeus. We begin
with the babbler, who is conraionly an un-
happy personaee himself, for he has meddled
too mdustrioudy with the affairs of others to
enjoy any personal repose or satisfigu^tion.
Having made it the great business of life to
betray some hurtful secret, (»* aspersion on
the fair fame and name of his neighbor, no one,
of course, thinks it worth while to speak well
of him while living, or even when his mis-
chievous tongue becomes silent in death.
These are the miserable creatures who batten
upon the carrion and the noxious weeds of
our social ecconomy, — thrive most upon pes-
tilential rumors, and the infectious breath of
scandal ; all wholesome truth becomes insipid
to their vitiated and depraved appetites ; and,
like the fabled Upas-tree, they diffuse the
breath of poison and disease wherever they
go. Few, we suspect, pass in the procession
of life without encountering a specimen of tins
class of injurious talkers, for their name is le-
gion. They may usually be detected by their
physiognomical developments; their sinister
ghmce, malicious eye, shrunken face, and at-
tenuated form, reveal but too legibly their ig-

280

BIZABSfi.

noble character. They enjo^ a kind of nega-
tive existence — ^their only stimolns being the
fiendi^ miachief they effect, and the rain
Uiey cause to the peace and happiness of all
around them.

Another class of loquacious nuisances are
those who deal in what is denominated small
talk : they are of both sexes, and ci all con-
ditions of society. They are an impertinent
set, constantly prattling about the common-
place matters of life, are ever obtrudiiiu^ their
nonsense upon the forbearance of their uiends
and are prodigal spendthrifts of time. These
notorious newsmongers are the pest of the so-
cial circle ; they do almost as much harm, in
an insidious way, to the well-being of society,
as the babbler, by their retailing of the petty
scandal of the day, and their uncharitable
strictures upon the sa3rings and doings of oth-
ers. Small- talkers revel most at the tea-table,
— a fiwt for which we do not pretend to ac-
count, unless it be that they derive their special
inspiration from the beverage they thereat dis-
pense. Births, marriages and deaths, and
love-matches, liaisons, and divorces, and the
thousand peccadilloes their greedy ears drink
from in the perturbed streams of life, form the
materiel of their senseless and incessant chat-
ter : and should they perchance find these
sources to foil them, their pliant consciences
make no scruple in drawing upon their imag-
ination to supply the deficiency. They are
not over &stidious at a fabrication, or, as it is
sometimes called, a white lie ; and they are
ingenious in the art of putting a statement
hypothetically, in suggesting an illiberal in-
sinuation, or even in placing a palpable truth
in an equivocal light, especially if it serve
the purposes of personal scandal. The small-
talkers may, however, be subdivided into tw^
varieties ; the latter dass being accustomed to
deal homodpathically in;the diluted gossip of
the day. These exhibit exemplary persev-
^imce in the picking up and purveying of the
small particles of cbat-chat ; and as they are
usually provident of their stores, and they
make a very little go a great way, you may
have their second-hand nothings at less than
cost. These are among insufferable nuisances
— they are both parvenu and plebeian, and
are fit subjects for the school for adults.

The third class of objective talkers are such
as find fiaws in diamond-wit of the first wa-
ters — motes in the brightest rays of th6 mind
— and beams in the eyes of Truth. Be your
opinions what they may, however undeniable,
correct, settled, or wdl-digested, they are
sure to object to them. Let your opinions to-
day be to the letter what theirs were yester-
day, they instantly challenge their accuracy ;
and if they are foiled in their arguments, they
then turn thdr objections to the mode in
which you have presented thorn. You sp^
unafieetedly, and they o^isure you for medio-

crity, plainness, and want of s^rit : talk to
ornate phrase, and your style is stilted and
artificial ; if your utterance is slow and de-
liberate, you are a drawling proeer: or if
quick mkL fluent, impetuosity is unendurable,
and an equal ofi^oe of their immaculate tast&
You modestly betray that you are well rwd
in the classics, and they accuse of pedantry;
you conceal your bibliographical knowledge,
and you are at once suspected o£ gross igno-
rance, both of men and books. You bring
them old opinions, and they doubt whether yoa
have any of your own ; you deal in new ones,
and they object to them as unsound, while at
the same tmie they will adopt them then-
selves, if occasion should admit : they arera
a word, special pleaders for their own views,
at all hazards,— mere sticklers for terns,
with whom it is indeed mcHrally impossibtefcr
any to agree.

Another variety of the talkative, is the ex-
aggerator,— one who despises the common
run of phrases, and deals in grandiloc^ueat
terms and high-flown metaphoro. He is an
extravaganza in the social circle ; everythiiiff
he utters is invested with hyperbole and
glowing imagery: he scorns all colloquial
phrases, and regards cverythinjg below hia
exalted standard, mean and inexpressive.
Whatever he has to say must be tinted up oo^
tier de rose, yet while his habi tual indulgence in
superl ati ves and expletives gives spirit and force
to his descriptions, it is exceedingly dangef^
ons to admit his statements too literally.
Even the witty cannot always appreciate ms
humor, and matter-of-f^ people are at once
utterly nonplussed at his extravagance. A
talker of this class is, however, amusing in
company, for, after his mind has been wearied
by abstruse studies, woridly cares, imaginarj
ills, or positive griefs, such a high spiced
speaker is a capital antidote to ennui. Men
must relax sometimes, or the consequenees
would prove fatal to their nervous system.
That delicate machinery, by the way, has a
severe ordeal to pass througn in the wear and
tear of life. Lord Brougham once said, no
man had any right to a nervous system, who
was not possessed of two thousand a year;
and we believe he was not fkr fiitmi just mhis
discrimination, for, while we pay especial re-
gard to the well-being of the stomadi, we
sadly n^lect our more sensitive nerves.

There are many minor varieties of the to-
quacious; for example, the slow-talker,
whose drawling accents make the very atmos-
phere drowsy, and whose provoking prdixity
IS tantalizing to the last verge of endurancft
Then there is the quick-speaker, rushing with
the impetuousity of a whelming cataract,
sweeping all before him, and stunning your
ear with his incessant volubility. We rai^
also refer to the loud-talk^s as among socaal
nuisances, for, generally speaking, scood, in

SALAD FOR TfiE 80LITART.

281

their oMO, is a screen Ibr lack of sense and
modesty — the two essentials of a good talker.
There is yet another class, who are in the
habit of violating good taste and decorum b^
the eTer-recnrring nse oci^ra and nninteUi-
gible terms — ^flowers of speech— exotics fhim
all the living lanaguages, as well as the dead.
These scorn the usnal phrases of oar ynlgar
ranaoiilar, howerer inapt their adoption may
be of foreign terms in their stead. Garlyle
and Emerson may be mentioned as cases in
point, altfaongh, it is tme, they indulge rath-
er in a habit of Anglicizing Qerman idioms,
ortortnring their mother tongue into all con-
cdyable distortions. The injudicious and ex-
cessive use of foreign phrases evinces a very
questionable taste, and is characteristio of
pedantry and love of display, which those
who value their reputation for scholarship
ou^t scrupulously to avoid. We confess
ourselves too charitaUy inclined to exhibit
the foibles incident to another unfortunate
class, who are prone to a fatal habit of telling
what they have to say inopportunely, or who
are finequently liable to perpetrate bad puns,
and worse jokes, at which no one can even
force a spasmodic laugh, for we all know
Dr. Johnson's depreciative estimate of their
character. They have but one exclusive
privilege, of which most evince a ready pro-
clivity to avail themselves — that of laughing
at their own pointless puns. Elia defends
this right on their behalf in the following
wise : "That a man must not laugh at his
own jest is surely the severest exaction ever
invented upon the self-denial of poor human
nature. This is to expect a gentleman to
give a treat without oartaking of it, — to sit
esurient at his own table, and commend the
flavor of his own venison upon the absurd
strength of never touching it himself. On
the contrary, we love to see a wag taste his
own joke to his party."
, Having dispo^ of our garrulous friends,^
what shiJl we say of the incommunicative ? — ^
those insane beings who so admirably supply
the lack of statuary in the boudoir or library.
Among this class are the men of elongated
and lugubrious visage, who frown out of ex-
istence even the scintillations of a smile, and
**8hut un" every facetious mouth, however
highly cnarged it may be with intellectual
el^tricity. The taciturn, whatever be their
minor idiosyncracies, are social nuisances;
they damp the ardor, and repress the utter-
ances of the heart wherever their influence
extends. If a man be endued with a tongue
and brains, it is fairly to be inferred they
were designed for use: an incorrigible mute,
the r e fo re, sins against himself as well as so-
ciety. Some persons very modestly shelter
themselves unoer the plea that their silence is
caused by their laborious habit of thiuking :
we regard this, however, as apocryphal at the

best for any man who has, however little, of
the Promethian fire in him, must throw off
sparks sometimes. Some ofthesewordl^ men
vainly seek to atone fer their provokine
silence by assuming an interminable and
senseless smile; others, again, sit in stolid
indifference, looking as vapid and unimpress-
iWe as they probably are in reality.

There are others, again, who absurdly ob-
trude themselves and their private affairs on
the attention of a mixed company ; nothing
can be more injudicious or indelicate. Others
lie in wait for every opportunity to proclahn
their own adroitness and wit, and are ever on
the alert to elicit comanendation and compli-
ments. Some boast their gift of presdence ;
they call a witness to remember they always
fortold what would happen in such a case, but
none would believe them ; Uiey advised such a
person from the beginning, and told him the
consequences would be just as they happened,
but he would have his own way. Others
again, says Swift, have a singular weakness
or vanity of telling their own fhiilties and
ihults: they are the strangest men in the
world — they cannot dissemble: they own it is a
folly— they have lost advantages by it, — but
if you would give them the world, they can-
not help it.

To peserve a judicious silence is a very es-
sential requisite in refined and polite society ;
this silence is not, of course, sullen or super-
cilious, but graceiW and eloquent.

Having taken our exceptions to ofi^ders
against good manners in the matter of con-
versation, we will now venture to offer a
few hints for the uninitiated. Conversation
is one of the polite arts of life,— its end and
aim being the cultivation of the graces and
attractions of the social economy : he that
possesses conversational powers in the highest
degree, therefore, becomes a most efficient
agent in imparting pleasure, and in contribut-
ing to the improvement of the social circle.
Few acquisitions are of rarer attainment, from
the neglect of which the subject is treated by
the masses of society. It is not a little remark-
able that many of the most cultivated minds
are found deficient in conversation. Amonff
the literati, perhaps the most illustrious and
brilliant examples include the names of Rog-
ers, the poet, and the late Countess of Bless-
ington. Two things seem essential to the
possession of good conversational nowers,— a
competent knowledge of men and Dooks, and
a felicitous habit of expression ; the former is
to be acquired by observation and study ;
while the latter is more commonly an intui-
tive gift. Topics upon which to descant art
manifold and various : the whole realm of
nature and art, the boimdless resources of
knowledge, and the numberless incidents,
phases, and accidents of human life, as well
as the myriad forms of imagery that peoplt

BKJkBRB.

the regions of thought and fiuic^, — all sup-
ply themes of interesting discussion. What,
for example, oould afford subjects more pleas-
ing or fertile for a quiet and sociable tite-d'Wey
than the yariegated treasures of Flora, the
ever-changinff and exquisite beauties of natu-
ral scenery, the investigations of pure scienoe,
and the accumulated wealth of human lore ?
If anecdote and humor are the pearls of po-
lite conversation, the above-named constitute
the pure gold for their setting, reflecting a
tenfold splendor. Those, therefore, who are
aufait at repartee, or who fill up the pauses
which occur in graver discussions, by brilliant
flashes of extempore wit, or a piquant story,
good-natured sarcasm, or pla^^ul satire,
achieve no inconsiderable service in the social
gathering. The circumstances of time, place,
and the character of the company, ought of
course, ever to govern the choice of topics,
and the manner and method of their presenta-
tion. It would be absurd to expound a pro-
blem of Euclid to an elderly lady whose
sphere of attainpaents never stretched beyond
the details of the dormitory or the domestic
duties of her domicil; and it would be equal-
ly inconsistent to attempt a grave dissertation
on the treasures hidden in the heart of the
earth, to a fair nymph in love, whose interests
lie all concentrated and clustered in the de-
voted heart of her lover. Fulsome flattery
and all kinds of extravagant compliment, are
as obnoxious to good taste as the baneful
practice of indulging badinage, or even per-
sonal invective. To a weTl-ballanced and
educated man, the cultivated society of the
opposite sex offers the highest possible attrac-
tions ; for, in addition to the advantages to be
derived from the interchange of elevated
thought and sentiment, the most fascinating
arts and graces are exhibited, which exert a
reciprocal and powerful influence, imparting a
brilliancy and charm to every thing that is
spoken. If to excel in the art of pleasing be the
secret of success in that of conversation, com-
mend us not infrequently to the refining ele-
ganceand challenginggraccs of educated female
society : in such a school of the art, the pupil
who should fail of academic honors whould as-
suredly prove himself unworthy to share them.
Among the most delightful of mental recrea-
tives may be classed the exhilarating pleas-
ures of intellectual intercourse ; they consti-
tute the very life fluid of our social being.

RES CURIOSiE.

Let us begin this week's budget of Curios®
with the following,

ANTIDOTE TO VANITY.

The following well-known lines, are not in-
appropriate to a register, in which the re-
cords of mortality perpetually present them-

selves. They have generaUy been eoiiato«i
as original, but the subsequent French lines,
by Pierre Patrice, of Caen, bom in 1583, and
a follower of Qaston d'Oileans, suffidentlv
establish their claim' to the priority. Both
equally tend to repress vanity.

" I dreamt, that burled In my Mfow day.
Close by a common beggar's ride, I lay ;
And a« no mean an olvect sbo^'d my pride.
Than, like a corpw of confaqiMiioe, I erted,
Seonndral, begone ! andboMefortlitoiMliBieool;
More maanen learn, and at a ^Hrtanee rot.
How, scoundrel! with an bauf^tier toDe,«ried Im,
Proond lump of earth— I scorn thy threat* and thee;
Here all are equal, nov thy eaaa is mine,
This is my rotting place, and that, is thine."

The original, by Pibrrb Patrick,

Je songeios, cette nuit que de mal oonimm^,

Oote a oot6 d'un panvre on m'aTolt Inhume ;

Mais que n'en pourant pas sonflMrle roistnage!

En mort de quality je lul tins ce langage :

Retir^toi ooquin I Ta ponrir loin d'ld.

n ne t'appartlent pas de m'approcher ainsi I

Coquin me dit 0. d'un arrogance oxtr§me^

'Va chercher tes ooquins ailleurs; ooqnhi td-mfoel

Ici, tous sont ^nx; Je ne te dois plus rien ;

Je suia 8ur mon fermier, oomme toi car le tSen

APPLES.

An English publication of 1815 contains an
article entitled '* An effectual method of re-
taining good Apples in the country without
grafting,^* from which we extract the foUow-
mg:—

In every perfect ripe apple there will be
found one, and sometimes two round seeds :
the others will have one or more flatted sides.
The round ones will produce the improved
fruit from which they are taken ; and those
with flatted sides will produce the fruit of
the Crab, upon which the graft was Inserted.
It requires not a long time to ascertain the
difference; for if a cirole is drawn in rich
ground, and the flat-sided seeds planted there-
'in, and the round seeds in the centre, the var-
iations of quality will be discovered in two or
three years: the first will throw out the
leaves of a Crab, and the latter the leaves ci
an improved tree, distinguished in shape,
fibre, and a lanuginous appearance ; and in
due time the fniit of each will put every thing
beyond doubt. It is to be observed morover,
that the seeds of Crabs, being originals, are
mostly, if not altogether, round.

VAMPYHES,

Another JEsculapian article on this subject
will not be out of place.

According to Calmet, vestiges of Vampyr^
ism are to ]& traced to itke romotest antiquity.
Isaiah 34. v. 14 describing the state to which
Babylon would be reduced, says it should be-
come the resort of Satyrs, Lamise, Hobgob-
lins, (in Hebrew Lilith,) This last signifies

BJSSaUBiOBM.

ia Hebrew, wfaftt the Greete and Romans ex-
press bj Sfrix and Lamia, or sorcerer and
witch, who endeavor to destroy new-bom
children. Hence the Jews, in order to drive
them away, were accustomed to write on the
(bur extremities ci a woman just confined,
Adam^ Eve, bes^me Lilith.

The ancient Grecians knew them under the
name of Lamise, and believed they devoured
children, or sucked their blood until they died.
Horace says *'neu pransse Lami» vivum
puerum extrahas alvq" — and Ovid speaking
of the Striges, describes them as dangerous
birds, which fly by night seeking for infants,
to devoor them and suck their blood.

''Ovrpere dlcnntur laotentis Tiscera rostris
Kt i^eQum poto sanguine galtur habent
Est illifl Strigibiu nomon."

These prejudices were so profoundly rooted
in the minds of uncivilized nations, that
they pat to death all who were suspected of
being Striges, or sorcerers, and of devouring
living persons. Charlemagne, in the statutes
he composed, for his new l&xon subjects, con-
demned to death those who should believe
that a man or woman were (Striges) sorcer-
ers, and eat living persons : or who should on
this pretence cause them to be burned, or give
their flesh to he eaten, or should eat it them-
selves. From this we may observe, that it
was believed that there were persons who did
cat living people : that they were killed and
burned ; and that sometimes their flesh was
eaten, as we have before noticed that in Rus-
sia, bread was eaten that was made up with
the blood of Vampyres. That at other times
their corpses were exposed to camiverous ani-
mals, as IS still the case in places where these
apparitions are found, after impaling them, or
cutting off their head. The laws of Lom-
bardy equally prohibit killing the servant of
another, as a witch, Strif:af or Masca. This
last word Masca, from whence comes mask,
has the same meaning with the Latin Larva,
a spirit, phantom, or spectre.

PHRENOLOGY.

If the following article be wdl-founded,
the sciente of phrenology, it will be seen, is |
aome centuries old : —

J. Henmius, a medical writer of some note,
in his work entitled, '* De morbis qui in sin-
gulis partibus humani capitis insidere consue-
verunt." 1594, Cap. 10, p. 100, speaking of
phrenitis, and its various forms, adds, " Se-
cundo differunt phrenitides, loco affccto ; nam
vd totum cerebrum, vel ejus pars occupata
est. Si pars cerebri, ea erit antica, postica,
vel media. Seio hie disjmtari^ utrum jyrincipes
facuUaies cmitis, sedes in cerehro kaheant vor-
ias, necui, ^c. " Hence we perceive from this,
that it was then maintained in the schools.
It is, however* so reasonable an opinion, that

it will not be a subject of wonder to many»
that centuries before this, the same ideas
found place : and that Cblen, the most learn-
ed and illustrious physician of his time, (be-
tween one and two hundred years of the
ChristiMi era) should promulgate similar sen-
timents. See first book of Prorrhetics, apb.
27, — ^and in his fourth book, de locis qffcctus,
he says, that when the brain is aflected, apud
anticos ventres suos laedi imaginationem : sin
iUi medios secum. ventriculos trahant, perverti
et cogitattonem. He also inquires elsewhere,
why phrenitic has such a variety of symptoms,
ana why, at one time, the imagination, and at
another, thought or memory, shall be defec-
tive. '* Hoc evenit (says he) ex humoris
raptu ab una in aliam cerebri partem : itaque
hoKs fieri ex variarum oerebri mansionum irri-
tatione, et alteratione prsegrandi, undesnc*
oessiva opera." See Heurnius, he, dt. Fur-
ther on, we find, *'Si principes facnltates
quse in cerebro habitant, varias mansiones
occupant, igitur unus idemque homo potent
ingeniosus esse, vique imaginandi excellere, et
etiam memorandi potentia alios anteice: at
plerumque ingeniosi immemores sunt : quin
non rare memoria valide exsplendescente, tor-
pescit imaginatio," &c We need not enlarge,
our object being merely to prove the present
doctrine by no means to be a new things We
see, however, from the last quoted sentence,
that the idea of a due development of the re-
quisite organs had not oocured to the authors
quoted. Nevertheless, we have now before uf
a Latin work still older than Heurnius, print-
ed in 1508 — entitled ** Margarita Philoso*
vkica^'^^ — a kind of Encyclopedia, in twelve
Dooks of dialogues between a master and
scholar, commencing with the rudiments of
grammar, and going through the arts and
sciences : amongst other subjects, the mind is
considered ; and a curious engraving is given
of the human head, on which are depicted,
according to the present plans, the locidities of
several faculties, &c. *' Sensus int' riores
(says the master) numero quinque sunt, viz.
Sensus communis: Imaginativa: Estimati-
va: Fantasia, que etiam imaginativa did
solet: et memorativa," &c. — all which he
locates in three assumed ventricles.

UNOI.E TOM REVIEWED.*

Applegate & Co., of Cincinnati, have just
sent us a review of Uncle Tom*s Cabin, a
copy of which is now lying before us. In his
preface, • the author says, *' Critics need not
trouble themselves about its delects as a liter-
production, as I lay no claim to merit on that
ground." We are much obliged to him for
this declaration, as it has saved us a world of
trouble, and we have constittUiond scruples

•"A Rericw of Uncle Tom*fl Cabin; or an Ensfty on
StaTeiy. B7 A. Woodward, U. D.**

964

BIZABU.

about imnecessaiy labor, especiallj in dog
days. We preBume, however, that the cayeat
does not ext^id to ihe dignity ff£ the language,
or to the spirit of the work. As a specimen
of the former, take the following :

<' If they can strengthen their party, and
agitate the subject of slayeiT, untU they bring
about a dissolution oi the Union, then Hale
will be president oi the Nortiiem confederacy,
Julian, vice-president, and Giddings, I sup-
pose, prime minister. Would ^ot Joshua cut
a sorry figure, in that high and respimsible
ofBce ! Prince John, I suppose, would be at-
torney general. The little magiciui, John's
daddy, would be thrown overboard, for no
party, I think, will ever trust him again."
(p. 57.)

As a specimen of the spirit of the work,
take the following :

"We know that they (the English) are
a nation of muderers, thieves and robbers.
Their religion is little dse, but legalized hy-
pocrisy. Justice and humanity never yet
found a place in their moral code." (p. 32)
And again, addressing the bishops of the Eng-
lish Church ; " Woe to you, ye hypocrites.
Ye wolves in sheep's clothing! Bow your
heads with shame, and repent in sack-cloth,
or else as surely as their is a God in heaven,
Tou will have * your portion in the lake that
bumeth with fire and brimstone.' " (p. 190.)

The above will do, we think, for a speci-
men. The author forgets that railing is not
argument. Slavery needs no such support ;
it stands on its own merits, — the incontesti-
ble good it has done and is doing the negro, —
the gradual training it is ^ving him for free-
dom. This is its mission m this country, and
when it has accomplished it, it will, of itself ,
give place to a higher order of things. Our
author's project of a n^ro territory, (pp. 131,
132,) set M)art by Congress, after the exam-
ple of the Indian territory, is the veriest Uto-
pia that was ever hatched in the brain of a
visionary.

As to the general character of the work, it
may be given in few words. It is a heteroge-
neous ccmelomerate of good and bad, a streak
of fkt, and ttDo streaks of lean, a few grains of
wheat in a bushel of chaff, and those few as
hard to be oome at as a needle in a hay-rick.
Indeed, our author himself tells us, (p. 53) :
" Those who wish to know what my views
are on the sulpect of slavery, will be under
the necessity of reading this volume through."
Hard necessity ! We have subjected ourself
to it, however, with the persistency of a mar-
t^, though we miffht have taken shdter un-
der Dean Swift's observation about the joint
of meat ; we have read the book through,
and, as the result of our exploit, we give it
as ourophiion that the two hundred pages
might have been profitably condensed into
twenty. We oommend to the author the ad-

monition of the Rev. Skhiey Smith to those
who spin out their productions as if for Ante-
diluvian readers, and forget that the Hie of I
man, at present, is but three-score years and
ten, "Remember the Deluge, and l>e short*'

TABLE MOVING.*

The author of this little volume evidentlj
thinks, that he has completely unveiled the
delusions of those who believe in supematunl
nrnpings, and mysterious taUe movementB.
We have never given one moment's credence to
ihe assertion, that oommnnioalMiM can be had.
by " knocks," with departed spirits ; aad w»
are glad to find so clear a statement of the
manner by which the writer baffled professed
"mediums." By repeated visits to the ex-
hibitions of the Misses Fox, and while feign-
ing credulity, he, by a series of experiments,
discovered that the raps invariably proceeded
from under the feet of the girls, the &PPf ra-
tus being concealed by long skirts. Wher-
ever the sounds might appear to proceed from,
the object was always m contact with their
dress, and when standing on cushions, pro-
perly arranged, no knockings could be pro-
auced. Professor Page has constructed a
portable, easily managed, rapping machine,
which can be concealed equally well, and
which gives equally correct answers from the
spirit world. The replies to the questions
proposed by him, were almost always ludi-
crously incorrect. For instance, the spirits
declared that Webster died of croup, at ^ein,
Mass. He wishes that "the civil authori-
ties would pounce upon these rappers in the
very act, (for obtaining money upon false
pretences, — or some other plea,) and make s
forcible disclosure of their trappings. "

On the same platform with this trickery,
Prof. Page places table-moving. Now, on
this subject, we feel fully qualified to give an
opinion, as we have experimented on it num-
bers of times, and drawn our conclusions
from occular, and palpabledemon stration^
Our author does not pretend to deny that ta-
bles move ; — that is an undoubted fact ; but
the cause is what he endeavors to enligfat^
the public upon. Many of our most intdli- |
gent, and scientific men, admit that they J
"cannot account for the movements," in- i|
stead of joining in the cry of "humbug." !
and " delusion r' The idea of " a new p«r- i
er," Prof. P., deems ridiculous ; so also the j
agency of electricity, or galvanism. " The |
fallacy (of table-tipping) demands," he
says, " our most rigid scrutiny, and none the :
less of severe reprobation, from the ftict that
it is engaged in, to a great extent, by respect. ,
— I

• PsTCHOMAacr. Splrft^rftppings und tftbl<»-tlppteg«'M'
posed. By Prof! Gharle« 0. Page, M. D., etc.

-'J

DOGDAia

285

ftUe and inteUigwit persons." The Proianor
t^pears to have met with indiyiduals, not
rery guarded in their language, for he de-
cl&m, that although they toldhim the tahles
moved, " without visible agency," yet, on
close questioning, he found hands had been
upon tnem during their locomotive exploits.
"In every inquiry and investigation," he
ccmtinues, ** we have found gross and weak
exaggeration, and have, fully resolved that we
will maintain to the last extremity, the posi-
tion of unqualified, unc<»D[Ypromising denial
and opposition, to the hisficst testimony of
eta-th as to the verity of table- 'ippings, or any
kindred ekicanery of miraculous or spiritual

After such a disclaimer of being influenced
by any facts, however credibly certified to,
we have no hope of convincing Prof. Page :
but there are undoubted truths, connected
with this subject, which we as boldly declare
cannot be met by his theory of ** involuntary
muscular action." In one instance our au-
thor mentions as havine come under his ob-
servation, " he noticed the medium working
very hard, with her concealed hand, to move
the table, and after witnessing numerous at-
tempts, he says " the tables never moved un-
less clearly pushed." The experiments must
have been very different from those in which
we haye participated. A writer, in the Penn.
Inquirer, a few days ago. pertinently asks,
how a person c&n do involuntarilyt that which
he cannot do voluntarily? When a table,
with a heavy marble slab, traverses a room,
while the hands of several persons are resting
on the topj what sort of involuntary muscular
action causes the motion ? When a powerful
man is just able, (and some, unable) to keep
a table stiU, for a minute, would not those
whose hands are on it, be conscious whether
they are exerting any contrary force ? To
use Prof. Page's own words, ** How strange
it is that any mortal, in possession of his sen-
ses, should move a table, and not know it !"
We assent to this most heartily, but as heart-
ily deny the following assertion, ** And yet it
issa" The declared determination of this
gentleman, to believe nothing on this subject,
with any possible evidence, does not savor of
true philosophv. Such a spirit of skepticism
would have debarred the progress of any dis-
covery ; and it is to be regretted that Prof.
Page has come before the public with such
evident ignorance of the phenomena of '* table-
moving.

Perhaps the strongest argnment in fkvour
of table-moving, is the fact that volition has
nothing whatever to do with producing it.
The same individuals who are suooessfhl ex*
pemaenters at one time, on other occaaons
tiad that tho table oontinnes perfectly motion-
kia.

DOG DAYS.

GocnI morning Tiger ;

Ah, friend Bo0e,
I «m happy to see by the tip of your nose,
A« ioy M mine, that wc iitand together.
In «zoel1«nt health, this dog day weatlier.

Dog day?

Ay, thoff by men the iieason
li called, bnt if I knew the reai>on,
May I nerer worry another cat.
I think it is a libel flat »
Why, if the weather ehooees to Tary;
From the climate of June to .Tanuary,
Shonld we stand sponsors fbr It?

Apply
To equable man for the reason why,
Wheu we arrive at the i«tand in the arts,
Due our respectable canine p»rts,
And publish the Almantic des cfuensj
Well resent, a^ we ought, this fla^jrant wrong,
And call it Man Datja.

Very well
Should we be sustained by parallel.
i"or instance, like a d(^ day night,
Man sleeps in a fbg; in the durance tight,
Of Somnus his Acuities all are dead,
While we, more wakeftl, guard his bed.
From his sluggish oouch he doth arise
With a weight of sloth on the lids of his eyes,
And his head of soporifics Aill,
Like a dog day morning heavy and dull;
Thon he gorges his stomach with high spiced meat.
Imparting his body a dog day heat;
Then, in the vain thought of cooling it, poun
Adown his throat, Alcoholic showers;
And bums at the tip of his nose, a weed
That would make a quadruped !>ick.

Indeed,
Friend Bose, human nature, you oloeely read.
Not ezactiy, llger, ii is not nature
To make of the stomach a living crater,
A smeltlog Aumaoe, a crucible
For the fusion of things reducible
Only by such or sim ' lar process.

Strange, that man cannot fh>m dogs and horses,
( Althouj^h he denies them in his pride,
Reamn and common sense beaide)
Strange that he cannot learn at least,
Not to demean himself wor«« than a beast

Have patience, the time ia not frr hence.
That win give us our proper influence;
Than we'll teach our maatem that tb^ can be,
As ratk>nal, at leaat, a» we.
Good day.

Good day.
Take, If yon pleaae, yoor paw away;
With wape et a hle doga tia a maxhn gxown,
nmt «r«T <■» aluraU ahake Ua ovn.

BfZARRB.

f iterarg anb ot^tr §m^.

— CasseWs Natural History has been sent to
us by C. J. Price & Co., of our city. It is
one of Mr. Alexander Montgomery's excel- |
lent illustrated serials, and like all of that en-
terprising publisher's works will at once com-
mand favor.

— Charles Scribner, of iJew York, sends us
The Bndk of Omberg, by Emilie T. Carlen.
It is a translation of the Swedish, by Prof.
Krause and Elbert Perce. A notice with
extracts will appear hereafter.

— Pro-Slavery Argument. — Messrs. Lippin-
cott, Grambo & Co. of our city have just pub-
lished the Pro-Slavery Argument as main-
tained by the most distinguished writers of
the Southern States ; containing several es-
says on the subject, from the pens of Chan-
cellors Harper, Gwenet, Hammond, Dr.
Simm's and Professor Drew.

— A Journey Round the World, — This is the
title of a dehghtful book, which we have just
received from the Harpers and which we
shall notice at length hereafter. It is from
the pen of F. Gerstaecker, a most capital fel-
low for a travelling companion.

— The Way of Peace.—U. W. Dodd of New
York, has just published a copyrighted book
with this title, from the pen of Henry A.
Rowland, author of the conmion maxims of
infidelity, and several other popular works,
among which " Light in a Dark Alley" is
prominent. It is a neat little volume, design-
ed for those who long for that peace which
cometh from conununion with God ; and is a
kind of sequel to a previous book of the au-
thor's called the "Path9f Life." The for-
mer directed the wanderer to Christ ; the lat-
ter enables one who thinks he has found ac-
ceptance with the Savior to satisfy himself on
the point by means of suitable evidence, and
also to show how he may preserve his reli-
gious affections in their purity and strength.

— A correspondent of the Literary World
writing from Boston under date of the 22d.
ult., has the following notice of Mr. Field's
mem, at the late anniversary of the Phi Beta
Kappa society :

**The subject of the poem was "Elo-
quence," — the eloquence of nature and of
man. A subtle train of thought ran through
ihe whole, connecting the l^utiful imper-
sonations of his subject, and giving unity to
its various topics. It was equally beautiful
and brilUant. The characteristics of the great
orators, Demosthenm, Cicero, Burke, Fox,
Henry, Adams, Webster, Clay, were finely
felicitous. In a passage on the doquence of
the pulpit, ft moit exquinto tribute was ptad

to the memory of Buckmhister. The ••Wts*'
of the poem had the charm of unexpected-
ness, and were received with bursts of ap-
plause, which made the church ring. One
humorous picture of the triumph of wofman's
rights, and their admission into the Senate
chamber as legislators, drew forth an immense
applause, in which women and women's rights
men most heartily joined. Mr. Field's deliv-
ery is remarkably good, clear, loud, melo-
dious in voice, and graceful in gesture. The
poem was universally admired."

— Mr. John Lambert, who travelled through
a portion of the United States in the year 1808,
speaks as follows of the manners of the peo-
ple of the country.

** Much has been said by former travellers
of the familiarity and rudeness of the Ameri-
can people. I will not attempt to contradict
their assertions : but for myself, I must de-
clare, in justice to the American character,
that I experienced the utmost civility and even
politeness, from the inhabitants, in every part
of the country through which I travelled.
The coachmen were civil and the tavern-keep-
ers attentive : and wherever I had occasion to
mix with the country people, I never roet
with the least rudeness or shadow of imper-
tinence on any occasion: on the contraiy,
they were civil and obliging. The children
would take ofi* their hats, bow, or curtesy, as
we passed along the road, and the men would
frequently nod their heads, which, though it
carried with it the appearance of fiimiliarity,
and certainly was not so graceful as the salu-
tation of the French Canadians, yet I firmly
believe, it sprang entirely from an honest,
well-meanine civility. It must be confessed
that I saw but little of the character of the
country people to the southward : and noth-
ing of it m the back country, where the civil-
ization of the New England States is said to
be little known. But I only pretend to speak
of what I have myself witnessed ; and even
if I had met with rudeness from individuds,
or been cheated by a sharper^ I should not be
inclined to charge the whole Ainemcan peopU
with insolence and brutality, with roguery
and imposition. But the Ainericans are a
people like ourselves, who, conscious of the
real liberty which they enjoy, boast of it as
their greatest blessing. Ijn many men, and
particularly the lower classes, this freedom,
even in our own country, sometimes degen-
erates into rude familiarity ; but that philoso-
pher must indeed be squeamish, who will not
compound with a little rudeness to himself,
for the solid acquisition of much substantial
comfort and happiness to myriads of his fid-
low men."

— A writer in the Monthly JiAmsinej for 181^
gives the foUow^ list of w words tad
phrases used in Staffordshire to express tte

EDITORS' SANfiWBOUCI.

287

degrees of drankenness. He sa3rs that the
people of that coontry are a sober race and
seldom go above (or below) mellow ; and as
for bini£^ he has for sixtimes gone beyond
that point, on all of which occasions he has
not 8t<H>ped until he reached the climax ''dead
drunk/'

Gayly, The Sun has been too

Joyous, , hot to day,

Lightsome, In liquor,

Blyihesome, Cranky,

Canty, Over the line.

Mellow, Half seas over,

Absent, Muddled,

A drop too much. Groggy,
A cup too much. Tipsy,

Wet within. Top heavy.

So so, Hold you by the wall,

How came you so ? Overloaded,
A little gone, Upset,

Overseen, Knocked up,

Overtaken, Quite gone.

Overcome, Intoxicated,

Over done. Inebriate

Done over. Staring drunk,

Disguised, Staggering drunk,

Splashed, Reeling drunk.

Cocked, Drunk as a piper,

Fresh, Drunk as a pig,

Cogy, Drunk as a swine,

Muzzy, Drunk as David's Son.

Flushed, Beastly drunk,

Been in the Sunshine, Dead drunk.

Cbhors' Sans-Soutr.

— We have been to Cape May, and for the
first time in our life. Niagara, Trenton Falls,
Saratoga, Lake Georee, Lebanon, Rockaway,
Nahant, Newport, Yellow Springs, all these
and many other time-honored summer re-
sorts, we have seen, but we had never till
Thursday the 4th inst. been to Cape May.
And what of Cape May ? Well, it is a queer
hotch-potch. You begin with an ill-contrived
" carryall" at the landing, and after a series
of hat-bumpings, from the cramped ceiling,
after a terriole round of punches and squez-
adngs from your fellow-passengers, — for like
our omnibus-drivers your Jersey " Whips''
always take a few more people than their car-
riages will comfortably hold— after dragging
along at a lazy, tedious pace, drawn by two
sadly over-worked ckevaiix you finally enter
a labanrnth of houses, with verandahs run-
ning aU about, above and below, built in the
flimsi^ possible style, and painted frequent-
ly with the most grotesque contrasts and com-
binations of colors. The architecture is emi-
nently characteristic of the brief season,
when Ci^ May has its numerous crowd;
while at the lame time it partakes in

want of substantiality or substance, of the
average characters or quality of that crowd.
We are reminded by it of the scenery and ap-
pointments of the theatre: evarthing is
adapted for the best eflfect while the play is
going on, when the lights bum brightly and
the house is crowded, but you can readily im-
agine that, when these associations are re-
moved, and when the audience and actors
have gone home, that quite an opposite ensem"
ble will be presented.

— But how do you like Cape May ? Well,
very well, of its kind. Arrived at your ho-
tel, especially if it be Harwood^s Columbia
House, you prepare yourself for comforts fore-
shadowed by all about, which you are sure
to enjoy. You have a spacious sojourning
place, surrounded by magnificent collonades,
looking out upon extended grounds, washed
by the very ocean itself; your eating, drink-
ing, and sleeping, are well cared for by the
courteous landlord and his well-drilled corps
of assistants, and you feel quite at home.

— Do you like woman ? That nod means
yes ; it will do. Well, at Cape May you are
surrounded by exquisite specimens of the sex,
those who are calculated to flood the heart
with love, yes, and wring it out fifty times a
day. Howel says : —

Words are the aoal's ambaasadom, which go
Abroad upon her errands to and (to;
They are the sole expounders of the miud.
And correspondence keep 'twixt all mankind.

The eyes are also ambassadors, or they send
forth sparks which keep up a telegraphic
communication quite as expressive of ideas
as the tongue. We know a poor soul — he
was with us constantly at the Capes — who
had the misfortune to admire, even to the
most passionate love, a fiur creature he en-
countered soon after his arrival, and there
soon shot forth from his eyes the most speak-
ing looks of love, which he fancied were re-
turned: but, alas! the delicate, graceful
charmer was engaged. When our friend was
introduced to her — which he was in the course
of a short time — he learned the painful, per-
haps it ma^r prove fatal, truth ; and as we left,
he was diving very deep, and staying down
very long, in the breakers, intimating — say
those who know — that he is getting used to
drowning, and means to pop off at some eleven
o'clock bathing There will be— there will be
— larger lunches, and more brandy, for those
he leaves behind !

— Alexander Smith says :

The brU^igrooin sea
If toying with tha riiort, Us w«Med bride^
And in the folnaM of his Baninfe jt^,
He deoontes bar tawny brow with ifaaU^
Retirea a space^ to ••• bow lUr she looks,
Then proud, rans np to kisa her.

How charming a myth of hacy this ! One

BIZABRE.

realizes its exquisite beauty, as one stands in
the Columbia House balcony and looks out at
the beach, on a calm August morning, as did
we. But then, with the passage of twoor three
hours, eleven o'clock comes, and sea and
shore— or •♦bridegroom" and ** wedded bride"

— have go-betweens of young and old, male
and female, tall and short, &t and lean*
clad in flannel robes and pantaloons, of all
shapes and cuts, looking as promiscuous and
as matter-of-fact as possible, at least tempo*
rariiy, who put a stop to these amorous inter-
changes. Then you see curves of surf, one
beyond the other, outward from the beach,
each dotted with living and breathing objects,
who bob up and down like so many variously
painted puppets. Then "bridegroom" and
** wedded bnde" are left alone to resume their
toyings and kissings, while the bathers have,
some of them, gone to sleep, others to cold
beef and ham, and others — to brandy-smashes,
mint juleps, and sherry-cobblers.

— A "Hop" at the Columbia House, with
Breiter's fine band, lights evervthing up in
certain quarters. We were a looker-on at one
of these during our sojourn at the Capes, and
enjoyed the graceful movements of the dancers
in quadrille, schottische, redowa, waltz, and
polka, not a little. The children were per-
fectly mad with delight ; and we must con-
fess, we think the pastime of dancing is better
adapted to them than to adults. Still, let
those whirl about in the waltz who choose ;
let those enjoy whatever figures in the voca-
bulary of Mile Terpsichore may best please
them. This is a free country, they say.
Certainly one-half, if not two-thirds, who go
to Cape May, would not do so were it not for
the «* Hops."

— The Mount Vernon Hotel is a wonderful
building; covering twelve acres of grdOnd
they say, and having twenty acres more for
surroundings. Its collonades above and be-
low embrace a distance fully up to two miles
and a half! The dining-hall is neariy five
hundred feet long. Gas and water will be in-
troduced everywhere throughout the building.
We were indebted to Col. L. L. Johnson, for a
complete survey of this mammoth building,
who also treated us — to— to— the superb view
of ocean which one gets from its roof. Some
thousands of visitors can be accommodated at
the Mount Vernon, and they will be enter-
tained on the Frendi plan, so says our hand-
aome and agreeable friend Johnson, with many
other important things which we shall per-
haps relate in a future article.

— In conclusion, we intended to talk of much
more in tins artide, but Mr. Bryson says
" stop, no more room." We must therefore
breidL off: just when the pressure of steam is
the highest ; leaving Mr. Jackson's beautiful
ddsplay of fire-worics on the Columbia House
groonos-^Miid fisr by the boarders at that

establi^ment, bat admired by everybody on
the island — only mentioned. It was the
perfection of Pyrotechny. One piece bore
m its fiery botiK>m, the word "Love,'' and
our smitten friend, thought of the bespoken
beauty, who had stolen h& heart, but would
not give her own in return, with a sigh as
heavy as a fifty-six. We pitied him poor
fellow ! Cruel pyrotechny to tear from man's
bosom such a sigh !

— The word we say at parting is this : and '
it is practical : Harwood has a plenty of fine I
rooms now unoccupied. Qo and enjoy them. J

RRAiee FROfVl eiR mubkr-t »c. I

— The Southern Literary Gazette thus kindly '
notices The Bizarre : — j

Among our most valuable exchanges, we '
would notice "the Bizarre," an original
weekly, published by Church & Co., in Phil-
adelphia. It is edited in a discriminating and
able manner, and is always fiill of interest- !
ing matter. We are frequently indebted to ';
it for articles. !;

TO OORR68(=>ONOENTa. |

— Another " Georgia Sketch" will appear in '
our next ; with many other interesting ar tides .
crowded out of the present number. i.

OOBBK-TT. I

— A gentleman of this city has in his posses-
sion the original of the following character- '
istic letter from Cobbett. It was written in ,
the year 1798 to a Philaddphia bookseller.

" Good master Young ;

I cannot rand tho whole amonnt,
With Christain patience watch and wait,
Take fifty dollan on aooonnt,
And give the bearer a receipt.

Wm. Cobbctt.

P. S. Though I know it is very difiScult
to rhyme a Presbyterian out of his money,
yet when in the measure of Watts' Psalms,
rhyme ought to have some wdght — I will dis-
charge the rest of your bill as soon as possi-
ble, which, I hope, will be before Saturday
night

Monday, 5 Feb."

It will be observed that Cobbett supposed
patience to be a word of thru sylaUcs.

BK MORB RARTIOULAR

— The "learned Theban" who attends to
the editorial department of Harper^ s 3iaga'
zine has undertaken to furnish the world
with a new anecdote of Pope the poet li is
contained in the August number and prsfes-
ses to relate some events that happened to
" the little crooked thing that asked qoes-
tions when he first visited London in 1774."
Unfortunatdy ror the stoiy, Pope wtsb&min
London in 1688 anddiedin 1744 ! ! A friend
suggests that perhaps the writer has esn*
founded Pope, an actor, with the poet Fcr>
haps so ; bat a man who writes for 135^000
readers should he more careM.

A SYRIAN TALE.

289

"BOABSI, BOABBB, WHAT SAT TOV, MADOAPT*— /VsTTuAar.

xmxt.

FOR TBI WEEK tSNNO

SATVRDATt AUGUST 90, 1858.
A SYRIAN TALE.

FBOK TH8 GERMAN.

Chapter n.

On the evening of the second day Semid
overtook a small caravan of merchants travel-
ling the same route, with their camels loaded
with silks and stuffs of Syria. As they pursued
their journey, Semid fell into conversation
with one of the merchants, an elderly man, of
a mild and impressive aspect, who listened
with delight and wonder to the discourse of
the stranger, which few could hear unmoved,
as to his youth and exquisite beauty were
now added the wisdom and experience he had
acquired as an Imaun. As they drew near the
tennination of their journey, the merchant of
Baffdad grew more and more attached to Se-
mid, and earnestly pressed him, as he had no
home of his own, to reside under his roof,
partake of the toils and cares of his business,
and be to him as a son. They soon beheld
the Tigris flowing in its pride beneath the
waUs 01 Bagdad, and entered the gardens of
palm-trees, on its banks. Passing through
several narrow and unpaved streets, the mer-
chant and his friend stopped at the low door
of a mean-looking habitation. Being admit-
ted, a scene of luxury appeared within. The
court area was adorned by a noble fountain,
over which hung the orange and lemon trees ;
recesses in the walls, covered with cushions
and carpets, invited to repose ; and the inter-
ior apartments were splendidly furnished;
but when the merchant of Bagdad, after the
travellers had bathed and perfumed them-
selves, bade a slave call his child, his Hou-
lema, to welcome her father and his friend,
Semid saw only the form, heard only the voice
of the girl of Bagdad. It was evening, and
the cool apartment, with its trellised and pro-
jecting wmdows, hung over the waters be-
neath ; the moon that lit up the waves and
their shores, cast her light through the open
lattice-work, at which sat Houlema, who had
taken her guitar, and as she sang verses ex-
pressive of the joys of home, and its dear
aflections, after long and cruel separations,
like the cool waves of the Tigris amidst the
boming sands that surround it, her voice was
inexpressibly sweet. Her fonn was of the

middle size, and her complexion excessively
fair ; her eyes were hazel, her hair dark, and
her bust lovelier than was ever formed hy a
Grecian sculptor ; the small and delicate foot ^
.was no way concealed by the rich sandal that
held it, and the white and rounded arm was
exposed nearly to the shoulder ; in her whole
air, in every look and word, there was a spirit,
a vivacity, as if the soul itself were intused
in it. As Semid gazed and listened to her
voice, he felt a charm come over his spirit,
far different to that which the superior beau-
ty of the Circassian had inspired.

His venerable patron now began to initiate
him in the detuls of commerce, sent him
sometimes with a caravan of merchandise to
Bussora> and other parts of the Persian gulf,
and assigned him a portion of his gains. Se-
mid saw his increasing fortune vnth indiffer-
ence, in every journey always anticipating the
hour of return ; he gazed with rapture from
afar on the blue wave of the Tigris that cir-
cled round the dwelling of his beloved Hou-
lema. The father, who from the first had
destined his only child for his favorite, to
whom he felt as to an only son, saw their
growing passion witl^ pleasure. Often when
the lovers were seated in the cool kiosque,
that overlooked the wide plain beyond the
city, Semid told of the various scenes and re-
verses he had passed through, while his fine
eyes and matcnless features beamed with af-
fection : Houlema thought she had never be-
held so fascinating a ^ing, or listened to a
voice of such soul-touching melody. " She
loves me for myself alone,^' thought Semid,
" and not for my beauty, unlike the youthfiil
Circassian, whose impetuous and sudden af-
fection wrought my ruin : bred up in retire-
ment, and untainted by dissipation, in her
tenderness I shall find a resting place at last."

Semid had been absent for some weeks on a
journey to Basra, and one evening Houlema
was solacing herself with music in the apart-
ment she had so often sat with him, and an-
ticipating his return, when the chief officer
of tne Pacha of Bagdad returning home on
the opposite shore of the Tigris, heard those
sweet sounds wafted across in the stillness of
the night, and listened with rapture. The
next day he told his prince that he had heard
melody, such as none but the Houris who at>
tend the blest could have made, and that the
woman who possessed such a voice must be
inexpressibly beautiful. The prince's curios-
ity was awakened, he directed inquiries to be
made, and was soon acquainted that it was
the daughter of the old merchant, whose mel-
ody was only inferior to her lovliness. Resoly-
ed to gratify his passionate desire of seeing
her, he put on the disguise of a merchant,
who sold precious stones and ornaments, and
being admittkl with some difficulty, by dis-
playing some splenddi jewels U> the si^^t of

290

BIZARRE.

Honlema, was enraptured with her beauty.
The following day he sent for the father, and
demanded his daughter in marriage ; the old
man, undazzled by the prospect of grandeur
for his child, and faithful to his promise to
Seroid. gave a suhmissire but decided refusal.
Although enraged at havins his hope crossed
by a subject, yet confiding in his own attrac-
tions and rank, he came magnificently attired
and attended, to the merchant's house, and
requesting an interview with Houlema in her
father's presence, he declared his passion, and
ofiered her his heart and throne, declaring he
would part with his harem, and cease to love
any otner woman for her sake. Houlema
shrank from the splendid offer; her lover,
beautiful and devoted, rushed to her thoughts ;
she felt how dear he was to her : again she
looked on the imploring prince ; he was very
handsome, his dignity gave him additional at-
tractions ; and, when he swore, by the Pro-
phet and the Caaba, that she should be the
sole companion of his life and love, the ador-
ed and admired of his court, the words were
inexpressibly sweet to her. Seduced by such
tenderness and devotion, and the glowing pic-
tures her lover drew of her future glory as
the Princess of Bagdad, she consented at last
to become his bride.

Semid, full of anticipations of love and
happiness, returned to Bagdad, and hastened
to the home of his friend, who met him with
a countenance of sorrow and confusion, anc^
acquainted him with the infidelity of Houlema,
and deplored her ingratitude. Overwhelmed
with anguish, he would have sought his in-
tended bride in the harem of the Pacha, had
not the father restrained him, and calmed his
cruel agitation; then raising his eyes, stream-
ing with tears to Heaven, he called on Allah
to witness the treachery of his mistress, and
abjured forever the .destructive beauty of
woman, which first in the Circassian had
plunged him into exquisite misery ; and now,
m the perfidious Houlema, had driven him
forth again a wanderer on the earth. Saying
this, he rushed out of the apartment, and,
mounting his horse, left Bagdad forever be-
hind him. For several days he pursued his
way, heedless of its direction : whether his
head sank on the desert-bed or on the moun-
tain-rock, whether the sun shone on his parch-
ed breast, or the fountain cooled his burning
lips, his misery was all within. One night as
he passed over a sandy tract, he saw not very
far before him a traveller attacked by a small
party of Bedouins. Hastening up, his own
and his servant's aid decided the day, and the
Arabs took to flight.

The Turk, who was wounded, was most
grateftil for this timely aid, and implored his
deliverer to accompany him to his home ; and,
as all situations were at this moment alike, he
consented willingly. Day after day the trav-

ellers proceeded over melancholy wastes of
sand, on which rested the burning rays of
the sun, till at last a dark spot was visible in
the horizon ; and as they drew near, exquis-
itely grateful was the deep verdure of varions
trees, and the shade of the palm and cypress,
which stood waveless fn the silent desert, like
the ruins of an eastern temple. In this deep
and beautiful retreat, encircled by a high wall,
lived the generous Turk with his only sister :
left orphans at an early age, they had become
inseparably attached to each other. Every
effort was used by them to make Semid 's res-
idence agreeable : and, soothed by the atten-
tions, and interested by the accomplishments
of the young Kaloula, his dejection and an-
guish by degrees abated. In order to inters
est his deliverer, Achmed invited a party of
his friends to an entertainment, and his Arab
servants traversed the waste in various direc-
tions to the fertile tracts on its borders. In
that oriental banquet every luxury appeared,
whether allowed or forbidden, by the Koran,
the various wines of S3rria, the rich fruits
and conserves of Damascus, the delicacies of
Seeraz.

As night drew on, and the conversation be-
came more animated, it was proposed, after
the oriental custom, that each guest should
tell a tale, or relate some remarkable event of
his life ; one told his dangerous pilgrimage to
Mecca, another a tale of the Afirit or the
Goule, till it came to Semid's turn, who, put
off his guard by the gaiety and interest of
the scene, began most imprudently to relate
the great incident of his life, the eift of ^e
ring. As he proceeded, some of Uie guests
became thoughtful, others looked incredulous,
but Kaloula never took her glance from the
ring on which it was intensely fixed, and
during the rest of the evening her manner
was abstracted, and her mind wandering &r
from the present scene. Afterwards, when
seated by her side in the garden at sunset,
Semid observed that her vivacity was gone,
at times her tone and look were hurried and
wild, and then sad and despairing. In her
society he had felt a new and vivid interest :
ungifted with the matchless beauty of the
Circassian, or the sweetness of temper, and
charm of song and melody, of Houlema, there
was in her that hi^h energy of mind, and rich-
ness of imaginaiion which inevitably attract
in woman ; and Semid, when listening to her
fascinating conversation, thought the charms
of beauty outdone. Accustomed all her liife
to the solitude of her brother's home, Kaloula's
haughty spirit was nursed amidst s<jenes sav-
age and inspiring. It had been her delight to
guide her courser into the deep retreats of the
desert, and no where is nature so sublime as
there ; and when seated at her lattice window
or in the garden beneath, she had bdield the
slow caravan wind its way amidst the bom-

A SYRIAN TALE.

291

ing sands, in which thousands of yarious na-
tions and aspects were mingled ; and again,
when the bands of Bedouins had rushed on
their prey, she had heard the fierce shouts of
the battle in the desert, and seen the spectacle
of pain and death.

Won by the personal attractions and elo-
quent converse of the stranger, she loved him ;
still that passion struggled with ambition and
pride. Often Semid observed, as her look fell
on the ring on his finger, her colour chan^d,
and she uttered a deep sigh. "Were that
ring but mine," murmured the hauehty girl,
*' what a scene of triumph and delist would
it open to me. The princess of the east would
vie for the possession of Kaloula's charms, to
which the beauty of all women would then
yield. Her glory, who defended the city
whose ruins are in the desert, the Queen of
Palmyra, would not surpass mine. My path
would no longer be in this far solitude, but be
high, commanding and immortal."

The conflict of thought was too severe ;
her noble form became emaciated, the lustre
fled from her dark eye, and its look of tender-
ness turned on her lover was often changed
for one of horror. It was past the hour of
noon, on one of those days when to breathe
the open air is almost to inhale the blast of
death, the very fountains seemed to gush lan-
guidly, and the leaves to wither on the trees :
and Semid, overcome with the heat, had
thrown himself almost fainting on a sofa,
when Kaloula approached and earnestly pres-
sed him to drink of some cool sherbet prepar-
ed by her own hands. There was something
in her voice and manner, in the burning hue
of her cheek, that infused a sudden suspicion
into his mind. He took the vase of sherbet
from her trembling hand, and turning aside
his face pretended to drink, but poured the
contents into his vest. He tiien languidly re-
clined, Mkd appeared to fall into a deep sleep ;
an hour passed away, and a soft step ap-
proached the door ; it faltered and seemed to
retire ; but soon was heard more hurriedly
advancing, and at last entered the apartment.
It was Kaloula ; she went to the window and
gazed on the burning sand and sky, and then
turned her paleface, that was bathed in tears,
to Semid, who lay motionless, and appeared
to breathe no longer. She then drew near the
ottoman and bent in silent anguish for awhile
over him, when with a sudden eflfort she
stretched forth her hand and clasped the ring
to take it from his finger. Semid sprang from
the couch, and looked at Kaloula with an in-
describable expression, who, claspine her
hands violently, uttered a loud cry, and sank
insensible on the floor. He bent in agony
over her. ** Again," he exclaimed, " have I
leaned as my last hope on woman's love, and
it has pierced my soul. 0, prophet of my

have murmured, in severing woman from our
path in the world of bliss : since cruelty and
ambition can be cherished amidst feelings of
kindness and love. Never will I yield again
to her charms, or be swayed by her artful
wiles."

He hastened from the dwelling, and all
night long in deep anguish of soul pursued
his way. On the evening of the tenth day he
stood on the declivity of a range of moun-
tains, on whose snows lay the last beams of
the sun ; and a noble plain was spread at
their feet, in the midst of which stood the
ruins of a superb temple. Semid drew near
as the night was falling around, and took up
his abode in one of the ruined apartments ;
and when day broke he was strucK with ad-
miration and wonder at a sight so new to him.
A corridor of pillars, with capitals of exquis-
ite beauty, encircled the temple, which though
roofless, and i ts many niches despoiled of their
statues, looked in its naked grandeur as if
time might have no power over it. Here Semid
thought he had found a habitation and soli-
tude where woman's step would never intrude,
and he could indulge in sorrows unmolested.
Several days had passed, and the fruits that
grew on the plain composed his meals, when
one evening, whilst the air was cool, he per-
ceived a girl habited in a simple Syrian dress,
approaching the ruin. She started with sur-
prise at seeing a stranger ; but recovering her-
self, asked what induced him to remain in so
lonely a spot, and why he had never visited
her father, who was the Imaun of the village
behind the mountain, and would be happy to
show his hospitality. Semid promised to
come to the village, and the next day, cross-
ing the mountain, he was received by the
priest of the prophet with the greatest kind-
ness. . After a simple repast, Melahie took her
guitar and sang some native Svrian melodies
with great sweetness. Delighted with his
visit, the traveller's solitude seemed less wel-
come on his return. A few days passed ere
Melahie came again, and sitting on a p«irt of
the ruins beside Semid, she told him their his-
tory as far as she knew, and listened to his
tales of other lands, and of his travels, with
intense interest. Her form was slender, and,
unlike the women of the east, her hair was
light, and her eyes blue ; but they had a look
of irresistible sweetness and innocence, and
her delicate features reflected every feeling of
her soul. He frequently visited her father's
cottage, and her steps still oftener sought
the lonely ruins. Seated by Semid's side,
and fixed on his seducing discourse, die was
happy ; and he could not see the intense in-
terest he inspired, while her tears fell fast at
the picture of his sorrows, or her eyes kindled
with «7elight when he told how his sad destiny
was changed, without feeling his own heart

tf1cM>n1ir mmroA ITa sOutv ihtkf. ahgk \nveU\ him

292

BIZARRE.

and soon felt that this enthv confidence, this
sweet deference and surrender of feeling, in a
young and devoted woman, is far more dan-
gerous than any studied allurement.

Still he imagined she loved him only for his
heauty, or b^use she saw in him superior
accomplishments to all around her. One even-
ing as the Syrian was seated in silence beside
him, on the rich scenery, Semid suddenly ad-
dressed her ; *' Melahie, it is in vain to dis-
guise our mutual affection : but you repose
your peace on me only to be deceived ; let me
warn you that he who has appeared to you
thus beautiful and interesting, only deludes
you. You see before you a magician of power,
and of malice equal to his power, but not to
injure you. Turn your eyes on your lover .
now." He suddenly drew the ring from his
finger ; the girl shrieked, and starting from I
her seat covered her fiu^ with her hands, for
before her stood no longer the captivating I
stranger, but an elderly, pale, and sorrow- 1
stricken man ; yet his look was haughty and
full of fire, and waving his hand impressively,
" fly from me now," he said, "you see mem
my true colors ; your beautiful lover is no
more. " Melahie turned on him for a moment
a look of fixed sadness, and then silently de-
parted. Many weeks passed, and stiU she
came not to his lonely abode ; but one morn-
ing as he stood sadly musing amidst the mon-
uments of former glory, he saw her slowly
walking towards him; but her beauty was
faded by sorrow, and her delicate form wast-
ed, and when she beheld the venerable figure
of her once adored lover, an expression of ex-
quisite anguish passed over her features. StiU
sne drank in every word that fell from his
lips, though the music of that voice had
ceased, and the tone was cold and faltering.
When he bade her fly from his solitude, and
shun the evil destiny that surrounded him,
and the treacherous allurement that might yet
ensnare her, she burst into tears, unable to van-
quish her love, yet shrinking from the painful
change she witnessed.

The last evening they were thus to meet
she found him rechned at the foot of a pillar ;
his countenance was paler, his eye more hol-
low than when she saw him before, and his
whole air that of a man to whom earthly
thii^ are soon to be no more. " You are
come, Melahie," he said, fixing his eyes with
a mournful expressicm on her, " in time to bid
me fiu'ewell forever. You cannot grieve much
for one whom it is impossible you could love.
S«nid, young and beatiful, engaged your af-
fection, but oppressed with years, and sinking
bene&th his sorrows, the stranger will rest
nnremembered in his grave." "Never! oh
never," replied theb^utiful Syrian, *'can
Melahie forget the stranger she once loved.
Dark and mysterious as your path may seem,
mine shall be united with it to the last. I

loved you not for your beauty, Semid, it
for the charms of your discourse, the rkdies
of your mind, and, above all, the new wcnid
of thought and imagination which you opened
to me ; when I left you, those scenes and glow-
ing pictures haunted me still : in my dreams
they came to me, and with all, your image
was ever blended. Radiant with beauty it
came, and now thus fallen, it is still the same
Semid who speaks to me ; it is his spirit that
casts its spell around mine, and deatn cannot
break it.'*^

" It is vain," said Semid ; <* the hoar is
near that will close these eyes forever. Azrad
comes to simimion me; already I hear tbft
rushing of his wings. Look where the laest
light of day is resting on the mountain snows :
it will soon disappear ; but when it rests en
this pillar, and encircles this weary head, yon
will see your Semid expire." •* Leave me not
thus," exclaimed Malahie weeping bitterly;
but soon shall I cease to be alone : I feel my
heart is breaking, it has strugded for rest
without you, but it may not be. She ceas-
ed ; for the sun leaving the darkening plain
below, threw over the temple a eolden hue,
and rested on the pillar on which Semid was
reclining. His look was sadly fixed on the
crimsoning sky, his frame trembled, and as
the red light was iadine, the young Syrian
clasped her arm round his neck, and gazing
on him as if for the last time ; " O Semid !"
she murmured, " my first, my only love ; to-
gether we will quit this world of sorrow, and
Melahie will not be parted in death, or in
eternity." At these words he suddenly rose
and drew the ring again on his finger ; the
lustre came to Melahie 's ejre, and the odour
rushed to her cheek, for she gazed once more
on the blooming and devoted Semid, who
clasped her to his breast, "It is mice at
last," he exclaimed ; " the blessing I implor-
ed of Allah, but never hoped to find — a wo*
man who truly loved me ; we will go to the
banks of the Orontes to my father's coitaee,
and live amidst the scenes of my childhood."
1

SKETCHES OF GEORGLA.

SKETCnB[ EIGHTH.

Scenery of the Swamps, — Historical assodor'
tions connected itith them — Pcartisan Vahr-^
Steampsj of three kinds — Luxuriant Varrt^
tion — The stately Cypress — Magnolia Gran^
diflora — Sylvanus and Cypfxrissus — Wooi*
not'S tDild'—Physical constitution-^ AUi^
tors — Serpents.

But dark maltgnftnt donds, tod noxSoos d«w
Hanson the Cjrprera muI, and moumftil yev;
In sable weeds, which flow with Kdemn sweep,
The weeping willow, seems indeed to weep.

Mi49 r. RegmiddM.

The admirer of Nature will
amid the plains of Southern Georgia, for

invtiA

brtbofld

SKETCBDBS OF GEORGIA.

293

sublime and exquisitely beautifol manifesta-
tioDB which so enchain the attention, and en*
list the admiration of eveiy beholder in other
climes. Here, no Mont Blanc, vast and mag-
nificent, reflecting from its snowy brow the
goreeoas tints of a rising san, lifts its, kindly
head, a moontain of pure alabaster, blindmg
with its splendor the gaze which its majesty
attracted : no grand ]^teau where,

** Snow pfled on mow ; each mass appears
The gatbered winter of a thoonoid years."

The lovely rale of Chamonni — the deep,
'^SS^ gorges of Switzerland, find no coun-
terpart here. There are no cascades of the
Hepste, with their graceful nymphs sporting
in those crystal waters, — no giant Idris en- ,
throned on his mountain chair — ^no Idwal
shridung amid the awful storms which burst
abore the purple peaks of Snowdonia. Al-
though the scenery is not thus wild and pic-
turesque, although the diversities of hill and
valley do not charm the eye : still Nature here
stands revealed in a garb at once so luxuriant
and plea^ng, that the interest of every one
is immediately awakened. Quiet repose, and
virgin vigor characterize every scene. One
of the most striking features is that present-
ed by the deep-green foliage and exuberant
vegetation of the swamps. Numerous and
extensive, they permeate this region in every
direction — ^impressing the mind unaccustom-
ed to such scenes, with novel emotions, and
conceptions of the magnificence of Nature
scarce elsewhere to be found. The size of
the trees, the deep mazes of the cane-brakes,
the rank profusion of plants stimulated into
rapid and unusual growth by the humid at-
mosphere, the semi-fluid soil, and the warm
rays of the sun, the variety of birds and rep-
tiles — the forms of the animals and the cease-
less diversity of sounds and songs which
grc^ the ear, all unite in inviting the atten-
tion of the inquiring stranger, and awaken-
ing a desire for a more satis&ctory acquain-
tance with the depths and inhabitantsof these
swamps. Before, however, entering at large
upon a delineation of their peculiarities, it
may be proper to remind the reader, that in
Georgia and South Cardina. these damp dark
regions have been invested with Revolution-
ary associations dearly cherished by patriot
hwts. Here would the partisan warrior re-
treat for a season, in order that he might un-
observed collect the gallant sons of an invad-
ed oomnranity — with brave words stimulate
them to renewed, determined resistence, and
then by some sudden, energetic, and master-
ly movement, fkll upon the unguarded foe,
often wholly unconscious of his presence or
approach, scattering his troop of^ mercenar-
ies, like forest leaves before the blast of Au-
tumn. Their mazes, tiieir knolls were fami-
liar to the lovers of freedom. Thence they

snufied the tainted air of tyranny from afar.
Thence, as from some invisible, central hid-
ing place, did faithful spies go forth, arous-
ing the inhabitants, hovering around the
flimk and rear of the enemy, discovering
his position and numbers, striking a fatid
Wow whenever opportunity presented, and
tb^i as secretly returning with the valuable
information, thus obtained, to their comrades,
ever in readiness to redress their Country's
wrongs. Many and aggravated were the pri-
vations here enduredTout the devotion and
patriotism of these self-made heroes, triumph-
ed over them all. In South Carolina, scarce-
ly a single large swamp can be named, where
tne brave band of a Marion or some of his
compatriots had not encamped, whose dark
deptns they had not threaded. When super-
ior numbers may temporarily have occupied
the plains, and the small parties of the Amer-
icans have been compelled to leave their pro-
perty and possessions at the mercy of the foe ;
when the standard may have been for the mo-
ment insultingly removed from the rampart,
and the flag from the Liberty pole, then would
they resort for a season to these natural places
of defence ; replace every star, wipe the dust
of dishonor from every stripe, and like a
whirlwind sweep upon the invaders, with
that self-same standard full high advanced,
which just now the enemy had regarded as
torn and trampled. Examples of self-devo-
tion and a love of country were here display-
ed, which will be ever regarded as bright
testiOiOnials of American valor. No wonder
that a British officer should resign his com-
mision, and deem those invincible, who
could with their General, uninfluenced by
any hope of pecuniary recompense, without a
murmur, endure the dangers of the field, the
damp vapors and unwholesome malaria of
these swamps, relishing a fare so scanty, so
extremely frugal, that they deemed themsel-
ves fortunate in possessing an abundance of
roasted potatoes, served up on pieces of pine-
balk, and all this prompted solely by an aU-
al^orbing devotion to the interests of a young
republic struggling manfully for its indepen-
dence.

The swamps, moreover, afforded not only
safe retreats, but also presented suitable op-
portunities for ambuscades. Crossed as they
usually are by narrow cause-ways — ^with
deep morass on either hand, the enemy would
necessarily be compressed into a close column,
upon which every ball dischaiged by the
practised marksman, ensconced behind his fa-
milar forest trees, would tell with fearful ef-
fect. In proof of this, you need only refer to
the actions on the Santee, at the Great Pedee,
at Midway or at Bull-town Swamps.

We may regard these swamps as of three
kinds^listinctions in their character, which
arise not so much firom a variety of vegeta-

294

BIZARRE.

tion, as from a difference of location. First,
yon will find them extending on both sides of
the large rivers, as soon as these have passed
through the elevated or hill-country, and
flowing through the flat regions of Southern
Georgia seek an entrance into the sea. These
are probably best adapted to the successful
cultivation of rice, as their fertility is, you
may say without exaggeration, exhaustless —
their situation level, and the supply of water
both copious and constant. A suitable em-
bankment once formed along the river, you
can easily, by means of trunks, flow your fields
whenever necessary. Those fine plantations
bordering upon the Savannah and Ogeechee,
may be regarded as apt examples. Here in
many places the beautiful rice has usurped
the positions formerly adorned by the tall
cypress, or the rich cane-brake. Again you
will see them constituting the primary sources
of those shorter streams, which intersect the
marshes upon the coast. These, admitting
the fluctuations of the tide even within a few
miles of their rise, derive their first supply
and direction from the springs of a swamp.
Lastly, there are those which serve merely as
a drain for a given portion of low-land, with
simply a channel in the centre, which conveys
the water here collected into some stream :
thus constituting a small tributary to the
latter. Such are generally designated Inland
Swamps, in contradistinction to those first
nkentioned, which are termed River Swamps.
Let us however, in viewing them more closdy,
regard these for convenience of description,
and with refcFence to the appearance present-
ed, as one and the same. In many instances
we will discover excellent examples of that
magnificence and luxuriance, which nature
displays when her original energies and vigor
remain unimpaired. True, you do not here
meet with that wild profusion, and those gi-
gjantic proportions which so remarkably dis-
tinguish the dark forests and deep lagoons of
the Amazon, nor are birds of a plumage
equal to that of the bird of Paradise here
congregated. The serpent does not attain
quite BO formidable dimensions — nor do the
limbs bend under the weight of troops of
chattering monkeys. Look for a moment,
however, and you will see a luxuriance of veg-
etation, a variety in the feathered tribe — and
other inhabitants of these damp r^ons — nu-
merous specimens of uncouth reptiles — while

*' Myriads of insects now
Creep from tbeir green- wood cares, and mossy domes.
And wing their way, to glitter in the san."

Viewing these swamps from without, they
present an exceedingly rich and attractive ap-
pearance, alike when the first breath of spring
is unfolding in delicate loveliness the new
buds and blossoms, again to clothe with beau-
ty that naked bough, from which the winds

of autumn had shaken the ydlow leaf— when
the warm sun of summer has robed the trees
in all the magnificent profusion of a fully de-
veloped vegetation — and when the frosts of
winter settling upon that dark-green array,
sprinkles it dl over with those vari^ated
tmts, so attractive and singulariy pleasing to
the eye. Then the numerous evergreens are
finely illuminated by the brilliant yellow of
the maple, the lively colors of the sweet-gum,
the orange and ci;imson of the native pc^ar.
Within, giant trees lock arm in arm with
their fellows — completely overshadowing the
dense undergrowth and cane-brakes, which
almost effectually exclude the visiter who
would penetrate their mazes. Tangled bom-
ses of vines clambering up the tnmks, and
interlacing with each other, hang in rich pro-
fusion from limb to limb— forming pleasant
shady bowers for Satyrs and rustic Fauns.
We might almost imagine that our eyes rest-
ed upon their dancing forms, while in fimcy's
vision appears Avistupor chasing some mis-
chievous oird, or Arissetus hiving the numer-
ous swarms of wild bees. These majestic
trees shed a melancholy grandeur upon the
pools below, hiding in their profound shade
the rich soil which a summer^s sun can never
warm. The axe of the woodman has sddom
been heard in the depths of some of these
swamps, and the virgin growth still remains!
proud memorial of the munificence of Nature.
When the forest has been levelled, the few
trees remaining as way-marks, Are only ren-
dered more remarkable and imposing, by lea*
son of the contrast. The stately cypress here
rises in solemn aspect, like some sage father
of the woods. The commanding magnolia
grandifiora appearing in all its beauty and
symmetry, with its spreading branches and
deep-green leaves, decorated with ten ihw-
sand snowy blossoms diffusing their d^ght-
ful perfume through the air, seems a noWe
virgin of the forest adorned for her marriage.
The morning breeze is fraught with the aroma
of sweet-bays, jessamins, honey-suckles, and
the many choice flowers which Queen Flora
has here planted with such lavish bounty.

The Cypress and the Laurel, are both of
historic note. When the Trojans lamented
the death of Misenus, we find them employ-
ing the mournful cypress as an emblem of
grief — {etf crates ante cupressos constituunt'')
We are told in Heathen mythology, that &!•
vanus, a God of the woods, loved the boy IV
parissus, who kept a tame deer in which he
greatly delighted. This, Sihranus (me dar
accidently killed. The youth was so much
affected with grief at the loss of his pet, that
he soon pined away and died. Silvanus im-
mediately changed him into a Cypress tree, a
branch of whidi he always carried in his
hand in memory of the deceased Cyparissos-
This probably accoimts for theflMst, that from

SKETCHES OF GEORGIA.

295

earliest ages, the cypress has erer been deem-
ed a tree of sober, melancholy character,
suitable for the grave-vard. We all know the
daring contests and laborious undertakings, in
order to secure a laureate wreath, not only
among the competitors of ancient days, and
those of Oxford, but eyen in later years.
From an hundred boughs of these and other
ornaments of the forest, are heard the voices
of charming songsters, who have sought the
retirement of the glade, in order that they
may undisturbed warble their sweetest notes
into the ear of Nature. From the topmost
branch, in accents of charming melody, we
catch the strains of the thrush, which, with
its dappled breast turned to the rising sun,
bails the advent of th6 king of day, as with
orient beams he comes to gladden the face of
Nature. Then, when his warmer rays have
caused the birds to seek the shelter of the
forest, his subdued twitter is still sweetly
falling upon the ear. As the flaming chariot
with rapid axle passes the zenith, and tends
to the western wave, then again from every
bough arise the voices of countless birds,
each with pecaliar note carolling a tender
farewell to the fading day. The great hom-
ed owl here seeks a cool retreat, and amid
the branches of some wide-spreading oak,
sits listlessl}r rolling his large grey eye, or
moping in silence, awaits the approach of
night, when upon noiseless wing he may
again overtake the prey, sleeping unconscious
of his approach. Deer and turkeys find this
a place of refuge, and recline securely beneath
the dense foliage of the trees, while the black
bear feasts upon the grapes as they hang in
purple clusters from the vine.

The moisture and extreme fertility of the
soil, causes an immense growth of aquatic
plants of various kinds and of all hues. There
you see the ground covered with the diminutive
moss, there are the water-loving hydrang8&—
there lilies, pure and motionless, rest upon the
surface of the pool-oovered with their broad
round leaves,— there the blue flag clusters in
luxuriance — there the suple-jack, the brier,
the jessamin closely entwine the cypress and
the gum. The botanist may here luxuriate,
for Nature is triumphant in this damp do-
main. Frequently within these swamps you
will find knolls densely wooded — while on all
sides spreads out a labyrinth of roots, decay-
ed logs, lying in mouldering confusion upon
this wet-trembling deposit of vegetf^ble mat-
ter. Large lakes or ponds may be seen in
the centre of the swamp, and hither you must
force your way, if you wish to form an ade-
quate conception of the character and ap-
, pearance of the uncouth community, which
has here taken up its abode. Amid these
stagnant pools sport reptiles of hideous and
revolting aspect. There they are, swimminff
through the sluggish waters, lying coiled

amone the roots of the cypress,— or stretched
at fuU length upon the umbs of the bushes
which overhang the lakes. Every now and
then they glide noiselessly into the water, or
fall with leaden plunge as their repose is dis-
turbed by the approach of some strange visi-
tor. See those terrapins sitting in long rows
upon the logs, their spotted busks baked in
the sun-beams, as piercing through the over-
shadowing limbs, they strike upon them.
They have observed us, and now mark how
silently they slide off. A moment longer, and
their heads are popped out, side by side with
the venomous moccasin and the water snake.
The alligator also has here his home in sum-
mer, swimming lord of the pond, feasting upon
fish, snakes and other reptiles, and when sati-
ated with his dainty ^neal, crawling upon a
log, there displaying his unsightly fi|;ure, in
all its proportions. In a tract, which was
printed at London in 1744, we find the fol-
lowing description of an Alligator, as he ex-
ists in Southern Georgia. As the account is
natural, and will serve to convey a correct
conception of the creature, we will extract a
few sentences from it. This being probably
the writer's first impression of Alligators, the
representation in parts, must be received
" cum grano salis.

" They are terrible to look at, stretching
open an horrible large mouth, big enou^ to
swallow a many (?) with rows of dreadftil
large sharp teeth, and feet like dragons, arm-
ed with great claws, and a long tail which
they throw about with great strength, and
which seems their best weapon, for tkeir
claws are feebly set on, (?) and the stiffness of
their necks hinders them from turning nimbly
to bite. When Mr. Oglethorpe was first at
Savannah, to take off the terror which the
people had for crocodiles, having wounded and
catched one about twelve feet long, he had
him brought up to the town, and set the boys
to bait him with sticks, the creature gaping
and blowing hard, but having no heart to
move, only turned about his tail, and snapt at
the sticks, till such time as the children pelted
and beat him to death. *****

They will destroy a great deal of fish, and
will seize a hog or a dog if they see them in
the water, but their general wav of preying,
is lying still, with their mouths open and
their noses just above water, and so they
watch till the stream brings down prey to
them: they swallow anything that comes
into their mouths." AlUgators are seldom
seen in winter. As soon as frost appears, they
retreat into holes which they dig under rice-
dams, in the bank of the river, and under the
roots of trees in the swamps. There they
hibernate until the mild air of Soring once
more breathes upon the land. Tne eggs of
the Alligator are no larger than those of a
goose, and of a white color. These they de-

296

BIZARRE.

poeit and cover up inthe'midst of & bed formed
of sand and leayes, which they scrape toge-
ther with their fore-feet. The heat of the
sun with the warmth of this hot bed, hatches
them — ^the young alligators creeping out to all
appearancee, lizards on a large scale. Hero-
dotus gives us an amusing account of the
manner in which the crocodile of Egypt is
captured by the natives. The habit of beat-
ing a pi^ in order to attract them, is still pre-
servea, although the rifle-ball in the head
has proved a more convenient and certain me-
thod of quieting them, than a baited hook in
the moutn, and a handful of sand in the eyes.
But we must not linger longer amid this spot
of reptiles,— for although the cool tempera-
ture of the swamp seems preferable to the
potent rays of the sun, as they rest upon the
open field, still we must away, for disease
lurks unseen here. This accumulated vegeta-
ble deposit of ages, composed of decayed
leaves, broken limbs, and prostrate trunks of
trees blasted by lightning or upturned by the
irresistible tornado, kept constantly moist by
the tumid atmosphere, when acted upon by a
summer's sun, gives rise to a deadly miasma,
which pollutes the air sometimes insensibly,
yet powerfully. In August the effect produc-
ed upon the stranger as he lingers in ^e
swamp is evident. Tou can feel the weight
of the miasmatic atmosphere^while the smell
of the rank vegetation, mingled with that of
stagnant water is by no means agreeable. It
is this that makes the balmy air of sununer as
sickly as it seems grateful : and warns the in-
habitants to exchuige the rice plantation for
the island retreat. Nothing of this character
is perceived in winter. Then those clouds of
musquitoes and gallinippers, which, gathered
so thickly above the sedgy lake are gone :—
frogs, snakes, alli^tors all have disappeared :
the frost has purified and changed mat noi-
some exhalation, — the woodman's axe rings
merrily against the body of some lofty cy-
press, as he splits the sweet-smelling shingle,
or modds the light and graceful form of the
canoe: the flapping of the water-fowl is
heard upon the IM^e— wild turkeys congregate
in flocks — ^the deer is feeding upon the tender
tops of the cane — ^the autumn sky is as clear
and beautiful, the air as pure and delight-
fbl as any in the worid. Then it is, that the
huntsman's horn winds through the glade,
and the startled deer leaps nimbly from his
covert. The summer's serenades of bullfrogs,
and whip-poor-wills is forgotten, and in
their stead the ear catches joyfully the swel-
ling cries of a full pack of hounds eager for
the chase.

REV. R. W. GRISWOLD, D. D.

Vfe have seen by a notice in some of the
daily papers, that this gentleman is lying dan-

gerously ill at the house of a relative in BaiH
gor. The intelligence has surprised and grieved
his many friends, here, and elsewhere, ffia
noble and generous heart, his ready and wcQ-
fumished mind are known thiongfaoat the
States. There is hardly a family in the
country but is fiuniliar with his name and
works.

The loss of such a man, will be long and
severely fdt. His services to straggling gen-
ius and merit, will enshrine him in mt memory
of numbers. His touch and quickening, are
felt on the general mind ; many have woke
n^ under them into unsuspected consideratioo
with the public, and with new inspirations,
and new-found abilities, to attempt what is
higher and better.

Mr. Griswold is a lover and finder of eveiy
thin^ American in mind and men. The honor
and intellectual elevation of his coantr3mMii,
are as life and all its interests to him, we
know not which is the most remarkable ; his
varied powers and learning orhis many and im-
portant services to hopeful writers and artists
of every description. His mind is of a pecu-
liarly generous order, and spring at the
thought of serving concealed or rising merit.
He is eminently Uie noter of what men do^
and of what dyine, can be collected of them
and preserved to their credit, and to the pro-
fit of the living.

Such a man will be missed, and his place
and office will be hard to fill. A spring of
life : a feeder of generous sympathy ; a wmod
of encoumgement will perish in him. May
we long be spared such a loss ; and long fed
the impetus of his mind in its chosen ranges !
His genius, his taste, his knowledge of facts
in literature and art, his appreciation of merit
of every description, his retentive memory,
and ready facility of applying his resources
to the ends he has in view, are such as we do
not soon expect to see in another.

We have all the more been impressed with
Mr. Griswold 's illness, fh>m the fact that he
has so recently married a most estimable
lady, to whom, by common consent, are ac*
corded virtues and accomplishments, pled^ng
the greatest happiness in the union. Her
brother has recently purchased and presented
to them, an elegant and costly mansion in
New York, and it was, we believe, while pre-
paring to move into it, that his present alarm-
ing disease disclosed itself. Bis lady and
and daughter had but just recovered from the
injuries received by the railroad disaster at
Norwalk. It will be recollected that his
daughter was taken up from the wreck, snp-
pos^ to be dead, and was several days reviv-
ing, so as to gi^e hope of a final recovery.
To Mr. Griswold, it was a period of k>ng and
distracting anxietv* and the public felt deeply
for the result. These sources of excitmcnt,
no doubt, hastened the approach of the

RES CURIOSiR.

297

mftbdj which has siezed him. Wb health for
years past, has ^heea delicate, and his frame
seemed like one realj to break down under the
action of snch a mind as his : and of the many
literary enterprizes in which he was engaged.

RES CURIOS^E.

Qneen Elizabeth and her Court have never
been so well described as Ix^ a German trav-
eller, from whom the fdlowing is translated.
His woric is a YerjT' rare one, and entitled If tn-
erarmm, OemumuB, Gallia^ Anglia, Italia;
scriptum a Paulo HerUznera, /. C, — . Bresla,
1627.

"We arrived next at the royal palace of
Ghreenwich, reported to have been built origin-
ally by Humphrey, duke of Gloucester, and to
have receiveg very magnificent additions fi^m
Henry Vm. It was here Elizabeth, the
present queen, was bom, and here she gener-
aOy resides, particularly in summer, for the
deli^htfnlnesB of its situation. We were
admitted, by an order Mr. Rogers had pro-
cured from the lord chamberlain, into the
presence-chamber, hung with rich tapestry,
and the floor, after thel&iglish fashion, strew-
ed with hay, through which the queen com-
monly passes in her way to the chapel. At the
do<n' stood a ^tleman dressed in velvet,
with a gold chain, whose office it was to in-
troduce to the queen any person of distinction
that came to wait on her. It was Sunday,
when there is usually the greatest attendance
of nobility, in the same hidl where the arch-
bishop of Canterbury, the bishop of London,
a great many counsellors of state, officers of
the crown, and gentlepen, who waited the
queens coming out, which she did, from her
own apartment, when it was time to go to
prayers, attended in the following manner : —
First were gentlemen, barons, earls, knights of
the garter, all richly dressed, and bareheaded ;
next came the chancellor, bearing the seals,
in a silk purse, between two, one of which
carried the royal sceptre, the other the sword
of state, in a red scabbard, studded with
gold fleurs-de-lis, the point upwards; next
came the Queen, in the fifty-sixth year of her
aee, (as we are told) veiy majestic ; her face
<^long, fair, but wrinkled ; her eyes small, yet
black and pleasant ; her nose a little hooked,
her lips narrow, and her teeth black, (a de-
fect the English seem subject to, from their
too gi'eikt use of sugar.)

"She had in her ears very rich iewels, with
drops ; she wore false hair, and mat red; up-
on her head she had a small crown, reported
to have been made of some of the gold of the
celebrated Lunebourg-table ; her bosom was
uncovered, as all the English ladies have it,
till th^marry : and she had on a necklace of
exceeding fine jewels ; her hands were small.

her fingers long, atid her stature neither tall
nor low ; her air was stately, her manner of
speaking mild and obliging. That day she
was dressed in white silk, bordered with pearls
of the size of beans, and over it a mantle of
black silk, shot with silver threads : her train
was very long, the end of it borne by a mar-
chioness ; instead of a chain, ^e had an ob-
long collar of gold and jewels. As she went
along, in all this state and magnificence, she
spoke verr graciously, first to one, then to
another, (whether foreign ministers, or those
who attend for different reasons) in Ehiglish,
French and Italian : for, besides being well
skilled in Gredc and Latin, and the languages
I have mentioned, she is mistress of Spanish,
Scotch and Dutch. Whociver speaks to her, it
is kneeling ; now and then she raises^ some
with her b^nd. While we were there, Wil-
liam Slaywater, a Bohemian baron, had let-
ters to present to her, and she, after pulling
off her glove, gave him her right hand to kiss,
sparkling with rines and jewels, a mark of
particular favor. Wherever she turned her
face, as she was going abng everybody foU
down upon their Knees. The ladies of the
court foUowed next to her, very handsome and
well shaped, and for the most part dressed in
white. She was guarded on each side by the
gentlemen pensioners, fifty in number, with
gilt battle axes. In the ante-chamber, next
the hall where we were, petitions were pre-
sented to her, and she received them most
graciously, which occasioned the exclamation
of " God save the queen Elizabeth !' She
answered it with ' I thanke you, mine good
people.' In the chapel was exdlent music : as
soon as it and the service was over, which
scarce exceeded half an hour, the queen re-
turned in the same state and order, and pre-
pared to go to dinner.

" A gentleman entered the room, bearing a
rod, and alon^ with him another,, bearing a
tablecloth, which, after they had both kneel-
ed, three times, with the utmost veneration,
he spread upon the table, and after kneeling
again, they both retired ; then came two
others, one with the rod again, the other with
a salt-cellar, a plate, and bread ; when they
had kneeled as the others had done, and
placed what was brought upon the table, they
too retired, with the same ceremonies per-
formed by the first : at last came an unmar-
ried lady, (we were told she was a countess)
and along with her a married one, bearing a
tasting-knife; the former was dressed in
white silk, who, when she had prostrated
herself three times in the most graceful man-
ner, approached the table, and rubbed the
table with bread and salt with as much awe
as if the queen had been present. When
they had waited there a little while, the yeo-
men of the guard entered, bare-headed, cloth-
ed in Bcariet, with a golden rose upon their

298

BIZARBE.

backs, bringiDg in at each torn, a coarse of
dishes, senred in plate, most of gilt ; ^ese
dishes were received by a gentleman, in the
same order thev were brought, and placed up-
on the taUe, while the lady-taster gave to each
guard a mouthful to eat of the particular dish
he had brought, for fear of aoy poison. Dur-
ing the time that this guard (which consists
of the tallest and stoutest men that can be
found in all England, being carefully selected
for this service) were bringing dinner, twelve
trumpets and two kettle-drums made the hall
ring for half an hour together. At the end
of all this ceremonial, a number of unmarried
ladies appeared, who, with particular solem-
nity, lifted the meat from the table, and con-
veyed it to the queen's inner and more priv-
ate chamber, where after she had chosen for
herself, the rest goes to the ladies of the court.

*' The queen dines and sup$ alone, with
very few attendants ; and it is very seldom
that anybody, foreign or native, is admitted
at that time, and then only at the interces-
sion of some body in power."

Notings of a few

LITBBABT EELIOS

will not be out of place in our '*Curio6»,"
so here goes : —

The house in which Milton resided between
the years 1651 and 1659, existed only a few
years back, at 18 York Street, Westminster,
Lopdon. Jeremy Bentham to whom the house
lately belonged, put up a tablet on the back
wall (believed to have been the front in the
poets time,) inscribed * 'Sacred to Milton,
prince of poets." This habitation, wherein
part of '^Paradise Lost" was undoubtedly
composed, was at the time we allude to rent-
ed to two or three poor families, the ground
floor being converted into a chandler's shop.
From the parlor windows the poet could have
conomanded a view of St. James' Park, more
picturesque then, than at present. At Chal-
font, in Buckinghamshire, is another resid-
ence of Milton 8, in which he composed
"Paradise Regained.'* Though the pear tree
said to have been planted by Cromwell in
Sidney College, Cambridge, was cut down in
March, 1833 ; the mulberry tree planted by
his illustrious Latin secretary, Milton, has
been more fortunate, still flourishing in the
pleasant garden of Christ's College, where it
was planted by the youthful student.

Some }rears ago it sufiered considerably
from a violent gale of wind, which sadly
shattered it : but its aged boughs was care-
fully propped up, and its trunk protected by
a partial covering of lead. With these aids
it promised to look green for many years to
come. Its fertility appeared to have under-
gone no change : in the summer it was laden
with fruit, of which more than two bushels
of the finest flavor were gathered in the sea-
son of 1835. The smallest fragments from

this tree were religiously cherrished by the
poet's numerous admirers. In August, 1790,
when Milton's coffin was discovered buried
under the desk in the chancel of the Church
of St. Giles, Cripplegate, some friends of the
overseer contrived, at night time, to possess
themselves of the hair and some of the teeth of
the immortal poet.

In the grounds of Abbington Abbey, North-
amptonshire, stands (Warrick's mulbeiry-tree,
with this inscription upon copper attached to
one of its limbs: " This tree was planted by
David Garrick, Esq., at the request of Ann
Thursby, as a growing testimony of their
friendship. 1778."

Henry Kirk White's favorite tree, whereon
he had cut " H. K. W., 1805," stood on the
sands at Whitton, in Northumberland, till it
was cut down by the woodman's axe ; but in
Veneration for the poet's memory, the portion
bearing his initials was carefully preserved in
an elegant gilt frame.

Some years ago, a curious arm chair, which
had belonged to Gay the poet, was sold at
public auction at Barnstaple, his native place,
it contained a drawer underneath the se^t, at
the extremitjr of which was a smaller drawer,
connected with a rod in front, by which it
was drawn out.

Benjamin Franklin's "fine crab tree walk-
stick, with a gold head curiously wrought in
the form of a cap of liberty," we all know,
was bequethed m a codicil to his will, ** to
the friend of mankind, Greneral Washington ;"
adding, ''that if it had been a sceptre, he has
merited it, and would become it" G^oml
Washington has a fame beyond the price of
sceptres.

Pope^s house at Binfield has been pulled
down, but the poet*s parlor still exists as a
part of the present mansion erected on the
spot. A patch of the great forest near Bin-
field has been honorabljrpreserved, under the
name of Pope's Wood. Eus house at Twicken-
ham is gone, the garden is bare, but the
celebrated grotto remains, stript, however,
of all that gave it picturesqueness, grace and
beauty.

Cowper's house at Olney, is still standing
in the same ruinous state so humorously de-
scribed by the poet ; his parlor is occupied
as a girl's school. The summer house in the
garden, in which he used to sit conning Yds
verses, also remains, its waUs covered with
visitor's names. His residence in the neigh-
boring village of Weston has been much al-
tered, but is still beauti^l, with a profusion
of roses in it.

Goldsmith's cottage at Kilbum, wherein he
wrote the Vicar of Wakefield and the Desert-
ed Village, was taken down a few years ago,
to make way for new buildings.

We close our budget this week with the
following specimens of the

UNCLE TOM'S CABIN.

299

omiaiN or obkius.

Colombns was the son of a weayer, and a
wearer himself.

Rabdais, Sim of an apothecary.

Claude Lorraine, was bred a pastry-cook.

C^rrantes, was a common soldier.

Homer, was the son of a small fanner.

Moliere, son of a tapestry maker.

Demosthenes, son of a cutler.

Terence, was a slave.

QliTer Cromwell, was a son of a brewer.

Howard, an apprentice to a grocer.

Franklin, a journeyman printer ; son of a
tallow chandler and soap boiler.

Dr. Thomas, Bishop of Worcester, son of a
linen draper.

Daniel Defoe was a hosier, and the son of a
butcher.

Whitefidd, son of an inn-keeper at Glou-
cester.

Sir Cloudesley Shovel, rear admiral of Eng-
land, was an apprentice to a shoemaker, and
afterwards a cabin boy.

Bishop Prideau, worked in the kitchen at
Exeter CoUe^. Oxford.

Cardinal Wolsey, son of a butcher.

Fergusson was a shepherd.

Dean Tucker was the son of a small fanner
in Cardiganshire, and performed his journeys
to Oxford on foot.

Edmund Halley, was the son of a soap
boiler at Shorcditch.

Joseph Hall, Bishop of Norwich, was the
son of a farmer at Ashby de la Zouch.

Lncian was the son of a maker of statuary.

Virgil, son of a porter.

Horace, son of a shopkeeper.

Shakespeare, of a wool-stapler.

Milton, of a money-scrivener.

Pope, the son of a merchant.

Robert Bums was a plowman in Ayrshire.

UNC1.K TOM AOAIN.*

At last we have an answer to Uncle Tom's
Cabin. After the thousand-and-one attempts,
not more than one or two of which were an-
swers at all, and those incomplete and unsat-
isfying, it may have been thought by some
that the book was unanswerable: if so we
commend them to the work before us, assur-
ing them that they will find it an answer that
15 an answer. In the preface, the author
says, " Throughout the preparation of these
Notes, I have kept the promise of my title
page constantly in view, and have endeavor-
ed to fulfil it ; how successfully, must be left
to others to determine." As one of those

* Notes on Uncle Tom's Cabin : being a logical ans-
wer to lt« allegadoni and inferences against slarery as an
institatSon. With a supplementary note on the key, and
an appendix of authodtks. Bv tbe ReT. B. J. Steams, A.
M. late Profearar In St John's CSolIege^ Annapdls, Md.
Phlla. Llppioo(«tt Grambo k Go

'* others," we give it as our opinion, that the
success is complete. A^glance at the title
page might lead to the impression that noth-
mg was to be looked for out dry argument,
but such an impression would be a very mis-
taken one. The back-bone of the w(»k is
lorio, but the joints are so plentifully inter-
lubricated with oil of ginger that whoever be-
gins it, wiU, we are very sore, make no bones
of going through with it. We say, oil of gin-
ger : we do not mean by this that the auuior
walks gingerly into the cabin ; on the con-
trary, his tread is anything but a gingerly
one : but we mean that the work is so decid-
edly racy that it ought to have a good run,
and that it won't be its own fault if it fails of
it.

The first three Notes are devoted to the
preface. In the fourth the author discusses
the question, ** What slavery is," and shows,
conclusively, that so far as Mrs. Stowe al-
leges, a system of robbery, that the slave ac-
tually receives more in return for his labor
than the fVee laboring man at the North. Note
fifth is devoted to the slave code, and answers,
in detail, each of Mrs. Stowe's nineteen objec-
tions to that code. Note sixth treats of the
Scripture Doctrine of slavery. Note seventh,
the ^ect of Slavery on the Negro. Note
Eighth, the laboring classes, especially in
Ei^and, — and this Note deserves to be stud-
ied. Note ninth, what would be the result of
emancipation. Note deventh. The Fugitive
Law and the Higher Law : this note takes up
and answers in detail all the objections
brought against the Fugitive Law in the
speeches of Mr. Senator Sumner and Horace
Mann. Note Seventeenth treats of the in-
consistencies and Improbabilites of the story
and completdy demolishes it. Note nineteen,
and last, is devoted to the '* Ke^,'' and in the
space of fifty-four pages gives it such a bat-
tering as to spoil it utterly for the purpose for
which it was intended.

Following the notes is an appendix of more
than 100 pages, made up of authentic papers
and documents, and which is of itself worth
double the price of the book. The whole work
contains 314 pages, and is sold at the very low
price of fifty cents. We subjoin two or three
extracts.

Here is a taste of the ginger :

'* The life of the work, tnen, is not in its
organism: we must seek it elsewhere.
Luckily, we have not far to seek. Like an old
cheese, its life is in its dramatis personm.
Such characters as Topsy, Miss Ophelia, and
Black Sam, might carry on their backs all the
lead of all the novels of the present genera-
tion, with a fair prospect, still, of floating
down to posteritj-. Of all the characters in
the book, there is but one that is a failure ;
and the reason is, that in that one, the au-
thor had no original to draw from : Legree is

300

BIZABBE.

neither man nor de?il, but a tertium quid^ and
such as none bat Kjmdnimc could swallow*

In one respect, Uncle Tom's Cabin is like
General Harrison's : its |>ropnef or has left the
** latch-string out," in sign of invitation ; or
rather, she Iws left the Cabin itself open^ and
she must not, therefore, take it ill, if, in Wes-
tern parlance, I * walk into it.' " p. 9.

'' The fifth chapter treats of quadroon girls
and Ohio justices. The following is charac-
teristic : —

' Last spring, while the author was in New
York, apresbyterian clergyman, of Ohio, came
to her and said, ' I understand they dispute
that fact about the woman's crossing the river.
Now, I know all about that, for I got the story
from the very man that helpe|| her up the
bank. I know it is true, for sue is now living
in Canada. '

Last spring, Mrs Stowe swam across the At-
lantic. I know it is true, for she is now tra-
velling in England ! I got the story from the
man that didn^t see her swim." P. 164.

** As to the ** Cachexia Africana," it is not
a yery fatal disease, judging from the increase
of the negro population, and, though not by
any means desirable, it is not so loathesome.
by half, as a certain other disease, for some
time past, epidemic at the North, in certain
"localities,'' — Worchester, for instance, and
Syracuse, — I mean, the Cacoethes Africana,
mgUce, Afrioan Itoh ; a disease, of which,
in my opinion, the Old Scratch is at the bottom.
P. 183.''

And here is a specimen of the logic :

"BLEEDING AFRICA.

But I have/iot yet done with the pre&ce.
Here is another rhetorical specimen : "In this
general movement, unhappy Africa at last b^
remembered ; Africa, who began the race of
civilization and human progress in the dim,
gray dawn of early time, but who for centu-
ries, has lain bound and bleeding at the foot
of civilized and Christianized humanity, im-
ploring compassion in vain." (p. 6.)

Now if this means anything to the purpose,
it means that that Africa, which "b^n the
race of civilization and human prepress in the
dim, grtkj dawn of early time,'' "has for cen-
turies lam bound and bleeding at the foot of
civilized and Christianized humanity." Bui
history tells us that that Africa is Northern
and Eastern Africa; and the same history
tdls us that that Africa has "for centuries
lain" (whether * bound and bleeding' or other-
wise,) at the foot, not of "civilized and Christ-
ianized humaniy," but of fanatical, Mussul-
man barbarism. And the same history tells
us further, that the only Africa that has any-
thing to do with Uncle Tom's Cabin is that
Africa which for the last thi^ee or four centu-
ries has furnished America with slaves, and
that that Africa, so far from having been re-
duced to its present degraded condition by

European and American Christendom, (whidi
is what the author means, if she means any-
thing to the purpose,) is, to say the least, no
lower in the sode of degradation now, than
when discov^ed by the Portuguese four cen-
turies ago.

But perhaps the Africa of our author is, not
the Africa beyond the ocean, but the African
race here ; for she tells us (vol. 2, p. 302,)
that they "have more (the italics are her
own) than the rights of common men" here ;
that they " have the claim of an injured race
for reparation." And again (p. 318,) she

guts the question, " Does not every AmericiA
'hristian owe to the African race some dKnt
at reparation for the wrongs that the Ameri-
can nation has brought upon them?" And
again, she says, (p. 321.) "If this persecuted
race," &c.

Well, let it be so. But observe it is Afritm,
not here and there an African, — ^it is "this
persecuted race,^^ not here and there a perse-
cuted individual; for one hundred, or one
thousand, or even ten thousand, bleeding
negroes, do not make " bleeding Africa," any
more than one swallow makes a summer.

According to our author, then, the African
has been deteriorated by his bondage here.
She means this, or her language is mere de-
clamation.

But is this so 1 Let us look into it a little.
Are there any Uncle Tom's in Africa, or even

any Black »un's? Are there any B 'a

(see vol. 2, p. 320,) or C 's, or K %

or Q 's, or W 's, or G. D-^^ — 's, there ?

Nay, rather, are not ninety-nine in every one
hundred of the negroes here, ages in advance
of ninety-nine in eveir one hundred there, in
the onward march of humanity. (See Ap-
pendix, B.)

And to what is all this owing? To what
but to American slavery, and to the human-
izing influence with which, as a race, they
have been brought into contact under it?
But for American slavery, they had been
now as d^aded as " the African in his na-
tive ranges," or had not been at all. Say I
this of myself? Nay, our author says the
very same. "When an enlightened and
Christianized community shall have, on the
shores of Africa, laws, language and lit^i^
ture, drawn from among us, may then the
scenes of the house of bondage be to them like
the remembrance of Egypt to the Israelites, —
a motive of thankfulness to Him who hath
deemed them !" (Preface, p. 8.)

This is genuine good sense, and it is re-
freshing to meet with it ; but then it puzzles
me about the other paragraph, for it fbUowa
from it that the Africa ^ tne preface is not
the African race here. What, then, in the
name of wonder, is it ? I cannot tell. Read-
er, can you ? Nay, can the author hersdf ? —
And this, too, is in the sober pre&ce !"

CLOISTER LIFE OF CHARLES V.

301

OLOISTEB LIFE OF OHAKLES
THE FIFTH.*

This admiraUe work from ui English edi-
tion of wMch we gave extended extracts last
winter, has just b^ republiriied at Boston,
in very execllent style. The writer is Wm.
Stilling, author of *' Annals of the Artists of
Spain. The book has passed through two
two editions in England^ and really is one of
the most striking of its kind, which we have
ever read. The edition which elicits this no-
tice, is accompanied by a portrait of Charles,
taken from the celebrated print of Eneas Vi-
00. Charles, according to Lodovico Dolce,
approved of it highly, and rewarded Yico,
with two hundred crowns in testimony of the
skill with which he had accomplished the
work. It was taken when the Emperor was
quite young, for he considered himself accord-
ing to the painter Holanda, too old for limning
purposes at thirty five.

Our extracts, given at the the time stated
above, embraced the account which the author
dves of the self-performed obsequies of the
&nperor, and they will be remembered as
portraying a most unprecedented funeral
pageant. The account of Siguen9a, is adopt-
ed by Mr. Sterling, in preference to that of
Robertson's who used the unscrupulous Leti
as his authority. Robertson's account is as
follows : —

'* The emperor was bent on performing some
act of piety that would display his ze^, and
merit the &vor of Heaven. The act on which
he fixed was as wild and uncommon as any
tiiat superstition ever suggested to a weak
and disorded fancy. He resolved to celebrate
his own obsequies beforehis death. He order-
ed his tomb to be erected in the chapel of the
monastery. His domestics marched thither
in funeral procession, with black tapers in
their hands. He himself followed in his
shroud. He was laid in his coffin, with much
solemnity. The service for the dead was
chanted, and Charles joined in prayers which
were offered up for the rest of his soul, ming-
ling his tears with those which his attendants
shed, as if they had been clebrating a real
funeral. The ceremony closed with sprink-
ling holy water on the coffin in the usual form,
and, idl the assistants retiring, the doors of
the chapel were shut. Then Charles rose out
of the coffin, and withdrew to his apartment,
full of those awful sentiments which such a
solemnity was calculated to inspire. But
either tb^ fatiguing length of the ceremony,
or the impressions which the image of death
left on his mind, affected him so much, that
next day he was seized with a fever. His
feeble frame could not long resist its violence.

• Tb* CMsm lift cf CbfttlM y .-<3R»b7, N ioh<^ ft Go.,

and he expired on the 21st of September,
after a life of fifty-eight years, six months,
and 25 days."

Siguenoa's story of the affair is according
to Mr. Stirling, that, " Charles, conceiving
it to be for the Benefit of his soul, and bavins
obtained the consent of his confessor, caused
a funeral service to be performed for himself,
such as he had lately been performing ibr his
father and mother, at this service he assisted,
not as a corpse, but as one of the spectators ;
holding in his hand, like others, a waxen tap-
er, which, at a certain point of the ceremonial,
he gave into the hands of the officiating
priest, in token of his desire io commit his
sold to the keeping of his Maker. There is not
a word to justify the tale that he followed his

S recession in his shroud, or that he simulated
eath in his coffin, or that he was left behind,
shut up alone in the church, when the service
was over."

We recommend this book heartily to the
reader. The author is master of his subject.
He is possesed of many facts connected with it,
which are entirely new. Hisstyleis eimest,
clear and elegant, while there is a fine* poet-
ical fervor difidised through his book, admir-
ably in keeping^with the remarkable record
it imbraces. We close with the fbllowing
very fine summing up of Charles' character
and career: —

"So ended the career of Charles V., the
greatest monaach of the memorable sixteenth
century. The vast extent of his dominions
in Elurope, the wealth of his Transatlantic
empire, the sagacity of his mind, and the en-
ergy of his character, combined to render him
the most famous of the successors of Charle-
magne. Pre-eminently the man of his time,
his name is seldom wanting in any monument
of the age. He stood between the dajrs of
chivalry, which were going out, and the days
of printing which were coming in ; respect-
ing the traditions of the one, and fulfilling
many of the requirments of the other. Men
of the sword found him a bold cavalier; and
those whose weapons were their tongues or
their pens, soon learned to respect him as an
astute and consummate politician. Like his
ancestors, Don Ja3rme, or Doa Sancho, with
lance in rest and shouting Santiago for Spain !
he led his knights against the Moorish host,
among the cliyes of Ctoleta : and even in hir
last campaign in Saxony, the cream-colored
eenet of the emperor was ever in the van of
battle, hkB the famous piebald charger of
Turenne in the fidds of the Palatinate. Some
historians have contrasted Charles with his
more showy and perhaps more amiable rival,
Francis the First, making the two monarchs
the impersonations of opposite qualities and
ideas ; the emperor of state craft and cunning,
the king of soldiership and gallantry. Francis
was. no doubt, oftener to be seen glittering in

SQ2

BIZARRE.

amior, and adorning the pageants of royalty
and war: but Charles was oftener in the
trench and the field, scenes alone for which he
cared to don his battered mail and shabby
accountrements. His journey across France,
in order to repress the revolt of Ghent, was a
liner example of daring, of a great danger de-
liberately braved for a great purpose, than is
to be found in the story of the gay champion
of the field of gold, ni the council-chamber
he Avas ready to measure minds with all
comers; with the Northern envoy claimed
liberty of conscience for the Protestant
princes : with the magnifico who excused
the perfidies of Venice: or the still subtler
priest, who stood fourth in red stocking to
gloze in defence of the still greater iniquities
of the holy see. In the prosecution of his
plans, and the maintenance of his influence,
Charles shrank from no labor of mind, or fa-
tigue of body. When other sovereigns would
have sent an ambassador, and opened a
negotiation, he paid a visit, and concluded a
treaty. From Groningea to Otranto, from
Vienna to Cadiz, no unjust steward of the
house*of Austria could be sure that his mis-
deeds would escape detection on the spot from
the keen, cold eye of the indefatigable emper-
or. The name of Charles is connected, not
only with the wars and politics, but with the
peaceful arts, of his time ; it is linked with
the graver of the Vico, the chisel of Leoni,
the pencil of Titian, and the lyre of Ariosto ;
and as a lover and patron of art, his fame
stood high at Venice and Nuremberg as at
Antwerp and Toledo."

PAY OF AUTHORS.

It is stated that Dryden received £1,300
for his ** Virgil," and Pope £6,000 for his !
" Homer." Gay netted £1.600 by his " Beg- !
gar's Opera," and the subscription edition of '
his poems brought him £1,000. He lived ex- '
travagantly, yet left £3,000 at his death. The
poet Mallet received £1,000 from the Duchess
of Marlborough, to write a life of the illus-
trious general, her husband : and the second
Duke mrther gave him a pension, to stimulate
him in the task; yet, when Mallet died, sev-
eral years afterward, it was found that the un-
grateful fellow had not written a lino of the
promised work ! Sir John Hill, a cotempor-
aneous satirist used to net £1,500 a year by
his pen. Churchill, the poet, also realized so
much by his satires, that, notwithstanding his
notorious profligacy, he bequeathed by his
will two annuities, amounting together to
S130. Fielding received £700 in all for " Tom
Jones." and £1,000 for "Amelia." Smollet's
*• History of England" produced him upward
of £2,000. Gibbon got, for the second part
of his "History of Rome," £6,000. Dr.

Hawkesworth realized £6,000 for his •* Col-
lection of Voyages." Dr. Robertson received
£600 for his " History of Scotland," and
£4,600 for his history of Charles I. of
"Spain." Dr. Henry's "History of Great
Britain" produced £3,300 (and the Kmg
gave him £10(f a year, to testify his admira-
tion of the work). Hume received immense
sums for his historical writings also. Mac-
pherson cleared £1,200 by his "Ossian,"
and by his " Great Britain" no less than
£3,000. Dr. Clark received for his various
" Travis" the sum of £7,000. Dr. Johnson
had £1,575 for his * Dictionary," (certafnly
a stupendous labor,) and Bos well had jC 1,000
for his life of the great "leviathan of litera-
ture," Hannah ^£)o^e received for her writ-
ings, from first to last, the enormous sum of
£30,000, and at her death she bequeathed £10,
000 in charities. Goldsmith is said to have
obtained £1,800 in a single year by his come-
dies, although his immoKal " Vicar" only
produced £60. It is true he died £2,000 in
debt, but, in the words of Dr. Johnson, "was
poet ever so trusted before ?" Godwin's " Po-
litical Justice" produced £700. Mrs. Rad-
clifle sold her " Mvsteries of Udolpho" for
£500, and her " Italian" for £800. Allan
Ramsey cleared £500 by his first poems and
much more by his " Gentle Shepherd." Bums
received above £500 clear for the first large
edition of his poems, and Currie's " Life" of
the glorious bard produced £1,000 for the
benefit of his family. Dr. John Wolcot,
(" Peter Pindar,") after receiving very large
sums for his humorous, satirical poems, finally
sold the copyrights for an annuity of £250,
which he enjoyed for twenty years, Thom-
son obtained for his " Seasons," firom first to
last, about 600 guineas. Crabbe received
£3,000 for his " Tales of the Hall." Sir John
Carr (fSw^etiously nicknamed •* The Jaunt-
ing Car," in allusion to his numerous tours,)
received for four separate books of travel the
sum of £1,900. Thomas Moore was paid
£1,000 for his " Loves of the Angels," and
not less than 3,000 guineas for his " Lallah
Rookh." For many years he netted £500 a
year by the sale of his •' Irish Melodies," and
it is understood that Longman & Co., paid
him an annuity of £300 for his entire copy-
rights.

Thomas Campbell received in all, for hii
" Pleasures of Hope," £900, (the entire poem
contains only 1,100 lines :) for the short poem
of the "Pilgrim of Glencoe" he had 300
guineas, and for the editorship of " The New
Sfonthly Magazine" he was paid £600 ner
annum. His income from the profits of his
works (and the bulk of the whole is very
small) was for many years at least £700, and
yet he used to morbidly express his fears <rf
coming to the workhouse at last. ScHitbef,
too, though continually maundering aboat toe

EDITORS' SANS-SOUCI.

303

scanty remuneration of authorship and its
drugeiy, and so forth, received £100 for each
review article he wrote for the " Quarterly,'*
(according to his own account he has written
one in a few days,) and after living in good
style all the latter half of his life, and (pro-
perly) declining a haronetc^, he Idt £12.000
to hjs children, hesides a hhrary, character-
ized as ** one of the most valuable private
libraries in the kingdom." Theodore Hook
had £2,000 for the first series of his ** Say-
ings and Doings," and for years his income
from his pen was never less than £3,000 a
year. The truly enormous sums earned by
Scott and by Byron are well known. Byron
received in all some £25,000, and for one of
his smaller poems, written in three nights,
(on his own authority,) Murray paid him 500
guineas.

Besides the large sums above mentioned,
many of the authors referred to. enjoyed pen-
sions of £200 to £300 or upward per annum
for many years.

Jittrarg anir ot^er §m^,

— •* Calmstobm thb Reformer," is the title
a rather clever ** dramatic comment," which
has lately been published by William F.
TiNSON of New York.

— J. S. Redpibld, of New York, has issued
the Sixth and Seventh Parts, of his admirable
republication of Collier's new edition of
Shakspcare's Works. It has, as it deserves, an
immease run. Redfield is getting up some
fine books for the autumn. His announce-
ments will always be found in our advertising
pages.

— Wb ask. the attention of the Trade, to Mr.
Charles Stribner's announcments for August
and September which will be found in our ad-
vertising pages.

— Andrew Jackson Davis, in his last ex-
travaganza, called '* Inner Life" copies lareely
from the ** Demon-Haunted" sketches, which
were published in Tub Bizarre, last year.
He attributes them to Spiritual influences ; or
nther he pronounces them the records of visi-
tations from Pandemoniun ! They were cer-
tainly very startling developments ; whether
(ft* not, Mr. Davis has hit upon the real spirits
which excited them however is matter at
least for doubt.

— A book has just been published in London
with the following title : —

*• The Works of William Shakespeare : the
Text formed from a New Collation of the Ear-
ly Editions : to which are added, all the Orig-
inal Novels and Tales on which the Plays are
founded, copious Archaeological Annotations
on each Play ; an Essay on the Formation of

the Text, and a Life of the Poet. By James
Orchard Halliwell, Esq. " Only nine hundred
and fifty copies were printed.

— In a late number of Bizarre we (juoted
with comments from a Parisian letter m the
N. Y. Herald some absurd abuse of Georee
Sand. Another letter in Monday's HerMy
signed B. H. R. (supposed to be Mr. Revoil,)
says : ** Mrs. George Sands called on me, on
Monday momine last, to complain of the Pa-
risian letter published in the Herald, in which
she is somewhat ridiculed by a correspondent.
She did suppose it was written by me, but I
declined the authorship of this silly and un-
true letter, and the renowned writer retired,
expressing her "best feelings for the Herald, *
the most liberal newspaper of the New World. "
Who the ( ) wrote the letter?"

VKl.l.O>A^ aPRINOS.

— This delightful summer resort is now over-
flowing wi& visitors. Mrs. Neef has her
hands full ; so has Mr. Goodenow, her excel-
lent assistant ; so has Mr. Brousch the precise
and courteous book-keeper, so has good Ger-
man John of the glorious baths.

A bachelor friend of ours says he never
saw such a exciting amount of feminine beauty
all in one lump, as he encountered the other
day at the Springs. Not even frequent dips
in the ice-cold pool, could check the furious
pit-a-pat of his too susceptable heart : it was
m constant commotion : beating a regular ta-
too upon his waistcoat lining.

— Robert Heller treated a select company the
other day in Harwood's drawing-room at
Cape May, to some very fine piano-forte
playing. He has a superior taste and a capi-
tal taste : indeed, he is altogether, surpassed
by few if any of the professional pianists of
the day. We confess to very high delight on
hearing him ; and it was shared as we know
by all who composed the coterie. Heller has
exhibited his diablerie at the Capes with good
success. Dr. Cunnington was with him, as
manager we think.

BANFOROa -rROUP»«.

— Notwithstanding the very hot weather we
have had for a week or two past, Sanford*s
Opera House has been nightly crowded. It is
a charming little place, and its performences
are better, than any of the kind ever before
given in our city. They embrace instrumen-
tal as well as vocal efforts, and both of a high
artistic stamp. There are for instrumental
solo performers Signer Foghel, Nelson Kneas,
and a very clever Tad named Schmidt ; while
as vocal solos there are Rainer, Lynch, Kava-
naugh, and Sanford himself. Mr. Rainer, as

304

BEZARRK

we stated in Thb Bieareb at the time, ai^)ear-
ed last winter at one of Perelli's soir^ and
received the warmest applause. We hear it
said, that his voice is pronounced by con-
nosieurs, as of transcendant quality, while it
is also prophesied of him, that he is destined
sooner or later to make a great noise in the
world.

OOl. Bt.lS«.

— The death of this distinguished officer has
everywhere cast a gloom. He was known the
country through ; and known only to be hon-
ered. His first Tories were won under the
command of his honored father-in-law Gen.
Taylor. He leaped into the hearts of the peo-
ple from the ensanguined fields of Palo Alto,
and Resaca de la Palma.

Colonel Bliss graduated at the Military
Academy at West Point, and waspromoted as
brevet second lieutenant of the Fourth Regi-
ment of Infantry upon the 1st of Jul^, 1833.
His commission as second lieutenant is dated
upon the 31st of March, 1834. In conse-
quence of his scientific attainments he was
appointed to the post of acting assistant pro-
fessor of mathematics in the West Point
Academy, upon the 2d of October, 1834
and continued creditably to discharge the im-
portant duties of his new position, until the
Ist of June, 1837, when he was made assis-
tant professor of the same branch, and contin-
ued as such till the 3d of January, 1840—
having received a commission as first lieuten-
ant upon the 21st of September, 1836, and
declined the offer of an appointment as first
lieutenant of Topographical Engineers upon
the 7th of July, 1838. Upon the 26th of Oc-
tober, 1839, he joined ^e army as brevet
captain and assistant adjutant general upon
the staff of his late father-in-law. Gen. Tay-
lor, and he served as chief of the general
staiOf in the Mexican campaign during the
years 1846 and 1847. Upon the 9th of May,
1846, he was appointed a brevet major, for —
in the language of the Secretary of War —
" gallant and meritorious conduct in the bat-
tles of Palo Alto and R^Aca de la Pabna,
Texas." He was created brevet m^or of the
staff, July 7, 1846, and upon the 12th of the
same month received his commission as €»ip-
tain of the Fourth Rc^ment of Infantry. His
commision as brevet heutenant colonel is dat-
ed upon the 23d of February, 1847, and was
^ven him for gallant and meritorious conduct
m Uie battle of Buena Vista. The decree of
Master of Arts was conferred upon him by
Dartmouth Ckdlege in they year lo48, in con-
sequence of his fiterary attainments and re-
fined taste. Throughout the Mexican war,
Col. Bliss followed the fortunes of Gen. Tay-
lor, and at the end married the General's se-
cond daughter, accompanying him to Wash-
ington and acting as his pnvate secretary.

Since the death of General Taylor, in 1850, he
has resided chiefly in Louisiana, on the es-
tate of his father-m-law. His age had scarce-
ly attained the meridian.

— Charles Oakford, whose superb hat store
in the new building on Chestnut street below
Seventh, attracts so much attention, has re-
cently imported from France a new and beau-
tiful conceit in the way of hat-tips, consistiiig
of remarkably well-executed pictures of yotmg
ladies. The pictures are done on silk, and
enclosed in very neat tiny frames. We sup-
pose these hncj tips will be placed in Oak-
ford's new Autumn hat, which he will issue
on the first of September, and which bids &tr
to surpass all its predecessors in grace and
beauty and durability. By the way. Oak-
ford's place is a feature in our city of marked
character: the most beautiful and tasteful
thing of the kind which we have ever seen.

— Col. William H. Maurice, the handsome
and popular stationer, at 123 Chestnut St
is now rusticating at Forrest's Castle on the
Hudson. Lucky, indeed, is the Colonel : to
be so full of profitable trade all the time when
at home, and to have so charming an ofttm
cum place as Forrest's Castle, to retire to, for
summer relaxation. He will soon return to
Philadelphia we learn : at any raie, it maybe
expected he will be at his post on the first
proximo, when business of all kinds brigh-
tens up.

• -riHK BIZARRB ANO OARt-YI-K ■

— Our neighbor of the Daily Register latdy
had the following : —

** The well written artide on Carijie, wbicb appMred la
Wednesday*!! Regitter^ htia had quite a ran In the Anw^ 1
^»n preaa. A greater one, perhaps beeanae credited to tte
London Bizarre. Now there is no paper of Umt naic* in >
the English capital; and the article shonld bare bin
credited to the Philadelphia Biiarre, Mr. Ghareh*! litt^
aiy weekly. Honor to whom honor."

London has not yet its Bizabrs, but it is
a pretty tolerable city nevertheless ; wetbijik
it may be said to be among the promsdres.
Apropos of articles copied irom The Bizabxi :
several are going the rounds of the press
without even a shred of credit attached. Gen-
erally speaking, however, our brother quiUs sre
quite punctilious, in giving us full beoefit cf
our property.

MOns OOMRKO-riON».

— In addition to the remarks lately made is
to the proper spelling of Stationery and id-
linery it may be observed that Confectkoen
sdl confectionery and not ccHifectionoiy as too
many of the sign-painters have it.

SKETCHES OF GEORGIA.

d05

*' BiSAJtax, BuAREX, WHAT 8.\T TOU, yLuMAfl^^Farquhar

iiuxxt.

rom THE WUK EVDRVO

SATURDAY, AUGUST S7, 1868.

SKETCHES OF GEORGIA.

SE^ETCH NINTH.

31oming Scene upon an Island near the Coast
of Southern Georgia — The hour of Noon —
Grateful effect of the Sea-breeze — I'he Thun-
der-storm — its Beauties — Concomitants and
Sublimities — Quiet Evening,

Tbe storm howI*d madly o'er the aea,
The clouds their tbundor anthems sang,
And bQlows rolling leiirfully,
In conoort icith tbe whirl-wind rang.

J. N. Mqffit,
How calm, how boautiftil eomes on,
The etlUj hour when storms are gone;
When warring winds have died away,
And donds beneath the glancing ray,
Melt oflC, and leave tbe land and sea,
SlMping In bright tranquility.

Moore** Lalla Rookh.

A Sammer morning upon a delightful is*
land lyii^g along the coast of Southern €^r-
gia. The sun lifting his radiant face above
the eastern waters, aispels with genial ray,
the doable-headed clouds, which, during ms
absence, have gathered above and around his
watery couch. Beaming forth upon the fair
&ce of nature, each leaflet and tender plant
secnas enameled with countless pearl drops.
Every flowret is dancing in the cool western
breeze ; while amid the topmost boughs, birds
are warbling their sweetest notes, welcoming
once more the king of day back to his bright
throne in mid-heaven. That shrub which
yesterday at noon drooped its head, folding
together its tender branches, in order to hide
them from his scorching ray, now expands in
beaaty ; from its dewy bosom reflecting hun-
dreds oir little suns. «The cotton-field appears
as one vast parterre of yellow flowers. All
nature rejoices, as waking from the calmness
of a night's repose, she once more unfolds
with freshness and vigor her countless attrac-
tive forms.

" with the white dews of slumber on her breast,
The Earth ! all fragrant, fresh in living green,
And beautiful, as if this moment sprang
From out her Maker's hand.'*

The hotir of noon approaches. All mois-
ture has disai^yesred finovn the green grass,

and the sensitive-plant bows its head. The
grape-vine is withdrawing its tendrils within
the shadow of its leaves — ^the soft shoots of
the orange tree are no longer looking upward
— the '* touch me not" has folded its delicate
leaves, in vain endeavor to avoid the direct
rays of an almost tropical sun. The cattle
have forsaken the pastures, and now lie pant-
ing beneath the shade trees. From the inner
boughs alone, is heard the low twitter of the
songster, as with open wing he seeks a shel-
ter from the oppressive heat. Silent now is
the scene, especially when contrasted with the
thousand notes of joy which in early morning
floated upon the air from every quarter.

'* The snn hath wax*d into his noontide wrath.
And Tore his countenance the Earth lies scoroh'd
In agonies of heat! The winds are dead I

• ♦ ♦ The trees stand stiU
Amid the air • * • *

• ♦ • The flowers are droop'd,

As if they languish'd fhr a brecxy draught.**

Will no kind power relieve the parched
earth, and dispute the supremacy of this
bumine orb ? Mark the appearance <^ the
sea. ^eral miles down the sound, do you
not observe that an unwonted shadow seems
resting upon the waters ? Watch it closely.
See, it is extending and nears the land. This
is no discoloration, but merely a gentle ripple
of the waves which, contrasting forcibly with
the calm unmoved surface of the ocean, as it
just now rested in perfect tranquility, causes
this change. Can you not catch the faint
distant murmur of the waves, as they gambol
with their dancing crests ? A moment later,
does not the cool breath of the sea-breeze fan
your cheek ? — ^at first with a spasmodic puff,
and then a steady wind ? Yes, the joyous,
life-giving guest, so welcome to these shores
is here. Just the friend whose presence all
nature at this moment desires, to cheer her
inhabitants and infuse new life into her veins.
The trees nod a glad salute, the tall grass
waves in delights— the vegetable and animal
world has received asain a pleasing vivacity.
The throat of the Utue bird once more swells
with a louder song and every object is gayer
than before.

A few hours more, and the scene changes.
Far in the west, just on the verge of the
horizon, a small doud may be discerned. With
astonishing rapidity it increases in ^ze. It
advances, at every step receiving new accre-
tions fh)m others, which appear to hover
around its pathway in the skies, courting its
alliance, and centering around it as about one
conmion nucleus. Did you not hear a low
rumbling sound, like the booming of distant
heavy artillery ? Can you not perceive every
moment, faint flashes of broad lightning,
illuminating the sky and playing around the
brow of the dood ? How suddenly and darkly

806

BIZARRE.

are the heavens beooming oreroaat. Remoye
your eye for a few moments and mark the ap-
pearance of nature. The mild and refresh-
ing sea-breeze is fast dying away. The song
of the bird is boshed and subdued among the
foliage — and creation is motiimless, as if con-
scious of some approaching event, which will
mar its peace and repose. The leaf which
lately danced so joyously, hangs motionless.
Silence has usurped the place of merriment,
and the atmosphere, dull i^ oppressive, hangs
as a leaden pall over the land. But see, the
wind has changed, and in fitful murmurs
comes ominously from the west. Turn now,
and again regard the cloud which just now
we were viewing with such interest. No lon-
ger as large as a man's hand, it has covered
at least one half of the horizon, and now
with clearly defined brow comes sweeping
towards us. Its deep blue bosom— blue as
indigo — seems pregnant with dark and dire
destruqiion. From its depths flashes forth
the vivid lightning, now quivering around its
fipowning front, now leaping from one peak to
another of that mountain pile — again glanc-
ing in uncertain course through the air, and
holding fearful electric communication with
the ground. Harsh reverberations of inces-
sant thunder shake the very foundations cf
the earth, causing animate creation to tremble
and be silent, while tnan is wrapt in astonish-
ment, fear, and amazement at the majestic
grandeur and awful sublimity of this mighty
war of elements.

* The sky grew darker. Soon c«ne booming on
The deep-Toic'd thunder, whilst at distance roU'd
The wild wind's dlrge-llke and yet tenpest tone;
And lightning's evanescent sheets of gold
Barst, in their anger, from the cloud's huge fold.**

The sea birds have forsaken the marshes,
and now on raiMd wing are seekine some se-
cure retreat amid the depths of the woods,
from the tempest which promises soon to
break upon us in fearftil fury. How striking-
ly does their white plumage contrast with the
darkness of the scene, and the deep blue brow
of the approaching cloud. The winds seem
invested with all the fury with which they
were armed, when, rushing from the caves of
.^lus, they hastened to submerge the Tro-
jan fleet. How beautifully does the Poet de-
scribe the ofiice of this god of the winds, and
how powerfully does he represent the rock-
bouna apartments, and the terrible force ne-
cessary in order to subdue and overcome
their struggles after freedom I

** Nimbomm in patrlam, loca feta ftirentibas Aastrls,
.Sollan Tenit' Ilic Ta5to rex .Solus antro
Lnctantes Tento^ tcmpostatesquc sonoraa
Imperio premit, ac rlnclls et careen fhmat,
lUi Indlgnantes magno cum murmure montis
Oinmm danstra fremunt Celsa sedet XxAw am,
Soeptrm tentns: molUtqiM animoa, •t teoparat iraa.

Ki ikciat, maria ao terns, etdninque proAiiMlwa
Qoippe fsrant rapkU aeoiun, Teorrantque per anna.
Sed pater omnipotens spelunds abdidit atria,
noc metuens; molemque, et Dumtes insuper altoa
Impoenit! regemqne dedit, qui foedere oerto,
Et premere, et laxas sdret dare josaua babemaa."

Imagine now, if ^ou can, the appearance
presented as those giant winds, bursting from
their confinement, rush forth in all their
wrath and *' revel on the deep " But mark:

** With what a gloom the asfa*rfa>g soena sppean f
The leaTaa all flatf ring with instinettre fcan.
The waters curling with a fellow dread,
A breesleas ftrror round creation sprrad.
While wisard shapea the bowing sky ddbrm.
All mark the coming of the thnndez^stonn.*^

The noblest trees of the forest bend their
lofty heads. Here and there, that stubborn
one that will not bow. is uprooted. Branches
every now and then with a crash are twisted
from the trunks, while decayed and lifeless
limbs are scattered far and near with heavy
sound. Leaves and small twigs from tlie
** Pride of India," and oak trees, are sporting
high in mid air. How wildly flies the moss !
Now a few large drops patter upon the piazza.
A few moments later, and the earth is dLrench-
ed in torrents. The entire view is bounded
by a narrow circumference, for the eye can-
not penetrate easily this flood of descending
waters. Amid the roarings of these mighty
winds, that rising from thoir gloomy slum-
bers are now reveUing over the land and sea,
above the noise of countless water- spouts, are
heard tremendous peals of thunder, as if the
eloquence of Heaven was engaged in terriffiqg
creation, and in proclaiming the soverdgB
majesty of Jehovah. Through the darkness
of the storm, incessant flashes of lightning
illuminate the scene, revealing the swollen
clouds as their bosoms clash, disclosing the
caverns of the sky, and the

"Furnace flamea that in their womba refpoae.**

And now one flash more brilliant than them
all, one fiery arrow has faUen, whose barbed
point seems to have pierced our very abode ;
while accompanying it instantaneously is
heard the deafening roar of the thunder, as in
dizzy chase it rolls dong the rattling skies,
and then descends, shaking the earth a^par^
ently to its very centre. The massive, iron*
hearted live oak, or the towering pine is struck.
Its trunk blasted by the fluid is in an instant
rendered a mere wreck of former symniatij
and beauty — its huge boughs scattered w
and wide, are driven deep in the ground,
breaking and destroying whatever chanced to
impede their descent, while the pendant moss
ana leaves are wrapt in one entire sheet of
flame. Perhaps at the foot of the shattered
tree are the bruised remains of some aumal.
which bad here sought refuge. Paose and

TO ELLBN.— CaLLDCR'S SHAKSPEARE.

SOT

connder calmly it,jfm oan. the owfal sabltm*
ity of the scene. No pen can describe, no
language express the emotions which now
crowd npon the soul.

* A thtmder ftorm! the eloquence of Heayen,
Wben ererj doud )» team its dumber rlreu.
Who hath not panved beneath its hollow gtoaii|
And idc Omnipotenoe around him throvn ?"

Where the man with gifted intellect suffi-
cient to enable him to impart to his friend a
definite conception of those orerpowering sen-
sations, which are now experienced of one's
perfect insignificance, and tne awful suprem-
acy of Him, who thus in «' thunder rocks
from pole to pole." with silent command
directing the subtle fluid — with one breath
causing the whole earth, quivering at his ap-
proach, to shrink back from his pcsence ?

Bat now these peals are growing less fre-
quent, and are dying away in the east, in
faint rumblings over the deep. The vivid
lightning is losing its pointed brilliancy. The
cloud hi^ almost emptied its surcharged bos-
om, and is disi^jpearing in heavy mists away
apoQ the sea. The rain drops have ceased to
fall, and now rest like so many pendant pearis
upon leaf and flower. The songster timidly
quitting his retreat, flits among the boughs,
now twittering, and singing hid little lays —
ppw circling around the shrubs, anon alight-
ing upon them, and shaking the water from
their tiny branches in crystal showers. The
entire vegetable creation lifts its joyous head,
— the evening air is balmy with the aroma of
fredi blossoms as they expand into new beau-
tv — the atmosphere has acquired a cod, de-
lightful temperature— ihe parched earth has
received a refteshing draught — the grass is
oQoe more green and tender — all Nature re-
joices in the vivifying efiect exerted by the
thunder storm. How beautifully does that
rain-bow *♦ robed in heavenly dyes" arch the
eastern sky!

The sun again appears in all his majesty,
as he sinks to rest behind those rosy tinted
curtains, which open to receive him. This
world which just now sought some refuge
from his burning rays^ in turn courts his last
lingering glance, wlule those clouds which re-
cently covered the heavens, and shut out the
g^ry of his face, now reflect in gorgeous
cdors his setting rays, and seek to pepetuate
th^m, even after disappearing beneath the
horizon, be seeks his couch in the west. Earth
is preparing to wrap the drapery of night
around her, and creation seeks repose.

<« Aaoth« day Is added to the mass
Of hailed ages. Lol the beauteous moon,
I4ka a lUr shepherdess, now comes abroad
With her fall flock of stars, that roam around
Tba ainra meads of Ilearen. And oh I how charmed
I her lovelinens croation looks!"

The summer day is ended—the aea breeae

in gentle murmurs breathes over the fields, —
the sky is cloudless, Nature and man rest
from their toils, and sweetly sleep under Um
happy influence imparted by the thunder-
storm.

TO ELLEN.

Would that I were abroad, to day, dear one.
With thee some dense Kod sombre forest roaming,

WhoM foliage green, shut out the torrid sun.
And hurrying by us, went a streamlet foamingi

Beneath us, Terdant moss a seat should spread.
Softer than carpet wrought in loom Asiatic;

While nobler the green roof abore our head.
Than costliest dome o^er palace aatooratic

Tbe Toioe of birds, hidden among the trees,
Should sweetlier sound than Jenny Llnd's sofnrano;

While more harmonious the stream and breese»
Than Meyer's most adroitly -touched piano.

Alone in such a scene, — fkr from the noise
And ftroriith fVet and care the big world harbors;

Might ae not know the pure and natural Joys
Of the first pair in Eden's blissful arbors?

How sad, then, we should be constrained to waste
Within hot, cramping walls, the moments golden.

While in free, shady woods we thus might taste
A bliss in crowded haunts nerer beholden I

Aj, 80 it Is with all things "neath Uie sun;

Blissfbl oocaskms come, alas, how rarely:
And even though they be laid hold upon.

From scourging cares and ibars they Uessfhll spardy.

Bnt " Sweet are waters stolen.** the Prorerb saith,
And ** darkest night is Just before the dawning;"

Then let us (if we can) make this our Ihlth,
And hope our night may also hare Its morning!

COLLIER'S SHAKESPEARE.

A careful perusal of Coljier's Notes and
Emendations to the text of Shakespeare enables
us to present a number of those corrections
which carry the clearest conviction that they
really are— what they purport to he-H:orrcC''
tions; and we are warranted to infer that the
thousand of other alterations in the same book,
and by the same person, were made justly and
under ^od authority. We first quote two mis-
prints m The Tempest,

Antonio mystified at the altered appear-
ance of Ink brother, and uncertain eyen <» his
identity, according to all editions exclaims : —

" Whe'r thon bee^ he, or no,
Or some enchanted trifle to abuse me,
As late I hare been, I not know.**

The word '* trifle" seems a most Strang
one to be employed in such a situation, and it
reads like a misprint: the manuscript-cor-
rector of the folio, 1632, informs us that it
undoubtedly is so, and that the line in ^^lich
it occurs ought to run.

808

BIZARRE.

*0r#

d Hnduuited devil to ahum i

Again— Prospero descrbing Sycorax, in the
presence of Caliban, tells AntoniOi —

** His mottm WM % witch ; and one » stroog»
That oould control th« moon, nwk« flows and abba,
And deal in her oommand, wittioat her power."

The words "without her power" have
naturally occasioned considerable discussion,
in which Malone hinted that Sycorax might
act by a sort of " power of attorney" from
the moon, while Steevens strangely supposed
that ** without her power" meant ** with less
general power. " All difBculty , however, is at
an end, when we find the manuscript-correc-
tor of the folio, 1632, marking "without"
as a misprint, and telling us that it ought to
have been with all ; —

** That oonld control the mo6n, makeflowi and ebba,
And deal in her oommand with aU her power;"

that is, Sycorax could " make flows and ebbs"
matters in the command of the moon, with all
the power exercised ov«r the tides by the
moon.

In Muck Ado about Nothing, where Bora-
chio says, " There shall appear such seeming
truths of Hero's disloyalty," the corrector of
the folio, 1632, has it, " There shall appear
such seeming proo/5 of Heroes disloyidty,"
which is unquestionably what is meant.

In the same play, Ursula asks Hero, when
she is to be married, and the unintdligible
answer is, " Why, evenr day :— to morrow ;"
the correction of the folio, 1632, has made it
quite clear by setting right a misprint ; there
Hero replies, "Why, in a day,-— to morrow."

In The Taming of the Shrew, Shakspeare
has mentioned his native county in a place
where hitherto it has not been at all suspected.
iSly, according to all editions, says, —

** Ask Marion Hacket, the Ikt alewifc of Wincot, if she
know me not; if she my I am not fbarteen pence on the
soore Ibr sheer ale, score me np for the lyingest knare in
Christendom."

Malone did not know what to make of " sheer
ale," but supposed thatjt meant shearir^ or
reaping ale, for so reai>ing is called in War-
wickshire. What does it mean ? It is spelt
sheere in the old copies, and that word begins
one line, Warwiek having undoubtedly drop-
ped out at the end of the preceding line. The
corrector of the folio, 1632, insert^ the miss-
ing word in manuscripjt, and made the last
pu^ of the aentence run, —

"If she say I am not foorteen pence on the score for
Warwif^hire ale, score me up for the lyingest knave in
Christendom.*

Winoott where Marian Hacket lived, is
some miles from Stratford-upon-Avon. ItWM
formeiiy not at all onuiual to fpell *'

shrere; and S^'s " theer ale" thus turns on^
to have been Irarwickskire ale. which Shake-
speare celebrated, and of whidi he had
doubtless often partaken at Mrs. Hacket's.

In King Richu^ m. one of the most strik-
ing and satisfactory emendations occurs ia
Queen Margaret's denunciation of Richard,
where she addresses him, in all editi<His, in
the following terms : —

«Thon elTish'marked^ aborttre, rooting bos,

Thoa that wast sealed in thy naUvity

The slave of natnre, and the son of heU," Ae.

Here " slave of nature," but especially " son
of hell," sound so flatly and tamely near the
conclusion of the curse, that an impression
rises at once in the mind, that Shakespeare
must have written something more fierce and
vigorous. How, then, does the old corrector
inform us that the last line ought to run 1 not
as above, but with two remarkable changes, —

''The stoifi of natoie, and the seomof hdl."

In Macbeth a very acceptable altramtioo is
made, in Lady Macbeth *s speech invoking
night, just bmre the entrance of her hus-
band : it is in a word ydaeh. has occasioned
much speculation : —

« Come, thick night.
And pall thee in the dannest smoke of hell.
That my keen kuife see not the wound it makes,
Kor heaven poep through tho blanket of the dark,
Tbcry, ' Hold, hold I' •*

Steevens, with reference to " Uanket," quotes
rti^ and rugs from Drayton ; and Malone seri-
ously supposes that the word was suggested
to Shakespeare by the " coarse woolen cor*
tain of the theatre," when, in fact, it is not
at all known whether the curtain, separating
the audience from the actors, was woolen or
linen. What solution of the difficulty does
the (Ad corrector offer ? As i t seems to us, tbo
substitution he recommends oannot be doubt-
ed:—

** Nor heaven peep thronglh the blankne$9 of Vb» dark.
Tbcry, < Hold, hold 1*»

In Hamlrt, Horatio, describing the efiect of
the appearance of the Ghost upon Bemvdo
and Marcellus, tells Hamlet, as the text of the
quartos has it, —

« Whilst they, distniM
Almost to JeUy with the act of Soar,
Stand dnmb, and speak not to him."

The folios, on the other hand, read, —

•Whilst they 6e»ri7M
Almost to jelly with the act of fbar,"* Ac

Neither word, " distill'd" or bestiWtU can
be ]^erfectly satisfactory ; bnt observe the fcl«
lowing improved version, —

IDA PFFEIFFER OUTDONE!

309

" WbUft tboy, btchiWd
Almost to Jelly with the act of fear,
Stand damb, and fpeak not to him.'*

In the same tragedj when the King, in his
soliloquy, says, —

"Offence's gflded band may shore by Jnstlo^
And on *tis seen, the wicked priae itself
Buys out the law "

we need no great persuasion to make us be-
lieve that we ought to read, as a manuscript
note teUs us, —

** And oft 'tis seen, the wiekod p«r«e itself
Buys out the law.**

In Othello a striking emendation occurs in
the passage of lago's speech : —

"Others there are,
WhOy trimm'd in forms and risages of duty,
Keep yet their hearts attending on thamselTes.**

For this the corrector of the folio, 1632,
substitutes, —

•• Who learn'd in forms and luagtt of duty,** Ac

In the same play the following passage, —

''But, alas I to make mo
A fixed figure fbr the time of scorn
To point his slow unmoring finger at.**

is corrected as follows with manifest improve-
ment : —

*' But, alas! to make mo
A fixed figure Ibr the hand of scorn
To point his 9lotp(y moving finger at.**

IDA PFFEIFFER OUTDONE!

A Mrs. Hervey has just published, in Lon-
don, an account of her adventures in Tartary,
Thibet, China, and Kashmir, as well as m

S>rtions of territory never before visited by
uropean. In the same book she also de-
scribes a journey from Punjab to Bombay,
by way of the celebrated caves of ^junta and
Ellora, as well as over the Mahableshuur and
Neilgherry mountains, the Sanataria of the
Bombay, and Madras Presidencies. It seems
she left home, as it were, in a fit of despera-
tion : a poor, unhappy, grief-ridden woman.
An English editor says — and we agree with
him — that it is a wonder how, after so many
fatigues, fractures, duckings and tumbles,
she survived to tell her tale. He adds, as she
did come out of her complication of mishaps
alive, ^le mnst be made of leak- wood or gutta
percka.

We pronounce Madam Hervey a most excel-
lent specimen of the species 'Bloomer. She
woald, withontaquestion,leadoff admirably at
a grand female's rights convention, going even
further than do some of our dames aux pania*
Urns ; fin* if the convention she harangued was

intV^ered with by outsiders, it appears to us>
she is just the ** female woman" to roll up her
sleeves, give her Turkish trowsers a hitch,
and cry out as she led on an attack upon the
refiractory spectators, " up girls and at them."
But we will present an extract from Mrs.
Hervey's book by way oi evidence, *• strong
as proof of holy writ," that the opinion we
have expressed regarding her is well founded.

Jeeoomdok, {Country of China.) Oojar,
Instance, ten miles.

'*27th August, 1851. Wednesday.— My
bafeage started yesterday from Lari, about
three o'clock, P. M., with strict orders to pro-
ceed to this halting-place. I arrived at a spot
by the river side, guiltless of grass or wood,
and found the camp coolly settled in this desert
place. I was veiy angry, but I only wasted
my wrath, for nothing would induce the S'piti
people to move; so my ponies starved all
night, and the only way I got tea, was by my
Khidmutgar burning his walking-stick this
morning, to light a fire. Two of the ponies
walked back to Lari in an independent manner,
not liking (I suppose) the starving system,
and the rest looked miserable this morning.
About a mile from the village as I went alone
yesterday evening. I suddenly spied my bed
lying by the road-side, two of my servants
sitting by it, and the man whose business it
was to carry 'Squire,' together with another
Coolie, looking on in despair. I could not
make out at first what had happened. The
servants, however, ex]dained that the Coolies
bdcmging to the bed had thrown down their
burthen and 'bhageea,' (run away) and that
it was too heavy for a single porter that re-
mained to lift it. I must say I felt sufSciently
annoyed at this contretemps; — this was the sole
'Charpoy,' remaining to me, all the spare ones *
I had brought in case of accidents, haying
gone to pieces, one after another, during my
travels. Night was stealing on apace, and I
could not go back to the village I had just
left, as the whole of my Camp, (with the ex-
ception of the fragmentary portion I have just
alluded to,) had gone on to the encamping
ground in advance. While we were waiting in
an apparently hopeless condition at this desert
spot, quite at a loss what to do next, and I ^
was on the point of abandoning the luckless
bed to its fate. Providence came to our aid in
an unexpected manner. All at once we ob-
served, jauntily trotting towards us on horse-
back, a Chinaman, whose red and yellow robes
betokened his sacerdotal character, while
other distinctive marks pointed him out as a
Llama of high degree, or chief among the
priests. The two Coolies suggested that we
might enlist him temporarily vi et ormts, as a
porter; but on my oraering them to seize him
for the purpose, they hastily declined, and
humbly supplicated not to involve them in a

310

BIZARRE.

deadly feud with the sacred Llamas. Being
thus forced to take the matter into my own
hands I at once resolved how to act. I wait-
ed until the man was within a hundred yards,
and then sauntered carelessly towards him ; —
the slow ambling pace of the Ghoont on which
he was mounted, allowing me a good yiew
of the horseman as he approached. His
worldly goods, clothes, and cooking utensils
were strapped behind his saddle^ the high
peaked holsters of which, in front, were
bristling with fire-arms. He was armed to
the teeth besides, and his jewelled sword
glittered even in the fading light. His steed
was richly caparisoned; the saddle doth
bright and gaudy. Quite coolly and undaunt-
edly I approached the au^st traveller, and
taking hold of his bridle, led him silently up
to where lay the prostrate bedstead. He made
no resistance, surprise appearing to overpower
his faculties ! Mustering the httle Thibetan
I knew, I then order him in a firm and reso-
lute, but calm tone, to deliver up tomeonthe
spot, his arms of every kind. Again he obey-
ed my cool command in speechless bewilder-
ment, and even dismounted at my request,
without attempting any remonstrance. I
then proceeded to possess myself of all his
weapons, intending to restore them in due
time. I slung his magnificent sword by the
strap attached to its gilded hilt across my own
shoulders, and grasped his fire-arms m my
hands, giving his Ghoont in charge to my
servants. I observed that his ponderous sad-
dle was all of wrought steeU a pad serving
to prevent its galling his steed. Preserving
the same unconcerned manner, I next com-
manded the terror-stricken priest to *take up
my bed and walk,' — or rather to assist the
Coolies in so doing. And then the tongue was
- loosened, and the dumb man spake ! He vo-
lubly asserted that he was a high-preist, one
of the holy among the tribes, — a visitor or
rather an ambasaikdor from China to S piti,
and that it was impossible he could demean
himself by doing my bidding. My only de-
mand to his rhetoric was an imperative reit-
eration of my hookm (order.) The strong
quailed before a womans voice ! I do believe
he was in doubt as to my identity, regarding
me, perchance, as a visitant from another
world ! At all events he refused no longer,
but tremblingly obeyed my directions, by
lifting up the bed, and proceeding straight
way witn it to my camp. But for this, I
should now be laying on the cold hard ground,
instead of reposing on this comfortable couch.
It is impossible to resist making use of the
prestige of one's appearance 'under such cir-
cumstances, — so novel and absolutely un-
earthly in the eyes of these ignorant dwellers
in the wilds, does a ' Fering^' (European)
face appear. Resolution and intrepidity go a
long way in terrifying them into abject obedi-

ence ; indeed, I always found them more
afraid of my simplest word, than all the
'striking^ proofs given them of my servants'
wrath. I may here just add, that on reaching
my camp, I found the bedstead faithfully de-
livered indeed, but that its unwilling bearer,
depositing it had vanished on an instant
Alarmed, doubtless, at the idea of his further
services being compulsorily required, the
bird had fiown ! He did not even wait my
arrival to redeem his weapons, &c., which of
course I purposed restoring to him ; so I did
the only thing which was lefl in my power,
by the way restitution. I took care of the
property thus strangdy acquired, until I had
an opportunity of delivering it safely into the
hands of the nearest public official, to be held
in charge for its owner, should he ever appear
to claim it. It is needless to say I never
heard of its subsequent fate. The Ghoont
was mysteriously spirited away during the
same night the priestly impressment occur-
red : — of course tne Llama was lurking in the
neighborhood, and when all was still in the
camp, mounted his nag and rode away !"

LINGARD S HISTORY
ENOLAND.

Phillips, Sampson & Co., of Boston, have
published the second volume of this work,
as the American editor says ** the latest his-
tory of England claiming original authority,
as far as it is a record of the events of t^
first seventeen centuries of the Christian
Era." The author is a Roman Catholic and
may be supposed to favor that sect in his no-
tions of events bearing upon their strug^es
with the Protestants. This he does, indeed,
without a question; yet his history is still
generally reliable. It certainly contains many
new fEu;ts, in obtaining which the author has
exerted most commendable industry ; and if
those who read his well written pages, keep
in mind his religious predilections, they will
be enabled to make a very tolerable avotkge
deduction of the true state of facts. The Am-
erican editor's account of the author is not
uninteresting. He says :

'* Dr. Lingard died soon after completing
this edition, on the 13th of July, 1851. He
was in his 82d year, having been bom on the
6th of February, 1771, in the city of Win-
chester. He prosecuted his early studies at
Douay, and experianced a narrow escane
from the destruction to which the fury of the
populace had designed all the clergy, on the
outbreak of the French Revolution. From
the year 1805, when he published, in Nott-
ingham, a series of letters in vindicatioe of
Roman Catholic loyalty, till his death, be
was known as one of the most disUngniahed
authors of the Roman church in England.

CiERSTAECKER'S JOURNEY.

311

Pope Leo Xn. offered him a cardinars hat.
wishing him to become Cardinal Protector of
the English ^Kssions. Dr. Lingard had, how-
ever, already engaged in history, and declin-
ed the offer: saying to his holiness that the
office would put a stop to the progress of this
work, and that he had not tho qualifications
demanded for the duty proposed. His holi-
ness pressed the offer, but Dr. Lingard remain-
ed firm. Several editions have been publish-
ed of his ** Catechetical Instructions on the
Doctrines and Worship of the Catholic-
Church,'' an anonymous English version of
the New Testament,published by Dolman, in
London, in 1836, was his work."

GKRSTAECKER'S JOURNEY.*

This is an honest record of real travel : not,
as have been many books of the kind lately
published, mere fancy sketches : or rather fa-
brications, having a frame- work abtainedfrom
ordinary sources open to all, but clap-boarded,
shingled, and furnished within and without,
with fancy stuff. Gerstaecker really did
start from Bremen in the good bark ** Talis-
man,*' with a crowd of men, women, and
children, bound for California : he really did
arrive at Rio Janeiro: he really did there
leave his ship and proceed to Buenos Ayres ;
he really did subsequently cross the Cordille-
ras; he really did thence proceed to Chili,
California, Australia, the South-Sea Islands,
Java, &c. *

We could fill the pages of The Bizabrb
with most delightful extracts from this book ;
we deeply regret to say, however, that our
gleanings must necessarily be brief, the space
allowed to us for review of new works and
extracts being at present verv limited.

To begin then, our honest Uerman traveller
had reacned the last frontier of the Argentine
republic, bought a couple horns of wine to
take with him on his journey, and the next
momine made an early start up the Cordille-
ras. He says ;

••At first tho path — for it was but a narrow
mule tract — led up as slowly and on as broad
and comfortable a slope as we could wish for ;
but as the si 'es of the mountain drew closer
and closer together, the path began to run by
deep and crumbling banks, and the mules
witn great difBculty picked their steps. We
passed now places where to our left the abyss
lay many hundred feet deep, while on the
right, impending rocks hung high above us.
But so gradually did the path alter, so little
by little did the ridge narrow, and the steep
edge of the precipice draw nearer that I did
not notice it at first ; all my attention being
taken up by the scenery. Here I saw the first

* NamtlTe of a Jonraey Boand the World, by F. Qer>
«taek«r. Mew York, Hftrper and BrotlwrB.

condor, the giant vulture of the Cordilleras,
hovering just above our heads. It altered its
course in descending, and flew over towards
the other side of the hollow, which seemed to
me hardly half a mile distant, but the bird be-
came smaller and smaller, appearing at last
not much larger than a crow long before that
passage was crossed. There I felt more than
saw the vastness oS these mountains, and I
was going to stop my mule, to have a fairer
view, when a call ihifn my guide warned me
to beware, and to look well to my path.

The path indeed had become so narrow
that it seemed to me, as it wound itself round
a projecting rock, aboslutely to terminate. I
could see nothing more than a thin light
streak, as if drawn with a piece of chalk, and I
could not believe that tnis was our path.
The rock round which it went did not show
the least cut or notch, where even a goat
could have planted its feet, let alone our
clumsy mules. The little crumbling pieces of
stone which our mules' hoofs kicked over the
precipice, made me sensible of the danger,
falling straight down to a depth that my
blood froze to think of.

But this was no place to stop at ; and I ob-
served closely the cautious manner in which my
guide raised himself in his right stirrup, not
doubting that we were now at the spot at
which he had told me before, and where
mules and riders were oflen thrown over. I
was therefore careful not to irritate my mule
at a spot where it certainly knew better how
to go than I did — accidents having happened •
from travellers pulling their bridles at the
wrong time. My guide went on very coolly
along a trail where mules had to keep the
very edge of the precipice. Mules frequently
carry a load over this track, when they are
very careful not to knock against the over-
hanging rock, as the least push would send them
over the precipice. Our mules it is true, had
no load, out tney were accustomed to carry-
ing one ; and therefore kept the extreme e(}ge
to my great discomposure. But I left it entire-
ly to its own instinct, only lifting my left foot
in the stirrup, as I saw the vanquiano do, so
that in case of an accident, might throw my-
self off its back, and cling to the rock.

But why, the reader may ask, did you not
get off the mule at once, and pass dangerous
places on foot ? Simply, my reader, in the
first place, because the danger is the same
for many miles ; and secondly, because those
men who pass their lives in leading travellers
over these mountains, know best where to walk,
and where to ride, and I followed the example
my guide set me. Nor, to tell the truth, did
I at the moment think of any thing but my
mule as he moved slowly, step by step, round
the yawning abyss, with scarcely three inches
to spare on either side. As we proceeded, the
path got still narrower, the abyss seemed

312

BIZABHE.

deeper : and looking down at once, between
the mule's side and stirrups, I saw below in
the deep hollow a perfect heap of skeletons —
mules that most have tumbled down since
the last flood — or their bones would have
been washed away. In my horror I forgot
the warning of the vaquiano, and grasping the
reins of my mule, tried to turn it away from
the edge, which seemed to me as if it must
crumble beneath its next step. My imprud-
ence was near being ftftal to me, for turning
the head of my mule away from the precipice,
it last its sure footing, stepped aside, and
striking the saddle-bags against the rock, it
stumbled forwarded, and — no, dear reader, no
such thing — we did not tumble. The mule
planted its fore hoofs on a firm part of the
crumbling ledge, and lifted itself up again,
just as a small piece of stone, loosen(Mi by the
effort, fell noiselessly from the path, and
noiselessly springing from under us over, and
struck long afterward with a dull hollow
sound into the deep.

I need not be ashamed to say that this little
incident made me tremble, and I thought the
blood became stagnant in my veins. But mules
are splendid animals for such a route ; and
whether for the sake of the rider, or their own,
they proceed with the utmost caution, as I
had now learnt from experience. From that
moment I left my mule to do as ho pleased,
*nd he carried me safely over.
^ Just at the end of the pasage, where the
path again turned round a rock, which hid
the guide from view, I reached a snow-drift,
or rather a ledge of about ten or twelve
paces, where a quantity of snow had drifted
from a narrow gulch ; and a space not six
inches in width, and even that sloping down,
was the only footing left. Even the mule now
came to a stand. I pressed his flanks with
heels to urge him on ; but the two peons, who
came close behind, called to me to alight here,
and not attempt to pass that place in the sad-
dle. At the same time, the guide appeared
on the other side of the rock, and I saw that
he was on foot; but how to get down on
such a place was the difiBculty. On the left
side I should have stepped down at least a
couple of hundred feet ; therefore, I must try
the other. Throwing my l^ with a sudden
jerk over the mule's neck, I slipped down
against the rock, the mule pressing as hard
against me as it could, to prevent my push-
ing it down the precipice. I dodged beneath
his head, and with bridle grasped in my
hand, led the way over the snow-drift."

We leave the traveller to pass on his event-
ful journey alone, through Chili and Califor-
nia, falling in with him again, however, in
the South-Sea Islands, where he relates the
following adventures of a

♦*A WHALING CRUISE.

With a good breeze, the next day Hawaii,

or Owfayhee, where Captain Cook was slain,
hove in sight. We could notice the gigantie
volcanic masses, and the smoke curling np
from the furnace of the goddess Tde ; u»d I
watched this mountain a long, long while, as
it rose on the horison, with its shurp outline
against the dear blue sky^ a wonderful mass

I of rock and lava, growing out from the bot-
tom of the sea, with only a crust upon it,
that covered a bed of fire.

The volcano was working at this time, at
least thundering and rumbling within, and
only a year later it broke out anew, and roU-

I ed immense masses of burning lava down
even to the foaming sea. No wonder the
Indians thought, and still think that a fire-
god lives in the boiling streams of glowing
lava, though we contradict it, of course, and
prove to them the impossibilitv of the thing.
But leaving the goddess Tele to prove her
existance herself, we manned the tops next
day — that is, two men were sent, one to the
main and one to the fore-top to look out for

I whales, and with this our cruise commenced.
Whalers — to say at least a few words about
our vessel itself, and introduce the reader to
our fishing gentry — always carry more than
the usual complement of men for vessels of
their tonnage, because they must have hands
left on board to work the ^p, and after fish
have been taken, to boil out the blubber,
while four boats from large vessels, and few-
er fix)m smaller ones, are usually out chasing
other fish in sight. Each boat has a crew ci
four men, besides^ the boat-steerer and a man
at the head of the boat. The captain of
most vessels never leaves his ship, though in
some, he goes himself in the first boat as the
look-out, leaving another one at the same
time to command the vessel.

A whale-ship also differs in its deck con-
struction from any other vessel. Between the
mainmast and the foremast are the try-
works — large furnaces, built of brick, and
containing two or more very large iron-posts
for trying out the oil from the blubber— close
to it is the galley, sometimes not much larger
than an overgrown sentry-box, with a stove
in it, which leaves hardly room enough for
the cook to sit before and broil his knees;
all kind of pots and kettles hang up inside,
and a perfect variety of copper and iron ves-
sels are fitted upon every part, in every nook
and comer of this machine ; while it is a
mystery to me how a human being is able to
stand the heat of such a box in a warm cli-
mate, at least six or seven hours of the day.
It is true they nearly always have black
men for cooks, who are used to a ereat deal
more heat than their northern pue-colored
brethren, but even these, I should think,
must have their very marrow dried up.

Before the galley there is also a blacksmith
shop, most commonly fitted up in a kind of

GAESTAECKER'S JOURNEY.

313

box, capable of being moved from one place
to another : a blacksmith having always some-
thing to do on board a whale-s£p in mending
of spades, lances, or irons, and fitting rings
or hasps on other articles, for the ship itself
or the boats.

Between the main and mizen mast, and
usually extending behind the latter, a firame-
work x>{ spars is erected, called bearers, upon
which the spare boats, nearly always four, are
turned bottom upward.

We ran south nearly fourteen days, and
tried to get as far east out of the trades as we
possible could ; but it was very little, for the
wind instead of being northeast, northward of
the line, blew nearly due east, and our vessel,
no first-rate one by the wind, could not work
up well against it. Besides that wo sailed veiy
slowly, and therefore drifted the more. The
"Alexander Barklay," an American built ship,
before she started from Bremen, instead of
being coppered, was covered with plates of
new invention, a kind of zinc which, while
being a great deal cheaper than copper, was
said to last just as long ; but the ship had not
^ been out more than two or three months before
the plates began to give way, and when I came
on board, about twelve months after her first
start, there was hardly any of it left on her
bow, and on both sides the rags hung perfectly
round her retardingus, of course, considerably,
and stopping her headway.

Thursday, the 2d of January, we crossed
the line in about 156 deg. W. Ion., and two
days afterward the call first gladdened our ears,
"There she blows I"

A person who has never heard this call on
board a whale-ship, after a long spell of rest
and watching, can have no idea of the wond-
erful eflfect it produces, like an electric blow,
upon oflScers and crew. "There she blows V*
— the word passes from lip to lip — "Where,
where I" — "On the lee-bow, nearly ahead ;"
and the men fly to their boats ; the boat head-
er takes the steering oar till his boat comes
"fast,'' the boat-steerer stands with the iron
(harpoon) in the bow of the boat to have the
first throw. "There she blows again," not a
cable's length from the vessel, and five or
six spouts are seen in quick succession ; the
monstrous fish, unconscious of any danger,
playing and chasing each other in the slowly
heaving waves. Down the boats go, as
quickly and noiselessly as possible, the offi-
cers get into them, some of the men scramble
in af&r them, the broac^ sail of the little craft
flies up, the wind catches it, and away the
sharply-cut boat dashes through and over the
foaming waters, followed by the second, third,
fourth, all eager to come up with some of
their blowing and splashing victims.

In former times sailing up to a whak in a
boat was thought a very dangerous and daring
feat, because they were not able to run back

again quickly enough, after the whale was
struck : but in later times, when the whales
have become, like all other game, much more
shy and wild, whalers find pulling up to a fish
much too slow and uncertain work to be very
profitable, and neariy all the fishermen, and
principally the Americans, sail with their
boats up to the fish, strike their irons into
them, if they get a chance and try to get
away again afterward in the best way they
can.

We could make nothing of the first whales
we saw, for they ran too fast to be overtaken
by the boats, and though two came very
nearly within striking distance, they got off,
at last, unharmed. Our captain, however, an
old whaler, liked the look of the water here,
and running under, shortened sail half the
night on the old course we tacked about mid-
night, to be in the morning as neariy as pos-
sible on the same spot , again : and sure
enough, the sun was hardly an hour high —
just far enough out of the water to allow a
fair view over its surface — when the cry,
"There she blows, blows, blows !" as new
spouts followed the first, brought our ship to,
and the boats down again.

This time the first boat-header, an old
American, who had been bred up to whaling,
and done hardly any thing else all his life,
and at the same time the finest specimen of
an old tar I ever saw. was the first to come up
with one of the whales, and get fast, as he car-
ried the largest sail. The other three boats fol-
lowed the rest of the shoal , which swam along
on the surface of the water a considerable time
and then disappeared below it, the boats,
without stopping, keeping in a straight course
in hopes of seeing the fish rise again after
awhile, and then having a fair throw at them.
But the fish, quite contrary to their calcula-
tion, had not the least idea of running away,
but only dived to some depth, the boats pass-
ing away over them, and then rose again
very nearly on the same spot where they had
disappeared. The three other boats, seeing
the spouts behind them, turned round as
quickly as they could, and the second boat-
header, also an American, got fast this time
to another whale.

During this and the next day our ship lay
to, taking the whales along side, and cutting
them up ; no look-out even being kept in
the top before the carcasses had l^n clear-
ed away from her sides.

The most interesting part of the cutting-up
to me was the first fastening of the immense
blubber-hook, a large iron hook of extraord-
inary dimensions, to attach which, one of the
boat-steerers has to go down upon the whale,
with a rope slung around his waist in case of
accident, and lift the x hook — ^for it takes all
his strength to do that — in to a hole which
the spades of the boat-headers have cut lor

— \

314

BIZARRE.

it ; these, at the same time, keeping watch
over the boat-steerer, who is sometimes half
under water, and has faalf-ajdozen sharks '
close around him, which the scent of the ;
blood has enticed to the captured fish, and
which are driven nearly to madness by their '
unavailing efforts to tear off a piece of the
tough and elastic hide.

There were five of these hyaias of the deep
round this one whale, and coming as boldly
and insolently as possible right under the very
spades of the men. But the sailors hate to
strike their sharpened tools upon the rough
and hard 'skin of the shark because it dulls
their instruments directly, and the carpen-
ters have .their hernds full of work without
that, in keeping the instruments in good
order. Only once the first boat-heado*
dropped his spade which was as sharp as a
razor, upon the head of a shark, and laid it
open as if it had been a soft potato. The
shrrk, a fellow of about seven feet long, had
come up to the boat steerer— who had just suc-
ceeded in fastening the hook, and had no time
to look round — close enough to take one of his
legs off with a single snap, but the spade pre-
vented it. Showing the white of its belly
directly, it sank, and the boat-steerer looking
over his shoulder and seeing his dead enemy,
only shook his fist at it as it disappeared in
the troubled and bloody water.

The cutting up, or hoisting in of the blub-
ber, occupied all the next day,, and even
when it had become perfectly dark, one of the
heads was still in the water, held by a rope
and pushed about by a couple of sharks,
which had already torn off big pieces from it.

In the afternoon I had thrown a lance into
one of these savage fellows, while it was busy
in tearing off a piece fnmi one of the heads ;
as I was some distance off, the lance dropped
short of the mark, and only pierced the ttiick
part of the greedy monster's tail. The shark
immediately left its hold of the head> and as
as the lance came out, swam some hundred
yards off; but it soon returned, and fastened
on the head again just as if nothing had oc-
curred. It even took hold of the same piece
again, tore it oft*, and disappeared with it be-
fore I had time to pull up the lance.
• A difficulty now arose in fastening the
blubber-hook on the head in the dark, and the
second boat-steerer had made several unsuc-
cessful attempts, when the boat-header called
out for a blubber lantern, and soon afterward
a most singular torch was brought forward.
It consisted of iron hoops about four inches
apart from each other to let the light pass
through ; and this fire basket was filled with
thin split wood, andstripesof greasy blubber.
The flame soon caught the oil, and blazing to
a height of nearly three feet, lit up the (Utrk
ocean for a distance of about thirty yards,
giving the dancing waves a singular transpar-

ent hue, and throwing a wild unearthly light
over the figure of the reckless sailor who kmlt
on the dark slimy surface of the whales head,
his left hand firmly grasping the open blub-
ber, and his right arm slung round the heavy
iron hook to lift it into the right place.

What was that light strMik shooting past
the rolling mass just now ? Only a shark,
frightened by the gleaming torch, and re-
turning to get another bite at the fish, his law-
ful prey ; for is it not the wild and fiery mast-
er of the deep ?

This shark held on by the whale's head till
it rose, lifted by the powerful windlass, nearlr
out of the water, when it left its hcAd with
the piece of the tom-off blubber between its
teeth.
• ••••*

" The next morning the mast-heads were
manned again, and not having made any head-
way fi*om Uie neighborhood where the whales
seemed to have their feeding-ground, the men
had been hardly an hour aloft when the call,
" There she blows !" but this time over to
the windward ; again sent the hands into the
boats, and out to sea, pulling right against
the wind, torward the place where the whal^
were spouting. Three hours afterward the
first headsman, Mr. Luis, got fiist again : and
as we were beating up against a tolerably
stiff breeze, it became nearly dark before we
could get the whale alongside.

The old blubber had now to come on dtak
to make room in the blubber-hole for the fresh,
and the stench it emitted the next day was
nearly suffocating. All the white varnished
parts of the vessel received a blue and lustrous
tinge, the smdl on deck being as bad, and
even worse, than in the cabin.

We commenced trying out on the sixth,
and had finished on the tenth of January.
The deck still looked bad enough, but the
blubber was gone, and the decks were also soon
cleared. The grease of the sperm whale can
be removed very easily with salt-water, oeing
in this respect not half so bad as that of the
common whale, which requires to be removed
by the ashes of the burnt blubber, and hard
scrubbing. A singular fact connected with
sperm-fish is, that its own skin forms the best
soap for washing off its grease. If voar
hands are dirtied with the grease, ypu have
only to scrape the thin black and soft outer
part of the skin a little, and you may wash
in salt-water the grease as easily ofi with this
as with soap in fresh water.

These three fish, though of no great siie,
yielded about one hundr^ and four bam^s of
oil ; and our captain had strong hopes of fall-
ing in with some more of this kind, but day
after day passed without our seeing a smgle
spout The deck was hailed sevml tiines,
it is true, but only, as it turned out afterward,
for a finback, or perhaps the deceiving light

SALAD FOR THE SOLITARY.

315

of the sun that glittered on the waves, and
made the look-out £uicy it the spout of a
sperm- fish."

Mr. Gerstaecher arrives home safely, after
a voyage of one hundred and twenty-three
days from Batavi. He was, of course, glad to
be once more among his friends. He says :

** I only rememb^ as in in a dream yet, the
first watchman I heard that night in Bremen :
the first time those old lovc^ church-bells
rung their sweet voices again into my ears. I
remember going on a raUroad, and shutting
my eyes at the same time, happy in the
thought of not being able to think this a
moclnng dream, and a crowd of sweet and
happy hots were around me. But I could give
no account of that

Oh, there are rich stores of beauty out in
that foir world ; there are treasures heaped
up in the wilderness by the hand of our lov-
ing Father to gladden the heart of the beholder,
and make him stand in mute astonishment,
a witness of such a Paradise : there are kind
eyes and hearts strewn over that wide world,
stretching out their hands to the way-worn
stranger and bidding him welcome ; there is
happiness in those valleys, and peace and love
wherever your foot is turned — if your own
heart only touches the right spring to open
those treasures — but let it be as rich, as ever
it will, let it dazzle your eyes and overpower
your mind for awhile. It cannot last ; and
whatever you try, where ever you roam — be
it as far, be it as long as you will— that one
thoueht, if it leave you for awhile, it never
will die within you ; and if your lips are for-
bid to speak it ; you heart will sound with
low but powerful voice in your ear:

Be it erer n humble.

There U no place like homer*

SALAD FOR THE SOLITARY.*

An original book you have made Mr. San —
we beg pardon, Mr. Anon3rmous — a pleasant
book, moreover, a book of odd facts and fan-
cies, picked up from various, and we should
judge, elaborate research. Your Salad is
truly a '* consarcination of many good things
for the literary palate," with plentiful flavours
reminding one of Dlsrteli and Lamb, perhaps
a little more of the latter than the former,
we do not know but **Lamb and Mint
Sauce" would have been a better title than
the one you have sdected. We know you,
Mr. Epicure : we have often remarked the idi-
mentative qualities which bespoke just the re-
quisition for this beautifully printed and em-
belfi^ed book. There are truly philoaoph^,
poetiy, ethics, criticism, satire, hypothesis,
esthetics, hyperbole, psycholo|;y, metaphy-
sics, humor and extreme sententiousness in its

* Snlod fir Uie Solitary. New Vork, Lamport lilalcemaii
A lAw, 1863.

and though the author modestly calls
im.se]f '* a compile" and declares further,

Suite as modestly, that he is '* A votary of
lie desk, — a notched and cropped scrivener,
one that sucks his sustei\ance, as certain sick
people are said to do— through a quill — " we
must accord to him high merit a&a thinker
and as a writer.

We have already copied largely from the
work, — we did so, thanks to the publishers,
when it was in the sheets — and much we
Ihink to the gratification of our readers. To
one wee mouthfhl more we will treat them.

' * The empire of woman in the scale of being,
is no longer a disputed claim.

** Heaven's last, belt gift to man.*'

receives the homage of the human heart, —
she is loved and cherished, as the angel of
peace and hope, difi'using a halo of light, joy
and blessedness, making Home a little Eden.

As to the name spinster^ it mav be remem-
bered, that it dates its origin from the fact
that in olden times, no maiden being deemed
eligible to matrimonial honors till she had
spun her own domestic wardrobe : — an evi-
dence that our grave progenitors regarded
such matters as involving less of romance
than reality — a method, we may add, that
more modem sagacity has deemed it expe-
dient to a great extent to reverse.

The human family is divided into two classes
the married and the single ; the former have
been often deemed legitimate objects for the
raillery and jest of the advocates of celibacy,
and it is but fair that the opposite party
should be permitted a share of the like pleas-
antry. As a specimen of the former, take the
following lines of a most inveterate woman-
hater, one of the early printers who flourish-
ed during the first half of the sixteenth cen-
tury. The extraordinary production in which
this curious satire occurs, is entitled *' The
scoU-howse, wherein every man may rede a

rie prayer of the condycyons of woman, ^^
This erudite scribe thus apostrophizes
the sex ; —

**Tmrl7 some men thert he
That lyTe always In great horrmrs,
AnU myeth it goth hy dettynie, —
To hang, or wed, — both hath one houre;
And whether it bel I am well sure
Hanging is better of the twalne,~
Sooner done and shorter payne!"

It is admitted, on all hands, to be both a
delicate and difficult thing to pry into a wo-
man's ase ; and the embarrassment becomes
increased in the exact ratio of its advunoe,
especially in the case of an unmarried lady.
The precise epoch at which the epithet M
may be admissable, is no less involved in mys-
tery. A fugitive passage from a contempor^
ary pen, with as much of poetry as chivahy
in its spirit, fortunately comes to our aid in

316

BIZARRE.

the present dilemma. Who the gallant
scribe may be, we know not, but here the
paragraph is, and the reader will take it for
what it is worth:

* Eve, it is well known, was sixteen years
old when she was awakened at the side of her
husband. , Sixteen years old, say ancient wri-
ters, and fhat so boldly, that they must have
seen Eve's register written on the lilies of
Paradise. Now, women — who have nine times
out of ten more curious rabbinical learning
than the mean envy of our sex will allow them
— women, inheriting the privilege from their
first parent, bdieve that, after a certain time,
they have a just right to let their first six-
teen years go for nothing : and so they sink
the preliminary sixteen with a smOe, count-
ing with mother Eve their seventeenth as
their first real birthday. And they are right.
For it deducts from your woman of five-and-
forty all that she cares to lose, giving her a
fair start with Eve, and pegging her back to
full-blown nine-and-twenty. And, indeed,
it is impossible that any really charming wo-
man should be a day older.'

It is a singular fact, that the age of but one
woman is mentioned in the Bible at the time
of her death. Therefore, it is best not to be
inquisitive about the age of women. There
arc some ladies whose extreme sensibilities or
frigidity induces them to make deliberate
choice of a life of single-blessedness, in spite
of all that love-sick swains may urge to the
contrary, Such, among the ancients, were
the vestal virgins, and those who ministered
at the temples of Diana and Minerva. Some,
seek to rush into matrimony, with such im-
petuosity, that they frighten away all sensi-
tive suitors, in their fatal attempt to do all
the wooing on their own account. Others,
again, from a feeling of over fastidiousness,
vainly expecting to find the angelic in the hu-
man — foolishly forego many an excellent
chance of a prize in the matrimonial lottery,
till the wheel of fortune will turn no more.
The forlorn attempt, by the aid of cosmetics,
gold chains and other bijouterie, to supply the
lack of beauty's dimpled smiles, and the rud-
dy hues of health, challenges the pity of all
beholders.

" There's nothing half so Hwoet in life,
Ag Lore's young dream ;"

and yet trouble is often caused by the inter-
vention of one or both of the parents, or else
some fiaw in the object of the *' hearts fond
idolatry" just peeps out on the very eve of
consummation. Parents, too frequently, and
most perversely, on such ocoasions, pass into
petrifactioos—Hinllous to all the glowing emo-
tions of the arch godling, and become invested
with a most stem and rigid determination to de-
nounce all love-scrapes as "juvenile indiscre-
tions," which demand the full force of their

grave sagacity to discourage. These two lal-
ter classes of disappointed nymphs seem to be
devoted to the annihilation of their most cher-
ished hopes of connubial happiness, by the
irrevocable decrees of the fates ; they, there-
fore, are richly deserving alike of our sympa-
thy and respect. With wonderful assiduity,
they resort to every expedient to avert the un-
welcome issue, but in vain; "love's sweet
vocabulary" has been exhausted, and the
charms, divinations and necromancy of Vemis
herself, have been called into requisition, but
potent as they usually are, without the desir-
ed effect in their bdialf. We have been ac-
customed to associate Cupid with simply his
bow and quiver full of arrows :* but thequeeo
of love, it seems, can invoke to her aid mach
more varied and irresistible artillery for cap-
turing the citadel of the heart. To enumer-
ate in full detail these appliances of woman's
art, would startle the ci^ulity of the unsus-
pecting reader."

Here we drop *• Salad for the Solitary," huA
only so far as extracts in The Biza&re are
concfmed. That we shall take it from our
library shelves and read it oft times, is cer-
tain. It has been consigned by us to a
choice collection, occupying a particular cor-
ner, from whence we are always sure to obtain
congenial reading. We congratulate Mr.
San — beg pardon again — the author, in hav-
ing produced so altogether palatable a book.
We hope he will not be satisfied with this
dish of salad, but trust he may speedily treat
us to another *• of the same sort.'' The book
takes well, 700 copies having been sold on the
second day. The third thousaibd will we on-
stand, be put to press immediately.

OUR WEEKLY GOSSIP.

— PiLATB AND Hebod. — This is the title of a
new tale, illustrative of the early history of
the Church of England in the province of
Maryland, the author of which is the Rev.
Harvey Stanley of Baltimore. We have not
yet read it, but those who have, pronounce it
altogether — a very entertaining story — ^filled
with striking and at times startling mcidcnt.
It developes the struggles of the Episconsl
Church against an opposition made up of dis-
cordant elements ; or it is the record of perse-
cutions practised upon the church very much
akin, in spirit at least, to those of Pilate and
Herod against Christianity. We shall notice
this book hereafter. Herman Hooker, Phila-
delphia, publisher.

— Barrington's Sketohbs. — ^Redfield, of N.
York, has just published, a new editioB
of ** Personal Sketches of bis own Time,**
by Sir Jonah Barrington. They are, the
author tells us, neither fictions nor essays:
but relate to matters of fact, and personages

OUR WEEKLY GOSSIP.

317

eomposed of flesh and blood. No fancy is to
be found anj where but in the opinions of the
▼dume, and these are left to the mercy of any
one who is disposed to deem them visionary.
Sir Jonah h>ve8 liberty, hates democracy, and
detests fanatici^. He is a loyalist and yet
% patriot I He has once in his life time had
his loyalty nearly overbalanced hy his patri-
otism, and that was when the Irish parliament
was bought and sold under the cry of the
union ; an act whiSh he considers — as do we
—one of the most flagrant and corrupt on the
the records of history. Altogether these
sketches, or this memoir of the eventful life
of a real blood-and- bones Irishman, are full of
interest, light and grave ; and the book can-
not fail to be extremely popular.

— Messrs. Thomas <Sb Sons.— The 41st Trade
Sale of this excellent firm commenced at their
new sale rooms in Fourth Street, on Monday
the 22d. The attendance of the Trade from
all parts of the country is extremely large,
and the bidding is very lively. The sales
close on the 3d of September.

— At Lichtenthal, near Baden Baden, died,
on the 25th of June, Mr. Philip Hutchings
Rogers, — a landscape painter of considerable
power. He was, we believe, a native of Ply-
mouth, in Devonshire, (Eng.) a county which
has been more productive of artists than any
other in Great Britain, and is equally noton-
ous for its want of fostering care and neglect
of their efibrts.

— The sudden death of Abraham Woodside*
the artist, in our city, his excited much re-
mark amon^ the lovers of painting. He had
decided gemus ; and could it have been per-
mitted to exert its full force, he would have
achieved a most enviable eminence.

— A bookseller in Manchester, (Eng.) has
set up a perambulating book store, consisting
of a caravan, like those in which itinerant
lions and elephants are wont to traverse the
ooanUy in search of fairs, which is construct-
ed, with shelves capable of holding 2,000 voh
ornes, and stowage lor a considerable quantity.
A tent is carried by the adventurous biblio-
pole for the accommodation of his customers,
— and siu-eading this in the town, he ofiers a
shady lounge imd a temporary reading-room
to the scattmd population.

— A correspondent of the National Intelligen-
cer, reported to be good and true, pledges
himself to be " one of two hUndred to sub-
scribe $1,000 each for the sacred purpose" of
purchasing Mount Vernon. The proposition,
IS coupledf with some, in our times, rather
unpopular restrictions, viz : " That the re-
maimng one hundred and ninety-nine shall bo
Amerimn bom and true, and likewise that no
Young America shall have part or lot in the
matter, neither foreign or American bom."

— Twelve to fifteen thousand dollars hav-
already been collected in Philadelphia, in be-
half of the Howard Association of New Or-
leans, for the relief of the suff*erers by the
yellow fever. This is a highly credi table fact

— We have received the second edition of a
" Premium Essay on Agricultural Education,"
from the pen of Edmund Ruffin Esq., of Vir-
ginia. The pamphlet is published in a neat
style by J. W. Randolph, of Richmond, and
well repays reading.

— The work of arranging the books is still
going on at the Astor Library , New York, un-
der the direction of Mr. Ccgswcll, aided by
two assistants, who are engaged upon the cata-
logue. It will be several weeks before it is
opened. ,, The library is the largest out of Eu-
rope.

— G. P. Putnam <Sb Co., have published the
second and third numbers of their illustrated
Record of the New York Crystal Palace Ex-
hibition, a work which is every way worthy
of that great and peculiar enterprise. The
illustrations are exquisitely done, while the
letter press, as to manner and matter, is of
the best character.

— At Mortlake, Surrey, (England) resided
one Colston, a merchant well known for his
extensive charities. He founded a school at
Bristol, where the boys wear a brass dolphin
on their breasts in commemoration, as it is re-
ported, of his preservation from foundering
at seay by a doljphin stopping a hole tn the ship^
while hi' was on his homeward voyage from
the Indies,

— Man is the chef d^c^ure of creation. Who
says so ? Man.

— There is a comet now visible in the north-
west. It will be found early in the evening
just above the horizon. A "star gazer"
says : it presents a well defined nucleus, of
the brightness of a star of the third magni-
tude, with a beautiful tail, like a fine brush,
about two degrees in length, as seen by a
telescope of moderate power. The tail is dis-
tinctly visible to the unassisted eye, but a
common spy-glass renders it much more ap-
parent, i^ofessor Bond of the Cambridge
Universi^, says of this heavenly wonder : its
nucleus is of the brightness of a star of the
third magnitude — a tail of one or two degrees
in length can also be distinguished, extending
upward. This interesting object has been ol^
served by Astronomers for one or two months
past, during which time it has been gradually
mcreasing in brightness. Its distance from
the sun is now thirty millions of miles : but
from the earth it is two or three times more
remote."

— The poet Moore's correspondence was lately
sold at auction in London, and knocked down

318

BIZARRE.

to a variety of bidders, so that it is irrecover-
ably scattered, in all probability. Tt brought
an insignificant sum. The Athenaum thinks
it would be curious to reflect on the fate of a
poet's papers. Gray's, after sixty years of no-
fleet, are now mounted on drawing paper,
bound in the richest sea-green morocco, imd
inclosed in purple cases of the same material.
Bums's correspondence with Thomson's forms
part of the far-famed Ashbumham MSS. Cow-
ley's letters were destroyed by Sprat, because
the Bishop thought them too good for publi-
cation. The sweepings of Pope's study are
known to have contained literary treasures
now entirely lost : — while the long-lost trea-
tise of Milton — the paper that settled the ques-
tion of the character of his religion — was
found within our own time in the State Pa-
per Office, and published by the desire and at
the expense of a King of England.

— Professor AKDBRsoNlate of New York, has
been elected to, and has acepted, the office of
President of the Rochester University. The
Daily Union of that city says: — "Prof. An-
derson graduated at Waterville, Me., in 1840,
and was chosen Professor in that College in
1842, which office he filled nine years. Lat-
terly, he has been widely known as the editor
of the New Hampshire Baptist Recorder.^''

— A fourth edition of Simms' drama, " Nor-
man Maurice," has just been published by
Messrs. Lippincott Grambo & Co., of our
city. It is a better reading than acting play.

— ** Current Notes" informs us of the cele-
brated Archbishop Abbot who was bom at
Guildford **at tne first house over the
bridge," that his mother dreamt "if she
could eat a pike, her son would be a great
man." The good woman tried hard accord-
ingly to satisfy her longing, and "accidentally
takine up some of the river water that ran
^ dose by the house in a pai^. she caught the
much desired banquet, dressed it, and de-
voured it almost all. This odd affair made
no small noise in the neighbourhood, and the
curiosity of it made several people of quality
offer to be sponsors to the child. This their
poverty accepted joyfully, and three were
chosen, who maintained him at school and
afteawards at college. This dream was at-
tested to me by the minister and several of
the most sober inhabitants of the place.

— The word "Classic" is derived from the
Latin word "classis" or from "classicum"
which was a trumpet or instrument used -to
call the people together to hear the pieces re-
hearsed in the amphitheatre, where authors
formerly recited or read their compositions.
By the word is generally understood the
writings of the Greeks and Romans, though
in its widest sense it signifies the stands^
and elegant works in any language.

— A ytmng lady of Boston, who mx nKmths
ago was sent to Paris by a number of her
friends, to complete her musical education,
has lately been awarded the second priee for
her proficiency. Many of her competitors
had been studying in the same school for
years, and even the teacher did not consider
her a candidate for a higher prize than the
third. The Judges, however, over whom M.
Auber presided, decided she was entitled to
the second.

EDITORS^ SANS SOUCI.

; QUITS IN OBK4ANO. |

' — We notice many articles goixjg the rounds '
I of the press, which appeared originally in I
I The Bizabre, and whica, in the majority of !
I cases, if credited at all, are attributed to an
I incorrect source. For instance : Arthur's
I Home Gazette publishes " A pretty Incident,"
i which appeared onginally in The Bizabbe
I four or five months since, and which is at- |
tributed to " a Boston paper." Of course our
I accomplished and popular friend, the editor
, of the Gazette, is not to blame here, any more
than was he of the Register when he puUisbed
our article on Thomas Carlyle, credi ted to the
London Bizarre : in other words, both gentle-
men found the false credit manufactured to
their hands. Apropos of the Home Gazette:
it has just entered on the fourth volume, and i
under more promising circumstances than [
ever. It is a well-conducted paper : jost the |
one which ought to be popular at the fireside.
No impure thought ever stains its o<dumD8,
and they are ever fresh with the best produo- '
tions of Mr. Arthur's prolific and perished <
pen. We congratulate him, and all oonceraed,
on the decided success which the Gtozette en-
joys, and which, for what we have said above,
it well deserves.

VBRV OHKAP.

— The Editor of one of the big Philadelphia
Newspapers lately informed his readers that as ;
soon as a certain chain of rail-roads was com- •
pleted, the people of Oswego (N. Y.) would j
get coal from Pennsplvania one hundred ptr |
cenf cheaper than at present ! This prospect |
of cheap fuel must be very gratifying to the
people of Oswego. Soon afterwards a tailor
m our city advertised in the same paper, that j
he was prepared to funJish clothing to his pa- !
trons two hundred per cent cheaper than it |
could be obtained at any other store in the |
city ! When fuel can be got for nothing and /
clothing is given to people who are paid the ,
value of it for taking it from the tailor's we
may reasonably look for the Millenium.

NONaKNaK Of> THK NKv^faf^^p>av«a.

— A paragraph is going the ronnds bating •
that Madame Munoz, the mother of the Queen

EDITORS' SANS^SOUCI.

319

of Spain, beings desirous of haying one of her
daughters made Qneen of one the South Ameri-
can states, has pitched upon Mexico, as the
country to be turned into a kingdom.

Kine-tenths of the American editors do
not know the difference between the Sandwich
Islands and the Society Islands, and inrari-
ably publish news from either under the
heading of the other.

A New England newspaper announces a
claimant for an Snelish peerage as existing
'' up that way" and adds he is adesendant of
JSir. Isaac Newton.

Sir. Isaac Newton was never married to
anything, but science,
-ri-ie PouKA.

— Miss Leslie in her **Behavior Book" an-
nounces that Queen Victoria, has banished
this dance from the English Court.

This is a mistake. At a late ball at Buck-
ingham Palace *two polkas' formed part of the
entertainment.

It is fair to add. that in Europe waltzing
is performed in a much chaster style than
in the United States. This whofe class of
dances, (waltzes, polkas and schottishes, iic.)'
should be banished from decent society.
Their tendency is to influence the passions of
the young, which are naturally but too ex-
citable. An old man expressed the opinion
of every man very faithfully when he said, "I
like the hugging part very well, but I cannot
see any sense in the turning round,^^

A OOOO I DBA.

— ^We learn that a society has recently been
started in this city, upon the n.ode of the
English publishing Societies, for the publica-
tion of books relating to the American Revo-
lution. It is expect^ that the first meeting
will be held on the fifth of September, the
Anniversary^ of the meeting of the First Con-
gress. This is a most laudable undertaking,
and we wish it all possible success. The
books will be distributed among the members
only ; none of them will be sold.

-TMthtQM NA/e HAVS NOTED

— The following is part of an advertisement
which appeared a short time ago in a Phila-
delphia paper.

*' Any one of our readers in want of Iron
Railing for Cemeteries, steps, gates, gardens,
yards, balconies and in fact in want of every-
thing out of which Iron is manufactured, can-
not do better than to give Mr. S— — , a trial."

The foUowing classical inscription appears
on the sarcophagus at Girard College, in which
Mr Qirard,s bones fest.

J. AND M. BAIBD fecit,

Mr. Girard says in his will that he does not
recommend the teachii^ of Latin to his or-
phan beneficiaries. They will not learn any
from the sarcophagus.

An elderiy officer of the navy thus expres-
sed himself several yeKrs ago concerning a
distinguished commodore :

•* This Commodore is getting to be one of
the greatest men in the United States. He's
had two children called after him and an om-
nibus, got himself dragontyped last week and
offered a Sancho Pancus to General Jackson !"

A N/IISTAKB.

— Miss. Leslie in her " Behaviour Book" says
that no one writes upon ruled paper. It would
have been nearer the mark to say that about
one person in five hundred writes upon paper
that is ruled. So general has been the use of
ruled paper, that it is very rare to find a per-
son that can write straightly without it.

>A^OMSN ROUTiOlANS.

— Cobbett does not appear to have had a
great admiration for female politicians and
warriors. In the preface to one of his pamph-
lets he says '* If you are of that sex, vulgarly
called the fair, but which ought always to be
called the divine, let me beseech you, if you
value your charms, to proceed no farther.
Politics is a mixture of anger and deceit, and
these are the mortal enemies of beauty. The
instant a lady turns politician, farewell the
smiles, the dimples, the roses; the graces
abandon her, and age sets his seal on her
front. We never find Hebe, goddess ever
fair and ever young, chattering politics at
the table of the gods; and though Venus
once interposed in behalf of her beloved Paris ?
the spear of Diomede taught her to '* tremble
at the name of arms." And have we not a
terrible exam];de of recent, very recent date ?
I mean that of the unfortunate Mcarv Wolston^
craft. It is a well known fact tnat when
that political lady began The Ri^ts of Wo-
men, she had as fine black hair as you would
wish to see, and that before the second sheet
of her work went to the press, it was turned
as white, and a great deal whiter than her
skin."

Is this last statement corroborated by any
other writer? It is evident that Cobbett
would not have been dected an honorary
member of the Syracuse Convention.

NOT OON/1S»i-;N/ieEN'rAR'V.

— Weld, an Englishman who travelled in the
United States in the year 1799, gives the fol-
lowing pictures of the character of the Phil-
adelphians. No one will accuse him of flat-
tery in the picture :

*' It is a remark, very generally made, not
only by foreigners, but also bv persons from
other parts of the United States that the
Philadelphians are extremely deficient in hos-
pit^ty and politeness toward strangers.
Amongst the uppermost circles in Philadel-
I^iia, pride, haughtiness and ostentation are
conspicuous ; and it seems as if nothing

320

BIZARRE.

ooald make them happkr than that an Order
of Nobility should bfc established by which
they might be exalted above th«r fellow-citi-
Eens, as much as they are in their own con-
ceit. In the manners of the people in general,
there ib a coolness and reserve, as if they
were suspicious of some designs against them,
which chills to the very heart those who
come to visit them."

Cobbett, after quoting the above passage,
adds a few more touches to the likeness in his
peculiar style. A Philadelphia jury had just
given a verdict for $5,000 against him for a
libel upon Dr. B. Rush.

*' The Native Philadelphians, in general,
arc the most suspicious, envious, haughty and
yet mean characters that ever existed upon
the face of the earth. They are lazy, indo-
lent and above their occupations, from which
cause, foreigners and people from the eastward
supplant them in every branch of business,
and prow rich, while the natives are daily fall-
ing into onbarrassments, poverty and insig-
nificance. Hence they naturally become en-
vious and spiteful with respect to foreigners :
and yet were it not for the industry and en-
terprise of foreigners and people from the east-
ward, their city would soon be without trade."

Of the Baltimoreans and New-Yorkers, Mr.
Weld formed a more favorable opinion. He
says, ** with a few exceptions, the inhabitants
of Baltimore are all engaged in trade, which
is closely attended to. They arc mostly plain
people, sociable however amongst themselves,
and very friendly and hospitable towards
strangers."

New-York — " From Long Island I returned
to this city ; which the hospitality and friend-
ly civilities I have experienced, in common
with other strangers from its inhabitants, in-
duce me to rank as the most agreeable place
in the United States ; nor am I singular in
this opinion, there being scarcely any traveller
I have conversed with, but what gives it the
same preference."

BUSINESS fk/ISN/IS.

— Col. Wm. H. Maurigb has returned once
more to his post, at 123 Chestnut Street, be-
ing brought back by the re-opening of busi-
ness, and the monster stationery sales of
Mess. Thomas and Sons. Maurice made large
purchases at these sales, and of course has a
larger and richer stock than ever. He has
added, we learn, to his collection of blank-
books. The specimens of this work placed
by him at the New York Crystal Palace are
exceedingly beautiful.

— We call attention to the announcements of
the Drs. Hunter, which may be found in our
advertising columns. The cures of consump-
tion effected by these gentlemen are said to be
marvellous.

— Congress Hall, in oar city, under the di-
rection of the present proprietors, is rapidly
attaining the nighest position. Soutjieraen
especially like this house ; particularly those
who come from did Virginia. The senior pro-
prietor, Mr. Norris, long resided in that state,
and attained among its noble-hearted people
an enviable popularity.

— The Inquirer of July 30th, contains the
following :

**Some time since Mr. Udolpho Wolfe, of
New York, desirous of having his famous Aro-
matic Schiedam Schnapps passed upon by »
proper tribunal, or in other words, determined
that the virtues of the article should be
thoroughly substantiated by the most unques-
tionable testimonials from the right quarter,
despatched to every regular member of the
faculty throughout the Union, as well as to
every professional chemist, whose name could
be obtained circulars soliciting their accep-
tance of a bottle of the Schnapps, for the pur-
pose of testing its real medicinal qualities,
and reporting thereupon. Of ten thousand
or thereabouts, to whom these circulars were
sent, four thousand accepted the offer: and
two thousand of these have forwarded to Mr.
Wolfe letters declaring that the Schnapps are
all that is claimed for them, and recommending
their general use not only as a remedial agent,
but also as a charming and harmless beverese.

This is certainly a strong point gained by
Mr. Wolfe. In addition to it, however, the
Press of the country have largely recommend-
ed the Schnapps in their editorial columns.
Among them we find the accomplished editor
of the New York Medical Gazette, Dr. Reese.
The Doctor is not satisfied with an unquali-
fied endorsement of the excellence of the
Schnapps, by the way, but publicly invites a
discussion, in his columns, on the subject of
their use and the use of alcoholic mixtures,
medicinally. Physicians, therefore, who have
not replied to Mr. Wolfe's request, hare an
opportunity of doing so in a widely circulated
medical print. Let them act as their o^
judgment and conscience dictated. Mr. Wolfe
does not ask them to approve of the SchDa(n)S
if they do not approve of them : but he thinks
he has a right to claim that they shall also
give their reasons for the same.

— Oakford, it should be remembered, comes
out with his new autumn fashions on the first
of September. It will be the cynosure of aD
eyes, as a matter of course. The varioos
styles of hats brought out in our city are al-
ways beautiful; and among them Oakford's
always shine. His new store in Fisher's
Building, 168 Chestnut Street, is one of the
handsomest things on the continent ; so SDOch
of a feature, we hear, in our cit^, that it is
often the subject of conversation m Paris and
London.

THOUGHTS ON AN ALBUM.

321

"Beuuuc, Bilvrsi, wiut sat toc, Madcap r^—Faryw^or

limn.

FOR TBB WBIK tSrVHyG

BATURDAT, SBPTBMBER 3cl, 1853.

THOUOHTS ON ANT ALBUM.

In my youthful days, every school-girl
owned an album, for which the contributions
of friends were urgently solicited, and valued
either as original productions, or merely as a
remembrance of tne writer. How distinctly
do I recollect the few days preceeding vaca-
tion, when tokens of friendship were exchang-
ed, with assurances of undying affection, and
locks of hair were severed from shining
tressed, as mementos of the happy hours we
had spent together, as travellers along the
paths of learning ! From one desk to another,
were passed albums, and comnoon-place books,
to receive the autographs of those who were
tbont to separate, having ** finished their ed-
ucation." School-girl friendships are prov-
erbially of short duration, and we cannot
wonder that distance, time, and the various
trials, and changes of existence, should often
obliterate the traces of an affection, not very
deeply rooted. There are many, however,
who have been intimate companions in the
school-room, who continue their social inter-
course for years, and such friendships possess
a charm, which cannot be thrown around
those formed later in life.

The leaves of a well filled album afford
material for reflections of a varied nature,
occasioned by the grave, or gay, the serious,
or the sentimental nature of their contents.
A tolerably correct estimate of the taste and
character of the writers, might be drawn from
such a volume. This article was suggested,
by a glance at one page of my well-worn al-
bum, on which are inscribed simply the names
of a party of friends, assembled one evening,
a few years ago. A drawing was made, to
represent a number of cards, thrown upon the
paper, and on these,, each individual wrote
his or her name. Loolnng at these signatures,
I could not avoid mentally tracing the his-
tory of the writers, and reflecting on the
chimges, wrought by the flight of a few years.

One of the number, Clara L , was the

most beautiful of the group ; and no sybil,
gating on her "form of life and light,"
as she moved gracefully through the dance,
or listening to the unusual sweetness of her
voice, as she sane a favorite melody, would
have predicted oUier than a brilliant destiny

for so fair a being. MtLnj were the eyes rest-
ing on her with admiration, that night, and
one was present, who loved her with all the
ardour of his noble soul. I remember that he
pertinaciously insisted on inscribing his name
directly under hers, in my album, where it
now stands, as if he anticipated linking them
together for life. His hopes were never realiz-
ed however, for Clara's heart was given to one
far less deserving of such a tceasure. Her
friends remonstrated in vain, and the sacrifice
was made, as it has often been, of a loving
and faithful heart, to the keeping of a selfish
and unprincipled tyrant.

Soon after her marriage, Clara removed,
with her husband, to a great distance from
all her early friends, and relinquished many
of the comforts of life, and the pleasures of
refined social intercourse. I never heard any
authentic intelligence of her welfare, until
the dreadful tidings came, that he, who had
sworn to protect and cherish this gentle crea-
ture, hadj>roved faithless, and finally desert-
ed her. For several years, her life had been
a prolonged agony, and when she was legndly
made free from her husband, she sought peace
and seclusion within the walls of a convent.
It is painful to imagine the discipline, which
could have so crushed her joyous nature, as
to destroy every social afiection, and induce
her to renounce the world forever. It is sad
for me to picture to myself that lovely form,
clothed in the saUe garments of a nun, and
those tresses, once so beautiful, all concealed
under the close head dress, and to fancy I
hear her touching notes joining in the chants
to the Virgin. He, who had bestowed upon
Clara his best affections, and was coldly re-
pulsed, wandered to a southern clime, and
was there actively engaged for sometime in
scientific pursuits of great value, t While ab-
sent' from his residence, on one of his explor-
ing rambles, an accident suddenly terminated
his existence, in a most painful manner. He
died, far from home ; yet, there were those
around him, who sympathized deeply with
his sufferings, and faithfulhr transmitted to
his relatives his messages of"^ love and conso-
lation. A few weeks ago, while walking
through one of our rural cemeteries, my eye
rested on a monument, almost concealed by
luxuriant vines, and beauiiful climbing roses,
and on approaching nearer, to read the in-
scription, I was startled to find the name of

Edward H .

Such is the sad history of two of the mem-
bers of that little circle, to which I have al-
luded. Another, after a short season of hap-
Einess, with the husband of her choice, was
rought home, to her father's house, to die.
It was late in the autumn, that she passed
away from earth, and I felt that all who knew
her, would lament " that one so lovely, should
have a life so brief."

322

BIZARRE.

«' Y«t not unznoei It seemed, tbat one,

Like that young friend of oun.
So gentle, and to beautiful,

Should perish with the flowers."

Others, whose names are inscrihed on my
album *s page, are still living, and as yet no
cloud has darkened the sunshine of their
days. The signature of Julia S., recalls to
my memory the pensive features of one, who
has recently been most favourably received by
the public, as a young poetess of unusual
merit. Her companions always regarded her
a£ an eccentric being, and some hesitated not,
to express their dislike of what they consider-
ed affected peculiarities. I do not believe
that any one of them suspected, that she pos-
sessed talents of any description. Her poeti-
cal genius i^as soon devdoped however, and,
receiving liberal encouragement from those to
whom her first efforts were confided, she has
already become one of the female writers of
this country, who promise to win for them-
selves a high position. At an evening partv,

last winter, I met Julia S , and could

with difficulty realize the fact of her identity,
with the pale, melaachdv looking creature, I
had formerly known. I^ whole expression^
had entirely changed ; the light of conscious
genius sparlded in her dark eyes, and the evi-
dences of a cultivated intellect, were visible
in every word and gesture. May the auspic-
ioos commencement of her literary career,
prove the precursor of still greater triumphs
in the world of lettm:s, and may she find,
what is far more essential to woman's happi-
neas, — undisturbed enjoyment in domestic
hfe.

I might, in this manner, continue the his-
tory, of each of those whose names suggested
this sketch, but enough has been written to
show the vicissitudes experienced during the
lapse of a few years. , Who shall venture to
predict the fiiture career of those now happy
in the ^ijoyment of all that the heart bol<is
most dear.

THE YAOOOMOOO MAIDEN.

We announced last week a new book, just
published by Herman Hooker, of this city,
written by the Rev. Harvey Stanley, of Ma-
ryland, and entitled "Pilate and Herod, a
tale illustrative of the early history of the
Church of England, in the Province of Mary-
land." It it a work which contains a vast
amount of information connected with its
subject ; while the highly polished, and truly
pious author, presents romantic features,
which, as will oe found by those who read, I
are exceedingly exciting in their character. |

As a specimen of these last, and of the happy ;
style in which they arc presented, we extract
the story " Adaratha the Yaocomoco Maiden."

" Adaratha was the grand-dughter of the
Weromance, or chief of the Taocomoco In-
dians, from whom Leonard Calvert purchased
first the sight of the city of St. Mary's, and
afterwards the territory of tWrty miles, which
he named Augusta, Caroline County. On St
John's creek, which ran north by east of the
town, was the wigwam of her parents, and it
is probable that *' the simple annals" of the
poor aborigines, if they had been preserved,
would tell a tale worth the treasuring. The
deep woods of a native forest threw their
shadows around the lowly cabin. Indian
children played on the green bank that over-
hung the creek. A simple hearted and indus-
trious Indian woman worked a little patch of
maize near the cabin. The father was (rften
seen in his canoe upon the river : while the
deer skins, which clothed the family, told
that his archery had taken fatal effects on the
game which then abounded. Their creed
embraced little more than a belief in the
Great Spirit, who spoke to them in the rolling
thunder and the howling storm ; and in a
supposed demon, Okee, whom they thought
it safe to propitiate by pmyers and sacrifices
on certain days in the year : acknowlcdgiDg
even in their heathendom what some called
Christians appear not to own, that relipon
must have sacrifices and recurring festivals.
The even tenor of their life however was oc-
casionally broken in upon by incursions of the
dreadful Susquehannoks ; which never failed
to spread alarm through the tribe ; for then the
forests were lighted up with the fires of burning
cabins, then many a family mourned its stay
and staff just struck down by the spoiler, as a
towering oak is levelled by the blast ; and
such members of the Yaocomoco tribe, as
were scattered over the country, on a last oc-
casion of this kind, like sheep dismayed bv
the onslaught of the wolf, fled with their ef-
fects to their main settlement of Yaocomoco ;
afterwards, the plain of St. Mary's City. Bat
the tribe had not been concentrated here Icmg
before a i^ed Indian squaw, under the inspir-
ation, it was believed, of a Divine Spirit, went
from cabin to cabin, crying out ; ** The eagle
of Yaocomoco will become the prey of the buz-
zards of the Susquehannoks, if he remains
here in his nest. He must build again where
the lofly pines wave near the mouth of the
Potomac." The Powah, or conjurer- woman,
then stated that the other mormng, she stood
looking up Yaocomoco big water, — all was
calm. Tne river lay smooth as ice. Sie
heard a noise, and saw a smoke go up, as if
the Great Spirit was kindling his council-fire
in the deep water. She then looked again,
and though a moment before it was clear, a
big black cloud stood so near the river's sur-
face that an Indian arrow might have been
shot above it. Soon the cloud passed away.
The Powah next said, she called at the wig-

THE YAOCOMOCO MAIDEN.

wam of the Sagamore of the tribe. The
chief *s head was thrown down, his eyes look-
ed red from weeping, and he would say
nothing to her. She tamed to go out. On
reaching the cabin-door, and looking upon the
' pUin where the wigwams of the tribe lay like
as many tents, to ner great amazement she
saw no smoke curling up from them. She
rubbed her eyes, doubting their report ; and
lo ! the wigwams were now not to be seen :
but on the ];^ain of Yaocomoco, rose up a big
mound. Surdy the Yaocomocos had passed
finoiu their hunting ground. And their bones
lay with those of their forefathers ! The Po-
wikh.^8 tale was believed. Ic betokened eril
to the tribe. They must move away lest so
sad a catastrophe should be&ll them. Like
all fktalists, though believing that coming
events cast Uioir shadows before, yet were
enough to try to run away from them. Now
while this movement was going on, two big
canoes, Leonard Calvert's ships, ''The Ark
and Dove," resembling by their white suls
birds of the water, first came up St. Mary's
rirtr. The Indians hurried to the river's
brink, wonder struck, and, as the vessels
moored bdow the brow of St. Mary's hill,
between Ghurchpoint and Key Swamp, the
natives formed mto a long, black and dense
line of anxious and inquiring spectators. The
sails of the two pinnaces were unfurled, and
the booming of a cannon from the deck of the
Ark, sent consternation to the natives. Two
boats were manned, and made for the shore.
Strangers from a strange land had come to
visit them. A treaty was entered into. The
Yaocomocos parted with their lands, hunting
grounds, and waters ; and with the bones of
their ancestors, (a respect for the dead worth
the white man's imitation. They left the
village of Yaocomoco never to return. But
Ad^ratha's father did not accompany the
great caravaserai in their removal to another
hooie. He settled in Poplar Hill Hundred, in
order perhaps to be near to his old hunting
grounds.

Rere Adaratha was bom, and here she grew
-m a sweet, wild flower in her native woods,
Tae arrow was not straighter than her figure,
the raven^s feathers were not darker than her
hair, the eagle's eye was not keener than her
her glance, nor was the goddress who breathes
in stone, more Sjrmmetrical in form than she
was, when in first conscious womnnhood she
stood beneath the spreading poplars before
her Other's cabin. Like other ladies, who
love to recount the slaughter they have made,
she afterwards occasioiMlly spolie of the ^rc-
posititions whidi different red warrior's had
made for her hand ; and which she, without
waiting hw father's response, alwi^rs dashed
with the remark : *< The eaglet of laooomoco
ifl too yodng to leave her moUier's nest, and
make one of her own." About this time.

however, a visitor, or new comer, appeared at
Adaratha 's cabin. Croshaw, a young chief
of the Piscataways, who lived near what has
since become the site of the city of Washing-
ton, had been out with some braves of his
tribe for some days on a hunt : and during
the time they had both hunted and slaughter-
ed till the hunters, wearied, determined to
return. Oroshaw, however, who had never
rambled so &r before to the South, proposed
to his COD panions to follow the course of the
Potomac on to its month . They objected to the
impracticability of the attempt, alleging that
deep rivers, such as the Mutawoman, the Nan-
jamoy, the Wicomico, and the Yaocomoco,
would intercept his progress. But Croshaw
thought differently, and burning with somex
thing of the fever which drove Columbus to
to discover a new world, and Mungo Park to
penetrate the interior of Africa, determined
to try the journey alone. To his gratification
he found that an Indian path led off from the
course of the Potomac, and pursued a South-
east direction; and, as he knew, from the
accounts which had reach him of the country,
that the Patomac on the one side, the Patux-
ent on the opposite, and the Chesapeake on
the third, so enclosed the country as to make
it a peninsula, he judged that this Indian path
must be on the back bone of the peninsula,
where it was not likely his progress would
be obstructed by rivers oi any depth.
His conjectures was correct. On the third
day he had passed down low as what now is
known as Leonardstown, the county seat;
and was in the neighborhood of Beaver Dam (
when a large beaver, coming up from a branch
with a fish in its mouth, crossed the Indian
path ; and was ascending the hill as Cro^iaw
saw him. He pursued, the beaver dropt the
fish, and Croshaw concluded from the size of
the latter that the river must be near. He
turned a little aside to the left : and, thread-
ing his way without much difficulty or
further adventures, (the forests being open
enough to drive a carriage in it, and the sun
informing him of the points of the heavens,)
he kept a south-east course. That night he
reach^ a noble spring, which gushed out fitxn
under a very large tuUp poplar. About ten feet
from the ground Croshaw observed that two
large limbeinterlocked, and than ran parallel
to each other, and thus fwrned a rustic couch.
He might sleep in comparative security and
comfort. He made his body fast with his
wampum belt to one of the limbs, and as his
walk had been long and fatiguing, and his
couch was more agreeable than it had been
for some days, he overslept himself the next
morning. <

The sun was about rising, and hairing un-
fastened his bdt he was in the act of descend-
ing, when his quick eair caught the sound <^
advancang footste|Mi. Though fond of danger*

BIZARRE.

he Wfts too mnch of an Indian to be off his
guard. Shielding his person so as not to be
seen, and taking care to see himsdf, he saw
Adaratha coming towards the sprinefrom her
mother's wigwam, which was <m we hill in
sight. She had a backet made oat of a gnm,
and, not conscioas of being observed, was
aboat filling it with water, as Croshaw leapt
down from his concealment ; and so near to
the maiden as almost to touch her. Her first
impulse was to drop her backet, and run.
But by gestures, and in a tone and manner
the most respectful, he begged her not to go.
He then, in the Piscatawaj dialect, told her
who he was, and how he came there ; and,
taking off his richly beaded wampum belt, as
a token of his good faith, and as an evidence
of his rank and wealth, asked her to take it
to her parents, v Adaratha yielded. They
walked in company to her mother's cabin, and
Croshaw, as they went along, said to himself:
** My ioumey has ended. Here's an attrac-
tion above the sight of the bi? water, the
Chesepeake. For beautiful to him was the
the maiden in her Indian costume and simple
garb : while he, doubtless in a garb as simj^e,
his face painted and mimic iMsard drawn in
lines from his mouth to his ears, — his black
hair tied round with a fillet, — and his dear
skin pallium suspended behind, and covering
the bodj^in front as an apron, may have made
him seem as attractive to her. For fashion
is every thing and our taste readily yields in
in accommodation to it. A few words briefly
and fitly spoken, after he had delivered the
wampum-belt to Adaratha 's father sufficiently
introduced him. The Piscataways and the
Taocomocos were allies, and there were no na-
tional prejudices in the way. Croshaw was
allowed to build his cabin on the same hill.
None of the formalities, with which society
among as and in Europe has so properly
guarded the intercourse between tl^ sexes,
were known to these simple children of the
forest. Their love found a voice and inter-
preter in the wild rose bud, in the sweet
south wind that rocked it on its stem, and
wafted to them its fragrance, in the li^ttiiat
iriayed on the dew-drop, leaf and water, in
the joyous melody of spring, in the cheering
laugh of the maisse as it grew in the midsum-
mer's sun, in the rainbow that, arched the
brow of the east after a storm, in the stars,
and moon that shed their silvery light upon
them, and in the soothing night wind tliat
coming over the forest seemed burdened
with love's touching plaint If music from
her magic cell had passed her fingers over (he
epdls (7 her wonderoas instmment,' she could
not have discoursed more eloquently. With
the bud of the eglantine he told his love, and
she by acoeptinff it smiled upon him. The
paveats smoked the calumet, and their tend-
ering it to him made known their adoption of

him as their son. A lively dance around a
pole before a cabin, a short time thereafter of
Indian maidens and braves from the Patnxent
were the merry-makings of the In-idal. Cro-
shaw and Adaratha then moved to the head-
land, whither Parson Crordon had Just landed.

Croshaw distinguished himsdf aft^wards
in an engagement with the Susqaehannoka,
and as a hunter, was not matchea by any of
his new friends the Patuxent Indians.

His marriage however, to Adaratha, great-
ly offended the Patuxent chief, who had wish-
ed to wed the maiden himself. But it was
not politic to break with Croshaw, and the
Patuxei^ chief, till a fitting time, thov^t it
best to keep up the outward seeming of
friendship. The former rivals often hunted
together, and the hatchet of personal ill-will
seemed to have been buried. Years glided by,
and with the stream floated on also the dan
passions of that past which made this stream
angry and dark. Young braves, in whose
veins flowed the blood of Croshaw and Ada-
ratha, stood around Croshaw's cabin door;
and a lovdy daughter, who inherited the im-
age and received the name of her mother with
her arms folded on her breast, in interesting^
blushing girlhood, looked in the placid waters
that washed the headland, and saw in it their
blue depths an occasional sparkle a wide
and beautiful world. To her it seemed doubt-
less to be a world, where trees of colossal
magnitude and dazzling foliage made forest of
interminable length ; were rivers and cre^
rolled on majestically, or crept in luxurioas
ease, and in wavy lines through the country,
and where cool retreats arched over by vin^
and adorned by flowers of endless variety,
beautiful and fragrant all abounded. But
time, which softens and wears away every
stone, only hardens the heart of a savage, 9jA
makes that to be stone which before was day,
that might be tonpered, in savage breasts.

The sun had gone down. It was an eve in
April. Parson Benjamin Nobbes, Bir. Gor-
don's predecessor, with his family were seat-
ed at the supper table. Nice warm rolls, a
luxury more often seen south than north, and
very rardy at the scant and beggarly fii^iioQ-
able tea tables in our cities, andsome charm-
ing stewed oysters were smoking on the table.

<'Ah !" said the rector, looking evident
pleasure at the supper, ** this is well thoo^
of, Betsey. My long ride has given me aa
appetite, and I ieel that I could do justice to
warm rolls, and a fine dish of oysters. But,"
he added, " either it is warm or I am heated.
With your permission I will open the door;"
to the west, which looked towards CrodMiw^
headland, and beyond it to the Potooaae
river. ** James," addressing a coloored ser-
vant who stood in waiting, "where did you
get these oysters ? Two at them wUl i
more than one of my hands."

THE YAOCOMOCO MAIDEN.

325

'* Up the coye sir, jam by the poplar sprhig,
sir/' replied the tho domestic.

'* Stop mj man,'' waving his hand signifi*
eantlj to the servant, and holding a mammoth
oyster impaled on his fork, which he was in
the act of carrying in his mouth, — " what
soond is that ? Can it be that any revellers
from St. Mary's have come all the way round
Herring Creek to give us a serenading ? or is
it meant for you, my daughter ?" addressing
a young lady who sat near him to the right.

The young lady declared her ienorance, the
wife look evently uncomfortaUe, regarding
the tones as ominous of evil and the servant
Jim, with his face like the title of tragic
volume, said: **Dem aint no serenaders,
massa. Dem 'aint no music performed by
human nature neither."

" Whatever they are," said Parson Nobbes,
**they shall not spoil mv supper. So, Betsey,
IT! take a second cup.''

A minute or so passed. There came a
wailing sound on the west wind, which seem-
ed as plaintive as the dying note of a heart-
l»t)ken vocalist — expressing in it all sadness,
and yet so piercing withal to ears that had sen-
sibifities that it seemed to shoot through the
nerves of Mrs. Nobbes, forcing the blood from
the good ladies face, and so actec( upon her
that instinctively, with shudder, she applied
her hands to her ears, lest she might hear it
again.

"This is strange!" said Par.«?on Nobbes.
" Ton are right Jim, that sound is not made
by any serenaders : but I am not so certain
human nature has no agency in it. I fear,
Betsey, that human nature has too much to
do in it, and if I hear it again I will endeavor
to know its meaning ;" eating faster than be-
fore, and rather now to satisfy the cravings
of appetite that the luxurious comfort of one
who eats at his ease and leisure.

•* Come, my man, there is something wrong.
Get your canoe ready," for now the wailing
note had a wildness and sharpness about it
that told of poignant distress.

" Master,'' said Jim, *< dem be ghosts, or
wild varmints."

** Well," replied the rector, having risen
from the table, and with cap on and staff in
hand, prepared to go out, " what then ?"

" Us do no good : but dey ruinate us."

** Ah ! Jim, I see vour are a coward. But
suppose they are ghosts : all the better : no
harm can come to us ; and if wild varmints,
as you call them, why, we'll take Towser and
Antony with us, and they will make battle
witb anv beast that may be near."

*' Father take this gun," said the daughter,
*' it is perhaps a bear, who has been robbed
of her cubs : for one was seen about here last
winter." ,

* No bear cries like that my child," said

f Ka 1

rvtVio

** Taint wolves, missus, I know," said Jim,
taking the gun, and looking carefully to see
whether it was loaded, and there was a good
flint in it : taking down the powder horn and
shot bag :

" Come," said the rector, moving out, *'call
your dogs, Jim. Betsey, keep your doors
and windows locked and fastened; I'll be
back soon." The wife and daughter looked
at him, as if they would discouraged his ven-
turing out, and the mother said to the daught-
er in a low tone : " Mr. Nobbes will have his
own way. He never thinks of dknger till too
late." The rector, however, and his man,
with dogs Towser and Antony, had gone out,
were soon by the creek side, and in a few
minutes were moving in the canoe in a west
direction, towards Croshaw's headland.

*' This is a fine nieht for bo^es, Jim, as the
Scotch call ghosts," said Parson Nobbes;
" the moon's rays fall so silently on the trees
and water, the deep shadow yonder in the grove
looks so solemn, and the wailing sound, my
man, makes you tremble as if you had the
ague." The boat during this time had made
not as much progress as the urgency of the
case seemed to require ; for Jim rather jerk-
ed than pulled his oars. ♦* Get away," said
his master, becoming impatient, and taking
the oars himself Jim rose, took his master's
seat in the stem, and with his teeth chatter-
ing, and his eyes open wide and looking fix-
edly towards Croshaw's cabin, which was a
hundred yeards off, only, and which now they
were approaching rapidly he muttered :

** Dim Inguns hab intercourse with all
sorts of diabolix varmunts. Massa ower
proudsome of him grace." A noise now be-
tween a wail and a howl swept by them,
sometimes sharp and piercing, and then sink-
ing low and almost inaudibly. A light shot
up through the trees around Croshaw's eabin,
and the smoke in eddies round and round was
borne first upward, and then to the left, by
the poQuliiir currents of air, which there pre-
vailed. Towser and Antony growled, and
Jim with difficulty kept his seat, while his
teeth chattered like a fulUng mill.

"What is the matter?" said the rector,
springing ashore, and trying to stop the loud
lament of Adaratha, who stood by the fire with
hands uplifted. One of the Indian children
pointed to a canoe near, and said it had been
drifted home, by the wind ; that there was a
gocnl deal of blood in it, and that it was be-
lieved Croshaw had been murdered. Two
days thereafter the following facts were as-
certained.

On that day Crowshaw was fishing up the
cove beyond the headland, when he was
wounded by an arrow from an unseen archer
who was on the shore. He raised himself in
his canoe, vigorously pulled for the land.

Ann4-Kci«» ovr/ktir Avitm i\\A anmA lt«n«i t/w\1r aMiid*t

328

BIZARRE.

upon him, and as it appe
pierced his heart. But
chief wished

Kred, the second shot
as the Cameronian

' \\ ith his back to the fl-ld, and hit feet to the ftw,

And leaviDg !n battle no blot on bin oamei

Look proudly to heaven from the death bed of fame."

So Croshaw appeard to think this was no fit
place nor manner for warriors to die in. By a
desperate eftbrt he plunged into the water, and
swam towards the shore : thinking also that
in the water his body would be less exposed
than in the boat. He was able to reach the
shore : and on gaining the bank, his old
enemy, thePatuxentrivfJ chieftain mentioned,
advanced to meet him. If he counted on Cro-
shaw 's diminished strength, he reckoned wide
of the mark. Perhaps never lay more strength
in Oroshaw's arm than at that moment ; with
tomahawk raised ready to strike, he stood on
the strand watching the enemy's monvments,
indignant at the dastardly manner in which
he had been assailed. The crafty Patuxent
chief, blinded either by passion, or relying
too confidently on Croshaw's feebleness,
pressed on without his usual caution. The
blow he aimed Croshaw parried. He heard
an Indian whoop from the creek, and looked off
for a moment to where the sound came from,
>vhen Croshaw, availing himself of his incau-
tion, with one blow laid the Patuxent chief at
his feet, and then stood over him prepared to
extinguish the spark of life on the first move-
ment of his prostrated foe : when, all at once,
Croshaw 's eyes became dim, his battle-axe
fell from his grasp, and he and the Patuxent
chief lay folded together in the embrace of
death. The fatal arrow had done its work,
and his life and strength lasted just long
enough to avenge him of his adversary.

His boat was drifted by the wind that blew
down the cove past the headland ; and Ada-
ratha, with forebodings of evil, saw that the
canoe was empty, and there was blood on the
gunnel. Hence the wailing mentioned^ hence
the fir© to call Croshaw there if alive, and
hence all that night, howling and wailing, she
watched by the tire on the creek-side. An
Indian, who was fishing that day in the neigh-
bourhood, brought the report we have given.
The bodies were found. The remains of the
Patuxent chief were left to be gathered by his
tribe, then few and scattered, or to be the
prey of buzzards, while those of Croshsw
were duly honored with a Christian burial,
the chief and squaw both having been mem-
bers of Parson Nobbes' congregation. But
after Croshaw 's burial, the rector to his sur-
prise found Adaratha less willing than ever
to listen to him, and he feared much that the
death of her husband might shake her &ith
in the Great Spirit, for permitting an act
which she deemed so hard. On one point he
&iled to overoome her prejudices The prin-

ciple of forgiveness was a sentiment whidi
Parson Nobbes feared he had not sacoeeded
in instilling into Adaratha's mind. For, like
most savages, she considered it alike weak to
forget and forgive an injury. Though the Pa-
tuxent chief was dead, vengeance could not
wreak itself on him, 3ret the poor creature
could not in her heart say ^e had forgiven i
him the cruel deed, which bereft of life her
heart's best love, and made her a widow, and
her children orphans. *' No, no !" she often
said, shaking her head significantly, and her ,
dark eyes would lighten up as she would say
it, '* me no say good to kill Croshaw. Great
Spirit no want me love dem that kill Cro-
shaw."

OLD TIMES.

The following extracts from the advertisiDg
columns of the rennsylvcariia Gazette, of 1756,
have been furnished us by an antiquarian
reader.

'' FOR TBB BNTBBTAINiaSKT OP CHB OUBIOCS.

Mr. Kinnersley purposes to exhibit, in the
Easter Holidays in the Apparatus Room in
the College. A course of Experiments on
that new Branch of Natural Philosophy, call-
ed Electricity ; to be acccmipanied with two
methodical Lectures on the Nature and Pro-
perties of that wonderful Element. In each
Lecture a number of very curious and enter-
taining experiments will be exhibited, by
which, among the particulars, it will be de-
monstrated that the Electric Fire, extracted
from the earth by the attrition of Glass or
other Electrick Substances, (which is also
visible when a horse is curried, or a cat%
back stroked in the dark, in frosty weather,
and which ladies have sometimes been fright-
ened with, upon seeing it sparkle on some of
their clothes, ) i s the same with lightening ; and
in proportion to the quantity collected, will
produce the very same effects. It win also be
shown, how an Apparatus may be constructed,
by which it would be in the power of man to
collect from the earth, and discharge in one
united stroke, moi-e lightning than is ever
discharged from the clouds at any one time.
A method will also be proposed and endu-
ed by which houses, ships, &c., may be easfly
secured from being hurt by lightening. And
as some arc apt to doubt the lawfulness of en-
deavoring to guard against lightning, it will
be shown, that the doin^ it, in the manner
proposed, can neither be chargable with pre-
sumption, nor be inconsistent with any of the
Principles of Natural or Revealed lUdigkHi.
As the knowlege of Nature tends to enfiim
thehtmian mind, and give us more nofck,
more grand and exalted ideas of the Andior
of Nature, and if well pursued, seldom fiuls
of producing something usefiil to man ; tis

OLD TIMK,— MONT BLANC.

327

hoped these Lectures may be thought worthy
of Regard and Encouragement, by some who
hare not had the opportunity of attending
ihem. The first Lecture to be on Monday,
the 19th instant ; the second on Tuesday ; to
begin precisely at Eleven o'clock in the Fore-
noon : and to be repeated again, on the
Thursday and Friday following.

Those who plea»e to attend on Monday or
Thursday half an hour before Eleven, may be
oitertained with some curious Experiments
made with the Air Pump: and Mr. Kinnersley's
house in Market Street. Price half a doUar
for each Lecture.

DESERTERS.

Deserters from his Majesty's 44th Regiment,
conraoanded by the Honorable Colonel Gage.

Daniel Hogeland, son of Derrick Hogeland
Esq. ; (an Assembl3rman for the County of
Bucks.) 21 years of age, 5 feet 9 inches
high. SAMUEL HOBSON.

Philadelphia, April 15th, 1756.
Whereas in the last Paper, No. 1424, by an
Advertisement concerning deserters from his
Majesty's Service, signed Samuel Hobson,
Daniel Hogeland, Son of me the Subscriber,
Derrick Hogeland, is therein named as one of
the said Deserters. Now I the said Derrick
Hogeland, do hereby give notice that my said
son, was not duly inUsted in his Majesty's
Service (as hath this day been fullyvpfovjod
before the Honorable William Allen, E^juire,
Chief Justice of this Province,) and that he
hath been accordingly, cleared from such im-
putation, and that the said Advertisement, so
far as relates to my said son, is false, and

1 without the least foundation of Truth.

DERRICK HOGELAND,

, Of the County of Bucks.

SKyEK HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD.

Notice is hereby given, that the sum of
' seven hundred pieces of eight is raised by
subscription, among the inhabitants of the
' City of Philadelphia, and now oflfered. with
approbation of his Honour the Governor, as a
reward for any person who shall bring into
this City, the Heads of SHINGAS and Cap-
tain JACOBS, chiefs of the Delaware Indian
Nation ; or three hundred and fifty pieces of
eight for each, provided that due proof is
made of being the real heads of said Shingas
or Captain Jacobs, they having received many
favors from this Government, and now treach-
erously deserted our interest, and become the
principal instruments in alienating the &f!ec-
) tions of the Indians from his Majesty and the

People of this Province.
I N. B. It is expected that this subscrip-
j tion will soon be considerable increased.

• MONT BLANC.

Albert Smith, has just published in London,
a pleasant little book, giving an account of his
ascent of Mont Blanc. He embodies therein a
compilation of facts, and a collection of narra-
tives concerning the great mountain, which
are reputed to be exceedingly entertaining,
with the reprint of a graphic letter addressed
to Mr. Aiiand of Geneva, by Mr. Windham, who
in company with Dr. Pococke, visited Cha-
mouni, in 1743, and successively recorded the
ascent of M. de Saussure. He relates Dr. Ha-
mels attempt wherein three of the guides
were lost, and the attempts of many others
who followed without any success: then comes
an account of his own ascent, from which we
extract the following passage, describing the
climber's fantasies just before venturing the
last and most terrible portion of the giddy,
icy height. The sensations were certainly
very curious : —

" My eyelids had felt very heavy for the
last hour ; and but for the absolute mortal
necessity of keeping them widely open, I be-
lieve would have closed before this ; but now
such a strange and irrepressible desire to go
to sleep seized hold of me that I almost fell
fast off as I sat down for a few minutes on
the snow to tie my shoes. But the foremast
guide was on the march again, and I was
compelled to go on with the caravan. From
this point, on to the summit, for a space of
two hours, I was in such a strange state of
mingled unconsfciousne^ and acutfe observi'
tion — of combined sleeping and waking —
that the old-fashioned word 'bewitched' is
the only one that I can apply to the complete
confusion and upsetting of sense in which I
found myself plunged. With the perfect
knowledge of where I was, and what I was
about— even with such caution as was requir-
ed to place my feet on a particular place in
the snow — I conjured up such a set of^absurd
and improbable phantoms about me, that the
most spirit-ridden intruder upon a Mayday
festival on the Hartz mountains was never
beleaguered. I am not suflBciently versed in
the finer theories of the psychology of sleep
to know if such a state might be ; but I be-
lieve for the greater part of this bewildering
I was fast asleep, with my eyes open, and that
through them tne wandering brain received
external impressions, in the same manner as,
upon awaking, the phantasms of our dreams
are sometimes carried on and connected with
objects about the chamber. It is very diffi-
cult to explain the odd state in which I was,
so to speak, entangled. A great many peo-
ple I knew in London were accompanying me,
and calling after me, as the stones did after
Prince Pervis, in the Arabian Nights, Then
there was some terrible elaborate affair that
I could not settle, about two bedsteads, the

328

BIZARRE.

whole blame of which transaction, whatever
it was, lay upon my shoulders ; and then a
literary friend came up, and told me he was
sorry we could not pass over his ground on
on our way to the summit, but that the KTng
of Prussia had forbidden it. Everything was
as foolish and unconnected as this, but it wor-
ried me painfully : and my senses were under
such little control, and reeled and staggered
about so, that when we had crossed the snow
prairie, and arrived at the foot of an almost
perpendicular wall of ice, four or five hundred
feet high— the terrible Mur de la Cote — up
which we had to climb, I sat down again on
the snow, and told Tairraz that I would not go
any farther, but that they might leave me
there if they pleased."

RES CURIOS/E.

LONQEVnT.

Dr. Hufcland in his " Treatise on the Art
of Prolonging Life" after noticing the ages
attained by Jenkins, Parr, Drakenberg, Ef-
fingham, and eight or tea others of less note,
who but little exceeded one hundred vears,
says that these are the only instances of great
ag^ in modem times with which he is ac-
quainted. There are many others however,
and far more remarkable than those the Doc-
tor gives. Wc have ourselves, seen a list em-
bracing a period of years from 973 to about
1300, wherein the names of 104 persons are
given, whose ages varied at death from 120 to
175 years !

These 104 persons were, at the time of
their decease residents of the following coun-
tries:
England, 41, Portugal, 1,

Wales, 9, Italy, 10,

Scotland, 16, Turkey, 1,

Ireland, 24, "West Indies, 1,

The date afSxed to each person's name is
the year they died in, except in five or six in-
stances, in which the time of their decease
not being ascertained, the latest year is given
in which they were known to be living. Of
other accounts, which for different reasons
have not been included in the list, the follow-
ing may deserve to be mentioned: John
Dance, of Virginia, who died at 125 : Rice, a
cooper in South wark, Philadelphia, 125 : John
Jacob, of Mount Jura, who died a few years
since, aged 128 ; Jeremjr Gilbert, who died at
Lutton, Northamptonshire, (Eng.) aged 132;
Nicholas Petours, canon and treasurer of the
Cathedral of Coutance in Normandy, aged
137 ; a man named Fairbrother, living in 1770,
at Wigan in Lancashire, aged 138 : the Coun-
tess of Desmond, who died in Ireland at 140;
Henry West, of Upton in Gloucestershire, who
lived to 152 : a peasant in Poland, who died

in 1762, in the 157th year of his age ; and a
Mulatto man, who di^ m Frederidctown in
1797, said to have been 180 years old.

TOBTURBS.

Of all the tortures ever inflicted upon poor
mortal, perhaps those of Robert Francis Da-
mien were the most horrible. He attempted
to assasinate the King of France, in the year
1757. It seems he had been seized with a re-
ligious enthusiasm, under the operation of
which he had taught himself to believe that
the assassination of his king was demanded of
him. Although we may be satisfied that Da-
mien ^s death was demanded, yet we see no
reason, in a civilized christian land, why it
should have been brought aliout in such an
inhuman manner. The tortures inflicted bv
Sav^s are not worse than were those which
the French dealt upon Damien's.

Observe ; according to old and accredited
authority, ** the prisoner was, Jan. 17, 1757,
removed, under a strong guard, from Versail-
les to the Conciergerie, where he arrived at
two oVlock in the morning of the 18th.

The interesting charge of keeping this pris-
oner safe for judgment, made every possible
human precaution to be taken against his es-
cape, by strengthening the prison, by posting
sentinels, guards. &c., who patrolled constant-
Jy the night-rounds. On the inside of the
Conciergeriet there were sentinels placed from
the entry to the court in which stands the
tower of Montgomery. At the bottom of this
toweif was placed a small corps-de-guard of
tWelW soldiers, who served to relieve the sen*
tinels within. All along the stairs of the
said tower, there were also posted sentindsat
proper distances. In the first story was the
room^in which Damiens was confined. This
room is round, and may be about twelve feet
broad, every way; receiving no light but
through two casements, or false windows, from
eight to nine inches in breadth, by three feet
in height. These openings are secured with
double bars and defended from the weather
only by moveable frames with oil-paper. There
was in this room neither chimnev nor fire,
but it was sufficiently warmed by a stove
placed in the guard-room beneath it, and by
the candles continually burning in the room.
At first, they used tallow-candles, but after-
wards, by the advice of the physicians, for
the preserving the wholesomeness of the air*
they burnt none but wax.

The bed of the prisoner was disposed as
follows : the head of the bed fronted the door
exactly, at the distance of three feet from the
wall. The bed was placed on a bed -stead
raised about six inches from the ground, aad
mattresses round, so as to project six inchas
beyond the bed-stead. The bed's head was
in the whole breadth raised three feet above
the bolster, and was likewise mattressed : be-

RESOURKXS^

8tt

ing 80 contriTed, with springs, to raise or low-
er, according as the cobvenience of the pris-
oner should require it. In this hod he was
fastened hj an assemblage of strong leather
straps, two inches and an half broad. These
straps kept his shoulders confined, and were,
on each side of the bed, made fast to two rings
stapled to the floor. Two other straps formed
a hgature for each of his arms, and were con-
nected by another placed on the breast bone ;
and these two branches formed a sort of hand-
cuff, that left the hand and arm no liberty,
but as directed to the mouth. Th^ straps
were likewise tied at their ends, to two rings
secured as the first Two straps of the same
form also confined his thighs, and were tied
in like manner : so that from each side of the
bed came three branches of straps. Besides
these, that which was placed on the breast,
descending to the feet, formed a sort of sur-
cingle, and was tied at the foot of the bed to
a ring in the middle of the floor : the strap too,
which his held shoulders was fastened in like
manner over the bed's head, to a ring stapled
in the floor like the rest. Under the arms and
hands of the prisoner was spread a large car-
pet of hide, that he might not contract any
mflammatonr heat, or excoriation.

Monday, March 28. At seven o'clock fn the
morning, the criminal was carried up to the
torture-room. From that moment he ceased
to be under custody of the French guards,
and, according to custom, it was the Lieu-
tenant of the Short-robe of the Chatelet who
had charge of him.

The Recorder read the sentence to the crim-
inal, who heard it through with attentiox^j^id
intrepidity, and, on raising himself, said,
* that the day would be a sharp one.'

A little before eight o'clock, six of the Com-
missaries being assembled in the torture-
room, the criminal was placed on the stool,
and underwent his last interrogatory, which
lasted near an hour and an half: Damiens all
the time presenring his usual firmness. That
over, the executioners of justice began to put
the legs of the criminal into the boot, and the
the ropes were tightened with more rigor than
had ever been practised ; and perhaps this is
the most exquisitely painful moment of the
whole process of that torture. Damiens be-
gan to send forth the most piercing cries, and
seemed even to faint away ; but the physi-
cians and surgeons, who are always present at
the torture, on examination, knew that the
swooning was not real. Damiens asked to '
drink ; they gave him water, but he insisted
on haying some wine in it, .saying, ' now or
never strength is necessary.' It was not till \
half an hour afterwards that the first wedge
was am>lied. They had let this interval ela|»e,
in order to have the numbness got over, which
commonly follows the violent compression of
the ligature, and that the sensibility might

be at its height : and, indeed, at the applica*
tion of the first wedge, Damiens made dread-
ful outcries, but without passion, or any in*
decent word. During the same, the First Pre-
sident renewed his interrogatories, and prin-
cipally with respect to accomplices ; and hav-
ing asked who induced him to commit the
crime, he cried out, <It is Gauticr.' (This
was the first moment of his ever mentioning
him.) Being asked who Grautier was, he
told ; as also where he lived ; and charged
him with having used very criminal expres-
sions, in presence of Mons. le Maitre de Fer-
rieres, whose aflairs this man managed, and
lodged at his house. Upon this declaration,
the Commissaries gave orders to the Lieuten-
ant of the Short-robe to brine away directly
l]ifore them, in that room, the said De Fcr-
rieres and Gautier. Whilst they were gone
for, the torture continued with intervals of a
quarter of an hour between the driving of
each wedge, at every one of which Damiens
renewed his shrieks and outcries. The most
home and pressing interro^tions imaginable
were all the while put to him ; and after hav-
ing remained two hours and a half under the
torture, the physician and surgeon advised not
to keep him longer in it, as it could not be
done without danger of his life. Consequent-
be was untied, and placed upon the mattress,
where having heard the verbal process, and
his answers, he persisted therein.

The Commissaries seeing there was noth-
ing more to be expected from the criminaFs
declarations, ordered him to be led back to
the Greve. He waited there some considera-
ble time, because the executioner h^ not been
careful enough to hafva^fverything ready: far
which he was afterwards punished \)y con^
mitment for several days, to the dungeon.

When Damiens was stripped, it was observ-
ed, that he surveyed and considered all his
body and hmbs with attention, and that he
looked round with firmness on the vast con-
course of spectators.

Towards five o'clock he was placed on the
scaffold which had been erected in the middle
of the inclosed area, and was raised about
three feet and an half from the ground ; the
length from eight to nine feet, and of about
the same breadth. The criminal was instant-
ly tied, and afterwards fastened by iron gyves
which confined him under the arms, and above
the thighs. The first torment he underwent,
was that of having his hand burnt in the
flame of brimstone : the pain of which made
him send forth such a terrible cry as might be
heard a ereat way ofi; A moment afterwards
he raised his head, and looked for some time
earnestly at his hand, without renewing his
cries, and without expressing any passion, or
breaking out into any imprecation. To this
first torment succeeded that of pinching him
with red hot pincers, in the arms, tlughs and

S30

BIZARRE.

breasts. At each pinch he was heard to
shriek in the same manner, as when hi» hand
was burnt. Ho looked and gazed at each
wound, and his cries ceased as soon as the
pinching was over. Thev afterwards poured
boiling oil, and melted lead and rosin, into
every wound, except those of the breast,
which produced, in all those circumstances,
the same effect as the two first tortures. The
tenor of his articulated exclamations, at
times, was as follows : • Strengthen me. Lord
God : strengthen me ! — Lord God, have pity
on me ! — Lord, my God, what do I not suf-
fear I— Lord God, give me patience !'

At length they proceeded to the ligatures
of his arms, legs and thighs, in order to dis-
member him. This preparation was very long
and painful, the cords, striaghtly tied, bear-
ing grievously upon the fresh wounds. This
drew new cries from the sufferer, but did not
hinder him from viewing and considering him-
self with a strange and singular curiosity.

The horses having been put to the draught,
the pulls were repeated for a long time, with
frightful cries on the part of the sufferer : the
extension of whose members was incredible,
and yet nothing gave signs of the dismember-
ment taking place.

In spite of the straining efforts of the hor-
ses, which were young and vigorous, and per-
haps, too much so, being the more restive and
unmanageable for drawing in concert, this
last torment had now lasted for more than an
hour, without any prospect of its ending. The
physician and surgeon certified to the com-
missaries, that it was almost impossible to ac-
complish the dismemberment, if the action of
^le horses was not ii(!fetl^y cutting the prin-

pal sinews, which might, indeed, suffer a
length of extension, but not be separated
without an amputation. Upon this attesta-
tion the Commissaries sent an order to the
executioner, to make such an amputation,
with regard especially to the night coming on,
as it seemed to them fitting that the execu-
tion should be over before the close of the
day.

in consequence of this order, the sinews of
the sufferer were cut at the joints of the arms
and thighs. The horses then drew afresh, and
after several pulls, a thigh and arm were seen
to sunder from the body. Damiens still look-
ed at this painful separation, and seemed to
preserve some sense and knowledge after
both thiehs, and one arm, were thus severed
from his bod v: nor was it till the other arm
went away that he expired.

As soon as it was certain, that there was
no life left, the body and scattered limbs were
thrown into a fire prepared for that purpose
near the scaffold, where th^ were all reduced
to ashes.

HOW IT PWELS TO BE HANGED.

Lord Bacon says he was told by a cer-

tain gentleman, who being desirous, by w«y
of a joke, and out of curiosity, to know the
sufferings from being handed upon a gibbet,
that he stood upon a stocd and hung himself,

I and then let himself down again. Thinking^.

I therefore, he could recover the stool at his
pleasure, he shoving off, tried once more, but
could not without the assistance of a fViend
who had accompanied him. Being asked what
he suffered, he answered, he felt no pain, but
that the first alteration he found in hims^
was a kind of fire and burning about his eyes,
then an extreme gloom or darkness, and after
that, a sort of azure color, such as persons
perceive who are at the point of death.

His lordship was also told, by a physician
of his time, that he had recovered a man, by
means of friction and a warm bath, who had
hanged himself, and remained so for half an
hour; and that he made no doubt that he
could recover any person in the like circum-
stances, provided his neck was not dislocated
by the force of his turning himsdf off,

OUR WEEKLY GOSSIP.

— The Editor of the Home Journal asks :

" Who is to give us a biography of Count
D'Orsay?" and adds : "We are surprised to
hear no rumour of any such work in hand, not
even by Sue or Janin, or any of the fecund
French writers who are on the alert for a sub-
ject, and who knew the Count personally and
well. Why, scarce any book could be more
entertaining — or, if properly written, more
instrtKitive. D*Orsay was a man, and a brave
one. And by *' brave" we do not mean his
duel with the butcher at Boulogne, nor his
thousand instances of gallant courage as a
rider, boxer and swordsman. We mean that
he was brave in his last two encounters — with
age and age and poverty He wore his grav
hairs like one wno would ** never say oyf ,''
and modified his dress to suit his years : and
he took to industry for a livelihoocl, and, for
the last few years, supported himself by the
labour of his hands as an artist. There were
those intimate with him during this period
who could beautifully tell its contrasts with
the brilliant life foregone. And there are those
who knew him in his unsurpassed stages of
magnificence, who could also sketch him gra-
phically and well."

* * * • «

We half smile, half sadden, to recall the pic- I

ture of D'Orsay the last time we saw him— i !
picture, by the way, that might be painted,

m a lesser degree, with the same inspiration ,

which drew Napoleon crossing the Alps upon ,

a donkey. Creditor-bound within the wills ]
of Lady Blessington^s house, he was t^ing
his exercise in the garden —mounted upon a

little pony, and, with his feet almost touching '

OUR WEEKLY GOSSIP.

331

the groand, galloping at top-speed arotmd an
area of gravel- work, of about the circumfer-
ense of a hotel drawing-room. He had grown
stout with lus confinement in-doors — but
there be was, still gloriously handsome, his
than nostrils inflated with his absent-minded
exertion, the bright color of 'his cheeks, the
broad chest and faultless limbs showing su-
perbly even with the shambling pace of the
little quadruped beneath him. But for this
physical perfcctness and what it brought upon
him in the way of manly sports, companion-
ship and admiration— had he been plain or
deformed, that is to say— D'Orsay would have
deyel(^)ed a genius, we believe, that would
have mated Byron's, whose companion he
was."

— " Notes on Uncle Tom's Cabin," by the
Rev. Mr. Steams, just published by Lippin-
cott, Grambo & Co., will unquestionably be
read with interest. It is one of the most log-
ical efforts which we have seen for many a
day.

— The Forty First Trade Sale of Messrs.
Thomas and Sons, closes on the 3d instant.
The arrangements of the Auctioneers, have
been most admirable. The new sale rooms,
are spacious and elegant, and the entire
building erected by Messrs. Thomas & Sons,
expressly for their own business, will when
completed form a decided feature in the section
of the city, which already abounds in beautiful
and substantial edifices. The eating arrange-
ments made by Messrs. Thomas and Sons,
for the accommodation of booksellers attending
their sales, have been of an exceedingly con-
venient as well as Kberal character. Lunches
have been furnished daily at 1 and 6 P. M.,
within the very ring of the hammer, which
have consisted of every delicacy the market
affords. Little time 1ms thus been consum-
ed in going to meals r indeed, the period al-
lowed for refreshing the body has been all de-
voted thereto.

— The National Intelligencer says : "the astro-
nomer Arago will, ere long, it is to be feared,
be numbered among tb^ illustrious dead.
His health is very infirm. A few weeks since
he repaired to the south of France, in hope
that his native air would impart some vigor to
his old and nearly exhausted frame. It was
more than once reported, since his absence,
that he was actually dead. I am glad, however,
to state that, partially recovered, he is, by
very slow stages, accompanied by his two
sons and a niece, making his way to Paris."

— We a^ee with a New York cotemporary,
that it will not detract from the popularity of
Anna Zebb, the prima donna of M. Julirn*3
troupe, that she was stricken from the Vien-
na Royal Opera roll— where she was a great
favorite— for persisting in singing at a bene-
fit for the Hungarian refugees, in London.

— The abolition of the advertisement duty
will do much towards revdutionizing the Eng-
lish newspaper press. Daily papers, at two
pence per co|^, it is thought, will be among
^0 pofledbilittes created by the ohmge.

— The Academy of Sciences at Dijon has
solicited the Municipiility to mark with com-
memorative inscriptions such houses in the
town as deserve to be made historical because
they were once inhabited by citizens who have
done honor to the country by their genius,
their works, or their virtues : — and has given
in the names of Bouhier, Brulard, Buffon,
Credillon, Jeannin La Monnoye, Piron, Ra-
meau, and the Marshal de Tavennes, as ex-
amples to begin with. The Municipal Coun-
cil at once adopted the proposition, — and add-
ed the name of Guiton-Monveau, the illustri-
ous chemist. The Council has idso, at the
suggestion of the Academy, voted a sum of
money for a marble tablet to be let into the
walls of the old ducal Palace, recording the
fact that in its chambers were bom two of
the kings of France, — ^Philippe-le-Bon in 1371 ,
and Charles-le-Temeraire in 1433.

— At the comer of East Thirteenth st. and
Third-av., New York city, flourishes an old
Pear Tree, venerable with age and Revolu-
tionary reminiscences. This Tree was plant-
ed by Govemor Petrus Stuyresant, and is
supposed to have been brought by him from
Holland, on his retnrn from accounting to his
superiors for his surrender of New York to
the British in the year 1664. The Tribune
says it is still flourishing and producing fruit,
the topmost branches being covered with
foliage, but the trunk, at the base appearing
to be decaying. A broken dead branch hangs
over thestreet, to the peril of the passers-by.
An iroiiwx' surrounds the trunk, to protect
its venerable bark from the penknives of
morbidly ambitious school-boys and loafers.

— It is announced that Mr. TV. E. Burton
is preparing an illustrated edition of Shakes-

gjre's works, which will cost at least One
undred Thousand Dollars! The illustra-
tions, it is said, are to be superior to any of
the kind ever witnessed on this side of the
Atlantic.

— Louis Napoleon has grown stout within a
short time, some say, because of the dropsy,
while others allege, that he has as a measure
of safety, put on an extra coat of mail.
Apropos; A book called the "Rivers of
France," was put up at our Trade Sale Uie
other day, when a by-stander exclaimed, ^* I
hope the one in which Louis Napoleon is
destined to drown, is among them."

— Another English singer, totally unknown
in her own country. Miss Bywater, is said by
the foreign papers to have succeeded at the
Opera of Berlin, in the revived * Cinderella'
of Isouard.

338

BISARRS.

— The Ninth Part of Collier's Shakegpoare,
published by J. S. Eedficld of New York, has
appeared.

— Qodey's Lady*s Book and GrakanCs Jlogo-
zine for September, have been for a long time
on our table. Both are sustained with great
spirit, and both ought not only to retain, but
to increase, the very large patronage which
they enjoy.

— The London Critic announces another new
Poet, whose writings will be introduced to the
readers of Tht Critic, in the Number of
August 1st.

— We little dream, in this country, of re-
verses which attend some of the titled per-
sonages of Europe. An inquest was, not
many years ago, held in England, on the body
of a baronet, who died for want of proper
food, in a miserable lodging. He had been
ruined by a law suit. Amongst some debtors
proclaimed outlaws at a sheriffs court, were
lord William Paget, Sir. John de Beauvoir,
and lordWellesley, the brother of Wellington.
The unfortunate col. Gustafeon, the ex-king
of Sweden, the lineal descendant of the great
Qustavus, was lately wandering about Eu-
rope, often an outside passenger on a stage-
coach, because he was too poor to pay for a
more comfortable seat.

— From Paris there is little musical news.
Madame Ugaldi has left the Opira Comity,
and gone to the Thi&tre des VarHtis ; which
step, says the London Athemtumt would seem
to implv the change of musical drama for
vaudeville rendered necessary by the enfeebled
state of her voice. Signer Corti has resign-
ed the d^cction of the Italian Opera in Paris.

— The Literary Worlds which wo receive
very irregularly, is a remarkably., Wiefl-edited
ioumal. A new life and energy seiem to have
been recently imparted to the World,

— The Knickerbocker for Aueust has not yet
reached us. Will the publisher be kmd
enough, hereafter, to sena our copy through
Zicber. The United States Mail, as at pre-
sent managed is a very poor afiFair, not at all
fit to be trusted. The Knickerbocker was
never more successful than at present, we
hear.

— The following strange paragraph appears
among the German news in the Gazette Musi*
cakf dated Magdeburg, — " The prisoner Ilar-
tung, who is under sentence of death, has
petitioned the King that his execution may
be' posponed to give him time to finish an
opera of which he is writing the text and
music."

— The Home Journal states that among the
many members of the New York press whose
ideas are better known to the public than
their names, one of the ablest is Mr. William
H. F&T. He has been for some time past

the musical critic of the Tribune^ and is the
author of the instructive series of articles od
the Exhibition, which appear in that paper.
Mr. Fby is a gentleman who possessess know-
ledge, talent, and an independent mind, and
the accession of such a man to the editorial
corps is a circumstance of public importance.

EDITORS' SANS SOUCI.

— The following poeticaUrit comes to us anon j-
mously. Whether it is original pr not we can-
not say. It is rather spicy : —

ladies' boots.

A little glore «tira up my heart.

At tides itir up the Ocean,
And snow-white mnalin, when it flte»

Wakee many a curious notion;
All fotH of lady fixings thrill

My feelings as thoy ori«r,
But little female gaiter boots •

Are death and nothing shorter!
And just to pot yott on your guard

111 give you abort and Iwief
A small hotel experience

Which filled my heart with griet
Last summer at the Washington.

I stopt a week or more.
And marked two booties every mom

Before my neighboui's door;
Two boots with patont leather tip^—

Two boots which seemed to say :
"An angel trots around in us," —

They stole my heart away.
I saw the terrant take them off

With those of other mutes;
nia soul was all on sixpences

But mine was in the boots.
And often in my nightly dreams
■ <• They swept beforv my fece,
A Isdy growing miii of tfssm

As flowers from a va«e.
But ahl one mom I saw a sight

Which struck me like a stone
Some other name was on the boots,

Those boots were not alone !
A great tall pair of other boots

Was standiug by their side
And off they walked that afternoon.

And with them walked— a bridal

■MOM^aM BAPRi-noa.

— The following imitation of Horace's ** Otium
Divos" was written in the year 1761, at the
Mohawk Castle, in the State of New York, by
the elder Captain Morris and sent to his friend
Lieutenant Richard Montgomery, afterwards
a General officer in the American Army, and
kiUed at the siege of Quebec.

Ease is the prayer nf bim, who in a whale-beat
Grossing Lake Champlian by a storm's o'ertakea:
Not struck his Uunket,* not a Mendly Island
Nasr torsortrshla.

EDITORS* SANS-SOUCI.

333

BM^ in the wiab, too. of tho rtiy Onadian;
BaM, the fMI^^t of Moody CftghnawagM;
BftM, Richard, ease, not to be bought with wampom,
Nor paper money.

Not Oolondl^s pay, nor yet a dnppcr Seijeant,
Orderly waiting with recovered hidbt-rt,
Can chase the crowd of tronblefl «till surrounding
Laced nigimentalfl.

^niAt sub liTee best who with a sash in tittten,
Worn by bis grandeire at the fight of Blentidm,
To tSaar a stranger, and to wild ambition,

Snorea on a bear sldn.
Why, lilte fine flsUowa, are we ever scheming?
We, short-llTed mortals 1 why so fimd of climates
Warmc-d by new snns? oh! who tliat runs ftom home
can

Run Ihoa hlras^ too?

Care eUmbs rtdeanxf wHh faxa and twenty pounders,
Kor quits our Ught'troopa, or our Indian warriors;
Swifter than the mooee doer or the fleeter eastrwind
Pushing the clouds on.

He, whose good fiumouroan e^joy the present,
Seoms to look forward, with a smile of patience
TMap'ring the bitter. Bliss uninterrupted
None can inherit.

Death Instantaneous hurried off AchUIee ;
Age fkr^xtonded wore away Tilhona^.
Who wm lire longer—thou or T, Montgomery?
Dicky or Tommy?

Thee twenty messmates, Aill of noise and laiq^ter,
Cheer with their solilcs : thee the merry damsels
Please with their titt'iinf ; whUst thou ait'st endowed
with

Boots, sash and gorget.

Me to Fort Hendrlck, 'midst a savage nation,
Dun Oansjoh'ry, cruel Fate has driven,
Oh! think on Morris In a lonely chamber,

Dabbling in Sapphio.

— A corr^pondent wishes ns to publish a list
of all the Uncle Tom books which have been
written. We will endervor to comply with
the reqnest hereafter. The great original is
rapidly becoming lumber on the booksellers
shelves. At Thomas' Trade Sale just closing,
it has been a decided drug : only a few copies
beii^ sold, and those at a sadly reduced price.

L^SOKtMOl AT TM« OOMBTI

We had a fine view of the Comet the other
night. We saw it from Beverly wharf, a

Elace deeply engraved in our a£^tions. It
as furnished many health-giving past times,
among which rock-fishing is signalized in our
menKiry.

By the way Beverly wharf, has been much
improved of late, by the repairs which its
new lessee, Oapt Cone, has put upon it. In
otlMT words it has been been strengthened m

*TI)e soldieKs tlankrt, used by the army as a saiL
t Floating batteries used on L*ke Ghamplain.

its Kmbs, by the addition of several new piles
in front ; so that now, when the steamboats
come rudely in contact with the pier, they
encounter an elastic reception, much more
aCTecable to passengers than the old-time jolt.
Tnese new piles were driven home by steam,
quite a circumstance in Beverly. While the
big brawny arm of the engine was dealing
blows upon the piles with its ponderous iron
beetle, crowds of spectators looked on with
the mast marked interest : yes crowds, em-
bracing nearly all the population of Beverly ;
farmers, mechanics, fishermen and gentlemen
of elegant leisure ; the last being such as do
up a good deal of loafing, and ever secure a
plenty of help therefor. The quoit pitchers
near the old tavern abandoned their darling
sports, and were among the wondering crowds
on the wharf. "Sin and plagues! wam't
that a whacking lick," exclaimed one; ** Don't
it drive the timber hum" said another.
** What would you give Jiflfy, if you could
lay into your old inimy Bill Waxall in that
way ?" inquired another. ** Give !" repl^
Jmy — who stood with his hands in what
once were a complete pair of trowsers, but
now only tolerably well connected rags —
** give ! don't talk — ^I*d part with my beth-
right lest as Samson did after he slew the
Phlystin^." So went a conversation, while
the tall piles were sinking deep into Delaware
mud, every blow giving increased firmness
to the plat]R>rm.

Delaware mud! These words sugg^t
new thou^ts. Many a sinker have we lost in
that mud, and we are not sure but that some
fifty or sixty vards of line have been em-
bowelled therein, besides, any number of
Baiiow knives. One cannot have fished for
six or seven years, on the end of Beverly
wharf without losing many of the necessanr
properties of the sport. Delaware mud ! It
carries in its dark Dosom, just there, too, ofi*
Beverly wharf, the assassin's knife ! Does
the reader ask what assassins? We reply:
the name we cannot give. We will bneny
relate the facts of the murder. Perchance
the murderer will one of these days be
brought to justice. Inhere are still many
eyes on the look out for him. But the fact :
There was, then, some four years ago, a col-
ored camp meeting new Beverly, which at-
tracted a large number of visitors from this
city. Among them were some rowdies from
Moyamensing. They had a conflict towards
night, with citizens of Beverly. It com-
menced far away from the landing, but was
kept up until the contending parties had
reached the wharf. There, the warring ele-
ments were quieted, but the lull was only
temporary : for as soon as the boat touched, to
take passengers to town, the strife was renew-
ed, and ended in the stabbing of John Col-
lins, an industrious fisherman. The murder-

S34

BI2ABRE.

er used an oyster-knife, obtained stealthily at
an Ice Cream Saloon, and was seen to throw
it into the river after he had dealt the fatal
blow. In the mud it sticks to this day. Poor
John died in a few minutes. We saw him
breathe his last under the large tree at the
head of the wharf. The spirit returned sud-
denly to Him who gave it. Ten minutes be-
fore John lay there a corpse, he was sitting
^t the door of his little ush-cabin, perfectly
well ; far away it would seem, from death !
Unhappy fate that seduced him into the crowd
where the fatal blow was dealt at his heart.
He died as the sun was sinking in the west,
and his murderer has never yet been taken.
But the knife, lies there still, deeply buried in
Delaware mud !

But the Comet — ^it certainly made a very
striking appearance from Beverly wharf, with
its little head and its long tail. *'I see it
move" said (me, ** don't you ?" " There it
goes down behind Mr. Biddle's trees," said
another. ** Gracious ! don't it look like a
rocket pinting down?" exclaimed another.
"How long will it run, 'afore it busts?"
interrogated another. " Bust ! you're a fule ;"
it can't bust, so long as it has a tail !" cried
another. " Its got its Perry heel on," said
a boy, "father tell'd me it had to-day."
" Beautiful, mysterious object !" exclaimed a
sweet-toned voice, " do yon not love night and
the starlight ?" ♦* Yes dearly." was the reply
of a young and poetical looking man, upon
whose arm the fair creature hung. " Do you
recollect what Alexander ^ith says about
sUrlight in the city?" "No, do tell me."
"WeU, listen:"

** I lovo the stare too much I The tameless foa

Spreads Itself out bononth thorn, smooth as glass,

You cannot lovo them, lady, till you dwell

In mighty towns; immured in their black hearts,

The stars are nearer to you than the fields.

Fd grow an Atheist in these towns of trade,

Were't not fbr stars. The smoke puts heaven out ;

I meet sin— bloated feces in the streets,

And shrink as fix>m a blow. I hear wOd oaths,

And ourses BpiH from lips that onec were sweet,

And sealed for Heaven by a mother's kiss,

I mix with man whose hearts of human flesh,

Beneath the petrifying touch of gold,

Have grown as stony as the trodden way.

I see no trace of Qod, till in the night.

While the vast dty lies in dreams of gafax,

He doth reveal himself to me in heaven.

M J heart swells to Him as the sea to the moon ;

Tberolbre it is, I love the midnight stars **

"Ah! ah-

-lah-

-," sighed the fair

listener. What might have followed, we can't
say. "Mama" came up at this crisis, and
put in her oar thus : " Juliana, you musn't
stay out any longer in the night air, you'll
get a chill." "Yes," quoth Papa, "and
then there will be another doctor's bill !"

But the Ck)met — well — it soon settled down
behind Torrebdale, and the wharf was ooce
more deserted. It never shone more brightly
than on the evening in question. We could not
help thinking it had a warning in its herj eye,
and yet we are not superstitious.

There is something to add connected with
the spot from whence we beheld it ? Beverly
wharf. On the following morning ju.st after
the peep of dawn, a gentleman stood there with
rod and bait, determined to catch a " mess"
of rock-dsh. He secured them too, and they
were subsequently served up to the delight
of many a palate at Qrifflth*s popular hotel
hard by. So mnch for looking at the
Comet!

N/IORB NONaKNSB.

— A set of people calling themselveB the Ve-
! getarians have recently held a Convention m
i our city. They denounce the use of animal
! food as leading to sensuality, brutality, &c
' Whether animals are intended to cat mest or
vegetables may be learnt trom an examination
of their teeth, and as men are provided with
both kinds of teeth, graminiverous and car-
niverous, the conclusion is irresi stable that
Providence intended their diet to be of a mix-
ed character. The Vegetarians denounce
milk and eggs as well as meat. How their
babies are fed was not mentioned at the Con-
venticm. Probably they give them pea soup
from sacking bottles. This new ism is not
likely to spread, but if it should, there will
be one good result attending it — the price of
meat must fall.

JOHN BUU. aTRu-rsj

It is amazing to see how father Bull struts
on the strength of the rapid advancement of
the United States. But a littlo while i^, we
were a nation of sharpers and bush>whackers :
now we are of " Saxon mind," with " Angjo
infusion,'* the " great American off-shoot" of
England! The London Atherueum, for in- '
stance speaking of the New York Industrial
Exhibition holds the following flattteringlan-
gaage;—

" The hope of the world lies in these two
free nations. With them, this is emphatical-
ly the Age of the Palace of ^ass : — which is
at once a fact and a symbol. May no other
rivalries ever spring up between the two great
powers whom the Atlaniic makes one m all ,
good purposes — as they are one by birth— i
than such as draw them more closely tog^ '
ther in Industrial Exhibition !" :

We respond from our deepest heart to tbe
wisl)^ expressed at the cloB»<» this parmiffti: '
and we earnestly hope 3mt England tUKy
hereafter treat her " American off-shoot^** n
such a mannw as shall make it eomport ivMi
our dignity, as well as our pockets, to keep up
friendly relations.

EDITOR'S aANS^OUCI.

$99

LAOtSa ATT-BNO:

— Every housewife knows how to make herb
tea* The herbs are put into a cup or dish,
hot water turned upon them, and they are
suffered to steep — wnj not boil ? Because a
large portion of their medicinal virtues, and
partkularlj the principle of flavour, the most
volatile property they contain, is dissipated
by boiling, and the virtues of the tea lost. In
the process of boiling and fermentation, the
natural flavor and aroma of the dioicest vege-
tables are dissipated and changed. Yet though
every woman knows how to make herb tea,
few seem to know how to make green or black
tea, or coffee ; or knowing, do not reduce their
Imowledge to practice. A mistaken economy,
U) get all the strength, induces them generally
to ooil the latter well, and often the former ;
and the consequence is, that instead of a
grateful, refreshing beverage, they give us a
dull, aorid, or insipid substitute, retaining
nothing pleasant but the color and heat. The
aroma, which gives the liquor its value, and
which should bo recognized by the nose as
well as the palate, is gone — tmth the steam,
and with it much of the flavor. They not
only 6ot7the strength, but they waste it. Now,
without intending to infringe upon the prero-
gative of the good wife, we do advise, that
she will make her green and black, as she
does her herb tea, without boiling ; and that
she will only leach her coifee, by putting it,
when recently burnt, and fresh ground, into
a strainer, fitted to the top of her cofiee pot,
and turning upon it as much boiling water as
would suffice in the old mode. We can as-
sure our fair readers, from reason as well as
experience, that this is the best way, not
cmiy to gratify the taste, but to promote econo-
my. Less tea and cofPbe are required in the
steeping and leaching, than in the boiling
process ; and the beverage obtained by the
mode reconunended, is more tonic, exhilerat-
ing and pleasant.

STANO PnOM UNOBRI

— A New York weekly of the date of our
last No. contains a copy-righted novel, in the
description of the heroine whereof, the au-
thor takes occasion to display his knowledge
di the history of art — as follows : ** A neck
vhich Medici would have copied for his Venus,
descended gracefully to the sloping shoulders. "

FAMII.V NAN/ieS.

— Mimy fiunily names are pronounced in a
way no one would guess at from the
apdling. Among others, the English cidl
Cholmondeley, Clmmley ; the Irish call Cold-
Gleugh, Cokely ; the Scotch pronounce Mi^
jormoks* Markkanks; and in the United
States* Tahalerro is called Toliver. Is not
this last name, Taliaferro a Latinized form
of the Norman name, Taillefer ? It seeme %o^

be obsdete in En^and, though it is conunon
in Virginia and the states settled from it.

COOK BAOK YeiST-AfirFORO HOU8Bi8-r8l

— Anthony Benezet in his famous 1* Caution
and warning to Gh-eat Britain and her Colon-
ies,*' puUished in 1767, gives the following
account of the British Slave Trade to Ameri-
ca in 1753 — a hundred years ago:

'* In a book printed in Liverpool called The
Liverpool Mtfkorandum Book, which contains,
among other things an Account of the Trade
of that Port, there is an exact list of the ves-
sels employed in the Guinea Trade, and of the
number of slaves imported in each vessel, by
which it appears that in the year 1753, the
number imported to America by vessels be-
longing to that Port, auKMinted to upwards of
thirty thousand ; and from the number of ves-
sels employed by the African Company, in
London and Bristol, we may with some degree
of certainty, conclude there are, at least, one
hundred thousand Negroes purchased and
brought on board our ships yearly from the
coast of Africa on their account. This is con-
firmed in Anderson's History of Trade and
Commerce, printed the year before last, where
it is said at page 68 of the Appendix, * That
England supplies her American Colonies with
N^;ro Slaves, amounting in number to above
one hundred thousand every year." "

Besides exporting this great number to the
American Colonies, England used every effort
in her power to prevent the abolition of slav-
ery by the colonists, rejecting steadily the
laws that they passed for that purpose. And
yet England has now the impudence to de-
nounce America for that very state of things
which her own conduct brought about. Eng-
land fastened Negro Slavery on America
against the wishes of the American people.

AN/lUa Ef\/ISN-r •

— Sanford's Troupe, at the new House,
Twelfth above Chestnut, is giving burlesque
operas, with great ^cUt. A better company
we never had in the city. The patronage
which it obtains is very large.

— Robert Heller has commenced his wonder-
fhl f/toWmc— embracing the famous second-
sight — at the Lecture Room of the Chinese
Museum, Blitz's old quarters. He is assisted
in his experiments by Mll'e Marie Heller. He
is an accomplished young man, and should bo
encouraged.

— Messrs. Wheatly and Drew have opened
the Arch Street Theatre, with a very fine
company, and are playing mghtly to crowded
houses. M|r. Ftedoricks, a gentleman of
high position, not only as an actor, but as a;
man, is stage-manager. Both of the acting
managers are gentlemen of fine talents

S36

BIZARRE.

— Ju1ien*s monstre concerts at Castle (garden,
New York, will doubtless be the great furor
of thatcity during their entire continuance.
Brough, the great Broueh, is Julien^s mana-
ger. Can we say more f

— Oakforl's splendid hat store at 158 Chest-
nut street, is daily becoming more and more
an object of admiration and interest, as our
people return to the city from country jaunts.
Its fitting-up,— counters, mirrors, brackets,
Ac., — are extremely beautiful. Oakford has
risen to his present magnificent surroundings
and profitable enterprise, entirely by his own
exertions. He makes a superb hat. Apro-
pos : his new Autumn fashion, is announced
K>r September 1st., and before this number of
our paper reaches its destination, will have
been issued. That it will be unique and
tasteful, indeed, all Oakford is certain.

— Col. William H. Maurice, at 123 Chestnut
street, is now at his post again. He has in-
creased his stock of stationery very largely.
He has also added materially to his collection
of blank-books of all kinds. The Colonel is
popular in all the relations of life. He will
one of these days be a millionaire.

— Please read the Medical card of the Drs.
Hunter. They have a new and excellent — it
is said — cure for the consumption. One of
them will visit our city on Monday and Tues-
day the 19th. and 20th. Sept

— WiLLAM T. Fry has, we learn, taken pos-
session of his new store in Arch above Sixth,
and will be all prepared to receive his custo-
mers in a day or two we presume.

BOMKTMINO NK\A/.

— The Journal of the London society of arts
states, that Dr. Riddell, officiating superin-
tending surgeon of the Nizam's army, in mak-
ing experiments on the Muddar plant of India
(Asclejna gigantea)t had occasion to collect
the milky juice, and found that as it gradually
dried it l>ecame tough and hard, like gutta
percha. He was induced to treat the juice in
the same manner as that of the gutta percha
tree, and the result has been the obtaining a
substance precisely analogous to gutta per<£a.
Sulphuric acid chars it ; nitric acid converts
it into a yellow resinous substance. Muriatic
acid has but little effect upon it ; acetic acid
has no effect, nor has alcohol. Spirit of tur-
pentine dissolves it into a viscid glue, which
when taken between the finger and thumb,
pressed together, and then separated, shows
numberless minute and separated threads.
The fon^ins chemical testa correspond ex-
actly with the established results of gutta

Cha. It becomes plastic in hot waterv and
been moulded into cups and vessels. It

will unite with the true gutta percha. The
muddar also produces an excellent fibre, use-
ful in the place of hemp and flax. An acre
of cultivation of it would produce a large
quantity of both fibre and juice. The poor-
est land suffices for its growth, and no doubt
if well cultivated there* would be a large
yield of juice, and a finer fibre. A netrijr \
similar substance is procurable from the juice
of the Euphorbia TimadUt only when it har-
dens after boiling it becomes brittle. The
subject, the Jotirnal thinks, is most impor-
tant : if common hedge plants like the five-
going can yield a product so valuable, the de-
mand for which is so certain (quickly to o«t-
nin the supply, a material addition will have
been made to the productive resources of the
country.

A XA/OOOEN aOLOiSR.

— In Claude's reply to Amaud, the Frendi
catholic, we are told, that it was the humor
of the Prince of Conde to have a man of tpood
on horseback, dressed like a field officer, with
a lifted broad-sword in its hand, which figure
was fastened to the great saddle, and the
horse it was on was always kept by the great
Conde's side, when he travelled or engaged
in the bloody field. Fearless the man of wood
appeared in many a well- fought battle ; bat
as thev persued the enemy one afto-nooa
through a forest, in riding hard, a bough
knocked off" the wooden warrior's head; yet
still he galloped on after flying foes, to the
amazement and terror of the enemy, who saw
a hero pursuing them without -a head.

RHKNiaM WINK.

— Singular calculation of the value of the
Rhenish wine, which has been for nearly two
centuries in a cellar at Brement called the
Rose : — The five hogsheads of wine were pur-
chased in 1624, for 1,200 francs, dollars 240,
which, if put out at compound interest, each
hogshead would now be worth 5,752,686,622
crowns, a bottle of this precious wine would
cost 21,799.480 francs; a wine glass 2,723,
808 francs and one drop, (reckoning 1000
drops to the glass) 10,880 uranos, or 2,176
dollars.

— The practice of confining the name Arnet'
ica to the United States. If we yisit the
Falls of Niagara, we hear of the Ametiean
Fall and the Canadian Fall, as if Canada were
in Europe, Asia or Africa. A most strikiog
example of this ridiculoiis usage occms ia
Mr. Hawthorne's life of President Pierce,
wherein he mentions that General Pieroa ait
sail ** from America to Mexico."

— We thank Th$ Lancaster Exfnu and
other country papers for the kind notaett of
Tbb Bizabm. We shall issue a pro^teetai
of No. 4 next week. Look OQt !

HORATIO GREENOUGH.

337

« Bbabrk, Bizabrx, what 8AI Tou, UAJtcAtV^—Farquhar

i^arrt

ton THB vrssK Ksmaa
SATfJRDAT, SBPTBHBBR 10, 1893.

HORATIO OREENOUGH

We have received from G. P. Patnam &
Co., of New York, a Memorial of Horatio
Greenoii|h, from the precise, and rhetorical
pen of Henry T. Tnckerman. As its title
page indicate, it consists in addition to the
Memorial, of selections from Greenough's writ-
ings, and tributes to his genius. The Menooir
occupies some fiftyfour pages ; then follows a
catalogue of the artist's works ; then his es-
says on art ; and then a series of glowing tri-
butes to his genius, from such men as Alex-
ander H. Everett, Washington Allston, Rich-
ard H. Dana, George H. Calvert and Mr. Tuc-
kerman himself.

The story of Greenoueh though brief, is full
of interest He died when it may be said his
g«)iu8 had but partially developed itself; and
vet after having accomplished enough to glue
his name to the roll-list of immortality. Mr.
Tuckerman writes of him with a warm heart-
interest. One may see in the pages of his
Memoir, constant evidences of attachments
springing up in boyhood, amidst the endear-
ing associstions of school-davs ; leading the
pen that praises, to do it with more glowing
and energetic language and with deeper mean-
ing, than mere cold genius-appreciation dic-
tates. Such a true-hearted, noble fellow, as
Horatio Greenough, deserved, too, a friendly
biographer: a pure-minded, generous, one
moreover, like tuckerman : who talks of one
of ** us" at college ; and who, as he goes on
in his outline of tlie artist's career, always
keeps up that affectionate tone, which arises
from never forgetting that "we were boys
together." Evidence of this heart in work ;
may be found in the following passage :
I " The instinct of genius discovers amid cir-
cumstances apparently inauspicious, the means
and incentives for its development. In the
community where Greenough was bom and
passed his early years, there existed a preva-
lent taste and more than one noble example to
, eacourage the votary of letters ; Stuart's mas-
'terpieces, family portraits by Copley, a fbw
* choice originals and many fine copies from the
[|Old masters, as well as the presence of native
f artists of more or less skill and fame, offered
fa stimulus to the cultivation of drawing and
^painting: the system of, popular edecation,
■and the intellectual tone of society, were also

highly favorable to individual culture in its
general relations : but the art of modelling
m clay was rardy if ever practised, the speci-
mens of sculpture were few, and only a
strong natural bias could have so early direct-
ed Greenough's aspirations towards the art.
Having a decided sense of form, a love of im-
itating it, and a mechanical aptitude which
kept his knife, pencil, and scissors continually
active, he employed hours in carving, draw-
ing, and moulding to^s, faces, and weapons,
by way of amusinghimself and his comrades.
I have seen a head evidently taken from an
old Roman coin, executed upon a bit of com-
pact plaster about the size of a penny, admi-
rably cut b^ Greenough with a penknife and
common nail, while a schoolboy, seated upon
the door-step of one of his neighbors. The
lady who observed this achievement, preserv-
ed the little medal with religious care : and
was the first to giro the young sculptor a
commission. It was for her that he executed
the beautiful ideal bust of the Genius of Love.
This propensity soon took a higher range. It
was encouraged by the mechanics and profes-
sional men around him, whose good-will his
agreeable manners and obvious genius propi-
tiated. One kind artisan taught him the use
of fine tools ; a stone-cutter, of more than
ordinary taste, instructed him to wield a
chisel ; benevolent librarians allowed him the
use of plates, casts, and manuals : a physi-
cian eave him access to anatomical designs
and iUustrations ; and Binon, a French artist,
known by his bust of John Adams in Fanenil
Hall, Boston, encouraged him to model at his
side. Thus, as a mere schoolboy, did Gree-
nough glean the rudiments of an artistic edu-
cation without formal initiation. With eclec-
tic wisdom he sought and found the aid he
required, while exploring the streets of his
native town: one day he might be seen poring
over a folio, or contemplating a plaster copy of
a famous statue : and, on another, exercising
his mechanical ingenuity at the office of Solo-
mon Willard, whose fkmily name yet stamps,
with traditional value, many an old dial-plate
in New England : now he eageriy watches
Alpheus Cary as he puts the finishing touch
to a cherub's head on a tombstone; and,
aeain, he stands a respectfel devotee before
Shaw or Coggswell, waiting for some treasur-
ed volume on the process or the rusults of his
fiivorite art, from the shelves of Harvard and
the Athenaeum. Semeof his juvenile triomphs
are still remembered by his playmates— es-
pecially a pistol ornamented wHh reUevo
flowers in lead, a series of carriages moulded
in bee's-wax, scores of wooden daggers taste-
fully carved, a lion couohant, modelled with
a spoon from a pound of butter, to astonish
his mother *s guests ot tea, elaborate card-pa-
per plans for estates, and, as a climax to these
childish yet gracef^ experiments, a little fig-

838

BIZARRE.

are of Penn out in chalk from an eDgrftTing
of his statue in the Port-Folio."

Another evidence is obtained from the ex-
tract which Mr. Tuckerman gives from his
Italian Sketch Book and which takes his sub-
ject up when pursuing his art at Florence : —

** On one of the last afternoons preceding my
embarkation, I had sat a long hour opposite a
striking, though by no means faithml por-
trait of Greenough, while one of the faurest
of his kindred spoke fondly of him, and
charged me with many a message of love for
the ^ed absentee. On a table beneath the
picture stood one of the earliest products of
his chisel. I glanced from the countenance
of the young sculptor, to the evidence of his
dawning genius : I listened to the story of his
exile ; and thenceforth he was enshrined high
and brightly among the ideals of my memory.
With rapid stepA, therefore, the morning aif-
ter my arrival in Florence, I threaded the
narrow thoroughfare, passed the gigantic
cathedral, nor turned aside until, from the
end of a long and quiet street, I discerned the
archway which led to the domicile of my
countryman. Associations arose within me,
such as the time-hallowed and novel objects
around failed to inspire. There was a pecu-
liar charm in the idea of visiting the foreign
studio of a countryman devoted to the art of
sculpture, to one who was fresh from the stir-
ring atmosphere of his native metropolis.
Trav^ersing the court and stairway, I could
but scan the huge fragments of marble that
lined them, ere entering a side door, I found
myself in the presence of the artist. He was
seated beside a platform, contemplating an
unfinished model, which bore the impress of
recent moulding. In an adjoining apartment
was the group of the Guardian Ajigel and
Child — the countenances already radiant with
distinctive and touching loveliness, and the
limbs exhibiting their perfect contour, al-
though the more graceful and delicate lines
were as yet undevdoped. One by one I re-
cognised the various plaster casts about the
room — mementos of his former labors. My
eye fell on a bust which awakened sea and
forest piotures — the spars of an elegant craft,
the lofty figure of a hunter, the dignified
bearing of a mysterious pilot It was the
physiognomy of Cooper. And yon original,
wrdi-looking gentleman ? Ah ! that canbe no
other than Francis Alexander. Surely those
Adosis-like ringlets, so* aintilv carved, be-
long to one whom it is most pleasing to re-
member aa the author of some exouisite verses
under the signature of Roy. No one can
mistake the benevolent features of Lafayette,
or Uie expressive image of the noble pifgrim-
bard ; or fail to linger in the corridor, over
the embodiment of one of his fairest creations
— the figure of the dead Medora. In other
studios ^ the land I bdieldamore numerous

and imposing array ; but in none could I dis-
cover more of that individuality of design
and execution which characterizes native in-
tellectual results.

Coleridge^s favorite prescription for youth-
ful atheism was love : on the same prmcipk
would we commend to the admiration of the
scoffer at a spiritual philosophy, the unwav-
ering and martjrr-like progress of genius to-
wards its legitimate end. In this character-
istic, the course of all lifted beings agrees.
They have a mission to nilfil : and lured be-
times, as they may be, by the flowers of the
wayside, and baffled awhile, as is the destiny
of man, by vicissitude — from first to last tht
native impulse, the true direction, is every-
where discernible. In the case of Greenouffii.
this definiteness of aim, this solemnity of
determination, if we may so call it, is re-
markably evident. Often did he incur the
penalty of tardiness, by lingering to gaze al a
wooden eagle which surmounted the gateway
of an old edifice he daily passed. — thinking, j
as he told me, how beautiful it must be to
earve such a one.

When he arrived in Genoa he was Tet in
his minority. He entered a church. A sta-
tue, more perfect than he had ever beheld,
met his eye. With wonder he saw hundreds
pass it by, without bestowing even a glance.
He gazed in admiration on the work of art.
and marked the careless crowd, till a new and
painful train of thoughts was suggested.
* What !' he soUloouized, *are the muUitode
so accustomed to beautiful statues that even
this fails to excite their passing notice ? How-
presumptuous, then, in me, to hope to aooom-
plish anything worthy of the art I* He was
deeply moved, as the distance between him-
self and the goal he had fimdly hoped to
reach, widened to his view : and conoealix^
himself among the rubbish of a palace-^ard,
the younir and ardent exile sought rebeC in
tears. * genius !' I mused, going forth vilh
this anecdote fresh from his lips, * how lays-
terious thou art ! And yet how identical aie
the characteristics of thy children ! Susoeir-
tible and self-distrusting, and yet vividly ooa-
scious of high endowments — slow to ezeoate
and quick to fed — ^pressinx on amid the
ning voices of human afinrements, or the
wailing cry of human weakness and wai
as pilgrims bent on an errand of more tfaaa
earthly import, through a night of duMMM
and trial, and yet ever beholding the #v,.
hearing the angel-choir, and hastening «• Id*
worship I'

On one of the most beautiful rvrni^gl eT
my visit, I accompanied Greenouch !• ^
studio where be proposed to erect his

of Washington. It was a neat edifice i ^

had formerly been used as a chapel ; a^ AvI
its commodious size and retired siti)
seemed admirably adapted to his

PANORAMA OF NEW YORK.

The softened effulgence of an Italian twilight
glimmered through the high windows, and
the quiet of the place was invaded only by
distant rural sounds and the murmur of the
nearest foliage in the evening breeze. There
wfts that in the scene and its suggestions,
which gratified my imagination, ithought
of the long and soothing days of approaching
summer, which my companion would devote,
in this sditary and pleasant retreat, to his
noble enterprise. I silently rejoiced that the
blessed ministry of nature would be around
him, to solace, cheer, and inspire, when his
energies were bending to their gl rious task :
—that when weariness fell upon his spirit, he
could step at once into the luxurious air, and
look up to the deep green cypresses of Fiesole,
or bare his brow to the mountain wind, and
find refreshment : — that when doubt and per-
plexity baffled his zeal, he might turn his
gaze towards the palace roofs and churoh
domes of Florence, and recall the trophies of
art wrought out by travail, misgivings, and
care, that are garnered beneath them : that
when his hope of success should grow faint,
he might suspend the chisel's movement,
raise his eye to the western horizon, and re-
member the land for which he toiled."

It should be stated that the accomplished
lady of Greenongh is preparing a Ufe of her
husband for the press, and we learn it will
appear in the course of the present autumn
or winter. Her charms as a young lady, the
writer once had an opportunity to judge of.
Shall he say that they wero transcendent?
Even more; he believes Mrs. Greenough is
^inently capable of ful filing the most affec-
tionate office, she has taken upon herself.

PANORAMA OF NEW YORK.

Mr. John S. Taylor, of New York, an old-
time popular publisher, has just issued a neat
little volume with this title. It is fh)m the
well-known and clever pen of Mr. Comdius
Mathews : and constitutes a vade mecum, for
visitors to great Gotham, which, while it
directs whither to wend their lion-hunting
footsteps, at the same time furnishes them
with useful thoughts and reflections as they
pass fiom sieht to sight. It is a good book
to read. The style of t'le work is racy;
indeed the whole contents seem to have fiowed
away from the author's pen in a free, smooth,
and quickly moving stream. All the notice-
able things of New York are touched upon,
Phineas T. Bamum and, of course the Crys-
tal Palace.

The following is an admirable hit at the
importance which is too often ^ven to every
thmg foreign, or rather at the httle true Ame-
rican predilection which is to be found in our
greftt cities, and particularly in New York :

*' I propose to begin at the beginning, and
to show, in my own simple history, the utter
absurdity of being bom an American : that
in the creation of an American, Nature intends
a huge joke ; or, to sum up all in brief, that /
it may be fairly doubted, if not entirdy de-
monstrated, whether, properly speaking, there
is any such place as America. I am willing
to admit that the title ** America*' does ap-
pear in various geographies, gazetteers, and
other publications of a like kind ; also, that
there is a certain considerable snpo^dal
space mai'ked off in many, perhaps in all of
the maps or atlases in common use, which
passes also under that designation ; but
whether there is any distinctive country, with
its own proper customs, habits, aelf-relytng
usages, answering to that name, or any such
characteristic creature, representing such
customs, habits, and usages, called American,
will appear or not, ladies annd gentlemen,
when we have advanced a little further in
the subject.

I was first led to entertain doubts in this
way. It was the custom of my father — peace
to his memory ! — to have me accompany him
to the shop of the barber, wh«« he submitted
every other day to his quarterly shaving. In
these visits, it happened, not nurdy, when the
shop was well attended with custonoers, thai
I, a lad perhaps some five or six years of age,
was prompted to mount a chair, and recite or
improvise a brief oration on some current sub-
ject arising at the moment ; and my success
was often so considerable that I received an
honorary gratuity of a sixpenny piece — whi<^
altogether inspired me with the feeling that
native talent was held in high esteem among
my countrymen. This opinion I cherished
and hdd fast till my tenth year, when my mind
was disturbed by ithe unusual commoticMi in
the same shop at the announcement of the
death of the British Premier, George Canning,
and the appearance, shortly thereiafter, in an
honorary gilt frame, of a colored head of the
said Canning, assigned to the most conspicu-
ous position on the wall . This shock was fol-
lowed up with a pair of boots, purehased for
my iuvenile wearing, which I heard named
Wellingtons, and which, vended as they were
freely in my own city here ci Sew York, I
learned w6re so named in honor of a distin-
guished general who had spent his life in fight-
ing the battles of the English Government.

As I grew in years, evidences thickened
upon me. To say nothine of Liverpool eoal,
Kidderminster carpets, and such indoor impor-
tations, I found the same shadow crossing m j
path in the public streets, laid out by the same
native corporation. I struck out to the east,
and found myself rambling in Albion Place:
I wandered to the west, and landed in Abing-
don Square ; I pushed <m for the north, ami
came square upon the snag of London Tcr*

340

BIZARRE.

mce. I nsed to rub my eyes, and wonder
whether I was in the New World or the Old ;
and was afflicted with the uncomfortable sen-
sation of the man who went to sleep in the
mountains, and waking up after a twenty
yeors* nap> opened his eyes under a republi-
can government, altough his slumbers had
begun under a royal rule. Mine was merely
reversed : I &ncied I had slept backwards
to the good old times of Greorge the Third, and
was surprised to miSs the statue of that ex-
cellent king from its old post of authority in
the centre of the Bowling Green, next to the
Battery.

"When I had grown up to be old enough to
take an interest in books, I found the same
happy delusion still maintained. I put out
my hand, as I suppose boys do in other coun-
tries, to seize upon some ballad, history, or
legend connected with the fortunes of my
own people ; and I found twenty busy gen-
tlemen zealously filling it with £ngish publi-
cations. — Whatever my humor might be, to
laugh or cry, for a glimpse of high life or low,
for verse or prose, there was always one of
these industrious gentlemen at my side, urg-
ing on my attention a book by some writer
a great way off, which had no more to do with
my own proper feelings or the sentiments of
my country, than if they had been Persian
or Patagonian— only they were in the English
language, always English. I said to myself,
as I began to consider these matters, I'll take
to the newspapers ; surely these, as belong-
ing to the country, published in the country,
and by men like mysdf, must make me ample
amends for being practised upon in the bound
books : I will read the newspapers. Never
was boy, thirsting after patriotic reading,
more completely duped. One after the other ,
there were police reports, with slang phrases
that certainly never originated in any of the
courts or prison of the New World ; elabor-
ate accounts of pnze-flghts and cricket
matches, what not of that sort : and withal,
such an out-pouring of disagreeable associa-
tions, that the shadow fell upon my spirit
again, and I was more than ever clear upon
the point, \hat whoever had the naming of
this quM'ter of the globe in the maps and
gazetteers, had clearly committed an egre-
gious mistaken calling it America ;* he should
have named it Little Britain.

In spite of these discouraging convictioris,
I saw that the people about me were given
to laughter, and, in a way of their own, had
something of a relish for merriment. I have
it at last, I said to myself: they let these
heavy dogs of Englishmen name their streets
and edit the newspapers 9 but when they
come to anything elegant, sportive, and cheer-
ful , they take the matter into their own hands.
I'll go to the Museum and see what the Amer-
icans, my fellow-ooontrymen, are about

there. Will you believe it ? — as I live, the
first ohoect I encountered in the hall was the
cast-off state coach of Her Majesty, Queen
Adelaide, so blocking up the way that I
made no attempt to advance further; but
turning on my heel, I determined to indem-
nify myself at one of the theatres I struck
for the nearest, and, as if in conspiracy with
the state coach, the first notes I caught fnm
the orchestra were "God save the Queen,"
played with great energy by the musiciins,
and vigorously applauded by a portion of the
audience. I tried another house immediatdj,
where I was entertained during my shori
stay, by an old gentleman in a whig, (unlike
any other old gentleman I had ever seen in
my life,) who was denouncing somebody or
other, not then visible, as having conducted
himself in a manner altogether unworthy an
"honest son of Britain!" There was stiU
another left to me — a popular resort — where
flaming bills, staring me in the face every
time I passed, had promised abundant " nov-
elty suited to the times." I have you at last,
methinks : you cannot escape me now ; this
is the theatre for my money. What was mj
astonishment, on entering and possessiDg my-
self of one of the small bills of the evening, to
discover that they had taken one of those
new books I had come away from home to
avoid, and made a play of it ; it was really too
much partridge by a long shot. There wis
not a mouthful of air, it would seem, to be had
for love or money : the moment I opened my
mouth, wherever it might be, at home or
abroad, for health or pleasure, these busy die-
tarians were ready with their everlasting par-
tridge, to goi^ge me to the throat.

Where was the use of repining ? Time heab
all wounds of the youthful spirit I grew to
man's estate. Now (said I, diuckling to my-
self at thought ;) I will set this matter right
These men mean well ; they would gire just
what you desire, but, poor fellows, they havn't
it to give. That (I continued to myself.) is
easily settled ; I will take an American sub-
ject, (allowing for the nonce, that there is snch
a place as America:) I will represent a man
of character, a hero, a patriot. I will place
him in circumstances deeply interesting to the
country, and to which the republican feeling
of the country shall respond with a cheer.
No sooner thought than done. The piaj was
written : an American historical play, l^th
some little art a hearing was procured from
one of these gentlemen— a stage manag^a*. as
they call him. I stufied him , that all the p^es
and organs of his system might be in tome,
with a good dinner ; which he did not disdain :
although I may mention that the greens vere
raised in Westchester, and the ducks fliiot <m
the Sound. I announced the title and subject
and proceeded to read : during this bosmees
he seemed to be greatly moved. At the con-

SKETCHES OF GEORGIA.

341

elusion of the MS. I found my manager in a
much less comfortable humor than at the table.
In a word, with ill-concealed disdain, he pro«
Dounced the plaj a failure, and wondered that
anybody would spend his time on subjects so
unwortny the English Drama, as littleprovin-
cial squabbles like those of American Biistory.
He was right ; American History is not a suit-
able subject for the English Drama. With
doubts still thickening in my mind whether
this was America, I paid the reckoning, thrust
my play in my pocket, and hurried home,
anxious to consult some authentic chronicle, to
make sure whether there had been such an
eyent as the Revolutionary War. Such an
event was certainly there set down, at consi-
derable length, and one George Washington
was mentioned as having taken part in it. The
printed beok I read from was called the His-
tory of the United States; but from all I
could see, hear, and learn, easily, about me, the
United States, so referred to, was decidedly
non-existent, at least so far as I had yet pushed
my researches.

But I did not, even now, altogether despair.
I said again, perhaps I am limiting myself to
too humble a range of observation : why
should I confine myself to the city of New
York» Empire City though it be, and capital
of this great Western Continent ? I will change
the scene ; I will go a journey : t will strike
for Bunker Hill : if I find that, all is safe. Bos-
ton is not at the end of the earth, nor is one a
life-time in getting there. I found Bunker
Hill : I could not easily miss it, for there was
a great pile of stones, a couple of hundred feet
high, which a blind man could not have missed
if he had been travelling that way. You are
mistaken, young man, (I again addressed my-
self, as I contemplated the granite pyramid : )
there has been a Revolutionary War: the
American Colonies fought it, and after a
severe struggle, great waste of blood, treasure,
and countiel of great men, they severed them-
selves from the Mother Country, and they
were free ! The little grievances which have
irked you, such as names of streets, play-
houses, and such trifles, are scarcely worthy
of your consideration : politically, you are
free. You have your own political institu-
tions, with which no stranger can intermeddle:
what more could you ask ?

I was hugging myself in this comfortable
ccmviction, pacing proudly in the shadow of
Faneuil Hall, that venerable cradle of our
boasted Independence, when a boy placed in
my hand an ** extra sheet,'' from which I
learned that a steamer had just arrived from
England, and had that moment landed, on the
very wharf of Boston where the tea was
dumped, an emissary, apparently authorized
by the Mother Countiy, for he was a member
of ibe British Parliament, who had come to
resume in doe form, the old political authority

of the Mother Country, and to direct us, w-
cathedra, in the reeulation of those very politi-
cal concerns of which we fancied we had ac-
quired the exclusive control by fighting
tbrough that old Revolutionary War You
see, my dear friends, it was all a mistake :
the whole thing is a cunningly devised fable ;
there was no such man as George Washing-
ton, (£EU»tionsly represented as the father of
his country :) and there is no such country as
America. The sooner we reconcile ourselves
to the facts, the more comfortable we shall all
be. Christopher Columbus, in the order of
Providence, was a great mistake."^

SKETCHES OF OEORGIA.

SEBTGH TENTH.

The Indian — His Mgnners — Etiphoniovs Lau"
guage — Poetic Disposition — Mythology , ^c.

The oak-grown mound, the charred duca>ing'bone,
The well chipp'd dart, the pipe, the neat-cut stone,
These all remind us of an ancient Race —
In each of these, their customs still we trace.

Anonymous.

Although the red men have propably for-
ever bade a last farewell to many portions of
this country, — localities at once beautiful in
aspect, fruitful in vegetation, and endeared to
them by the thousand ties of home, those
holy bands which so firmly bind even the
heart of a savage to the spot which gave him
birth — although their camp-fires and war-
cries, songs and dances, have died away in
the forests, yet their remembrance still sur-
vives — and their memory will ever be asso-
ciated with those regions whence they have
been ruthlessly expelled by a more powerful
race, or swept onward before the advancing
tide of civilization. Their sweet native lan-
guage is linked with the rivers and moun-
tains, the valleys and waterfalls, and these
will ever perpetuate the names which were so
appropriately bestowed upon them, by that
people who first gazed upon them, and ad-
mired their beauties. Yes, long after the
graves of their chieftains shall have been
levelled with the earth, when the sound of
their footsteps shall no more be heard amid
the forests, when even the plough-share shall
have revealed the last stone wUch they had
chiselled into symmetry and use, every Geor-
gian will delight to preserve unchanged this
euphonious local nomenclature, and cherish
with interest the many legends whidi speak
of their wars, their loves, their sports, and
their deaths. The names of Savannah, Tal-
lulah, Toccoa, Alatamaha, Allatoona, Nan-
cooche. Chattahooche, and many others, all
remind us of those, who beheld the objects
which they designate long before the foot of
the Anglo^xon had ever pressed the soil of

342

BIZARRE.

this Western World. Over these fields, now
yellow with the ripening rice, or whitened hy
the bursting cotton, they roamed an ancient
race. The surface of these calm rivers and
arms of the sea was skimmed by their grace-
ful canoes ; in the depths of the forest rang
the stem war whoop of the warrior or the
shout of triumph from the successful hunter.
Here by the limpid brook with its gentle mur-
murs, the Indian lover knelt in homage at the
feet of some maiden beauty — and there with
the thunder-tones of some water-fall, striking
upon his ear, its foam gathering thickly upon
his flowing locks, the chieftain invoked the
protection of the Supreme Being, and swore
perpetual enmity against the oppressors, of his
nation. In every religious ceremony, iinder
every form of worship, they acknowledged
the controlling influence of but one divine in-
telligence, whom in reverence they denomin-
ated the Great Spirit. Paying their sacrifices
to imaginary and fantastic sub deities of the
air, the storm, the woods, and the water, as
other nations before them had done, and that
far more blindly ; they were still free from
that corruption incident thereto, which in so
marked ajdegree disgraces the history of the
City of the seven hills, and her enlightened
but degraded companions. In their wild na-
tive state, vice and immorality were seldom
known, and never cherished with a fostering
hand. Never did they amid debauchery and
revehngs, with boisterous songs shout in hon-
or of &cchus, God of the wine cup and em-
G5ror of drunkards, with his red cheeks,
oated body and licentious minions. The
excesses of a love, were incompatible with
that loftv purity, and those heroic perfections
which they attributed to their own moun-
tain Divinity. Many of the dreamy pleasures
of Elysium would to them have proved weari-
some, and devoid of all substantial enjoyment.
The God of battle they could propitiate with
the bloody trophies of war, implore the aid
of him who watched over the feeble pulse
and the throbbing temple, catch the voice of
the storm-god as he spoke in, the deep-toned
thunder, and revealed his majesty in the
scorching, flashing lightning — view the mild
fiMse of the god of love, as seen in the pide
moon-beams, but never would they yield obe-
dience to'him who would at one moment woo
his sister Juno, at another overcome the inno-
cence of Dane, again fly into the arms of
Loda, behave like a rufiQan in the likeness of
a viriid satyr to Antiope, impose upon Alcmena
by assuming the figure of her husband Am-
phitryon, in the shape of fire win the heart
of Egina, or deceive Oalisto by counterfeit-
ing the modesty and countenance of Diana.
No, never would the child of the forest re-
ceive him as his supreme ruler, who could
thus compromise even the dignityof a man,
and play the libertine at will. Well might

the **I>iTmn pater horoiiramque rex" witii his
golden shoes and emimiidered cloak, sittifig
upon a throne of ivory, brandishing thunder-
bolts in his right hand against the giants at
his feet, veil his face before the noble image of
the Indian God, attired in his unadorned ma-
jesty, enthroneil upon his mountain efaatr.
Not only were they remarkable for the exalt-
ed conceptkms which they entertained of a
religion, wanting it is true the fundana^tal
elements of Christianity, yet purified from
the debasing sensuality which so prominently
characterizes that of other nations, whom
men have esteemed wiser and more polished ;
bat in their private conduct, brave, hospita-
ble, observant of another*s rights, mindnil of
a generous deed, a service rendered, they were
a noble specimen of a people who had never
enjoyed the privileges of civilization, and yet
practiced many of it*^irtues. This nation
once possessed the soil which we now iidiab-
it. Shall we toil amid the ruins of Babylon
and Nineveh, shall the traveller with w^eaiy
foot seek to gaze upon the falling columns of
the temple of Minerva, shall the ponderous
remains of Herculaneum and Pompeii be ex-
plored with enthusiastic zeal, and with im-
mense labor be dragged forth to light, and
will the American permit all traces of the
Red man to lie neglected and unnoticed?
Rather let the spirit of research, of genotxis
investigation prevail : for these are the me-
mentoes of those who were the Aborigines of
our beloved land. No fluted columns of Oara-
ra marble, no remains of what the hands of
Phidias had once chiselled into beauty, no
monumental piles of solid masonry, no " gates
of rust coated brass** allure ns on to the
search, but the Indian is before us in aU the
native simplicity of his manners, customs,
and utensils : in all the austerity, frugality
and bravery of his soul. Let each and every
memorial he collected, arranged, and preser?-
ed, for they will serve as leading data for the
history and antiquities of North America. Al-
ready has the office been undertaken, and
rapidly is the scheme advancing to the desir-
ed conckision. While the pen of a Cooper,
an Irving, and a Simms, have invested with
an air of poetry the very name and nature of
the Indian, Mr. Schoolcraft with indomiti^c
perseverance, extended research, and disda-
guished ability, has succeeded in presentmg
us with such accurate statistics of the pre-
sent and past condition of the various trita,
that while his work is an honor to him who
executed it, and the general govvimBttt
which fbstered it, no grounds, or exctise te-
mains to any one, in justificatien of his k*
norance upon the general features of the lib-
Ject. He has not confined himself mm^j
with collecting scattered fragments of Hmt
rude arts, but has deciphered their |M»-
gn^io inscriptions — Introduced us at est

SKKTCUES OP GEORGIA.

343

tSme into tke wigwiim, ftoqoainting ns with
idl that pertains to their social economy —
again caused the bloody vision of the ambus-
cade, or the exciting rivalry of the chase to
live afresh-^presented the orator as with na-
tive, nntrammdled eloquence, he enchained
the attention of his council, at the same time
investing each and every scene with such mi
air of truthfulness, and painting the varied
pictures in colors so deeply dipped in the dye
of poetry, that the imagination is delighted,
while solid information is imparted.

The skies, the woods, the waters, were the
Indian's books. He read them attentivdy,
and his expressions, his language, his temper-
ment moulded by such originals, were all ne-
cessarily poetical. Free and unconquered,
they were always strikingly wild and bold in
their expressions. Fragments of their ora-
tory which have been perpetuated, are truly
eloqueiLt But it is not our purpose to enter
upon any analysis of the Indian mind^-to
mark these traits which were peculiar to
them as a race, or to recc^nt the numeroiis
instances of their valor, intelligence, and
aehievnients, which are so frequently to be
found in the early historjr of our country.
We have already alluded m a former sketch
to the influence exerted by them upon the in-
fimt colony of Georgia. Our present design
is to present a few of those traces, which af-
ter the lapse of many years still remain : sil-
ently, yet powerfully remiding us of those
whose voices are now hushed and gone, —
whose foot-prints have been erased oy the
flight of time, whose graves alone exist,
mournful mementoes of the past. Probably
the tribes of Southern Geoi^a possessed a
temperament milder, and more peaceable than
those which dwelt in sight of th^ bold moun-
tains, and in hearing of the dashing water-
falls of the Cherokee Region. Although all
possessed that vivid imagination, and open,
daring character incident to their mode of
life, yet their dispositions, it is reasonaUe to
presume, sympathized more or less with the
scenery by which they were encircled. The
most prominent of those Indian remains
which now are fbund in the southern portion
of the State are the mounds. Numbers of
them are still upon the itdands, and along the
coast generally. Hither they were pfo^bly
attracted by the abundance of game, and fish,
—here contests arose with reference to the
possession and sole occupancy of certain lo-
calities, and hence the multitudes of burial
grounds, which now meet the eye in every
direction. Upon a small island lyi ng between
St. Catharine, and the main, near a very cop-
ious spring, whose exhaustless streams have
with undiminished flow continued as long as
the memory of the white-man extends, we
have counted no less than twelve or thirteen
now extant, — ^besides traces oi others, al*

most level with the ground. Extended oys-
ter banks> and creeks well supplied with every
variety of scale and shell-fish, in addition to
the advantages aflbrded by this abundant
supply of pure fresh water, in all probability
rendered this a very attractive spot to tlie
Indian.

These mounds are generally circular in
form, varying in height and extent. From
the superior size of one, we are inclined to
regard it as the resting place of some noted
chief, although no local legends or traditions
suggest the supposition. Many, from the
combined effect of frequent storms, and the
oft repeated furrows of the plough, are al-
most even with the earth, and whitened bones
may be seen mixed with broken pieces of
pottery, and other implements of 4><>r^ ^^^
war&re, lying exposed upon the very surface.
The mounds along the sea-coast are all com-
posed of white sand, and on account of this,
their soft and vielding character, are extreme-
ly liable to obliteration. The majority, if not
sXL of them, are consequently much reduced
in size, and it is reasonable to suppose, that
those of oldest date are completely washed
away. Bones are frequently picked up where
no traces of burial places can be clearly per-
ceived. After an examination of several of
these, we have been led to the conclusion,
that the mounds in this vicinity were gener-
ally, if not universally designed for burid
places alone. If you will examine these, sev-
eral interesting facts relative to their modes
of burial will arrest the attention. In the
first place it appears, that the body was plac-
ed upon the ground, and then this mound of
earth was heaped above it This is inferrable
from the fact, that in making a perpendicular
opening tJuough the centre, you will discover
no remains of the dead until you descend to
the level of the plain. Strange to relate, the
Indians here burned their dead. The Uac-
kened, charred bones, a complete layer of
carbonized pieces of pine and oak, with half
consumed sticks and leaves immediately over-
lying these — together with the appearance of
the earth beneath them, strongly indicating
the presence of great heat, conclusively at-
test the truth of this assertion. In conse-
quence of this, the bones are frequently, con-
siderably injured, and no order is observed in
their subsequent arrangement. There are
some exceptions however to this general rule.
Two in particular now occur to us. In one of
these mounds, the tall figure of a man (pro-
bably he was a chief, because no other re-
mains were there found) was discovered to be
in a sitting posture, his hands apparently
supporting his head, and his elbows resting
upon the knees. No action of fire oonld be
perceived. Possibly extraneous circumstan-
ces may have caused this disposition of the
frame, but the 8U|^)ositioQ seems plausible.

34i

BIZARRS.

that here was interred some character of dis-
tinction, and that as a mark of respect, the
members of his tribe placed his body in a sit-
ting posture, refraining from marring with
fire that person, which they had regarded
with so much respect and esteem. The othet*
deviation from the afore-mentioned general
method of disposing of their dead, was the
following. The banks of one of those numer-
ous short streams which do not extend into
the main-land more than a few miles, on one
occasion caved considerably. A gentleman
shortly after the occurrence chanced to be ex-
amining the alteration in the features of the
bli^*, when suddenly his eye was arrested by
what appeared to be two clay jars, the sides
of which were visible, probably ten feet from
the top of the bluff. Upon removing them,
he found that they were tightly closed. The
tops however having been forced off, imme-
diately were seen the mouldering skeletons of
two little infants. Placed there by a mother's
hand, in fond hopes of preserving their ten-
der forms fVom the revolting touch of the fell
destroyer. Doubtless often had she shed co-
pious tears of heartrending anguish over those
small clay coffins, wherin rested perhaps the
most, of what was to her, attractive on earth.
The discovery was singular, and the vases
with the mortal dust are carefulljr preserved.
Afiecting memorials of that sensitive attach-
ment which even an uncivilizxjd mother or
father, entertains for her or his offspring. We
remember while one evening opening a small
mound which, with its red-sand, was lying
immediately at the foot of a large live oak
tree, Uasted by lightning, and now stretch-
ing its giant iron arms perfectly denued over
the spot, the spade suddenly revealed the lop
of a skull, which was apparently quite en-
tire. Carefully lifting it from its position,
what was our surprise, to find it reposing
within a pan, made of clay, neatly moulded,
and just fitting it. Whether it was designedly
placed therein or not, it is impossible to as-
sert positively, although to all appearances,
such seemed to be the manifest intention.
These bones are generally quite brittle and
soft, the necessary consequence of long expos-
ure to the action of showers, keeping the
earth moist. As a general rule we may say,
that whenever a chieftain was buried, there
they did not bum the dead, — but all others,
being common members of the tribe, were
burnt after death. This inference is deduced
from the fact, that usually whenever you find
a large mound with but a single skeleton;
there little or no action of fire can be observ-
ed, and the bones arc very nearly in proper
position, but where upon examination, many
fragments of limbs, skulls, <Sbc., are discover-
ed in one mound, there you are sure to find a
layer of charred pine bark, oak leaves, and
pieces of wood, while the remains themselves

clearly indicate the presence of fire, the bones
being carbonized to such an extent, that they
may readily be crushed between the forc-finge
and thumb. In accordance with a custom
which very generally prevailed among the In-
dians of this continent, they here deposited
the bows and arrows, tomahawks, stone
knives, pots, beads and other ornaments be-
longing to the deceased, with the body, en-
tertaining the opinion, that when after tiie
sleep of death, he should journey towards
the green fields of the brave warriors who
had gone before, then would he once more
need these wei^)ons and utensils, in order to
the successful chase, and capture of those
beautiful deer, which there wandered in such
abundance. From some of these n^otinds,
hundreds of beads have been taken. These
are usually made of clay hardened, or polish-
ed stone — are regularly oblong in shape, with
a neat hole drilled through the centre, in the
direction of the major axis of the ellipse. As
the plough glides through the fields, we des-
cry the well chipped darts, which pointed
their spears and arrows. The hatchet is
turned up, while from their simple tombs \re
exume the pipe which they smoked in peace,
and fragments of the culinary vases *' around
which the lodge circle gathered to their for-
est meal." These hatchets are often found,
and are deserving of notice. Usually they
are of a dark color, although not unfrequoit-
ly the stone used for their manufacture, is
variegated, very hard, and capable of receiv-
ing quite a high degree of polish. Through
the head an aperture is maae for the handle
— an operation which must have required con-
siderable labor and skill, with the rude im-
Elements which were then possessed. We
ave seen many of them, however, entirely
destitute of this. In such cases, a wide
groove has been cut, by means of which the
helve could be attached with the aid of sinews,
or bark. Probably the most common purpose
to which these stone-hatchets or tomahawks
were applied, was that of warfare, as, hova
their shape, and character, they would be al-
mast completely usdess for cutting or split-
ting any thing else than a human skull. The
arrow and spear heads are wrought with as-
tonishing symmetry, and you may even say
beauty — speaking commentaries on the skiH
and aptitude oi the workmen who executed
them. They vary in length from one inch to
a foot or more, and in breadth, from the half
of an inch to three or four. The, shortest
were employed in killing birds and small
game, those of a medium size in the chasev
while the laiger and longest, were used aa
weapons of warfare, and for spearing fish*
The form of these darts is familiar to us att«
Some negroes have an idea that lightning ia
pointed and oompased of these, and hence the
reason why trees are so much bruised when

SKETCHES OF GBORGIA.

345

struck. Thus, when aaktog such individuals
to hunt for '* flints'' (as they term them) for
vou, they will reply, '* yes massa, soon as I
kin find where de tunder strike, I will git
you some.'' The groimd, on these Islands
particularly, is covered with the broken parts
of pots, and earthen utensils of various de-
signs. In consequence of their temporary
nature, it is now a rare occurrence to obtain
one of them perfect. Doubtless, if little In-
dian children were as careless as those of the
present day, caps and the culinary vessels in
genend, suffered considerably, and needed
frequently fresh supplies in places of those
which the younger members or the household
had fractured. The sides of these are im-
pressed with various stamps, many of them
displaying both ingenuity and precision in
construction. It would appear from a close
examination, that they first made a wicker
work, arranging this according to some fanci-
ful pattern, and then in the inside of this,
fipread the day. This hardening, the reed or
oak-work around it was removed, and then
you would necessarily have the shape, and
peculiar impression still remaining, which the
utensil had received when in a soft state. We
might pr9ce6d to notice several other articles,
such as round hand stones for mashing
parched com, knives for skinning deer, pol-
ishing stones &c./ but our sketch is already
becoming too long. One other article how-
ever should not be omitted, as it is one of the
most attractive of these relics. Perhaps a
greater variety exists among the pipes, than
amonjg any other given kind of the numerous
remains. The majority of them are formed
of the same material as that which composes
the pottery, to wit, a mixture of silex with
alumina, colored incidentally by the peroxide
of iron, which here abounds in plentiful, al-
though weak portions. This red-clay is sub-
sequently sun-dried, and then subjected to
the action of fire, thereby rendered quite
hard. You will at one time find these pipes
presenting the face of a man. at another time
exhibiting both head, arms, and stomach.
These impressions formed when the clay was
wft, are neatly executed. The perforation
for the stem is often ingeniously arranged.
Sometimes made in the arm, again in the
breast, neck, or mouth of our clay compan-
ion. Those, however, most remarkable, and
Worthy of attention, are the calumets, or pipes
of peace. We term them thus, because their
peculiar conformation, size, identity of ap-
pearance, and scarcity, would seem to indicate
that they were employed only on extraordin-
arv occasions. You will not see one of these,
where scores of the common day pipes may
be readily obtained. Their weight forbids
the supposition that they were commonly
carried about the person, and used for every
day purposes. Besides, the capacity of the

bowl is such, that one individual could not
reasonably be expected to exhaust it. The
flattened surface of the bottom, and the size
of the aperture for the stem, induce the sup-
position that they were generally placed upon
the ground, and a long reed introduced. In
fine, the entire conformation impels us to be-
lieve, that these pipes were those, used in the
Council chambers, or among the delegates of
various tribes, when in general assembly they
would, in accordance with customs which
ever obtained at such seasons, cement bonds
of union, grasp the right hand of fellowship,
and plight their mutual good faith for pre-
serving the alliance. How simple, and yet
how emphatic was this ceremony — as each
one by turns smoked the pipe of peace ! How
much more appropriate and rational than
that, which prevailed among the blood-thirs-
ty followers of Odin ! These calumets are
made of soap stone, and sometimes even of a
species of agate. The bowl is veiy large and
forms a right angle with the stem-end. The
many ornaments with which they were wont to
decorate them, the long tapering stem adorn-
ed with eagles' plumes are all gone, and the
simple pipe remains to remind us of days long
since past, of scenes never aeain to be wit-
nessed on these ^)ots. Probably there were
different classes among the Indians, to each
of which, peculiar tasks were assigned. Thus,
the squaws planted the com and attended to
the duties of the wigwaim. Some men sought
the mountains, and thence selected suitable
stones. From them the workman purchased,
and fashioned the implements of warfare.
Others again formed clay vessels and pipes.
Would the stem chieftain and his brave com-
panions in arms, returning from a victorious
campaign in the enemy's dominions — crowned
with the spoils of the vanquished, condescend
to chip the dart, or tum the potters wheel ?
We have confined our remarks to a brief no-
tice of those Indian traces which are every
' where to be found in Southern Georgia. Were
opportunity allowed we would be pleased to
enlarge. In the upper part of the State, there
are some remarkable remains of which we
shall at least casually speak hereafter. Deep-
ly interesting would it prove, to linger and
meditate beside these oak-grown mounds,
upon the memories of the past, with all their
instructions, trace the analogies existing be-
tween this and other nations, with reference
to their mutual advancement under similar
circumstances, and with these mementoes be-
fore our eyes, recal each form that once free
as the air roamed over these very fields,
drank from these springs, plunged in these
identical briny waves here uved, bved war-
red and died.

* By midnight moons, o*er motstening dewf,
In habit for thu chMe arraj'd

S46

BIZARItE.

Tb(* htmter itill Um deer pa»ue«.
The hanter, and the deer, s shadel

And long shall Urooroiis fiincy see.
The pnioted chief and pointed ppear:
And nea«on'§ self shall boir the knee,
To shadows and delusions here.**

*' Alas for them I their day is o^er,
Their fires are out from shore to shore;
No more Ibr them the wild deer bounds—
The plough is on their bunting grounds,
The pale man's axe rings thro' their woods,
The pale man's sail i^kims o'er their floods;
Thdr plearant springs are dry ;
Their children—look, by power oppressed
Ik'yoiid the mountains of the West— >
Their children go— to die!**

MISUSE OF LEISUKE.

We have hitherto observed, that the chief
source of the many evils, which corrupt the
youth of our community, is the misuse of
leisure time. It is in the hours of recreation,
or when unemployed that children indulge in
vicious practices. The remedy, therefore, for
the evils which flow from this source, will
only be found in furnishing the young with
agreeable amusements of an innocent char-
acter. As thinffs now exist, most of the
amusements of the young, are of a pernicious
tendency. But the evil influences of these
amusements are not always inherent, but
more frequently the result of associations.
For instance, theatres as they are now oon-
ducted have a corrupting tendency, but it is
not because the ,dnm^ itself is of a vicious
tendency; but because of things associated
with it, designed to pamper a currupt taste.
ft is not the representations of heroic actions.
It is not poetry, painting nor music, that cor-
rupt the heart: but the evil things of the
theatre are for the most part not dramatic at
all. It is exhibitions &c., which are adapted
to the most vulgar taste ; and these things are
prepared because they are more profitable to
the proprietor of a theatre, than things of a
more renned character would be. And it is so
with most of our popular amuiiements, those
who prepare such things, do so ibr the pur-
pose of making money ; and consequently the
pecuniary profit, and not the improvement of
the public morals, is the sole aim of those
who provide such thines.

Those who pamper the base appetites, and
vulgar tastes of men, make a great deal nK>re
money, than those who strive to improve and
refine the tastes and manners of their Mlow
men.

The powerful inducement of pecuniary in-
terest leads thousands in our city to make a
business of providing temptations and indul-
gences, to all who are willmg to pay for them :
and as we live under republican institutions.

where men may chocne their business aod
pleasures, these things cannot be prevented
by any coercive measures.

The only remedy is in providing counter
attractions, to prevent young persons from
habitually attending places calculated to cor-
rupt their morals. Places should be prepar-
ed for them where they would find the ra-
quisite recreation without the evil influence.

In such places of amusement and recrea-
tion, our city is sadly deficient, and thou-
sands of young persons, not confirmed in
vicious habits pass their leisure time in the
streets, in constant danger of temptatioiis,
merely because there is nothing more agree-
able, to which they can h^ve access.

We propose to offer a plan of a school,
which we think, to some extent, would pre-
vent the boys of our city from becoming row-
dies. But as the name of school is not verj
attractive to boys, it would perhaps be bet-
ter to call our institution by some other name.
Suppose we should call it a '* Military insti-
tute." Most boys love to play soldiers and
even ** children of a larger growth" may be
kept out of mischief by amusements of this
kind. There is one great advantage in pot-
ting such an establishment on a military foot-
ing, and that is, that the imagination, will
greatly aid in the first efforts. A paper cap
with a chicken feather in it; will easily enable
a boy to imagine himself Julius Ceasar, and
anv kind of a drum will enable two boys to
tbmk themselves a regiment of soldiers.

If we wish to unite amusemnit, vntb in-
struction we must begin with amusement,
and if we at first, do but keep boys out of
mischief, we will accomplish one important
object. But we will do much more*

Suppose we had a building like *'the Chi-
nese Museum," and would bsgin byfbrming
classes for military instruction. What boy-
would not like to be a cadet of the Philadelpkui
Military institute ; and have the privilege of
wearing a cockade, on the 4th of July and oth-
er parade days? They could be taught mili-
tary drill ; and in this they would get some
ideas of order and decorum. They could be
taught music, and as many as would desire it
might be instructed to perfonn on military
instruments. As a taste for music is very com-
mon ; there would propably be as many musi-
cians as pri V ate soldiers. The boys could soon be
taught to feel something of an esprit du corpSy
and it would be an easy matter to make them
understand that a soldier should be a gentle-
man in manners and deportment.

Incidentally all the most important brandies
of instruction might be brought in. as parts
of a military education. And the idea sooidd
constantly be inculcated that a soldier and a
gentleman should possess some of the i
ments of education.

Orders should be established, and

MISUSB OF LEISURE.

347

tnms arranged to indicate the p rogreg s and
expertness of the cadets, and to stimalate an
honorable ambition. Officers should be made
of snch as were most exemplary ih conduct
and skilful in exercises.

The prospect of a grand parade would
create a great interest on the part of boys,
and would keep their attention engaged, and
make them industrious in efforts to appear to
advantage on such an occasion.

We think that any person, who will give
attention to the subiect, will perceive that
this fondness for military display, and love of
military music, may be turned to great ac-
count, in the education of boys. With pro-
per management an institution of this kind,
would keep a great many boys out of mis-
chief : and the very boys, most fond of * * run-
ning with the machine," would be those
most ready to come into such an institution.

We are aware that many will be ready to
uage objections to the introduction of the
military art, or any other really recreative
amusement into education : but we have never
yet seen an objection that has any force in it.

The idea that military instruction given to
boys, will cause a disposition for war, when
they become men, is altogether fallacious.

Those things which have made our amuse-
ments when we are children, do not excite
our ambition when we are men. And the
tinsel, noise, and display of military parades,
have so much that is puerile in them, that a
man of education- will generally regard them
as things only calculate to gratify a childish
vanity.

If we would keep ** the boys" out of mis-

I chief we must give them recreations which

I they will tBke pleasure in. If we would do

I any thing to improve the public morals we

' must first consider that we have human beings

to deal with, and we must deal with human

nature as it is. We gain nothing by setting

up an ideal standard of what It should be,

; when it is not practicable to bring men to it.

We must deal with human beings as they are,

not as what they should be.

We have merely spoken here of the intro-
duction of military instruction, as one of the
means by winch to make education attractive
to boys. We do not consider this the only
instrumentality which could be made opera-
tive in such a work, but other means of im-
provement which we might propose in con-
nection with this would meet with perhaps
more serious eppontion. **01d fogyism" is
in the way of any improvement Many per-
sons are interested in existing institutions,
and popular prejudices are opp<^ed to innova-
tions. But is it not time to do something ?
^lall we rest satisfied, and say we have
many splendid institutions, many noble char-
ities, a magnificent system of public schools,
besides other establishments designed to pro-

mote intellectua] and moral improvement ?

Will any one in Philadelphia have the
courage to deny that the public morals are
growing worse every day? Wi^l any one
pretend to say that the people of our city
are educated as they should be ?

Every candid person will admit that some-
thing should be done, and what better can we
do, than to begin with an institution te keep
boys out of mischief?

The prudential motto, "let well enough
alone," will not do here ; for things are not
well enough, but progressing from bad to
worse. We have grown to !:« a great city.
So was Babylon ; so was 'Rome : and where
are they ? While nations are poor, if they
possess any virtue, they will command re-
spect. Aut how many have heretofore con-
tinued to command respect when they have
grown rich?

Prosperity, to nations, as to individuals is
more dangerous than adversity.

There is yet virtue in the American people,
but it is not properly stimulated, not proper-
ly directed. The great evil of money getting
has so absorbed the more influential part m
the people, that they see no good iu any thing
but wealth, no vice in any thing but poverty.

The people are not properly ^ucated. We
do not mean the *' vulgar profane," but peo-
ple of some pretensions, snow continually a
gross want of proper manners. We are not
so educated as to understand the value of
politeness. Modest merit meets no apprecia-
tion, while bare-faced impudence and ignor-
ance, push themselves into high places of hcm-
or and emolument.

** Fools ruth in wbert angda fiMtr to tretd."

But it needs no argument to prove the
want of some means of improvement. We
wish to show that the means now relied upon
are insufficient. And that our citizens great-
ly deceive themselves, if they suppose that
*« prohibitory liquor laws" ** The suppression
of the fire department," and such other
movements as now occupy the public atten-
tion, together with such means of education
as are now in operation, are enough to cure
the giant evils which are about to desolate
our l&autiful city.

We want something very different from
what we now have, and we must realize that
want before we will be like to make any im-
provement We must enlarge our ideas of
the importance and necessity of attention to
this matter before any great good will be ac-
complished.

While the amusements of the people are
neglected there will be no great improvement
in their morals, and it is not the part of wis-
dom to overiook the amusements of little chil-
dren. €Hve them something reaUy pleasant
and they will not show so great a disposition
to ♦* prey on garbage."

34a

BIZABRS.

RES CURIOS^l.

REPROVING A KING.

James Murphy, who travelled throuph Portu-
gal in 1789 and 1790, relates the following
anecdote of Alfonso the fourth, king of that
country :

** Alfonso the fourth, on his accession to
the throne, passed a month together (a royal
palace contiguous to the village of Cintra,
where we then were,) in hunting the wild
heasts which in his time roved in numbers
about the mountains. The severe reproof he
he received from one of his subjects, deserves,
to be recorded.

"Whilst the king was enjoying the pleasure
of the chase with his favorites, the affairs of
the state were consigned to men who studied
their own interest more than that of the
public. The nobilitv, perceiving the abuses
of the ministers, ana the sovereign inatcntive
to the duties of his crown, held a council at
Lisbon, to which they invited the prince. He
accordingly appeared ; but, instead of attend-
ing to their deliberations, he proceeded to re-
cite his adventures at Cintra, with all the le-
vity of a young aportsman. When he had
finished his narrative, one of the noblemen
stood up, and thus addressed the king : —
"Sire, courts and camps were allotted for
kings, not woods and mountains. When
business is sacrificed to amusement, the af-
fairs even of private persons, are in danger ;
but when pleasures engrosses the thoughts of
a king, a whole nation must inevitably be
consigned ±0 ruin. Sire, we come here, not to
hear the adventures of the chase, which are
intelligible only to grooms and falconers, but
to consult the welfare of the people. Your
majesty will find sufficent employment in at-
tending to their wants ; and if you will re-
move the grievances with which they are op-
pressed, you will find them dutiful and obedi-
ent subjects ; if not — ' Here the king, start-
ing up m a rage interrupted him saying, 'If
not ! what then V *If not,' resumed the noble-
man, in a firm tone, *they will look for a bet-
ter king.' Alfonso hastened out of the room,
and in the highest transport of passion, ex-
pressed resentment ; but as passion always
b^ins in in folly, and ends in sorrow, his rage
soon abated, and he returned with a serene
countenance to the assembly,, whom he thus
addressed : * I now perceive the truth of what
you have thus advanced. A king who will
not perform the duties of his throne, cannot
have affectionate subjects. Remember, that
from this day you have to do not with Alfonso
the sportsman, but Alfonso the fourth, king
of Portugal.' EUs majesty did not fail to ad-
heie to this promise. He afterwards became
one of the best kings that ever reigned in
Portugal."

POUTICAL APOLOOUK.

At the time of the prosecution of Paine*s
Rights of Man, in England, the following
witty satire upon the work appeared in an
ecellent Irish newspaper. It was entitled
"Rights of Waters ; a fable intended as a
companion to Paine 's Rights of Man ;" and
it bore this motto : —

Flumina: quid rid^s? Mutato, nomine de tc.

Fabula narratur, — HoR.

''From that fkmed well my watery precept* gMdt,
Whero Naiad Truth is stated to reside.
Laugh uot, yo wild refiMrmirtii; Uioee who Tiew
My streams ykith caro, will see reflected— Vo J.

Then comes the fable as follows :—
" In I know not what century after the
flood, the reader can look into Blair's tables
of chronology,) a spirit of tumult and philos-
ophy is said to have moved upon the fitce of
the waters. Rivers, which (could it be from
the want of reflection?) had been quietly
gliding within their banks for ages, now dis-
covered themselves to be in such a state d
depravity, as required a recurrence to the first
principles for its cure ; and the Rights of
IVaters were making a rapid progress through
the globe. It was argued, this confinement
within banks was a restraint which they had
heedlessly imposed upon themselves, contrary
to the liberal intentions of Nature. They
were created fountains with equal natural
rights ; and deemed it expedient to go back
to their sources, as the only means of accur-
ate investigation. They could not see why
some particles of water should be thrust down
by others no better than themselves. Their
forerunners, it was true, had been submitting
to this coercion time of mind. But what was
this to them ? The rights of livine waters
must not be thus be controlled and sported
away. * Divisions of water, into lakes and
waters, springs and puddles, they unanimously
decried, as mere artiflicial and aristocratical
distinctions; and pushed the researches to
to that early perioa, when water came from
the hands of its Mcdccr. What teas it then ?
Water. Water was its high and only title, t

"Now a rumor went, that in the days of
Noah, a great aquatic revolution had taken
place : when all things were reduced to phil-
osophical level ; beneath the sanction of which
precedent, it was argreed on by the rivers,
that they would not any longer be imprisoned
within banks, nor driven headlong iiito one
direction, at the arbitrary will of fount^dns,
but would /"shed their last drop in assertiog
the rights of waters.
I

* Paine's fkble of the Righta of Man.

flf we proceed on, we shall at last coma on riclik 'Wt
shall come to the time whcu man rame fhnn the hands of
his maker. NN hat was he then ? Mnn. Man was his W^
' and only titta.'*-~Paine*a Hi^hU ^f Man.

RES OURIOS^.

840

Obscure as to his origin, J ungovernable in
his temper, and a leveller in principle, Nilus
led the way, and Egypt was covered with
an inundation. Every cultivated inequality
wasoverwelmed, and all distinctions assumed
her rights and Philosophy admired the grand
simplicity of ruin! When lo, the tide of
tumult ebbed, and eminences were seen to get
their heads above water. The party was
daily continued to gain ground, and all things
tended to a counter revolution. What had
first been deemed the effects of enlightened
virtue, was now looked on as the rush of vul-
gar and inconsiderate violence. What origin-
ally seemed calculated to promote the views
of nature, was now seen to be directed in op-
position to her will ; while events had, in the
meantime been suggesting heronmipotence —
that to combat her was dangerous, and to
conquer her, impossible. ^

Such was the result, and the moral of this
enterprize. His forces all subdued — impov-
erished and languid, the baffled Nile retreated
to his channel, after having, by his hostile
descent, reluctantly served and strengthened
the landed interests of Eygpt ; though, like
the commotions of the Seine ||this also produced
monsters." IT

BE CANDID.

The sad consequences of not being candid, are
strongly shown in the following little story
from a translation by Miss Gunning of the
Memoirs of Madame de Bameveldt. publish-
ed at London in 1795.

The wife of Yanderman, who entirely
possessed his affections, had one brother, of
whom she was dotingly fond. He was a
voung man of good natural parts, but played
his brother-in-law many foolish tricks, "for
which, from time to time, he had received
pardon through the mediation of his sister :
yet he still persisted in giving new offence ;
till at length he could obtain forgiveness on
no other oondition than that of total exclusion
from the fiunily, which terms he was forced
to accept, wfaiist Yanderman seemed ^ad of
an opportunity to forbid him the house, be-
cause he did not approve his conduct ; neither
had ha any personal liking for him.

'* One evening, when Yanderman was from
home the unfortunate youth called privatdv to
see his sister ; the still more unfortunate Yan-
derman returned sooner than he intended,
and all the terrified wife could do, that he
might not ^rcive the poor, proscribed visitor,
was to extinguish the candle, giving him by
these means, a moment of darkness to hide

X Arcanum Natora emput non prodkllt nlll ;
Nee Ucuit popuIlA pftrrum to, Mle, Tidera. — I^TOAV.

{Bxpellas licit— usque rocurrit.

I An allusion to the leocsequences of tho then reocnt
Fraoch KoTolotlon.

f The mud deixwited by tho Nile was saposod to engen-
der monvters

himself under the table near which he was
sitting, thinking no doubt, that her husband
would go out to rekindle the li^t, and her
brother in the meanwhile, make his escape
unobserved. How weak, how impolitic, and
sometimes how fatal, are, what we are apt to
call, innoc^it deceptions, when in fact noth-
ing that is deceitful can be innocrait. In this
particular instance, how much better would
it have been, had the poor creature at once
avowed to her husband an offence for which
nature itself was accountable, than by trying
to conceal what she had done so authorised,
instead of receiving a short refnimand, to
subject herself, her husband, and her brother,
to the severest of evils. — These reflections,
presented themselves to my mind — my mind
gave them to my pen, and my pen gives them
to my reader — that pen which would rather
trace any other subject than the dark one it is
about to enter.

** The brother of this ill-starred woman
having placed himself in a posture extremely
uneasy, gently moved to change his position,
but not softly so as to prevent a little noise
from alarming her husband, who supposing
It proceeded from some thief concealed with
no better design than to plunder his house,
instantly drew a kind of poinard, such as
Flamands are generally armed with, and
made several passes directed to the spot from
whence the sound had issued. The youth
who, no doubt, felt the extremity of his dan-
ger, jumped up, drew his sword, and put
himself in an attitude of defence : the wife,
throwing her body between them to break the
thrust mey were makine at each other, re-
ceived two mortal wounds in her heart from
the hands of her husband and her brother —
and all this was the work of a moment !

*' In falling to the ground, the scream she
uttered reached the cars of the combatants,
and penetrated their souls with horror. Yan-
derman raved for lights : lights were brought
and showed to his aching sight the wife so
dear to him pouring out her blood in the icy
embraces of^ death, and her brother mad
with dispair. What a frightful apparition
for the eyes of an affectionate husband tocon-
template! He called upon the wretched
cause of his rashness for the punishment of
his crime — he coniured him with incessant
cries to revenge the death of his sister, to
pieroe him with the sword yet reeking in the
blood of 'his beloved wife; whilst the frantic
young man had fallen down at his feet, and
was entreating to receive from his hand the
fkvor he solicited from him. At last, the dis-
pute of who should die first was terminated
oy both at once throwing down their arms,
and running together to pesent themselves
brfore the chief magistrate, not to accuse each
other, but as self-impeachers, separately
pleading guilty of a crime intended by neither.

d50

BIZARRE.

All other contest subsided between them» ex-
cept who should have the happiness of being
sentenced to partake of that rate the}' had ad-
ministered to an object dearer than their own
Existence : but who should attend her marty-
red shade to another world, was a point for
which they still ocoitended with all the vio-
lence of opposition.

'' The judge before whom a case so singular
was presented happened to be a man of refin-
ed understanding and infinite humanity —
one who heard with attention, saw without
prejudice, weighed with precision, and decided
with equity* He listened to the pair of mis-
erable pemtentr, who threw themselves at his
feet, not beseeching for mercy, but importun-
ing for death. He considered their offence
less a breach of the laws than a misfortune
Heaven had directed against their own peace :
be saw the punishment of the deed in the con-
sequences it had produced ; be adjudged it
sufficiently severe, grieved at the pungency
of their sufferings, and dismissed them from
his tribunal fully pardoned.^'

OUR WEEKLY GOSSIP.

— His Majesty the Eang of Prussia has
mnted the great gold Medal for Science to
Mr. Leone Levi, for his work on the commer-
cial law of the World. The medal has on one
side the effigy of the King surrounded by the
emblems of Religion, Law, Medicine, and
Justice, — and on the other side the Chariot of
the Sun traversing the ecliptic, emblematic
of the diffusion of knowledge.

— Among the papers of the late Gioberti,
there are said by Turin journals to have been
found two works of literair interest : — one a
a complete treatise on Ontology — the other on
the great topic with his lire. Catholic Re-
form. These works may be expected to ap-
pear soon.

— An Exchange paper tells of a certain Mr. —
rather an ancient beau, who charmed by a
youthful fair one, sent her a ^ov^, with these
unes:

« From Olora, eat off the Initial lett«r Q,
Th«n GloTO la Lot*, wad that I atnd to thee."

The lady considered her youth and beauty
too valuable to be bestowed on a suitor so an-
tiquated, and returned the glove with the
couplet —

••From Page <mt ofl the faiitial letter P,
Then Page ia Age, and that won^ do Ibr me.**

— Fbbn Lbavbs. — We have received from
Mr. Orton, of the enterprising firm of Derby
Orton & Mulligan, Buffalo, this very saleable
book. When we say '* saleable," we are sus-
tained by an announcment of the publishers
on the imprint ; that it is one of the thirtieth

tJiouscmd; aremarkaUe circumstance, when
it is recollected that the book has only been
out four or five months. The illustrations
are very fine, and from the variety and spici-
ness of the contents, ** Fern Leaves'^ is just
the thing to take. The efforts of the aathor,
as copiM by the press, seemed to us, coanie,
thouen clever ; her book, however, satisfies
us, that she can write for the refined also : for
there are many, very many passages in its
handsomely printed pages abounding in the
highest order of delicacy as to thought and
expression.

— Campaign of Watbbloo.— Mr. J. S. Red-
field, of New York, has just published a
translation of Jomini's Campaign of Water-
loo, which we have read with decided plea-
sure. It is a part of Jomini's great work
called " Vie Politique et Militaire de Napo-
leon," yet is still itself complete. The trans-
lator is Mr. S. V. Benet of the United States
Ordance department and he has executed his
task very cleverly. A map ci part of Bel-
gium illustrating the campaign is attached to
the work which is ver}' handsomely executed
as is also the Entire vdume.

— Shakspbarb's Wobks.— The second vol-
ume of a new duodecemo edition of Shak-
speare, comes to us from Redfleld. It is very
neatly ffotten up in ail respects, and cannot
fail to have a large sale. The first v<duaie
has never reached us. Suppose it lies npon
some city bookseller's shelf. How is this Mr.
Redfield ? This edition, by the way, has aU
the emendations and oorrecUons of CoUier^
old folio, which is generally conceded by
readers competent to judge in the premises,
of the true catholic stamp.

EDITORS' SANSSOUCI.

— Is decidedly a most a admirable work.
The last number, we find, too, unusuallj at-
tractive, filled as it is with articles original
and second-hand, but all interesting. Among
the latter is '* Uncle Bernard's story," whi^
appeared in Putnam, of June, and which
Harper copies without credit. Putnam is
copyrighted, and there is somd talk of a law
suit, entitled, Putnam & Co. vs Harpnr 4
Brothers ; indeed, a preliminary move has al-
ready been made by Putnam & Co., in a ser-
vice of notice. Should the suit bi tried, and
should Putnam & Co., recover, they will, it is
said be entitle to fifty cents on each copf of
Harper for September, or the veiy snug sum of
$62,000. The Harpers are very liberal in
their outlays of money for the suooess of

their work, and should the $62,000 be given
against them, they will pay it vad diiu ns
more about the matter. Never was the sen-

EDITOR'S SANS-flOUOI.

361

ior of the firm. Dr. Jeiqqb Harper, in better
spirits. All who were at the late Trade Sales
of Messrs. Thomas & Sons will certify to this.
Wit and humor flowed from his lips in per-
fect nyulets, his eyes sparkled like a pair of
brilliants ; all about him there was an atmos-
phere of most cheerful quality, to breathe
which, was to be inflated with the best kind
of fun. If all the partners are in as delight-
ful a frame of mind as the Doctor the firm
will yield to the lancet of law,— and justice
too, we think — as applied bv Putnam & Co.,
not to the amount ot 862,000 but twice that
sum, and relish their dinners quite as well
hereafter as e?er.

T l l a PnKSIOSIMT OONOKMNKO.

— Putnam's Monthly, for August, is an excel-
lent number. Among the contents, '*Our New
Prudent," is a strong and trenchant article.
It takes General Pierce as it finds him, and so
dissects him. It presents him as he is : in oiher
words, quite alone, without any harmonious
support: something as waslNapoleon, accord-
ing to Phillips, on the Rock of St. Helena,
•* urand, gloomy and peculiar." The know-
ing ones, about us, we find, are rather inclin-
ed to coincide with the writer of this article.
Qen. Pierce, they think, is the representtaive
of no distinct party as he now stands ; the
expounder and eoforcer of no distinct doc-
trines. He dispenses favours to unionists and
disunionists, hunkers and barnburners, seces-
sionists and abolitionists. He stands upon a
platform supported by all kinds of timber, no
stick being really of the true stuff, and our
knowing ones um that it will fall from under
him in 1856. We shall see. The article in
question, we are told, was written by a prom-
inent democrat of New York, perhaps Mr.
Brady. The circulation of Putnam is con-
stantly increasing, and we announce the (act
with pleasure.

t-ST-TKR FROM O. O I.8LANO. BSQ.

— In the last number of our paper we pub-
lished a poem, which as we stat^ came to us
anonymously, entitled ** Ladies* Boots.*' A
visitor dropping in informed us that he believ-
ed it to have b^n the production of Charles
G. Leland, Esq., and mtherto published. In
these deg^ierate times of newspaper thefths,
we considered it particularir our duty to in-
quire into the correctness of this statement,
and to act upon the information we should re-
ceive : we accordingly propounded our inquiry
by letter in direct language to Mr. Leland,
stating at the same time that we would in
our next number make a statement in accord-
with his response, if necessanr. Mr Leland,
who, (we state this by way of explanation to
part of the following letter,) far from being
a grey-beard, has appeared before the pub-
lic under three different names, his own.

'^Meister Karl,'' and " 1%€ Chevalier,'' and
has gained a distinct renommee under each,
returned us the following reply, which as it
embodies what could say, and nothing more,
we take the liberty of here inserting.

Monday, September, 5th, 1853
Dear^

Meister Kari was the real inventor, the
<*Orignal Jacobs" of Ladies' Boots." The
piece has had an excellent *nrun," but in
every instance the initials, C. G. L. which
tailed it off in «< The Illustrated News," have
been omitted. If I am to have a benefit in
BiZABBB, I will give you the full pieoe. After
the 28th line, <' as flowers troat a vase," the
following came in :

Mo other sign bwl I of her

Who kept my lottl fc»t bound.
Save when nt cTe, or early mom ; *

1 beard her knocking ronnd:
And then I'd wake, at np the xoae,

And listen while she washed ;
And tears of lore ran down my dieeki,

When ee'r tha Oroton 9po»h9d*

In BizAsai the concluding verse is omitted.

Xnongfa, anougb, my aong Is sung

Lore's tree bears biUer finiits,
Beware of Beanty reader mine,

And obi beware of boots.

Line 6 read "as they 'd orter."

Line 13, read ''CJornerion for Washington,"

Line 22, read ** other brutes," instead of

"mutes."
Line 28, read <as flowers grow from a vase. '
Line 32, read " some other name was on the

books." Yours very truly,

C. G. LELAND.

NKW BOOKB.

G. P. Putnam d^ Co., hare sent us the follow*
ing publications : " The Story of Mont Blanc"
by Albert &nith ; "Pedestnan in France" by
Barrell : ** The Exiles" by Talvi ; and Nos. 5
and 6 of the " Illustrated Record of the Crys-
tal Palace," a superb work. Messrs. BUirper
& Brothers favor us with the following, their
latest issues ;— " Theory of Politics" by Hil-
dreth; "Elements of Rhetoric" by Arch-
bishop Whately : " Frankford" by the author
of " Ruth ;" and " Stuyvesant" by Abbott.

-TMB BKVBN-rV-BlX BOOlBTV.

— This Society of which we spoke in Bizabbb
week before laist, was oi^nized on Monday,
the 5th instant, the anniversary of the meet-
ing of the first Congress, by the election of
the following gentlemen as officers, for ensu-
ing year : Henry J. Williams, Esq., President ^
Thomas Balch, £.sq.. Secretary, Wm. Duane»
Esq., Treasurer, and Messrs. Edward D. In-
graham, Johii Jordon Jr., Aubrey H. Smith,
Edward Armstrong, Townsend Ward, Ed-

352

BIZARRE.

ward E. Law, Leonard R. Koecker, M. D.,
Henry Penington, Horatio G. Jones, Jr., and
James H. Castle, members of the Councily in
addittion to the other oflScers, first named.

This Society is after the model of the Eng-
lish Publication Societies, and has selected
works relating to the American Reyolution,
as those which it will distribute among its
members. Old works now scarce, will be re-

Sublished and rare matter brought to light,
[one of its publications will be sold. The
annual subscription has been fixed at five
dollars, for which every member will be en-
titled to the publications made during the
year.
It is desired to make this a National Society :

gersons residing in any part of the United
tates, being eligible as members. The
movements of the Society will be regularly
recorded in our pages.

ANfiODOTES OFTMB PHIL£OBI-PHIA BAR.

— A person called one day upon the late
Sampson Levy, Esq., and after stating his
case, added ** Now Mr. Levy what do you
think I had better do ?

* ' Why ! (replied Mr. Levy) I think if I were
you, I would go home and put Ten Dollars in
my pocket-book and go to some lawyer gf my
acquaintance and ask his advice.''

The man took the hint

Two young men waited upon the late Peter
S. Duponceau, Esq., to ask his professional
assistance.

One of them commenced: ''Mr. Dupon-
oeau, our father died and made a will."

'* Is it possible ? I never heard of such a
thing," answered Mr. Duponceau.

*•! thought it happened every day," said
the young man.

« it's the first case of the kind," replied
Mr. Duponceau.

" Well," said the young man " if there is
to be any difficulty about it, we had better
give you a fee to attend to the business."

The fee was given and then Mr. Duponceau
observed,

" Oh ! I think I know now what you mean.
Tou mean that your father made a will and
died. Yes ! yes ! that must be it ! that must
be it!

The late Mr. Chester being about to take a
verdict, sat down to make a calculation of
interest to hand to the jury.

•* Charge ! Chester, charge !" cried D. P. B.
Esq., to him.

WHAT A NAIN4B!

— We notice in circulation the bills of a
bank located in Providence, called the * What
Cheer Bank.' * Phoebus, what a name!
Thev will be starting a * Trust in Providence
Bank,' there next.

BUSINESS AND PLEASURE.

— Sanford's excellent Troupe of Serenadeni
are performing burlesque opera, nightly, and
with great eflect. '*Cinderalla" is the piece,
now given. It will soon be foUow^ by
many other operas arranged on the best man-
ner by Nelson Kneass. Sanford's company,
is without exception the best we have ever
had in Philadelphia. They embrace some of
the best solo vocalists and musicians now in
the city. The new Opera House at Twelfth
and Chestnut Street, where it exhibits is
beautifully fitcd up.

—Heller's Spirit Rappinffs at the Lecture
Room of the Chinese Museum, are truly

wonderful. He tells you, that they are all de- !

ceptions. and you marvel to know how such \

a deception is accomplished. No one can be^ !

lieve that the Fish and Fox rappers are any ,

thing but humbugs who sec Heller. He ex- ]

hibits every evening, at Chinese Museum, |

Lecture Room, which is fitted up very beau- \

tifully for him. Another fact should not be ^

omitted in speaking of Heller, viz : the is as- \
sisted by a very beautiful young lady. Melle.
Marie Heller. Mr. Jarvis, too, it should be

stated presides at the piano and with fine '

efiect, as a matter of course. >

— The Arch Street Theatre, under Messrs. \
Wheatly and Drew, continues to draw ■
full houses every night. Xhe pieces are wdl
done, indeed with the admirable company now
at the Arch, it could not be otherwise.

— Oakford's new Autumn Fashon issued
September 3d, is a charming conceit* like
every thing which Oakford produces, taste-
ful in design and finish. Oakford is selling ;
the new mode, of course, yery rapidly ; in- I
deed as the season adyances his new and ^
beautiful store, 158 Chestnut Street, becomes
more and more crowded with buyers. He '
has various new styles besides the one to
which we have alluaed, which is particu-
lariy his own, and they will be appropriated !j
by customers as tastes shall prompt. Dor |
citizens have lon^ known Oakford and delight-
ed to deal with him.

— Col. Wm. H. Maurice, at 123 Chestnut st.
ofiers one of the best stocks of Cheeck Books,
Stationery &c. , to be found in the Philadelphia, i
and he sells more largely than ever now
that the trade season has opened. Any man
who deals with Ifaurice once, is sure to do so ';
the second time.

— Dr. Hunter as will be seen by ady6rtis»- '
ment, will be in Philadelphia, September 19tfi ;
and 20th. We inyite attention to his okpL ,

— Elliott, the Phrenologist, has returned to
town, and may now be found at his
194 Chestnut Street.

THE ALPINE SURPRISE.

353

" BiZA&RB, BnAi^;^ what sat tou. Madcap?"— ForyuAar

limn.

FOIt THE WIKK XXDHrO

SATURDAY, SBPTBAIBBR

17. 1853.

THE ALPINFi SURPRISE.

FROM THE FRENCH.

Before the hand of republican power had
levelled all distinction in France, and sunk
the proudest families to the humiliating con-
dition of the meanest peasant, in the gay
neighborhood of Versailles the Marquis
d'Embleyille owned a sumptuous hotel, where
he lived in epicurean lutury and princely
splendor. His mind possessed all the im-
perious vanity of the ancient ref^ime; and
eaced by fortune at an awful distance, he
oked down upon the canaille as unworthy to
hold with him a rank in the same scale of
being. His only son, Lewis, in the prime of
youtn, had made the tour of Switzerland : he
had visited every part of those wondrous
regions, where nature reigns in all her grand-
eur, and displays to the enthusiastic mind
that sublime and majestic scenery, which
attracts and gratifies the most unbounded
curiosity. So remote from the haunts of
courtly pleasure — so distant from the giddy
circle of high life — he felt the impression of
that tender passion beneath whose controlling
power mortals of all degrees are indiscrimi-
nately doomed to bow.

The object of his admiration was a lovely
Swiss, fresh from the hand of nature, in all
the • bloom of youth and beauty, like the
mother of mankind, in the state of primeval
innocence ; honesty, was the only wealth her
friends possessed: — ^her charms and virtues
were her only portion. With this lovely
maid, Lewis had sought and cultivated an
acqaaintance. He weighed her mental graces
against the frippery of Parisian belles, and
With pleasure saw them greatly preponderate.
8he felt the congenial passion, but from dis-
t>arity of circumstances, suppressed the
kindling hope. The shaft was fixed too deep
■{n his iMsom, to be eradicated without lacera-
|iing his vitals. Although despairing of sue-
jeess, he returned to his fiither, and on his
hiee besought him to confirm his happiness
t>y an assent to this unequal union.

Degrading information ! Should the honor-
.We tide of princely blood, long flowing down
the channel of an illustrious ancestry, be con-
baminated by minding with plebeian streams ?
Ro ! He spumed him from his feet, and, with

a niggard hand, reluctantly conferring a
scanty annuity, bade him retire again to
ignominious exile, and see his face no more.
He was too well acquainted with the inflexi-
bility of his father's temper, when once ar-
rivedf at a certain point ; he knew that the
moment of expostulation was forever past.
He was forbidden to return to seek a pardon,
even by the narrow path of duty : he there-
fore felt himself not unhappy that, without a
direct breach of parental obligation, he could
by the trivial sacrifice of his fortune obtain
the object of his desires. He bade adieu to
the scenes of departed affluence, and flew to
repose himself on the faithful bosom of do-
mestic affection. The inhabitants of the
happy valley celebrated their nuptials with
the usual ceremonies, and Lewis soon forgot
that he was bom to higher expectations.

The storm which had long been gathering
over devoted France, at length descended,
involving in one general ruin all the pride of
perogative, title, and family. The sanguinary
streams that flowed from the throne, swollen
by a thousand rills, had deluged the nation,
and the horrid engine of death (the^illotine)
still frowned tremendously over its mnumera-
ble victims. Not with less terror than the
trembling traveller, when he sees the accumu-
lating avalanche thundering from Alpine pre-
cipices in its progress tearing up towering
pines, and crushing into atoms the obstmct-
mg cottages, the Marquis d'Embleville beheld
the approaching desolation. His lady died
of a broken heart, to observe the splendor of
her family eclipsed ; and rescuing a compara-
tive trifle from the wreck of affluence, he
hastily left his proscribed country in disguise,
and fled towards the regions of ancient Hel-
vetic liberty; where, after long and weary
wandering among those etemal mountains,
which form the barrier of nations — whose
heads, crowned with snows old as the crea-
tion, view the turgid clouds rolling round
their base amid the wildest scenes of nature,
he experienced the bitter pangs of reflection,
without a beam of distant hope to cheer him
in his exile. In order to divert the cares that
wrung his bosom, he had visited the stupend-
ous cataract of the Rhine, he had marked the
wanderings of the Emmen and the Reuss, and
arrived at length at a charmingly romantic
valley in the neighborhood of Lugano. The
evening sun shot his jrellow rays over orange
and citron groves which clothed the sides of
the far stretched mountains, when he reached
a neat little cottage, seated on a gentle de-
clivity, which terminated m the tranquil
waters of an extensive lake, over which gen-
tle zephyrs wafted the softened note» of rustic
ioy — the villagers were retuming from the
labors of the day ; and here and there appear-
ed in distant groups winding down the avenue
of vine-clad hills. At the cottage door he

354

BIZARRE.

was met by two buxom little girls, on whose
cheeks bloomed the roses of health, and their
dress was such as served not to decorate but
display the fine symmetry of their figures.
They made a low and graceful curtsey, and
then ran in to announce the approach of a
stranger.

The charnHng mother came out, and mo-
destly welcomed him to her cottage, where
she set before him the best her simple larder
afforded, together with the choicest fruits the
children could procure. He took the infants
on his knee, and encouraged their artless
prattle by famiUar questions and endear-
ments ; and from them he learnt that papa
was gone to take a long walk on the moun-
tains, on which account they were unable to
accompany him as usual. Their pleasures,
their pastimes, and their mode of education,
became the general topics of conversation ;
and the Marquis discovered in this little group
more natural ability and good sense, than he
had frequently found in the most polished
circles. The mother was an intelligent,
liberal-minded woman, and delivered her
sentiments with the most agreeable and un-
affected simplicity — her whole deportment
and conduct evinced the most secret attach-
ment to the maternal and coniueal duties, and
she spoke with enthusiasm of the enjojrments
of retirement and domestic life. The mind of
the Marquis was much affected, and it was
with apparent difficulty he could conceal the
various emotions which struggled in his
bosom.

The little mountaineers, who had been on
the •* tip-toe of expectation" for the arrival of
their fatner, now recognised his footsteps as
he approached the door ; and rimning out to
welcome him, hung around his knees, and
danced with excess of rapture, while he dis-
tributed between them some flowers and
other natural curiosities indigenous to the
soil, which he had picked up in his way. A
sudden pleasure seemed to eradiate the lovely
countenance of the mother, as she introduced
her consort to her guest. Had a clap of
thunder that moment torn from the summit
of the neighboring mountain the eternal rock,
which then cast a length of shade across the
lake, and hurled it into the vale below, a
greater degree of astonishment could not have
been depicted on the faces of both at this un-
expected rencontre.

A momentary silence prevailed, conscious
remorse touched the heart of the Marquis at
the appearance of a son whom he had so
deeply injured, while Lewis stood awed be-
neath the heretofore authoritative eye of a
disobliged parent. The roses fled the cheek
of the amiable Maria, while the husband on
his knees implored the forgiveness of that
father of whose displeasure she had formerly
heard with so much emotion, and who, she

now fully expected, was come to destroy her
happiness forever. He perceived their agita-
tion ; adversity had softened his heart, and
all the father returned ; for a while he could
not speak ; but taking their hands and joining
them together, lifted his eyes to heaven as if
in the act of imploring blessings 6n them
both. He then snatched the wondering in-
fants to his bosom, and shed over them in-
voluntary tears.

The first tumult this interview had occa-
sioned subsiding, a calmer but more solemn
scene ensued. The death of Lady EmbleviUe,
and the family misfortune, engaged all their
attention; and while they listened to the
" tale of woe," they mutually paid the tribute
due to human calamity. The Marquis havii^
now experienced the vicissitudes and fallacy
of fortune, acknowledged the superior pru-
dence of his son in making so judicious a
choice, and blessed the power that so mys-
teriously disposed him to provide this calm
retreat and those domestic comforts, amidst
w'lich he resolved to spend the eve&ing of hid
days.

PHILADELPHIA CELEB RA-
TION OF THE PEACE OF KSi

The Pennsylvania Legislature (then sitting
in Philadelphia) provided as follows for the
celebration of the triumphant issue of the
American Revolution. It will amuse us Phil-
adelphians of the present day to hear Market
street between Sixth and Seventh streets call-
ed " the upper end of High or Market street."

Philadelphia— In Assembly, Tuesday De-
cember 2d., .783, A.M.

The report of the Committee read Novem-
ber 2 'th., relative to the preparations to be
made for public demonstrations of joy was i
read the second time and adopted as f<^ows,
viz: —

The committee appointed to confer with
Council, concerning the public demonstn^tioD
of joy it may now be proper to authorize m
this State, upon the definitive treaty of peace
between the United States and Great BritaiB.
beg leave to report as the joint opinion of that
Board and your commitee —

That a triumphant arch be erected at tbfl
upper end of High or Market Street, betwceo
Sixth and Seventh streets to be embellished
with illuminated paintings and suitable ia*
scriptions ; and that some fireworks be pre-
pared for the occasion.

That such an exhibition in point of ele-
gance, as well as in regard to the convenienct
and safety of the spectators, will prove most
generally acceptable ; it being intended then
should be no other illumination in the ciiye
that these preparations may be completed in
three or four weeks, and will require, bj thl

CELEBRATION OP THE PEACE OP 1793.

855

most exiu;t compntation thoy oould at present
Hiake, aboat five or at most six hundred
poonds : and therefore, —

Resolved. That a sum not exceeding six-
hundred poimds, be and the same is hereby
appropriated for the purpose of enabling
the supreme executive council to make
public demonstration of joy upon the defini-
tive treaty of peace between the United States
and Great Britain.

As these demonstrations of joy are pre-
scribed and regulated by the directions and
at the expense of the State, it is expected that
no person or persons whatever will presume,
in defiance of the authority of the Common-
wealth, to require or to make any other de-
monstrations of joy upon the occasion, than
those directed and authorized as aforesaid.
A Description of the Triumph(d Arch and its
Ornaments.

The arch is fifty feet and six inches wide,
and thirl^-five feet and six inches high, ex-
clusive of the balustrade, which is three feet
and nine inches in height. The arch is four-
teen feet wide in the clear, and each of the
small arches nine feet. The pillars are of
the Ionic order. The entablature, all the
other parts and the. proportions correspond
with that order ; and the whole edifice is fin-
shed in the style or architecture proper for
such a building and used by the Romans.
The pillars are adorned by spiral festoons of
flowers in their natural colours.

The following devices and inscriptions are
distributed in the several parts appropriated
by the ancients to such ornaments.

I. Over the center arch, the temple of
Janus shut.

Numine favente

Magnus abintegro sseculorum nasciturordo*

By the Divine favor

A great and new order of ages commences.

n. Over the south side of the balustrade,
a bust of Louis XVI.

His merit makes us remember him.

in. On the other side of the balustrade, a
pyramidal cenotaph to the memory of those
brave men who have died for their country in
the late war.

These received their wounds for their conn-
try.

rV. On the south side of the prize, three
lilies, the arms of Prance.

They exceed glory.

V. On the Idt of the former, a plow,
dieaves of wheat, and a ship under sail, the
arms of Pennsylvania.

A land contented with its own blessings.

VI. On the left of the preceding, a sun,
the device of France — and thirteen stars, ^he
divice of the United States.

*Iii the original aocoont the Latin of all Uxe other
mottoes l8 given. We have oont«nted oursolTos with copy-
\ixg onlj the traDilation.«,

Allied in the heavens.

Vn. On the left of the last, two hands
joined, holding branches c£ olive and th^
(caduceas) of commerce.

The concord of nations.

VIII. On the south panel, confederated
America, leaning upon a soldier, military
trophies on each side of Ihem.

The fidelity of the army.

IX. On the other panel, Indians building
churches in the wilderness.

Their savage hearts become mild.

X. On the dye of the south pedestal, a
Hbrai^, with instruments and sunbeams of
arts and sciences.

These soften manners.

XI. On the dye of the west pedestal, a
large tree bearing thirteen principal and dis-
tinct branches loaded with fruit.

By the strength of the bodv these will ripen.
Xn. Upon the dye of the pedestal on the
right hand in passing through the centw
arch, Cincinnatus, crowned with laurel, re-
turning to his plow — the plow adorned with
a wreath of the same — the countenance of
Cincinnatus is a striking resemblance of Qen*
eral Washington.

Victorious Virtue. ,

XII. On the dye of the next pedestal, mil-
itia exercising.

Protecting they shall enjoy.

On the spandrels of the centre arch these
letters, S P. Q. P.

The Senate and People of Pennsylvania.

The top of the balustrade is embellished
with figures representing the cardinal virtues.
Justice, Prudence, Temperance and Forti-
tude.

The whole building illuminated by about
twelve hundred lamps.

Directions wil! be put up in Market street
near Fifth street, for having the following
regulations observed, in order that the citi-
zens may have an opportunity of viewing and
examining the exhibition with the greatest
convenience and satisfaction to themselves.

1st. Persons walking will please to ad-
vance towards the exhibition by the ways on
the outside of the footpavements, which lead
in straight lin^ from Fifth street through the
side arches. Those that advance on the south
side, after passing the south arch.- will turn
on the left hand down Market street to Fifth
street. Those who advance on the north side,
after passing the north arch, will turn on the
right hand down Market street on the foot-
pavement to Fifth street. In this manner
they may pass and return as often as they
choose.

2d. Persons on horseback or in carriages
are to advance in the middle of Market street,
and passing through the centre arch, contin-
ue on to Seventh street ; then turning to the
right or left, return by Arch Street or Chest-

BIZARRE.

nut street to Fifth street, and so pass and re-
turn as often as they please.

Any boys or others who disturb the citi-
zens by throwing squibs or crackers or other-
wise, will be imm^iately apprdiended and
sent to the workhouse.

THE GKIMALDI SHAKKS-
PEARE.

JonnBnll will havehis fun, albeit he is some-
tinies rather dull, and rude at the expense of
his own kith and kin. His last spasm is a
burlesque on Collier's admirable Shakespeare
emendations: and entitled '*The Grimaldi
Shakespeare Notes and Emendations on the
Plays of Shakespeare from a recently discov-
ered annotated copy by Joseph Grimsddi, Esq.,
Comedian." Ghimaldi, as many of our rea-
ders know, was a pantomimist who flourished
some thirty or forty years ago, and whose
great fame, was based upon his supple limbs
and droll contortions of physiognomy. The
idea of his dipping into Shakespeare as an
annotator is hence ludicrous enough.

According to a London paper, the story of
Mr. Collier's discovery is parodied in this
brochure. The author, who boasts a copy-
right in his corrections, — ^which, according to
him, give him the exclusive future property
of Shakespeare, since no edition can hetice-
forth be good without his corrections, and no
editor dare take them, — on his wav to Sadler's
Wells Theatre, stops at a bookstall, and there
stumbles on an annotated copy of a shabby
folio edition of Shakespeare. On reaching his
home, what is his delight to find that tMs is
the copy used by the great Grimaldi — the
Tarlton of our times ! This precious folio, it
appears, has the autograph inscription —
' * Joseph Chimaldi , his book. Here we are ! "
This inscription, the London editor adds, '*is
humorously given in fac-simile : — as are one
or two stage^irections of the old school of
"Well-mouthed Booth," and of the late
" John Philip Kemble," as his admirers still
continue to call him at full length. Our
Clown's corrections are, of sourse, worked
out in the peculiar spirit of Mr. Collier's old
emendator. Thus, two or three of the correc-
tions put forth as happy in Mr. Collier's folio
are parodied with skill, — and their scope and
tendency is mimicked with down-like sagac-
ity.

Here is an extract from this new edition of
Shakespeare: —

<<As a specimen of the strong common-
sense of the comments by immortal Joe, and
of the elisions which he has made in the text
with an amount of taste and judgment only
equalled by * Perkins' (Cdlier's old commen-
tator) himself, I give the dialogue between
Malcolm and the Doctor in 'Macbeth' (act

iv, sc 3), which alludes to the mji^riouB
royal gift of healing diseases by touch —

Malcolm. Oomes the king Ibrth I pnj you?
Doctor. Ay, lir; there are » crew of wretched loul^
That stay hto cure: their malady conTioces
The great aa(My of tirt ; hut at his touch,
Such saootity hath heaven given his hand.
They presently amend.

Malcolm.. I thank yon. Doctor. IKxit Doctor.

This passage is altered in our amended copy
by the substitution of gt^ for sotds. —

There are a crew of wretched ^uUs
That stay his cure.

The blundering confusion in the next sen-
tence is at once got rid of, as well as the rest
of the speech, by drawing the pen vigorously
through the whole ; and so ending the scene
with Malcolm's polite acknowlcxigment to the
medi<^ practitioner of Macbeth 's household."

The stage directions, considered of such
importance in Mr. Collier's copy, are rather
happily ridiculed thus : —

"Macbeth has received much attention
from Grimaldi. He has not only corrected
the text, but has added minute stage direc-
tions, of the most important and elucidatory
nature. Thus, in the famous scene where
the Thane exclaims —

—Is this a dagger whidi I see Ixttxn mef

Grimaldi has written in the margin, opposite
that line, * Dagger hanging, 0. P.' which, for
the benefit of non-professional readers, I may
say means that a dagger must be suspended
a1>ove Macbeth and opposite the side where
the prompter is stationed, and where the ac-
tor stands, in order that the meaning of his
alarm may be at once apparent. I trust our
eyes will never more be oflfended by staring
at vacancy when this scene is acted at the
theatres ; for why are we not to see the dag-
ger as well as Banquo's Ghost, both bdng
equally the result m the Thane's * evil con-
science V and common-sense requires that the
audience should see what Macoeth sees, to
fully comprehend and appreciate his terrors.
In * Hamlet' we have another valuable in-
stance of the attention paid to stage effects
and again feel the great value of the commen-
tator's practical mind. Li act iii, so. 4»
where the Prince is surprised by the sudden
appearance of his father's spirit, the follow-
ing pieoe of what is technicdly called ' stage
business' is noted for his use, — * chuk over
the cheer,' t. e., throw the chair down upon
which Hamlet has been seated, which wffl j
add to his apparent consternation, and pro-
duce a starting effect upon the audience, tt V
remarkable that this is an antique stage-tradi-^
tion, and the fronUspiece to ' Hamlet," ia
Rowe's Shakespeare, 1709, exhibits the prac-
tice, so that we have no doubt it was handed

ABOUT POETS-LAUREATE.

367

down from the time of the dramatist himself,
who may also have taught the grave-digger to
' make fhc groundlings laugh,' by pulling off
twenty waistcoats, a practice which has im-
properly ceased of late years, but which we
hope our indignant remostrance may again
revive."

This is good. Then follows what the Atke-
n^rtitn calls ** an older * Joe* than * Joe Grim-
aldi,' but it will bear repeating : —

'* There is anbther passage in this play,
which by the simple omission of a comma
has been much altered in its significance. It
occurs in the speech of RatcliflF (act v. sc. 3),
when he abruptly enters the tent of Richard
and answers his query * who's there' by

'ti« I. The early village oock

Ilatb twice done ndulation to the mom.

The query, when once put by Kemble, was
answered thus : —

M J lord *tls I the early Tillage cock.

The actor who thus replied has been subject-
ed to much absurd odium."

Upon the whole from the specimens of the
Grimaldi Shakespeare furnished us we should
think it was after all rather a tame joke ;
that its wit, as the Atkenamm hints, is not
dangerous. It emanates it is said from one of
the Shakespearian annotators, where light
Collier has put out. We do not think he will
succeed either in reasoning or quizzing Col-
lier into disrepute; but that his admirable
work must become standard on both sides of
the ocean. The name of Collier's annotator —
Perkins — has already furnished more than one
joke to the London wags, one of whom report-
ed that there was a pamphlet forthcoming
entitled ** Barclay's Apology for Perkins ;"
and raised a laugh thereby, no doubt, at least
among the lovers of good ale. Here we leave
the new '' Grimaldi Shakespeare."

ABOUT POETS-LAUREATE.

A book just published in London professing
to give the *• Lives of the Poets- Laureate," of
Ei^land, gets pretty roughly handled by the
litmry' P^M^^i^* It is firom the joint pen of
Messrs. W. S. Austin Jr., and John Ralph ;
the ibrmer of Exeter College and the latter a
barrister of law in London.

One critic says : — ** It was said bv Dryden
of one of his Oxford prologues — and the say-
ing is quoted by Messrs. Austin and Ralph —
that ^ it is easy to pass an3rthing upon a Uni-
versity,' but we doubt if Oxford or the Inns
of Court will accept these * Lives of the Lau-
reates,' by a jmduate of Oxford and a gradu-
ate of the Temple, as contributions of any
importance to our literary histoir. * The
Life of an Oxford Student,' either Mr. Aus-
tin or Mr. Ralph informs us, * ifiords indiffer-

ent materials for the writer of biography :' —
if we were to judge by these Lives, it might
better have been said that the life of an Ox-
ford student is a very indifferent education
for even a decently good biographer."

Ben Jonson was the first Laureate; yet in
reading his biography by Messrs. Austin and
Ralph, not a single allusion is made to what
Cowper has called ; —

Hif qoit^vnt ode, his peppereom of praise.

Ben received his laurel wreath, his pension,
and his ** one tierce of Canary Spanish wine
yearly," especially to enoourafe him in those
services of his wit and pen which were en-
joined upon him, and of course which we ex-
pected from him.

Ben subdivided poets into four heads —
Poets, Poetaccios, Poetasters, and Poetitos ;
and Poets-Laureate have been divided by
Shenstone and Southey into Poets-Laureate
and Po-Lauries. The Athenantm says that of
the fourteen poets to whom the Court laurel
has been mven seven may be called Poets,
and seven Po-Lauries. The seven Poets, it
adds, were Ben Jonson, Davenant, Dryden,
Warton, Southey, Wordsworth, and Tenny-
son, — and the seven Po-Lauries, ShadweU,
Tate, Eusden, Rowe, Cibber, Whitehead, and
Pye. We except to the position given to Ten-
nyson by our learned London critic ; he be-
longs most decidedly to the Po-Lauries. The
gift of the office was originally in the Crown ;
and we agree with our critic who says that
Kings have been more fortunate generally in
their nominations than Lord Chamberlains
since the office was in their gift. Eang Char-
les the First selected Ben Jonson and Daven-
ant, — King Charles the Second chose Dry-
den, and ICing James the Second continued
him in the same office.

The Earl of Dorset appointed Shadwell, a
very indifferent poet. Cibber succeeded Shad-
weU ; at a neroid, too, when Pope and Thomp-
son were nourishing ! When Cibber felt be
was no longer youngs he wrote to the Lord
Chamberlain, asking that the Laureate, at his
death, should be given to a certain Mr. Jones.
Now Mr. Walpole asked Lord Chesterfidd who
this Mr. Jones was, and got as a reply ** that
a better poet would not take the post, and a
worse ought not to have it." Rather expres-
sive that.

The Poets-Laureate, used to sing the
praises of the royal fkmily, but of late, or
auring the laureates of Wordsworth and Ten-
nyson the practice has been honored more in
the breach than the observance. Ben Jonson
was full of grateful bursts. Witness *An
Epigram Anniversary' to Eang Charles the
First on his birthday : —

Tbl« is King Ohariei hit day. Speak tt thon, Tower,
Unto the ahipe, and tiiay ft«n tlw to ttar.

358

BIZARRE.

Discharge It 'bout the Islasd In an hour,

As lond aa thunder and as awift as fire,
Let Iwland meet It out at «ea, half-way,

Ilopeatiog all Great Brilian's joy, and more,
Adding her own glad accents to thia day,

Like Echo playing flrom the other shore.
"What drums or trumpets, or great ordnance can.

The poetry of ateeples, with the belli*,
Three kingdoms' mirth, in light and aery man.

Made lighter with tlie wine. All noises else.
As bonfiraa. rockets, flreworkft, with tlie shouts

Tiiat cry with gladness which their hearts would pay^
Had they but grace of thinking, at these routs,

On the often oomfaig <^ this holy*day :
And ever dope the burden of the song.

Still to have such a Charles, but this Charlea long.
The wish is great, but where the Prince is such.

What prayers, people, can you think too much ?

— Nor was the Queen (Henrietta Maria) al-
lowed to escape. Here is an * Epigram' on
one of her confinements : —

Hail, Slary, fiill of grace! it once was said,

And by an angel, to the blessed'st maid,

The Mother of our Lord : why may not I,

Without proAinoness, as a poet, cry,

Hail, Mary, full of honourt- ! to my queen,

The mother of our prince? When was there seen.

Except the Joy that the first Mary brought,

Whereby the safoty of mankind was wrought,

80 general a gladness to an isle.

To make the hearts oPa whole nation smile.

As in this prince? let it be lawfiil. so

To compare small with great, as still wo owe

Glory to God. Then hail to Mary I spring

Of so rauoh safety to the realm and King!

With Ben, we are told, commenced the an-
nual custom not recognised, however, by sev-
eral of his successors — of writing Birthday-
Odes; we agree with an author who says he
set an example of bad poetry as well: — wit-
ness a verse of * An Ode or Song of all the
Muses in Her Majesty's Birthday, 1630. '—

Up, public joy, remember
This sixteenth of November,

Some brave uncommon way ;
And though the parish-steeple
Be silent to the people.
Ring, show it holy day.

MONT BLANC AGAIN.

Albert Smith's book about Mont Blanc,
which we noticed a week or two since as
having appeared in London, G. P. Putnam &
Co. of New York, have issued in a very hand-
some volume. It is extremely interesting, and
will unq^uestionably meet with a lively sale
here as it did in London. We subjoin two
extracts, which are very fair specimens of
the whole book.

BIVOUAO ON THB OKANDS MULKTS.

As soon as we had arranged our packs and
bundles we began to ohauge our clothes.

which were toleraUy well wet through with
trudging and tumbling about am<mg the snow ;
and cutting a number of pegs, we strewed
our garments about the crannies of the rocks
to dry. I put on two shirts, two pairs of
lamb's-wool socks, a thick pair of Scotch
plaid trousers, a ** Templar" worsted hcftd-
piece, and a common blouse ; and my com-
panions were attired in a similar manner.
There was now great activity in the camp.
Some of the guides ranged 4he wine bottles
side by side in the snow; others unpacked
the refreshment knapsacks; others, again,
made a rude fireplace, and filled a stewpao
with snow to melt. All this time it was so
hot, and the sun was so bright, that I began
to think the guide, who told De Saussure he
should take a parasol up with him, did not
deserve to have been laughed at. As soon
as our wild bivouac assumed a little appear-
ance of order, two of the guides were sent up
the glacier to go a great way ahead, and then
return and report upon the state of the snow
on the plateaux. "Wben they had started, we
perchea ourselves about on the comparatively
level spaces of the rock, and with knife and
fingers began our dinner. We kept high fes-
tival that afternoon on the Grand Mnlets.
One stage of our journey — and that one by no
means the easiest — had been achieved withoat
the slightest hurt or harm. The conscious-
ness of our success thus far, the pure trans-
parent air, the excitement attached to the
veiy position in which we found ourselves,
ana the strange bewildering novelty of the
surrounding scenery, produced a flowing ex-
hileration of spirits that I had never before
experienced. The feeling was shared by all ;
and we laughed and sang, and made the
guides contribute whatever they could to the
general amusement, and told them such stories
as would translate wdl in return; nntil I
believe, that dinner will never be forgotten
by them. A fine diversion was afforded by
racing the empty bottles down the glacier.
We flung them off from the rock as far as we
were able, and then watched their oourse.
Whenever they chanced to point neck firvt
down the slope, they started oS with incon-
ceivable velocity leaping the crevices by
their own impetns, until they were lost ia
the distance. The excitement of the gat<to
during this amusement was very remarkabla :
a stand of betting men could not have betntj-
ed more at the Derby. Their anxiety wbaii
one of the bottles approached a crevtee iras
intense^ and if the gulf was cleai^ they pet^
fectly screamed with delight. Void un Inha
coureur! or Tiens ! comme il smite bien! bvirat
from them ; and ** Le grand^s arretteT^ *• E
est perdu — dommageV^ **N(m — ilmarAe en-
core/" could not have been uttered ^ritlt
more eumestness had they been watching a
herd of chamois. The sun at length went

MONT BLANC AGAIN. *

359

down behind the Aiguille du Goute, and then,
for two hoors, a scene of such wild and won-
drous beauty — of such inconceivable and un-
earthly splendor — burst upon me, that, spell-
bound, and abnost trembling with emotion its
magnificence called forth— with every sense,
and feeling, and thought absorbed by its
brilliancy, I saw far more than the realisa-
tion of the most gorgeous visions that opium
or hasheesh could evoke, accomplished. At
first, everything about us, above, around, be-
low — the sky, th^ mountain, and the lower
peaks — appeared one uniform creation of
burnished gold, so brightly dazzling that,
now our veils were removed, the eye could
scarcely bear the splendor. As the twilight
griMluidly crept over the lower world, the
glow becieime still more vivid ; and presently,
as the blue mists rose in the valleys, the tops
of the higher mountains looked like islands
rising from a fihny ocean — an archipelago of
gold. By degrees this metallic lustre was
softened into tints, — first orange, and then
bright, transparent crimson, along the hori-
zon, rising through the different hues with
prismatic regularity, until, immediately
above us, the sky w'as a deep pure blue,
merging towards the east into glowing violet.
The snow took its color from these changes :
and every portion on which the light fell was
soon tinged with pale carmine, of a shade
similar to that which snow at times assumes,
from some imperfectly explained cause, at
high elevations — such, indeed, as I had seen,
in early suma^r, upon the Furka and Faul-
hom. These beautiful hues grew brighter
as the twilight below increased in depth ; and
it now came marching up the valley of the
glaciers, until it reached our resting-place.
Higher and higher still it drove the lovely
glory of the sun-light before it. until at last
the vast Dome du Goute and the summit it-
self stood out, icelike and grim, in the cold
evening air, although the horizon still gleam-
ed with a belt of rosy light. Although this
superb spectacle had faded away, the scene
was still even more than striking. The fire
which the guides had made, and which was
now burning and crackling on a ledge of rock
a little below us, threw its flickering light,
with admirable dSect, upon our band. The
men bad collected round the blaze, and were
making some chocdate, as they sang patois
ballads and choruses ; they were all evident-
ly as completely at home as they would have
been in tTOir chalets. We had arranged our-
selves as convenienty as we could, so as not
to inconvenience one another, and had still
nothing more than an ordinary wrapper over
as: there had been no attempt to build the
tent with batons and canvas, as I had
read in some of the Mont Blanc narratives —
the starry heaven was our only roofing. Mr.
Floyd and Mr. Philips were already fast

asleep. Mr. West was still awake, and t
was too excited even to close my eyes in the
attempt to get a little repose. We talked for
a while, and then he also was silent. The
stars had come out, and, looking over the
plateau, I soon saw the moonlight lying cold
and silvery on the summit, stealing slowly
down the very track by which the sunset
glories had passed upward and away. But
it came so tardily, that I knew it would be
hours before we derived any actual benefit
from the light. One after another the guides
fell asleep, until only three or four remained
round the embers of the fire, thoughtfully
smoking their pipes. And then silence, im-
pressive beyond expression, reigned over our
isolated world. Often and often, from Cham-
ouni, I had looked up at evening towards the
darkening position of the Grands Mulcts, and
thought, almost with shuddering, how awful it
must be for men to pass the night in such a
remote, eternal, and frozen wilderness. And
now I was lying there — in the very heart of
its icebound and appalling solitude. In such
close communion with nature in her grandest
aspect, with no trace of the actual living
world beyond the mere speck that our little
party formed, the mind was carried far away
from its ordinary train of thought — a solemn
emotion of mingled awe and delight, and yet
self-perception of abject nothingness, alone
rose above every other feeling. A vast un-
trodden region of cold, and silence, and death
stretched out far and away from us on every
side ; but, above, Heaven, with its countless
watchful eyes, was over all !

THE TOP.

For upwards of half an hour we kept on
slowly mounting this iceberg, until we reach-
ed the foot of the last ascent — the calottey as
it is called — the "cap" of Mont Blanc. The
danger was now over, but not the labor, for
this dome of ice was difficult to mount. The
axe was again in requisition : and everybody
was so '' blown," in common parlance, that
we had to stop every three or four minutes.
My young companions kept bravely on, like
fine fellows as they were, getting ahead even
of some of the guides : but I was perfectly
done up. Honest Tairraz had no sinecure to
pull me after him, for I was stumbling about,
as though completely intoxicated. I could
not keep my eyes open, and planted my feet
anywhere but in the right place. I know I
was exceedingly cross. I have even a recol-
lection of having scolded my **team,"be-
cailse they did not go quicker ; and I was ex-
cessively indignant when one of them dared
to call my attention to Monte Rosa. At last,
one or two went in front, and thus somewhat
quickened our progress. Gradually our speed
increased, until I was scrambling almost on
my hands and knees ; and then, as I found

360

BIZARRE.

myself on a level , it suddenly stopped. T look-
ed round, and saw there was nothing higher.
The batons were stuck in the snow, and the
guides were grouped about, some lying down,
and others standing in little parties. I was
on the top of Mont Blanc ! The ardent wish
of years was gratified : but I was so complete-
ly exhausted, that, without looking round me,
I f<pll down upon the snow, and was asleep in
an instant. I never knew the charm before
of that mysterious and brief repose which an-
cient people term *' fbrty winks.'* Six or
seven minutes of dead slumber was enough to
restore the balance of ray ideas ; and when
Tairraz awoke me, I was once more perfectly
myself. And now I entered into the full de-
light tihat the conciousness of our success
brought with it. It was a little time before I
could look at anything steadily. I wanted
the whole panorama condensed mio one point :
for, gazing at Geneva and the Jura, I thought
of the plains of Lombardy behind me ; and
turning round towards them, my eye imme-
diately wandered away to the Oberland, w^ith
its hundred peaks glittering in the bright
morning sun.

RES CURIOS^E.

DANOBB OF EABLT BUBIALS.

Le Clerc, in his History of Medicine, and
also other able physicians, affirm, that in Hy-
steria, a woman can live thirty days without
re.spiration. I know, says Calmet, that a
very honest woman continued thirty-six
hours without any sign of life. Every one
thought her dead, and her funeral was pre-
pared : her husband steadily opposed it. At
the expiration of thirty- six hours, she recov-
ered, and lived a long time afterwards. She
related that she heard perfectly all that was
said of her, and knew that they wished to
bury her ; but such was her torpor, that she
could not overcome it, and would have suffer-
ed all without resistance; which accords
with what St. Augustin savs of a priest, who
during a syncope, heard what was said, as if
at a distance, and yet aUowed his flesh to be
burned and cut without opposition or sensa-
tion.

The case of Rev. William Tennent, late
pastor of the Presbyterian Church, Freehold,
(N. J.) may also be set up against the prac-
tice of early burial. It seems, according to
his biographer, that intense application
affected bis health, and brought on a pain in
bis breast and a slight hectic. He soon be-
came emanciated. and at length was like a
living skeleton. His life was now threatened.
In this situation his spirits failed him, and he
began to obtain doubts of his final happiness.
He was conversing one morning with his
brother, in Latin, on the state of his soul,

when he fainted and died away. After the
usual time, he was laid out on a board, ac-
cording to the common practice of the coun-
try, and the neighborhood were invited to
attend his funeral, on the next day. In the
evening his physician and friend, returned
from a ride into the country, and was afflict-
ed beyond measure at the news of his death.
He could not be persuaded that it was
certain; and on being told that one of the
persons who had asssisted in laying out the
body, thought he had observed a little
tremor of the flesh, under the arm, although
the body was cold and stiff, he endeavoured
to ascertain the fact. He first put his own
hand into warm water, to make it as sensible
as possible, and then felt under the arm and
at the heart, and affirmed that he felt an un-
usual warmth, though no one else could. He
had the body restored to a warm bed, and in-
sisted that the people who had been invited
to the funeral should be requested not to at^
tend. To this the brother objected as ah-
surd ; the eyes being sunk, the lips discol-
ored, and the whole body cold and stiff.
However, the doctor finally prevailed, and all
probable means were used to discover symp-
toms of returuing life. But the third day-
arrived, and no hopes were entertained of
success, but by the doctor,who never left
him, night or day. The people were again
invited, and assembled to attend the funeral.
The doctor still objected, and at last confined
his request for delay to one hour, then to half
an hour, and finally to a quarter of an boor
He had discovered that the tongue was much
swollen and threatened to crack. He was
endeavoring to soften it by some emollient
ointment, put upon it with a feather, when
the brother came in, about the expiration of
the last period, and mistaking what the doc-
tor was doing for an attempt to feed him,
manifested some resentment, and, in a spirited
tpne, said, '* It is shameful to be feeding a life-
less corpse ;" and insisted with earnestness,
that the funeral should immediately proceed.
At this critical and important moment, the
body, to the great alarm and astonishment of
all present, opened its eyes, gave a dreadful
groan, and sunk again into apparent death.
This put an end to all thoughts of burying
him ; and every effort was again employed in
hopes of bringing about spe^y resuscitation.
In about an hour, the eyes opened, a heavy
groan proceeded from the body, and again all
appearance of animation vanished. In anoth^
I hour, life seemed to return with more power»
and a complete revival took place, to the great
joy of the family and friends, and no smaU
astonishment and conviction of very many who
had been ridiculing the idea of restoring to life
a dead body. Mr. T. continued in so weak
and low a state for six weeks, that great
doubts were entertained of final recovery. It

_-____-______,^ L

RES CURIOSiK.

361

wftfi full a twelve-month before he was com-
pletely restored.

Other examples of persons buried alive, or
about to be, may be found in Winslow.

Plutarch relates, that a man having fallen
from a height, was thought to be dead, with-
out, however, the slightest appearance of a
wound. At the end of three days, as they
laid him in the earth, he suddenly came to
himself. — And Asclepiades meeting a large
concourse of people following a person to the
the grave was allowed to see him. He found
in him signs of life, and b^ appropriate means,
immediately recovered him and restored him
to his friends.

There are numerous instances of persons,
who, having been buried, have afterwards re-
covered, and lived in perfect health a long
time. In particulart we are told of a woman
of Orleans, buried in a vault with a rin^* on her
finger, which could not be taken off when
placing her in the coffin. The following
night, a servant, attracted by this ring, opened
the tomb, broke the coffin, and not l^ing able
to draw off the ring, attempted to cut off the
finger of the woman, who cried out, and thus
put him to flight. She then «"ivested herself
as well as she could, of her burial clothes, re-
turned home, and survived her husband.

M. Bernard, a surgeon at Paris, affirms,
that being with his father at the parish church
of Rael, they drew from his tomb, alive and
breathing, a priest of the order of St. Francis,
who had been interred three or four days, and
who had gnawed his hands around the ligature
that bound them together. He .died, how-
ever, almost instantly on being brought into
the air.

Many persons have mentioned the wife of a
Counsellor of Cologne, who having been bu-
ried, in 1571, with a valuable ring, the grave
digger opened the grave the following night, j
in order to steal it. But the good woman '
seized him, and foroed him to take her from
her coffin. He disengaged himself and fled.
She then went home and knocked at the door ;
thinking it was her ghost, she was left a long
time at the door. At last they opened it,
wanned her, and she was perfectly restored,
and had afterwards three sons, all clergymen.

Francis de CeviUe, a Norman gentlemen,
was captain of a hundren men in the town of
Rouen, when it was besieged by Chas IX.,
and was then twenty-six years of age. At the
oonolnsion of an attack he was wounded, and
fell into the ditch : some pioneers placed him
in a grave with another body, and covered it
with a little earth. He remained there from
eleven in the morning, to half past six in the
evening, when his servant took nim out. Hav-
ing observed some signs of life, the servant put
him into a bed, where he remained five days
and five nights without speaking, or giving
any sign of sensation, but having a violent

fever. — The town being taken by assault, the
servants of an officer of the victorious army,
who was to lodge in the house, threw him on a
straw bed in a back room, from whence his
brother *s enemies pitched him through a win-
dow upon a heap of dirt, where he remainwl
in his shirt more than three dajrs. At the end
of this time, a relation, surprised to find him
alive, sent him a league from Rouen, where
he was attended, and finally recovered.

In a great {^ague that ravaged the town of
Dijon, in 1558, a woman named Nicole Len-
tillet, being considered as dead from the dis-
ease, was tfirown into a large ditch, where
the dead were buried. The following morn-
ing she came to herself, and attempted in vain
to get out of it : but her weakness, and the
weight of the bodies above her, prevented it.
In this horrible situation she remained four
days, when she was drawn out, carried home,
and perfectly recovered.

MISGBLLANEOUS.

When the Science of Phrenology was first
broached by Gall, it met with mucl^ ridicule
both in prose and verse. A specimen of the
latter may be found in the following ;

To Mek our heads of erery nbape.
Baron and >hakcspoare, a«8 and ape,

Phrenologists take pains:
And in this fearcb they are sorely right,
For ne'er was system brought to light,

So much in want of brain*.

Mr. Elliott, the Phrenologist, in Chestnut
Street, we may say here has one of the best
collections of charts and busts, we have ever
seen.

Rome is at present well known to be almost
constantly affected with maVariay a kind of
intermittent fever : it is ascribed to the marshes
and stagnant state of the waters in the neigh-
bourhood, as also to the putrefaction of ani-
mal and vegetable substances, which always
exists in great abundance in her streets. Even
as far back as the consulate the government
found it very difficult to preserve cleanliness,
as is manifested by the various edicts passed for
that purpose : two of them are here inserted.

** Qnominus illi cloecam qu» ex sedibus
ejus in tuas retinet, qua de re agitur, purgare
reficere liceat vim fieri, veto, damni infecti
quod operis vitio factum sit caveri iubeo."

'< Ne quis aqnam oletato dolo malo ubi pub-
lice salit* Si quis olctarit sextertiortun X
millium mulcta esto."

In undergoing loi^e marches, it has been
found very serviceable to soap the inside of
your stockings.

In Allen's •* Synopsis of Medicine," under
the article Plague, he presents us with Diem-
erbrock's prevention^ which will prove effica-
cious in all epidemics :

'- night. wiUi the fear of the Lord.*'

362

BIZARRE.

He also giyes us a Latin distich to the same
effect, with its translation.

** Haec tria tabificam tollunt adrerbla pestem,
Moz, longtt, tarde, oedo, recede, rcdll"
"Thews words preyont the plague's infeotioas pain,
Go quick, fly far, and elow return again !'-

The following examples have been given of
those unaccountable antipathies to which
Shakespeare alludes :

** Some men there are lore not a gaping pig
Some that are mad If they behold a cat"

Mr. Vaughein, a great huntsman in Han-
over, would faint, or, if he had sufficient time,
would run away at the sight of a roast pig.

Henry III. of France, could nev^ sit in a
room with a cat.

The Duke of Schomberg had the same kind
of antipathy : nay we read of a gentleman in
the court of the Emperor , Ferdinand, who
bled at the nose on hearing the mewing of a
cat, however great the cUstance might be
from him. The same happened to Chesue,
secretary to Frwicis the First, if an apple was
shewn to him.

Cardan was particularly disgusted at the
sight of eggs. Uladislaus, king of Poland
could not bear to see apples.

Joseph Scaliger and Peter Abono never
could orink milk.

Ambrose Par^ mentions a gentleman who
never could see an eel without fainting.

Erasmus, though a native €£ a seaport
(Rotterdam) had such an aversion to fish, that
the smell of it gave him a fever.

King James I of England had an utter
aversion to the sight of a naked sword, so
that when he conferred knighthood, the blade
was placed on the shoulder of the person
*' whom the king delighted to honor'' by one
of the royal attendants.

Henry Bolders, a London banker has fiunt-
ed at dinner in consequence of a footman's
bringing and placing on the sideboard the
half of a large Cheshire cheese, although Mr.
Bolders did not see the cheese.

We have read of a gentleman who would
&11 into convulsions at the sight of a carp.

The following table shows the weight of
the largest church bells in England :

tons, cvrt

The Mighty Tom at Christ College,
Oxford, 7 15

The Great Tom at the Cathedral,

Exeter, 5 11

The Tom Growler at St. Paul's,
London, 5

The Great Tom at the Minster, Lin-
coln 4 15

The Cathedral Clock Bell, Canter-
bury 3 10

The Minster Clock Bell, Beverly,
(Yorkshire,) . . . . 2 10

LIFE'S MOMENTS.

Life hiu itfl bright bonra

I f Foftnefs and bloom,
Bending like spring^floveri

O'er Ihc edge of the tomb;
They choer vu in gladneet.

So joyful though briel^
And blight us with radneu

Oft melting in griefl

Tints of the morning

GiMing the sky,
By (ninbcams adorning, ^

Then lingering die ;
Shadows of moonlight

Cast on the shore,
Darkness encircles

They fade evermore.

Thus life's happy hours

in brilliance appear,
Fragrant with flowers

Our pathway to dieeri
Round us they borer,

Like shadows of night,
Then sadness is over

Joy comes in delight.

OUR WEEKLY OOSSIP.

— " Boiling to death," Blackstone says, Sj.
vol. iv. p. 196, "seems to have been '^
adopted from the peculiar circumstances of
the crime which gave rise to it; for the pre-
amble of the statute (22 Hen. Vm. c. 21) in-
forms us that John Roose, a cook, had been
lately convicted of throwing poison into a
large pot of broth, prepared for the Bishop of
Rochester's family, and for the poor of the
parish : and the said John Boose was, by a
retrospective clause of the same statute, or-
dered to be boiled to death. Lord Coke men-
tioned several instance of persons suffering
this horrid punishment." This Act, how-
ever, did not live long, for it was repeal«l by
the 1st Edw. VI. c. 12.

— Gobbet giving an account of a debate in
Congress in 1796 '* upon the appointment of a
stenographer, says thftt those who appeared
most anxious for the appointment of the sten-
ographer, if we except one or two, are
amongst the few whose speeches can do them
no sort of credit with any party. This is the
way of the world. Animals, whether endued
with the faculty of speech or not, seem to fl^
in the face of Nature. The ugly woman is
everlastinglv at her glass ; the owl thought
her frightful brood the prettiest little crea-
tures in the world ; and the insipid orator,
while his voice is drowned in the hemmings,
coughings, snorings of his drowsy audience,
thinks that he is uttering sentences that ought
to be written in letters of gold.'*

OUR WEEKLY GOSSIP.

363

— The following homorous account of the sop-
orific speeches of a medical member of the ,
legislature of Pennsylvania, is also from the '
I caustic pen of CJobbett. .

i "I allude to one Dr. Morpheus, who find- I
I ing his neighbors determined not to die under I
[ his hands is now endeavoring to assassinate |
the state. The state, however, seems to par- ;
take of the obstinacy of his neighbors, turn-
ing a deaf ear to all his prescriptions. At the
end of the second paragraph the chairman
was perceived to yawn, the third rocked him
off and the fourth laid the whole assembly
fast asleep. The fifth reached the doorkeeper
at the further end of the passage ; and before
the sixth was half finished, an old woman
who sells apples at the gate, dropped from
her stool, should this quack in politics as
well as physic be sufi*ered to continue his lec-
tures, the Assembly of Pennsylvania may
write over their doors, as the French do over
those of their burying grounds, •* This is the
place of everlasting sleep."

— A writer states that when the railroad from
St. Louis to San Francisco is completed, a
traveller may make the circuit of the earth,
hy railway and by steamer, in the space of
nmety-three days. The detail he gives as
follows :

From New York to San Francisco, 4 days.
From San Francisco to Hong-Kong, 25 *•
From Hong-Kong to Calcutta, 6 "

From Calcutta to Bombay, 13 "

From Bombay to England, 35 **

From England to New York, 10 **

— A book has recently been published in Lon-
don, entitled: ''Progress of Russia in the
West, North and South-" The author states
that Russia, when resisted with a will, is not
idl^powerfiil even within her own territories,
as the following anecdote testifies : —

** The Cossacks, little as it may be suspect-
ed abroad, are not a mere troop of irregular
horse, but a constituted republic, separated
Brom Russia in a far more distinct manner
than the Duchies from Denmark. They ad-
mit no Russian to civil or military rank or
post, and utterly repudiate the ecclesiastical
pretensions and usurpations of the official
Russian Church. An ukase was published
assimilating their administration to that of
the other provinces of the empire ; their con*
tingent had by precaution been already dis-
patched to distant frontiers ; nevertheless the
Deputy Hetman, instantly sent orders for the
regiments of reserve to rendezvous at the
point of their territ<Hries nearer to Moscow.
The Emperor did not accuse them of ban-
ning the war : but, with an army of 1,200,
000 men at his disposal, explained the ukase
as a mistake."

— A Costly Nbcklacb. — A rich caseof jewel-
r}- is exhibited at the New York Crystal Palace,

containing, among other articles, a necklace
set with thirty-eight pearls weighing 885
grains, and one diamond, weighing forty-two
grains. The pearls are perfect in shape and
color, and are well known to all the gem
dealers in Europe. They are valued at ten
thousand dollars! The Diamond is of the
first water, free from flaw, and possessing
great fire. It is known in Europe as the
"Sovereign Diamond," This magnificent
necklace, it may be proper to add, is from the
establishment of Tiffany, Young and Ellis,
and probably surpasses anything of the kind
ever Defore seen in this country.

— Hon. George Poindexter, formerly United
States Senator from Mississippi, died at Jack-
son, in that State, on the 5th inst. He was
the first delegate to Congress from Mississippi,
and on her admission into the Union was im-
mediately chosen United States Senator,
which position he held for a great number of
years. He was likewise at one time Governor
of the State. In early life he was a supporter
of Gen. Jackson, but in later years he became
an inveterate opponent of the hero of New
Orleans and his^arty. Gov P., retired from
public life many years before he died.

— Commencement at Brown University,
Providence, (R. I.) took place on Wednesday
Sept. 7th., and was celebrated with great
spirit after the old style. Judge Thomas of
Worcester, delivered an oration before the
Phia Beta Kuppa. An oration and poem were
also pronounced before the College Societies,
the latter by Rev. S. Dryden Phelps Hon-
orary degrees were conferred upon the foUojjr-
ing gentlemen :

Augustus F. Day, of Norristown, Pa.,
Bachelor of Philosophy.

A. M.— Rev. Zaca. Eddy, of Warsaw, N.
Y. ; Joshua T. Meryward, of East Douglass,
Mass.; Andrew Pollard, of Taunton; D.
Shepardson, Cincinnati ; Joshua Hunt, Terra
Haute. Ind. *

D.D.— Thos. Shepard, of Bristol, class
1833 ; Ezekiel G. Robinson, Prof of The-
ology in University of Rochester ; Rev. Fran-
cis Mason, Taroy, Burmah.

L.L. D.— -B. F. Thomas, Justice of the
Supreme Judical Court of Mass., 1830 : Geo.
T. Chase, Prof, of Chemistry and Physics, in
Brown Univ. ; Hon. Daniel D. Barnard, U.
S. Minister to the Court of Prussia ; Hon.
Henry S. Randall, Secretary of State, Albany,
New-York.

— A LiPB OP Franklin, with Selections from
his Writings by Epks Saegint, of Boston, is
in press and will shortly be published by
Phillips, Sampson & Co. Wc are told bv %
writer that in preparing the Memoir, Mr.
Sargent has procured some valuable materials
from recent French sources, which will be

864

BIZARRE.

quite new to readers in this country. He has
also obtained facts from the Diary of John
Adams, which are found in no previous life of
Franklin. An elegant portrait of Franklin,
now engraved for the first time from a picture
in the Gallery of Versailles, accompanies the
volume.

— C. J. Price & Co.. No. 7 Hart'd Buildings,
have sent us the last issues of several of Mr.
Alexander Montgomery's beautiful illustrated
publications, among which arc the following :
" The Illustrated History of Hungary." Part
3, by Edwin L. Godkin. ** The Popular Ed-
ucator," No. 5; "The Alps. Switzerland,
Savoy and Lombardy," Part 4 ; and " Cas-
sell 's Natural History of the Feathered Tribes, "
Part 2. Messrs. Price & Co., are agents for
the greater part of Mr. Montgomery's works,
and we i^re happy to learn, though a new
firm are rapidly acquiring a large business.

— An entertainment was given last week at
Newport, by Gottschalk and the Germanians,
which is said to have netted $1,500. The
artists played admirably, and according to
an Editor. M. Gottschalk showed himself the
rival of Thalberg. His execution of Listz's
arrangement of Donizetti 's Sestet, left nothing
to he desired. It was the perfection of high
art

— - Discovert op a work op art. — Le Cour-
rier de la Gironde, a French newspaper, says
that a short time ago a painting was sold at a
testimentary sale for 50 francs. An innkeeper
became its owner, and decorated his dining-
room with it. Eight months afterwards, the
name of the painter and the date, 1595, was
discovered on a hat in the picture. It is the
work of Otto Venius (Vanveen.) a Flemish
Painter, the master of Rubens. The sub-
ject is Abigail coming to meet David. The
painting is five feet high and three feet wide,
it is on a panel and has never been retouched.
Its owner sold it to a distinguished Parisian
amateur for 25,000 francs.

NEW BOOKS.

— ** The Schoolfellow" for September, is
full of delightful articles from the pens of
"Cousin Alice," "Mrs. Manners," and the
excellent editor Mr. Richards. Evans and
Brittafn, of New York, are the publishers of
this beautiful little magazine. Terms only
one dollar per year.

— " The Pedestrian in France." Putnam has
just published a book with this title, which
emanates from the pen of George Barrell, Jr.,
author of "Bubbles of Fiction." It is a
pleasant book, for the most part about the
working classes of France and Switzerland,
for the author passed along on foot and min-
gled with toilers : thus becoming acquainted

with their habits and amubements. His nar-
rative is as he meant it should be, an unpre-
tending account of humble life, and will be
valuable as imparting information of an use-
ful and practical character.

— "Cranford." The Harpers have given us
this, another stoiy from the author of " Mary
Barton" and " Ruth," which of course wffl
be read with interest. It touches off false
pride, to a charm; it shows up in a most
satisfactory manner many absurdities with
which society abounds ; and gives to substan-
tial merit its proper due. The satire is capi-
tal, '* Cranford is shown up, and with
" Cranford" the world. There are Miss Jcn-
kyns' and Capt. Browns', and Hon. Mrs.
Jamiesons all about us. " Cranford" is a
lesson, pleasantlygiven, and none can read it
but with profit. We, through the whole of its
absorbing pages, see pictures of ourselves.
The commencement is good ; better, &r, the
continuation ; and the winding up the best of
all. We are told that a few of the Cranford-
onians were poor, and had some difficulty in
making both ends meet, but that they were
like the Spartans and concealed the smart
under a smiling face. We learn, also, that
when Mrs. Forrester gave a party in her baby-
house of a dwelling, and the little charity
maiden disturbed the ladies on the sofk by t
request that she might get the tea-tray out
from underneath, every one took this novel
proceeding as the most natural thing in the
world ; and talked on about household forms
and ceremonies, as if they all believed that their
hostess had a regular servants* hall, second-
table, with housekeeper and steward : instead
of the one little chanty-school-maiden, whose
short ruddy arms could never have been
strong enough to carry the tray up stairs, if
she had not been assisted, in private, by her
mistress ; who now sat in state, pretending
not to know what cakes were sent up, though
she knew, and we knew, and she knew Uttt
we knew, and we knew that she knew, that
we knew, she had been busy all the motning
making tea-bread and sponge cakes !"

Reader do you know any Mrs. Forresters*?
We do, several of them. Tou will find in
" Cranford*' a plenty more of yoor acquain-
tances, and we advise you to get it at once
and read it. We are sure, too, hoora or so
will be most pleasantly, yea and profitably,
passed by you in so doing.

— Elements of Rhetoric. — ^The Harpers
have published Dr. Whately*s " Elements of
Rhetoric.** Seven editions have appeared in
England, and the book cannot fail to have an
extended popularity here. It treats of rhec-

I toric mainly as applied to public speiUcing,
i and forms a euide which cannot be followed
, but with profit.
\ — Thbort op PoLtncs. — ^We have received

MUSICAL ITEMS.

365

from the Harpers, an inquiry into the founda-
tions of governments and the causes and pro-
gress of political revolutions, from the pen of
Richarel Hildreth, author of the History of
the United States of America &c. The hook
was, as the author states, composed about
twelve years ago, and its views have been
confirmed by subequent readings and reflec-
tions. We shall read it attentively and no-
tice it hereafter.

— Thb Illustbatbd Maoazikb op Akt, for
September comes to us from the Philadelphia
agent Mr. J. W. Moore. It abounds in rich
engravings, and excellent letter-press. Among
other attractions are illustrations of articles
in the Dublin Cyrstal Palace. It seems aston-
ishing to us that this work can be afforded for
only 83 per year.

— Stutvesant. — Here is another Franconia
story by the author of the RoUo books, and
of course comes from the Brothers Harper.
As an able contemporary says ** it is a wel-
come book for the young, who will be ready
listeners to its minute graphic style, and ever-
wdcome incidents of rural life and scenery.
The best criticism of such a book is the judg-
ment of children themselves; and we can
answer for the avidity with which some good
appreciators of this kind have seized upon the
vdume."

— The following books lie on our table unno-
ticed: —

"Lorenzo Benoni," from Redfield New
York; Ililliard*s "Six Months in Italy,"
from Ticknor, Reed and Fields, Boston;
**De Quincey's Autobi(»raphic Sketches,"
from the same ; ** The Orphans of the Sui-
cides or Rum-Plague," translated from
Zschokke— from John S. Taylor, New York.
All will be attended to at the earliest possible
period.

MUSICAL ITEMS.

— SiGNOB Pbrklli, as may be seen by ad-
vertisement, re-commences his classes on the
27th instant. We learn his Soirees the
coining winter will be more brilliant than
ever. Among the novelties, he proposes intro-
ducing amateur opera performances, when his
papils will have an opportunity of displaying
thur proficiency in the lyrical drama. The

i finst opera fixed on, is *'The Barber." More
of this« however, anon.

— Ole Bull, little Patti and Strackosch, give
a concert on Monday Evening, at the Musical
Fund Hall. The Hall has, by the way, been
greatly improved during the summer, by the
introduction of new and splendid gas fixtures,
and the improvement of the entree and exit to
the orchestra. Mr. Becket the obliging su-
perintendent, of course, arranged all the im-

provements: or rather, they were executed
under his particular direction.

— Sanford*s New Orleans Opera Troupe per-
form nightly at the new and beautiful bijou
Opera House, Twelfth below Chestnut. "Cin-
derella" burlesque has closed the entertain-
ments during the past week. The perform-
ances of Sanford's company have an artistic
excellence of the most emphatic kind, and the
entertainment he gives is well deserving of
the very high fame which it enjoys.

— We are told that Madam Sontag has quar-
relled with Maretzec, and will hereafter give
operas and concerts independent of ^at cele-
brated artist. Mr. Ullman, is hence, we sup-
pose, again director supreme. We do not our-
selves know anything prejudicial to Mr. U. —
certainly nothing on the score of amiability,
complacency and courtesy, — but there are
others connected with the press who talk very
bi tterly of him . The Countess evidently holcfc
him in high esteem. We have some recollec-
tion of this gentleman as connected with
Strackosch. We never heard anything to his
discredit then, though we think Strackosch
discharged him.

— Julien is coming. Prepare! — So are the
Germanians.

— There is a rumor that Gottschalk, the won-
derful young Creole pianist, is shorUy to be
married, and to a Philadelphian. We hope
it is true. Nought but delicious harmony
can attend such a match, we presume. Gotts-
chalk favors us with a concert very soon, we
hear.

— James Bellak has jusf published, through
J. E. Gould, No. 164 Chestnut street, a new
and beautiful piece which he calls the " Com-
et Schottische." Mr. B., is a popular com-
poser, indeed, he has written some of the
prettiest waltzes, polkas and schottisches of
the season. Gould sends us a large budget of
music, in addition to the above, which we
will notice hereafter. '

EDITORS' SANS SOUOI.

— " The man literary taste of many of our
booksellers, enables them to publish, as a gen-
eral thing, good books. Now and thfen they
get imposed upon, of course, but not often.
It has been hinted to us that the senior of a
large and flourishing book firm is writing a
series of essays on Style. He makes Cicero
as his model. His fine classical attainments
and sterling good sense, fit him for any posi-
tion he may aim at as an author. We must
not mention names." So says a morning pa-
per. Who can the bookseller be ? Mr. Lip-
pincott, of the firm of Lippincott, Grambo &
Co., a friend suggests.

366

BIZARRE.

Quinre or qinac

— The following "Fragment" sent to us by
M may be said to be original pdetry : —

With a frail reed I traced upon the Nuidy shore
The lonely name of one my heart did most adore,
The waters fiercely rijing swept it all away,
Leaving behind no tracing, of words I'wrote that day
Not to be thwart«d in my consdons power,
Or let the tide again, wash off In one short honr.
The spell of her I loved : I hit tipon a hotter plan,
To record high the name of my own AW>y Ann —
So, i<ielzin«; a giant poplar from Lombard's waving host.
I strode along in triumph by the Adriatic const,
I gained Vesuvius' crater belching forth its ire
And dipt my ponderous pen, in ink of liquid flro;
On tho vault of Iluavcns' blue in bumin;: kt tors deep
I traced my Abie's name In tiame, with, one single

sweep,
There! by St. Grimbald let no rude iron hand,
Erase fh)m etherial space what*er is Love's command'

OUO FRBIMOH FA8i-<ION8.

— There was a time when the ladies in France
received their visits whilst they performed
their toilett. ^ Wrapped in a huge robe de
chambre, they conversed, dictated letters, or
conspired against the popular minister, whilst
two hairdressers, and two femmes de chondyrts
were occupied at their heads, in constructing
on the frail foundation of the hair, an immense
edifice of gauze, pins, flowers, pasteboard,
and diamonds. The head-dress finished, the
vast envelope was removed, and an elegant
deshabille displayed, that could not alarm the
most scrupulous modesty. One artist now
traced the eye-brow; another shaded the
cheeks: a third converted into alabaster a
neck of ebony ; whilst the hands were smear-
ed with pastils, soaps, and almond-pastes.
Then came robes and hoops, and branden-
boughs and bufiantes, gauzes, and tippets ;
and the bust, and the rest of the body was
adorned with as many yards of drapery as
would be sufiicient at present to furnish a
milliner^s magazine. All this performed in
the presence of visitors, withoul^ffending the
laws of decorum. When at last the favorite
fenvne de chambre exclaimed, like a stage-
coachman, " all right," acclamations and ap-
plauses echoed from every comer of the draw-
ing-room. Abbes spouted madrigals and im-
promptus; colonels breathed raptures, and
graces, and butterflies ; the rose and the rain-
bow were exhausted to prove practically, that
madame was charming, and that her toilette
was the ne plm ultra of taste and lovliness.

How times arc changed ! now the toilette
resembles the budget and diplomacy : secrecy
is its soul. Profane eyes no longer penetrate
the mysterious asylum of coquetery. Nothing
is now the eft'ect of routine and habit. The
toilette is at present the produce of the most

Erofound meditation, and very often of the
apples t inspiration.

QRAIVtK/IATIOAl. SRROR8.

— No doubt but— No doubt btU that—NodoHht
but what — When we say, that '• there is no
doubt that the sun shines," every one can
understand what we say. The sentence is
grammatically correct.

Some persons instead of using the abore
form would say, ** there is no doubt but the
sunshines." This is unmeaning. • Substitute
for the word but the word except j which is its
equivalent, and the absurdity of it becomes
manifest.

Others would say, '* there is no doubt but
that the sun shines." This means directly
the reverse of what they intend to say. It
means that there is nothing doubtful ezo^t
l^e shining of the sun.

A few others would use this form, ** that
is no doubt but what the sun shines." This
is rank nonsense, being in other words ** there
is no doubt except that which the sun shines !'*

This last most absurd mode of expression
is a favorite with the Washington correspon-
dent of one of the big Philadelphia papers.
In his letters we frequently find such state-
ments as ** there is no doubt but what the ,
bill will pass." He is most probably an En-
glishman, as he writes " different to," instead
of "different from."

" This is the man tohom I supposed tros her
father. ' * This is a specimen of an error which
is very frequent in our newspapers, espeetally
in the reporter's column. It would be cor-
rect to say, "this is. the man whom I sap-
posed to be her father, but the verb has cannot
have the objection whom for its nominative.

" This is one of the handsomest houses that
has been lately built."

We ought to say, " this one is of the hand-
somest houses that have been lately UulU"
The relative pronoun that refers to the word
houses, is, consequently in the plural and re-
quires the verb to be in the plural also.

Tho meaning is that there are certain
houses that are the handsomest houses that
have been lately built, and that the house in
question is one of them.

"Mr. Dobbs with his family have fallen
victims to the yellow fever."

He have ! have he ?

The speaker doubtless, supposed that not
only " Mr. Dobbs," but also, " fiimily," was
the nominative to the verb "have fallen;"
but tho word family cannot be the nominatiye,
because it is in the objective case, being
governed by the preposition with.

A BATHINQ 808NE.

— A most amusing circumstance occurod last
month at a town in our ken upon the Susque-
hanna.

The heat had been overwhelming all day
and, night being oome, numbers of people of
both sexes sought coolness in the watn^ of

EDITOR»» SANS-SOUOI.

867

the Susquehanna. A terrible thunder storm
arose whilst the river was populated with
bathers, snd then commenced a general sauve-
qui-peut. The wind bore away the clothing in
ererj direction, and every one to gain his, or
her own habiliments, joined in an impetuous
race clad in a single garment. This one,
where he had left lus coat found only a corset,
and where that young girl sought her fresh
toilette and her sweet tulle bonnet, she discov-
ered a pair of pantaloons or an old sack. Many
were obliged to enter the town in the most
bizarre costume, and some even without any.
The next morning the clothes that had been
collected were divided as equitably as possible.

"THK PRiNOeeS BSL-QlOJOaO.

— The New York Trihtme, says ** a correspon-
dent inquires how it is that this distinguished
lady writes for The Tnbunc from Asia Minor,
when the The Philadelphia Bizarre describes
her as living in Paris. The answer is simple :
she lived in Paris for many years, (during
which period the writer in Tne Bizarre visit-
ed her house) until 1848- '49, when she went
to Italy to aid the Republicans : after their
downfall she took refuge in Turkey, where
the Sultan made her a grant of land, and
where she has since resided." The Trtbwie
adds that it lately received a package of
letters from Madame Belgiojoso, which it shall
lay before its readers as soon as it has room.
The correspondence of the Princess is one
of the most interesting features, of the very
interesting Tribune.

TME SaVKNTV-SIX SOO BTV.

— The Council of this new society met last
week and made arrangements for commencing
their series of publications. During a late
visit to the south, one of their members be-
came possessed of a coUection of papers relat-
ing to the doings of Silas Dean in France.
They were formerly in the possession of Hen-
ry Laurens, President of the congress. These
the society resolved to publish, and Mr. In-
graham has agreed to edit them.

Some other works were spoken of at the
meeting as deserving of the attention of the
society. *'The Campaign against Quebec,"
by Judge Joseph Henry of Lancaster, (Penn.)
will probably be an early re-pubhcation, and
we underetand that the papers of (xeorge Ma-
son, of Virginia, a member of the Continen-
tal Congress, will be placed in the hands of
this society for publication.

RlNOa.

— A writer in '* Notes and Quarries" fives
the following account of the meaning of the

i[>Wedding Ring.

•* A ring, whenever used b^ the church, sig-
nifies, to use the words of liturgical writers
' integritatem fidei* the perfection of fidelity,
and is *fidci sacramentum' the badge of fidel-
ity. Its form, having no beginning and no
end, is the emblem of eternity, constancy,

integrity, fidelity, &c. ; so that the wedding
ring symbolises the eternal or entire fidelity,
the wife pledges to her husband, and she
wears the ring as the badge of this fidelity.
Its ofiSce, then, is to teach and perpetually
remind her of the fidelity she owes to her hus-
band, and swore to him i^t the marriage cere-
mony."

BUSINESS AND PLEASURE.

— Col. Maurige has lately added to his capi-
tal stationery stock, 123 Chestnut street, a
superior inkstand, which is called Whitney's
Patent Hydraulic Air-tight Inkstand. It is
so constructed that the ink retains its purity,
or freedom from mould or sediment. To use
the language of the Colonel, '' it is destined
soon to drive all other inkstands out of use :
its construction is so simple, yet perfect, that
a child can understand the principle there-
of."

— Oakfobd's Metropolitan Hat Store, at 158
Chestnut Street, is as much a lion in Phila-
delphia as is the Crystal Palace in New York.
The fitting up is truly gorgeous, while the
stock of hats, caps, cluldreirs jockeys, furs,
&c., is one of the richest and most various we
have ever seen. The last autumn style of
Oakford, we notice, is greatly in demand.
One of these days we propose to outline the
career of Oakford, from the time he com-
menced business in an humble shop down
town. The story will be read with profit as
well as pleasure.

— The " Comedy of Errors" has been admira-
bly performed at the Arch Street Theatre,
during the past and the present week. A
good cast has been given the comedy ; all it
wants to be efiective. Mr. Fredericks, the
stiige-director at the Arch, has no superior
in his way : while Messrs. Wheatley & Drew,
the managers, and the treasurer, Mr. Matthias,
are all well calculated to advance any dram-
atic enterprise with which they may be con-
nected.

— That base libel upon the South, not to say
Truth, " Unde Tom's Cabin," is every night
acted at one of our theatres, and is received
with yells of delight, from the sans-culottes
who frequent suth places. The Rev. Mr.
Stowe's lady is, of course, in fine odor just
now among the polished habitues of the circus
gallery ! The man who walks on the ceiling,
head downwards, and equestrian monkeys,
are literally shelved.

— Mb. Johk Owbns' Mont Blanc opens in
this city next week. Mr. 0., did not reach
the summit of Mont Blanc, but he attained
the "Grands Mulcts," the last bivouacing
place of tourists. He saw enough of the ele-
phant, still, to make a good tale.

— Mr. Perham has got up in New York a
new gift enterprise, of which we shall speak
herei^er.

868 BIZARRE.

ON THE FIRST OF OCTOBER,

Will be iaswA iritti many lmproT«ni«iitB

PART FIRST, VOL. IV., OF "BIZARRE.**

Thb sueoeMful publication of three semi-anniial Tolames, angora well for the permanent eitablinhment of this paper*
Yolnme IV. will bo engaged in with all the energy and good will, attendant npon the general appreciation that baa
heretofore rewarded onr labors. BIZARRE will still be conducted on its original principle, eo well sanctioned by tlM
public in the case of PtUnam't Monthly , as well as in our weekly. In presenting nothing but what Is original, nnleas
otherwise stated, and in appearing beft)re our readers anonymously from first to last, we thus avoid making our jpumal
the eternal Tehide of pt^^ of our oontribotors, to whicu ignoble ends too many American Hagasines and Newspapers
would seem to be prostituted. Though all our articles date as it were from our office, by no means do they all originate
there. We have many fUthftd contributors who are content to write with some other than the Tulgar and too
frequent animus prompting writers of the day of beholding their names constantly exposed to the public To those
impelled by a higher incentlTe than this, wo gratelfully open our oolumns. Kut that the enTioua may not charge In-
deed, that their professions are made to hide the meagreness of our literary support, in Justice to ourselTes we may be
allowed here once ft>r all to state, but without sepciflcations that the following writers

m imiiBT f« on imm iuutoi m ciihitiik:

REV. HERMAN HOOKER, D. D., author of "Popular Infidelity," "Portion of the Soul,"

«*Uses of Adversity." Ac

HENRY R. SCHOOLCRAFT, L. L. D., author of "The Indian Tribes of the United States."
REV. RUFUS W. GRISWORLD, D. D., author of "Poete and Poetry of America."

** Prwe Writers of Amer ica." Ac

REV. H. H. WELD, author of " Women of the Scriptures," " Scenes in the Lives of the

AposUes." <-Sacred Quataljons," Ac. /

FREDERICK TOWNSEND, Esq., author of "Musings of an Invalid," "Fancies of a

Whimcical Man." " Fun and Kamert." Ac.

REV. EDWARD C. JONES, author of " Echoes of a Heart." the " Romance of Blockley."
REV. E. C. STEARNS, author of " Notes on Uncle Tom's Cabin."
SAMUEL A. ALLIBONE, Esq., author of a "Review of New Themes." &c.
J. B. JONES, Esq., author of " Wild Western Scenes," " The Monarchist," &c
JAMES REES, Esq., "Mysteries of City Life," "Dramatic Authors of America," &c
CHARLES C. JONES, Esq. ; J. W. BURNS, Esq. ; DR. L. R. KOECKER; WILLIAM
DUANE, Esq. ; EDWARD D. INGRAHAM, Esq. ; D. H. BARLOW, Esq.

AMONG OUR LADY CONTRIBUTORS HAVE BEEN WE ARE PROUD TO SAY
MRS. MARY H. EASTMAN, author of " Aunt Phillis' Cabin."
MISS DARLEY.
MRS. SAMUEL A. ALLIBONE.
MISS ELLA WATSON.

It will be the aim of the Editors to give the paper in some way the character of the London "Notes and QtMnes,**
and to combine therewith the amiable discusf>ion of all topics of Philadelphia Sodety ; in short, fired by the bat
resolutions of an energetic, honest, but not st<dcal caste of conduct, we aspire to become by our works and not by
patronage, the organ of the intelligent, the learned and r^ned of a city too well satisfied of its worth to be engaged in
adverting itaelf to the world.

BIZARRE is published every Saturday ^ in an octavo formy stitehedy at

ONE DOLLAE AND A QUAETER PEE ANNUM,

IN ADVANCE, OR TWO DOLLARS AT THE END OF THE YEAR.

It is sold at Book Stalls, and Periodical Shops at FIVE CENTS A NTTMBER. Is sent to all the principal BookjeOert
and Periodical Agents in the United Sates, and to the agency of

MESSRS. TRUBNER llf CO., London, as also to that of M. ETOURNEAU, Paris.
PCTBLICATION OFFICE

No. 4 Hart's Buildings Sixth Street^

ABOVE CHESTNUT,
PBX&ABB&PBXA.

4^ An communications Intended Ibr BIZARRE should be addressed to Publishers, Postage Paid,
TO CLUBS OB< ONB HUNDRBOf 20 Per Gent fVom original prices will be deducted. Editors thron^Mfoi
the 0>untry who copy this prospectus, ^all be entifled to an exchange with BIZARRE, and in addition shall raceire
the hearty thanks of the Publishers.

PhOadelfhia, September 10/A, 1853.

THE FELON BRAND.

369

• BiZAMREf BizAKRE, WHAT 8AT Tou, Madoap?** — Farquhar

SAT17RDAT, SBPTBMB1SR 94, 1893.

THE FELON BRANI>.

FROM THB FRENCH.

Grown gray in the roilitary profession, the
Count de Montreal thought that he might
justly aspire to honorable repose : but what
scenes was he destined to witness in his old
age! The throne was overturned: terror
reigned from one extremity of France to the
other. The count was descended from a fam-
ily which had given heroes to the slate : and
had distinguished himself by the important
services which he had rendered : he was still
more revered for his private virtues, and be-
loved by the army and by the people. His
children Octavius, and l!mmeline. were his
pride and his happiness : he retired with them
to an obscure habitation, situated at a small
distance from a town near the Rhine. There,
under an assumed name, he hoped to be able
to await unmolested the conclusion of the
troubles, or to find without difficulty an asy-
lum b^ond the river, if they should extend
to his humble abode. He soon had but too
good reason to congratulate himself on the
prudence of the new plan of life which he had
adopted. Not a letter, not a newspaper ar-
riviS, without informing him of the deplora-
ble fate of some relative or friend. He trem-
bled for his children, whilst their hearts felt
no uneasiness, except on his account. Con-
vinced that the mere name of their venerable
parent could not be pronounced without in-
stantly becoming his death-warrant, their
affection was incessantly studying how to
heighten the obscurity which encompassed his
retreat.

But while thus anxious for their father's
safety, they were perhaps not sufficiently at-
tentive to their own. They often walked into
the little woods which surrounded their house.
In these moments of liberty, they indulged in
those reflections and effusions from which they
cautiously abstained in the presence of the
count, lest thej^ should aggravate the griefs
which he endeavored to conceal from them.
One evening, seated at the fo )t of a tree on
the skirt or the wood, they surveyed the cur-
rent of the Rhine, tinged by the i-ays of the
setting sun. " Do you see," said £mmeline
to her brother, " do you see those vine-cover-

ed hills on the opposite shore ? Methinks I
hear strains of joy proceeding from them. On
this side what a sullen silence ? It is impos-
sible that the mere breadth of this river can
make such a cruel difference between the lot
of those who inhabit its banks ? When I con-
sider that a single moment would carry us be-
yond that simple barrier, I figure to myself
all three of us in security on the other side.
My father, I know, considers it as his duty to
continue on this bank, to preserve his posses-
sions for us; but what avail fortune and
and wealth, if we are not at liberty to think,
to act, to feel ; if, in short, we must hide our-
selves, to love one another ?" Not less affect-
ed than his sister by those delicious images of
liberty and happiness, Octavius promised that
the very next morning he would join her to
entreat their father no longer to oppose the
realization of them.

At the moment when they were rising to .
return home. Emmeline hastily p*asped the
ar:i of her brother, and called his attention
to a detachment of armed men, crossing the
plain, and apparently advancing towards the
wood. Octavius, without manifesting any
alarm, turned into the valley which led to tlie
house : but he had scarcely proceeded twen-
ty paces, when soldiers, with fixed bayonets,
rushed out from the thickets on the right and
left. They demanded his papers — he had
none. They seized and began to drag him
away. Though unarmed, the dignity of his
countenance was sufficient to protect the
young lady from insult ; while she, pale and
trembling, hid her face in her brother's bosom.
Octavius soon discovered that they took him
for one of the banditti, 'who just at that time
were ravaging the province ; and he further
learned, that they were going to escort him
to the prison of the nearest town. Happy,
under his misfortune, on account of this dou-
ble mistake, which at least satisfied him re-
specting his father's safety; he pressed the
hand of Emmeline, and found, by the return
which he received, as well as bv her look,
that they understood one another. They
reached the town ; the people crowded round
them; the youth, the beauty, the innocent
look of Emmeline excited general interest. At
the turning of a narrow street, the escort was
obliged to open its ranks. Octavius, more
anxious about his sister than himself, took
advantage of the circumstance, pushed her
with force against a group of women, which
immediately opened, and i^in closed around
her. In the twinkling or an eye, her hat
was snatched from her head, and one of the
large black mantles commonly worn in that
part of the country, thrown over her in its
stead. The darkness favored her escape;
guided by one of her female deliverers, ana in
the disguise of a village girl, she left the town
and flew back to her father.

370

BIZARRE.

It is impossible to conceive the uneasiness
expcriencfed by that affectionate parent, from
the hoar at which his children had been ac-
customed to return home. Erameline, throw-
ing herself into his arms with a feigned joy,
related, that, through a most extraordinary
mistake, her brother had been apprehended
as a captain of banditti : ** but," aidded she,
with a forced smile, ** when they find them-
selves deceived, they will soon send him back
again to us, depend on it. Octavius himself
desired me not to forget to tell you so." The
count afiBbcted to have as little doubt about
the matter as Emmeline ; and thus, from the
suggestion of mutual tenderness, both the
&ther and daughter strove to practise an in-
nocent deception on one another. Listening
only to the dictates of patern&l love, the un-
happy old man was on the point of quitting
his retreat to claim his son. Emmeline, how-
ever, exerted all the power of her caresses
and her tears, to divert him from so impru-
deiLt a resolution ; she declared, with a spirit
above her age and sex, that she would go and
ascertain what had befallen Octavius. Ac-
cordingljTi and without stopping to take any
rest, attired in her peasant's dress, she sal-
lied forth to the town, and inquired her way
to the prison. She arrived before the terrific
gate ; at sight of the iron bars and of the
sentinels, her heart throbbed; she could
scarcely stand, and was incapable of uttering
a word. The jailer's wife suddenly appeared :
her open countenance semewhat revived the
spirits of the poor girl, who timidly went up
to her, and, with a curtsey, offered a basket
of fruit which she carried on her arm. Her
appearance and manner prepossessed the wo-
man in her favor. " What do you want, my
lass ?" said she. " Ah ! madam," replied
Emmeline, ** I should be glad to know some-
thing about a a gentleman who was to be

brought here last night." "A gentleman,
heh ! why, ay, one of the robbers, who plun-
der the whole country." ** Oh ! no. indeed,
the one I mean is a very honest man : he is

my my cousin." The jailer's wife

could not help smiling. "Come along, mj
poor girl," said she, ** while my husband is
out of the way, I'll let you see your cousin,
bat make haste. ' ' Emmeline could have hug-
ged the good woman ; she followed her, and
as soon as she perceived Octavius, ran and
threw herself into his arms. The jailer's
wife again smiled, and left them together.

•* My dear Emmeline," said Octavius, " I
have but a moment to concert with you how
to save our father's lifb, therefore listen to me
attentively. On my arrival in this dreary
place, I found that 1 was preceeded by a re-
port, that the leader of a numerous band of
robbers, whose principal members were
already taken, had just been apprehended.
Being surrounded and minutely examined by

these banditti, they all saluted me aloud as
their captain. I b^n to explain their mis-
take, but repeated signs warned me that I
had best be silent. Tou know whether I have
not other motives to induce me to be so. As
soon as I could desire an explanation of the
strange honor that had been thrust upon me,
I found that my silence, taken for consent,
would, by deluding justice, save the leader
whom its officers were in quest of: and lastly*
I was assured, that, in return for so signal a
service, I should be the first released by the
joint efforts of the whole band. Return then
to our dear father, and keep up his spirits
till I come back to you once more. " At these
words the jailer's wife came to apprise Em-
meline, that it was time to retire ; and An
departed with a lighter heart, under the idea
that she might next day perhaps be able to
see her brother again. But what a thunder-
bolt was it for her when she had learned, on
the morrow, fi-om the lips of her protectress
herself, that no person whatever was allowed
to see the prisoners, and that their captain
was more closely confined than the rest. 3t»
had scarcely strength to return home. It was
absolutely necessary for her to muster up the
difficult courage of disguising the truth from
her father, and of filling his heart with cheo^
ing hopes, when her own was rent by the
keenest anguish. Several visits to the town,
questions repeated even to imprudence, served
only to convince her, that farther attempU
would infallibly draw down destruction on
two objects whose safety engaged all her
thoughts.

Meanwhile the trials of the robbers com-
menced. Octavius persisted in his magnani-
mous imposture. The court exercised all the
rigour of the laws against the criminals ; but,
as no proof of murder was brought against
their supposed chief, he could not be doomed
to the scaffdd. The sentence pronounced on
him was, to be imprisoned for life and brand-
ed. At this dreadful idea, Octavius's courage
began to fail ; he was on the point of discov-
ering himself, when the sudden recollection
darted across his mind, that the mere mention
of his name would be a death-warrant to his
father. He accordingly submitted to the
execution of the horrid sentence. Some days
afterwards the convicts were marched off ror
the fortress where they were destined to be
employed in the public works. As they pass-
ed through a forest, the guards were atUu^ed
and put to flight, and the prisoners released.
Octavius flew to his father. While the M
man pressed him to his bosom, the hero of
filial piety, in the feelings of the ignoauny
which he had undergone for his sake, coM
not forbear asking himself, if he was still
worthy of the author of his existence ?

The extent of his misfortune was known to
none but himsdf. In the abs<dute sedusson

THE FELON BRAND.

in which Emmeline and the old count had
thought it prudent to live, since the fiital
moment which parted Octayius from them,
thej had scared^ heard even a rumour of the
fate of the culpnts with whom chance had so
singularly associated him. They therefore
gave full scope to their joy on seeing him
again. Emmeune was still more pleased when
she heard him conjure his father to remove,
without delay, to the other hank of the Rhine.
Besides the wish to ensure the safety of all
tiiat was dear to him, the unfortunate youth
waa secretly swayed hy another motive, which
he took good care not to divulge. An inward
Toice whispered incessantly, that the son of
the Count de Montreal, branded with the
mark of infamy, however undeservedly, ought
not to allow himself to live. The war pre-
sented the means of fhlfilling a resolution
which no human affection had power to shake.
A few days were sufficient to nx his father in
a town of (Germany. He consigned him to
the care of Emmeline, and hastened to enrol
himsdf in a corps of volunteers. The extra-
ordinary valor displayed by him in manyr
ei^agmuits, attracted the notice of his super-
iors. Escaping, in spite of his wishes, from
every danger, and surviving all his brother
officers, he was promoted, at the conclusion
of the second campaign, to the rank of col-
onel, and honoured with the decoration of the
brave. The head-quarters were fixed in the
verf town where the count and Emmeline
resided; and he flew to their embraces.
Though nothing was capaUe of attracting
him to life, yet, while he lived, his heart
coold not dispense with their affection.

Plunged, even in the midst of the great
world, into an habitual melancholy, he felt no
relief for his woes but in the society of his
sistOT. A perfect conformity of character had
closely connected her with a young lady of
her own age. Amelia von Selnitz thought
herself obliged, out of regard to her friend,
at first to love Octavius as a brother. She
soon loved him, as. she figured to hersdf, a
wife ought to love a husband when he is hand-
some, intelligent, and affectionate. Octavius
was not so complete a misanthrope as not to
perceive that Amelia wa.s equally beautiful
and accomplished ; but was it not a profana-
tion in his own eyes, to think, for a moment,
of a union fiom which he was for ever cut off
b^ the terrible s^tenco he had pronounced on
himself? Amelia, listening, without fear, to
the suggestions of her ingenuous soul, was,
on her part, engaged in very different calcu-
lations from those of Octavius. She made no
scrapie to acknowledge to her young friend,
that she should have attained the summit of
her wishes, if she were united to her by still
closer ties. Emmeline hastened to acquaint
her brother with a circumstance which filled
her own bosom with such intoxicating delight.

I But how great was her surprise ! He grew
pale, shuddered, and tumea away his fkce,
while burning tears trickled down liis cheeks.
Emmeline, alarmed and trembling, mingled
her tears with his ; she begged, she conjured
him to open his heart to her. Affection final-
ly triumphed over the obstinacy of her un-
happy brother, and the fiital secret at length
passed his lips.

He imagined that his story would have
overwhelmned his sister with confiision and
horror ; he beheld her, on the contrary, ani-
mated with the warmest enthusiasm. The
exaltation of her soul was transfused into
her langua^ : and, in a few words, she prov-
ed to Octavms, that what he considered as a
mark of dishonor, he ought, in fact, to look
upon as his best title to glory. '' Did it not
require," cried she, '*a hupdred times as
much courage to save your father, at this
price, as to seek a glorious death on the field
of battle ?" She forced him to confess, what
he had not yet acknowledged to himself, that
he adored Amelia : and that her hand would
restore him to peace and happiness, but that
he should never have the courage to reveal to
her the horrid mystery which embittered his
existence. Eti.meline endeavoured to con-
vince him that his honor did not oblige him
to disclose it ; she even made him give her a
solemn assurance, that it should be for ever
buried in their two breasts only ; and love
powerfully seconded her efforts. Endowed
with that candour which forms one of the
principal charms of the females of Germany,
Amelia herself communicated to her father
the wishes of her heart. The family of the
young Count de Montreal, his rank, his mili-
tary renown, appeared to the Baron von
Selnitz a sufficient compensation for the for-
tune which he had lost, and he gave his con-
sent to the ardently desired union.

Scarcely had Octavius begun to taste its
pleasures, when hostilities were suddenly re^
sumed with new fury. The enemy was but
a single march from head-ouarters. A san-
guinary engagement ensueu: Octavius dis-
played his accustomed intrepidity, but re-
ceived a dangerous wound, and was carried
back to the town. Amelia would not suffer
him to have any other nurse than herself.
One morning, after a night passed in violent
pain, Octavius fell asleep, but his slumbers
were extremely restless. Amelia anxiously
watched him : by a violent motion, one of
his shoulders became uncovered. The mark
of ignominy caught her view ; she started,
drew nearer, assured herself that her eyes had
not deceived her, and sunk, bereft of strength,
on her knees, beside the bed of Octavins. He
awoke : several times he had sarprised Ame-
lia in that attitude praying for his recovery.
He held out his hand to her with a tender
smile ; she threw herself into his arms, and

372

BIZARRE.

bathed his bosom with her tears.

Ever since this unwelcome discoTery, death
seemed to be imprinted on all the features of
the unfortunate Amelia. Melancholy and
silent, she passed whole days with Octayius.
If he questioned her concerning the declining
state in which she appeared, he obtained but
a few incoherent words in reply, and some-
times nothing but sighs and sobs. Emme-
line, greatly alarmed at her situation, endea-
Tored, as well as her brother, to ascertain the
cause. Her entreaties and caresses at length
prevailed, and she drew from her friend the
ntal secret. Emmeline gave her a faithful
account of all the circumstances connected
with the terrible event. **I alone am to
blame," cried she : *' it was I who made my
unfortunate brother promise to keep the mat-
ter an everlasting secret : forgive me for hav-
ing for a moment doubted " Amelia did

not sufifer her to proceed. Her face beaming
with joy, she led her friend to the bed of her
brother. ''Dear and generous Octavius,"
said she, grasnine his hand, ** till this day I
loved you as tne first man for whom my heart
felt a preference: henceforth that sentiment
will be mingled with admiration and respect
for the noblest, the most magnanimous of
mortals." ** From this day too," replied Oc-
tavius, *' I shall be completely happy, since I
have now no secret that you are unacquainted
with. One favor, however, I have to request,
and that is, that my father may never be in-
formed of what I have suffered for him."

INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION.

« AU Is tb« gift of industry, wbatV«r Exalts, embellish-
es, end renders lift delightfkil.'*

Industay may be regarded as the concomi-
tant of all that is good m human character,
and indolence the associate of all that is vici-
ous.

Show me an indolent man, and I will show
you an unprincipled one.

Show me an industrious man, and I will
show you one possessing some virtue, if not,
in all cases, all that could be wished.

And yet industry is, to a great extent, a
thing of habit.

How important, therefore, is it that chil-
dren should be educated in habits of industry.
Man was made to work ; and the man who
does not work, does not fulfil the conditions of
his creation. He perverts nature, and the re-
sult of such perversion must necessarily be
unhappiness, for the laws of nature may not
be brokm with impunity.

From an early age children should be
taught to do something ; and that something
should have an object : for no one will feel in-
clined to persevere in any work unless he has
some object to stimulate his efforts. It is true

that a person may work diligently for the
mere wages* which he receives for his work,
but he caanot fed the same satisfaction in
working, as he will feel if at the same time
that he gains the means of subsistence, he is
engaged in the construction of some object
wlSch will be a thing of admiration, or of
utility, when it is accomplished. The ship-
wright who hews the timbers for a beautifnl
vessel, feels an interest in the object which is,
to some extent, the work of his hands. The
mason who places and cements the stones of a
fine building, feels an interest in the structure,
which stimulates his efforts and enables him
to work with more satisfikction than he could
do, if he had no object in view, but the mere
pecuniary reward of his labor. An anecdote
IS related of a wealthy citizen to whom a
laborer applied for work. Having no employ-
ment for him, he directed him to remove a
pile of stones from one place to another. The
man having completed this work, asked what
he should do next ; and was told to carry the
stones back to their place from which he had
taken them. This so disgusted him that he
refused to continue such work. It had no
object.

In the education of children, care should be
taken to give them such work to do as will
stimulate their efforts.

It is better to teach a little boy how to
make a kite for himself, than to make it for
him ; and he will love the kite the more be-
cause it is the work of his own hands. The
mental and physical exercises and employ-
ments of children, should be so arranged thiat
excess in either should not disgust than. One
should always relieve the other; and where
exercises and amusements can be so arranged
as to combine, pleasantly, physical exercise
with intellectual culture, both may be made
more agreeaUe. The mental and physical
powers of a child both require continuiU exer-
cise, or at least occupation ; and the first ^*
fort of education should be to prev^t those
injuries to mind and body which always re-
sult from a want of such occupation. From
the time that children notice things and fed
that they possess physical powers, ooth mind
and body are in continual exercise ; and we
may say that the education of children from
this early age is continually going oai, hist as
in a field vegetation will be as rife if toe cul-
ture be neglected, as if it be attended to : but
the quality of the product will depend entire-
ly upon Uie skill, care and industry, of the
cultivator. We cannot prevent a child*s mind
from growing, we cannot prevent it fiKM
forming habits. And all that education ota
do is to direct the devdopment of its powen,
and keep them properly exercised. A ikk
soil will produce vegetation of some kind, bat
it depends upon the cultivator *s art and atten-
tion to determine whether the product tktU

INDUSTRIAL EDUCATION.

373

be nsefnl and pleasant fruit, qr rank and
noxious weeds.

A want of industrj, is not a characteristic
of the Anglo-Saxon race, and consequently
the erils and disorders which afiQict our coun-
try at the present time, are much more the
result of a want of direction of the industry
and energy of the youthful portion of the
community, than any real dislike of honest
employment. We may say indeed, that the
disorders of which we complain, are the
natural result of the chrysdts state, if we
may so term it, in which the American peo-
ple are now placed.

We have established a goyemment which
pre-suppos€s, and which requires for its suc-
cessful progress intelligence and virtue in the
people : and the great mass of the people are
not yet sufficiently educated to understand
ftilly the principles upon which our govern-
ment is based.

Ignorant people must be governed by a
powerful police » standing armies, and an es-
tablished religion. These restraints in our
republic are so modified or wanting, that they
do not sufficiently restrain men from vicious
indulgences and disorder. The strength of a
republic consists in the understanding of the
people ; and if the people lack understanding,
a republic will have but little strength. An
ignorant person confounds the idea of liberty
with that of freedom from the restraints of
law ; whereas, the real principle of republi-
canism is trillins obedience to law ; and con-
sequently a people not sufficiently enlightened
to know that men should yield implicit obe-
dience to those laws which themselves have
made, cannot maintain a republican form of
government. People must have some real
knowledge of the science of government, or
they will make bad republicans. Look at the
French republic of *98. and look at the more
recent efforts of the people of Europe. With-
in a few years we have seen the people of
most of the countries of Europe, rise in their
strength and drive their kings from their
thrones; but through their ignorance and
want of understanding of the true principles
of rational liberty, they have lost all they had
gained by their efforts ; and now find them-
selves in a worse condition than before. It is
an easy matter to overthrow a despotism and
set up a republic. But a people must be
educated before they can establish and main-
tain a truly republican government.

People must be educated whilb thev are
children, or generally speaking, they will not
be educated at all. The first things, too, that
children should be taught, are industry and
perseverance: they should also be made to
know that their happiness, influence, and re-
spectability in life, depend upon these things.
Children do not understand the value of in-
telligence and industry, and therefore they

should in early life be stimulated by every
proper means ; and we may reeard it as the
worst feature of our existing institutions of
education, that they offer no stimulants to
excite or encourage industry, energy and im-
provement in artistic skill. The young find
everywhere temptations to evil, and nowhere
temptations to good.

Why have we no institutions to offer re-
wards, certificates and medals to encourage
children in honorable efforts. The drones in
society are those who grow rich and possess
the land, while honest industry drags out its
existence in obscurity. Perhaps it will be
said that as society is constituted there is no
remedy for this condition of affairs. We re-
gard it as the natural result of a want of a
proper system of education. In all our large
cities we have institutions to encourage the
industry and stimulate Uie inventive powers
of men. Why have we none-- where they
would be so much more efficient — to stimu-
late and encourage children?

A few years ago the order of ''Sons of
Temperance'' was established throughout our
country, and it soon became exceedingly pop-
ular. Many hoped that it would redeem our
land from the olight of intemperance. It
seemed particularly attractive to boys ; and
large numbers of tnem were initiated into the
mysterifs of the order ; but like many other
modem institutions, it went up a rocket and
came down a stick. Now why did this insti-
tution, from which so much was hoped, fail
so signally ? A little consideration will satis-
fy a candid observer of human affairs. It had
no object. Nothing to engage and occupy, nor
to amuse its members. Boys were attracted
to it, expecting to find some great secret In
this they were disappointed. They sot into
the order, and there was an end to the mat-
ter. There was nothing in it for them to do,
and consequently, when they were tired of
singing temperance songs, they cared no more
about it. Now suppose that the founders of
this association had made a judicious arrange-
ment of degrees, with corresponding badges,
and regalia to show, in parades, the progress
of each youth in the knowledge of nis art,
and also in scientific and literary studies. If
intelligent mechanics had arranged in each
mechanic art, a set of certificates, to be given
to boys as they advanced in skill, and when
they had acquired a sufficient degree of skilly
a diploma, setting forth the merits of the
youtn to whom it should be given : and if it
were given with ceremonies, and ribbons of a
color to show fhe graduate ; and if for extra-
ordinary skill in any art, still higher honors
had been prepared; and if similar induce-
ments had been held out to those who had
studied and noade favorable progress in any
science or in any branch of learning proper
for young persons : would not such an insti-

374

BIZABRE.

tntion have accomplished much for the bene-
fit of society ? And if the same institution
had afforded every facility for acquiring skill
and knowledge, comfortable places of resort,
agreeable means of instruction ; manly amuse-
merits and recreations ; if it had arranged
grand parades, with all the ** pomp, pride and
circumstance" of military display ; if it had
provided exhibitions of works of art, &c.,
where all the creditable efforts of the young
could have been exhibited, and the names of
such as deserved meritorious mention and re-
ward, could have been pronounced in the pre-
sence of a great assembly ; would there not
have been something to have excited ambition
of an honorable kind ? Such an institution
might have lived and flourished, to the great
benefit of our community.

It is th^ reproach of our age and country
that we have no mwdy amusements nor pas-
times, for the young : and there is nothing in
our institutions to excite an honorable ambi-
tion. Who are those who get mto offices of
honor and emolument under our government ?
Is it those who have deserved such things by
honorable efforts to benefit the people of our
country ? Is it those who inculcate virtuous
principles, in the minds of youth ? Those who
endeavor to improve the intellect or the under-
tanding ? Is it those who in any way benefit the
people 1 No ! It is such as we see loafing in
front of the State House, and forming parti-
zan schemes, beer-house brawlers and gam-
blers. The unscrupulous tools of designing
politicians. Low cunning, bold face and an
utter want of principle, are the qualities
which recommend men to the favor of those
who hold, or who desire to get into important
ofiioes. Demagogues have ever been the curse
of republics and always will be, until the
people are better educated.

CIBBE:R'S DAlTCiHTEKCHAR-
I.OTTK.*

The career of his daughter Charlotte was
80 eccentric, replete with such singular vicis-
situdes, that we cannot resist devoting a par-
agraph to her memory. She seemed to labor
under a deficiency in some one faculty, which
more than neutralised the unusual activity of
all the rest. Ardent, intelligent, and preserv-
ing, her conduct ever bordered on the extrav-
agant: a Lola Montes in her days, though
with greater virtue, aud, therefore, not so
fortunate as to win the favor of kings and
guardsmen. The principal materials of this
sketch are to be found in a narrative written
by herself, and dedicated to herself, to which
she affixed the following appropriate motto :

Thirt tragic ttorj, or thia comic jent,

)Jay make yon langb or cry, aa yoa liko best.

•EiTMof the Poeta-Laaraale. Aa»tiaan<l Kalph, London.

In very early life she gave indications of an
excitable tenperament, and an unruly will.
Among her juvenile pranks, she relates how
one morning, when but four years old, she got
up early, put on her father ^s wig, dressed her-
self as well as she could in male attire, and
mimicking the paternal strut, went out to re-
ceive the obeisances of the passers-by : bow,
on another occasion, her father was awoke by
deafening acclamations, and. on looking out
of the wind'iw, beheld his hopeful daughter
making a triumphal entry into the viSaee,
sitting astride upon an ass, and attended by
a retinue of screaming urchins, whom she had
bribed to take part in the procession. At
eight years of age she was sent to school, and
devoted herself to her studies with passicmate
vehemence. The needle, woman's ordinary
weapon against inactivity, she could never
learn to mange; but every masculine pursuit
or amusement had for her an irresi stable at-
traction. She would hunt, shoot, ride races,
dig, drink beer, do anything, in short, that a
young lady ought not to do. At fourteen, she
went to live with her mother at a house near
Uxbridge. There she became a capital shot,
would rise early, spend the whole day at her
sport, and return home, laden with spofl.
Her gun, at the suggestion of a good-naturvd
friend, was soon taken away from her, and she
revenged herself by attempting to demohsh
the chimneys of the house, by firing at them
with a huge fowling-piece that had hung over
the kitchen mantel-piece. To the gun suc-
ceeded the curry-comb, and she became an
adopt in all the mysteries of the staUc. She
next applied herself to the study of phy^c,
obtained some drugs, and with formal gravity
practised among those poor people who were
credulous enough to swallow her concoctions.
Her next emplojrment was gardening, which
she persucd with her usual enthusiasm, and
after two or three hours' hard work would
not allow herslf rest even for her meals, but
with some bread and bacon in one hand, and
a pruning-knife in the other, continued unre-
naittingly her self-imposed labor. At this
time her father was alvoad, and the man who
acted in the double capacity of groom and
gardener was for some irregularity dismissed.
Charlotte was in ecstasies, as s^e was now <
arch-empress of his twofold domain, and un-
ceasing were her manoeuvres to prevent the
engagement of a successor. The dismissed
servant having been seen straying near the |
house one evening, suspicions were aroused,
which Charlotte skilfully inflamed by her daik
suggestions, and then boldly undertook the
defence of the leaguered house. The plate
was carried up into her room, which she gar-
nished with all the weapons of war the estab-
lishment could afford, and then sent the hoo3e-
hold to bed. After a long vigil, to her great
mortification, no attack was made, univeml

DE QCINCEY S AUTOBIOGRAPHIC SKETCHES.

375

silence prevailed, when lucidly a cur began to
bark. Up went the window, and volley after
volley wa8 poured into the unoffending void,
while her mother and the domestics lay below
in trembling consternation. While still a girl,
she married Mr. Charke. an eminent composer
on the violin ; but he was a worthless liber-
tine, and after the birth of a daughter they
separated. She then obtained an ensacemenl
on the stage, and relates, with childish sim-
plicity, how for a whole week she did nothing
out walk from one end of the town to the other,
to read her name on the bills. Her success
was such as to justify expectations of her be-
coming a most accomphshed actress, and as
Lucy in Giorge Barnwell she attracted consid-
erable attention ; but she soon quarrelled with
the manager, and afterwards satirised him in
a &rce she wrote, termed the Art of Manage'
ment. She then tried a new sphere, and open-
ed a shop in Long Acre, as oil-woman and
grocer, and her whole soul was absorbed in
the fluctuations of sugar. The shop did not pay,
and she quitted it to become the proprietress
of a puppet-show, by which she lost all she
had. and was arrested for a debt of seven
pounds. Her release was effected by the
contributions of some acquaintances, when
she dressed herself in male attire, and assumed
the name of Mr. Brown. Under this disguise,
she engaged the affection of a young heiress,
to whom, in order to escape a private marriage
urged by the amatory damsel, she was com-
peUed to disclose her secret. Shortly after-
wards, she exhibited her valarous spirit by
knocking a man down with a cudgel for having
fabricated some story at her expense. She
next obtained a situation as valet-de-chambre
to a nobleman, where she appears for a short
time to have known something like comfort ;
but on being dismissed from this place, she
became extremely reduced, her child fell ill,
and ruin stared her in the face. A timely
supply from a friend relieved her from her
more immediate necessities, and with some
small remainder she set up as an itinerant
sausage-seller. This, like her other avocations,
did not prove remunerative ; and we next hear
of her as a singer at some musical entertain-
ment, then as a performer at Bartholomew
fair, then as assistant to a master of legerde-
main. Sie next, by means of some advances
made by an uncle, opened a public-house in
Drury-lane, the first she saw vacant, which
of course failed : and her next employment
was as a waiter in a tavern at Marylebone.
Here she made herself so useful that a kins-
woman of the landlady intimated that her
hand would not be refused if applied for, and
the captivating waiter, to escape a second
involuntary marriage, was obliged again to
reveal the secret of her sex. She next engaged
to manage Punch at a puppet-show, and
afterwarS^ joined a band of strolling players.

Tired of wanderinc, it would seem, she settled
at Chepstow, and opened a pastry-cook's
shop. When she had built her oven, she had
not wherewithal to heat it, and when she had
obtained the ftiel, she was without the neces-
sary materials for her trade ; but every
obstacle gave way before her ingenuity and

Eerseverance. After a short trial, she removed
er business to Pell, a place near Bristol,
received a small legacy, with which she paid
off her debts, and commenced life afresh. She
wrote a short tale for a newspaper, and
obtained thereby a situation as corrector of
:he press : but her earnings at this toilsome
occupation being insufficient to support her,
she obtained employment as prompter at the
theatre at Bath. She afterwards returned to
London, and kept a public-house at Islington ;
but, as we here lose the aid of her narrative,
her movements at this epoch are uncertain.
She finally had recourse to her pen for sub-
sistence, and began the publication of her
memoirs. Her next production was a novel,
and a graphic picture has been given of her
home at this period. When the publisher with
a friend, called for the purpose of purchasing
her manuscript, she was living in a wretched
hut near Clerkenwell prison. The furniture
consisted of a dresser extremely clean, orna-
mented with a few plates: and a fractured
pi tcher stood underneath it. A gaunt domestic
guarded the establishment, while on a broken
chair by the grate sat the mistress in her
strange attire. A monkey was perched on one
hob, a cat on the other, at her feet lay a half-
starved cur, and a magpie chattered irom her
chair. The remains of a pair of bellows laid
upon her knees served as a desk, her inkstand
was a broken teacup, and her solitary pen was
worn to the stump. On her visitors seating
themselves on a rough deal board, for there
was not a second chair in the room, she began
with her beautiful, clear voice to read from
the manuscript before her, and asked thirty
giiineas for the copyright The grim hand-
maiden stared aghast at th^ enormity of the
demand. The iron-hearted publisher proposed
five pounds, but finally doubled toe sum,
and dffered in addition fifty copies of the work.
The bargain was struck, and the authoress
was left in temporary afflaencc. From this
time Mrs. Charlotte Clarke disappears from
our view, and she died shortly afterwards, on
the6thof April, 1760.

DEQUINCEY'S AUTOBIOGRA-
PHIC SKKTCHES.*

Some years ago, — it was during Coleridge's
lifetime, — a certain critic said, that this same
Samuel T., was the sole living thinker. By

* AaiobWxnraphtr Sket^hM. bv Thomas Dq Qoinoej:
1 Tol. Do tin, 1 1cknor, Rwd ft Fields.

376

BEZABRIL

this tenn he meant, that the man 8o desig-
nated pierced deeper than others into the suo-
tkties of thought. It is strange, that he should
have overpassed De Quincey, since he seemed
to he tolerably well yersed in cotemporary
writers.

The first we knew of De Quincey was
through his " Confessions of an Opium-eater,"
and, succeeding that, his *' Suspiria de pro-
fundis," or " sighs (he might ihore fitly
have said grocms) from the depths."

An inexplicable life that of our author!
Physicians insist, that opium-eating produces
idioacy in a few y^ars. But this delicately or-
ganize scholar has passed his seventieth
year having* for at least forty years of this
duration, used quantities of this gum almost
incredible: and yet he has, the while, written
articles, which, collected, already fill twehe
duodecimos ; and many others, I understand,
are still ungathered ! These articles, too. are
marvellous alike for their a£Quence of learning,
their keen penetration, and their exquisite ex-
pressions.

In their day the ** Confessions" produced
a strong sensation both by their substance
and their frequent tremendous force of utter-
ance.

The present volume is nowise inferior to
that first named in its subtelty of thought or
its power of utterance. The reflective scholar
will be delighted to find, on everv page, the
rarest gems of thought presented in a setting
fully worthy of their beauty.

The only writer of the present day, who
reminds us of De Quincey, so far as concerns
the magic of lingual utterance, is James
Martineau, a brother of the celebrated Har-
riet. And we are inclined to think, that
even he more resembles De Quincey in mastery
of language, than in fathoming the daintinesses
of thought.

In running through this little volume, we
have pencilled scores of passages, which we
should like to point out to our readers. We
did intend to cite several of these passages,
but our ** sober second thoughts demon-
strated the absurdity of this intent. Peruse
the book, good reader. In no other way can
you get any idea of its exquisite quality.
Because there was once a " Scholasticos," who
carried about a * brick," as a specimen of the
symmetric beauty of an edifice, it is no reason
why we should reiterate the same " sholasti-
cism."

RES CURIOSiE.

IDBNTITT OP PERSONS.

Shakespeare, in pennmg the inimitable
** Comedy of Errors,^* has but exhibited ex-
amples of extreme resemblance, which, al-
though probably often noticed, has never be-
fore been so well depicted. Numerous in-

stances have, «nce that comedy was writen,
appeared, to show that however infinitely
varied is man, yet nature does not alwa3rs
break the mould. The deceptions this singu-
lar coincidence has led to, are well evinoed ojr
the details of trials, on the subject of IdentitT.
If any one desires to see an outline of toe
fact, he will find some singular cases in
Fodere's excellent " Tratte de Medicine legale,^
Vol. I. derived from authentic sources, — and
some of which we may, perhaps, introduce
hereafter, as the subject is not sufficiently
known in this country. We have frequently
had cases of a similar character in our courts,
which appeared to have been nearly as per-
plexing to our lawyers as the Dromios and
Antiphiluses of Shakespeare to each other.

We saw a case reported in the papers, as
occurring in Baltimore, in which the resem-
blance of one person to another had nearly in-
volved an innocent man in the penalties dne
to the guilty : and as was the case in one un-
fortunate instance detailed by Fodere.

In old times persons were mixed up and
mistaken for each other, just as they now are.
Pliny has written a chapter under the title of
Exempla Similitiulinum. — Scarcely, says he,
could the great Pompey be distinguished from
the plebeian Yibius, and Publicns the freeman,
so great was the resemblance ; Cneus Scipio,
from a vile slave called Serapion : the pro-con-
sul Sura, from a fisherman of Sicily ; the
consuls Lentulus and Pamphilus, from two
actors, Sphinter and Pamphilus; the orator
Cassius Severus, from a leader of cattle, named
Mermillo, &c ; — and he cites likewise the fact
of the impostor Artemon, whom Laodice, wife
of Antiochos, king of Syria, put in the place
of her husband, lib. 8. c. 12. Valerius Max-
imus, lib. 9. c 14. — giving the details of this
last fact, relates that Laodiee having got rid
of her husband, in order to reign in his stead,
placed Artemon in her chamber, whose res«n-
blance was so perfect with that of Antiochus.
that having introduced there the nqbles and
the people, as if to hear his last will, they
were completely deceived by the similarity of
his voice tod face, and really believed that
the dying Antiochus recommended Laodiee
and her children to theui.

Among the great number of impudent im-
postohi^ who have given themselves out for
other persons, in consequence of some resem-
blance, none have so much embarassed the
judges as Arnold Dutilhj in the case of Martin
Guerre^ adjudged by the parliament of Tou-
louse, in 1560.

This last was absent only 8 years. An ad-
venturer named Arnold DuttUey who some-
what resembled him, succeeded so far as
to obtain possession of the property and wife
of the real Martin Guerre: he Hved moic
than three years in the family under his as- j
sumed name, with 4 sisters and 2 brothers-

RES CURIOSiE.

877

in-law c^ Mdrtin Guerre, who had no suspi-
cion of their errors. At the trial 300 witnesses
were examined : 30 or 40 affirmed the arraign-
ed x)erson was really Martin Guerre f with
whom they had from their infancy been in the
strictest intimacy; others in nearly equal
number certified that this man was called
Arnold Dutille ; and others found so striking
a resemblance between them, that they dared
not affirm whether the person presented to
them, was the one or the other. The reporter
. of this celebrated cause, relates, that the per-
plexity of the Judges was extrctme, and that,
in spite of very strong reasons against the
prisoner, they were on the point of adjudging
m his fovcn*, because of the marriage and the
legitimacy of the children ; but the arrival of
the real Martin Guerre, prevented the success j
of the imposture. Yet the assurance and
eft'rontery of Aimold Dutille seemed to discon-
cert Martin Guerre j when confronted with him.
The Judges were still more uncertain than be-
fore, until at length Martin was recognized
by his sisters and wife, to the great satisfac-
tion of the Magistrates. — The principles laid
down in the relation of this memorable affair,
by Mr. de Coras, counsellor to the parliament
or Tonlouse, the relater of the process, are,
** that we require proofs noore clear than the
day to condemn an accused person ; and that
when any doubt exists, it is infinitely better
that a criminal should escape, than that the
innocMit should be condemned."

ORIGINAL LAN6UAOB.

Some years ago a book was published in
Edinburgh written by Lacland Maclean, to
prove the Celtic to be the language of the first
man. It is entitled * Adam and Eve ; or. the
Gendogy of the GaeV^ The announcer of the
work remarked:

♦* Our readers will, perhaps, be inclined to
smile at this title page, ana to say that the
author cannot seriously mean to establish the
point which he professes to prove. But we
assure them that Mr. Maclean does really
proceed to demonstrate the position ; and if
everj: one will not agree with him in the con-
clusion at whioh he arrives, all who carefully
peruse his book, will admit that he has made
out a pretty strong case for the Adamite origin
of the Celtic tongue. The plan of the work
• is both original and ingenious. After adducing
the opinions of several celebrated scholars,
such as Bayly, Blwr, Malcolm, and the late
i professor Alurray, as to the antiquity and
I affinities of the Gaelic language, and advert-
, ing to the first state of man, the author brings
1 the animals before the common parent of our
, race, and shows that the different names which
he assigned them can be traced to a Celtic root,
and are expressive in that language of some
prominent characteristic of the species. He
then goes on to demonstrate that every word
iu„the great dictionory of nature is to be found

in the dictionary of Gael. The arguments of
a reverend gentleman in Perth, as to the He-
brew being the language of Paradise, are next
combated with remarkable success. This, in-
deed, may be considered one of the ablest
parts of the book. Our author gives a very
lengthened specimen of the Gaelic, as written
by the Gael in the nineteenth century after,
and as written by Moses and others, 2000 years
before the Christian era ; and those who had
not previously considered the subject would
really be astonished at the similarity which
he traces between them. But it is unnecessa-
ry to analyse the book farther. "We are sure
that, from what our readers will see may be
expected, their curiosity will be excited, and
no Celtic scholar will be long without a copy.
Indeed, every Highlander should be proud of
* Adam and Eve.' We think that the deriva-
tions are sometimes rather fanciful, and that
the connection between some of the words is
not always sufficiently clear, but that is just
the fault which might be expected in any
work of the kind. The Gaelic is admirable ;
and tho language occasionally rises into elo-
quence. Mr. Maclean is already well known
as the nuthor of a History of lona, but the
present production we venture to predict,
will considerably enhance his fame."

WONDERFUL PRESERVATION.

The Gentleman's Magazine of 1774, has
the following :

" Some gentlemen of the Society of Anti-
quaries, being desirous to see how far the ac-
tual state of Edward I's body answered to
, the methods taken to preserve it by writs is-
sued from time to time, in the reigns of Ed-
ward in. and Henry IV. to the treasury, to
renew the wax about it, several of which are
printed in Rymer's Foedera, obtained leave to
open the large stone sarcophagus, in which it
was deposit^, on the north side of Edward
the Confessor's chapel. This was accordingly
done this morning, when, in a coffin of yellow
stone, thepr found the royal body, in perfect
preservation* wrapped in two wrappers, one
of them of gold tissue, strongly waxed, and
fresh ; the outermost more decayed. The
corpse was habited in a rich mantle of purple,
paned with white, and adorned with orna-
ments of gilt metal, studddcd with red and
blue stones and pearis. Two similar orna-
ments lay on his hands. The mantle was
fastened on the right shoulder b^ a magnifi-
cent yi6u2a of the same metal, with the same
stones and pearls. His fitce had over it a
silken covering, so fine, and so closely fitted
to it, as to preserve the features entire.
Round his temples was a gilt coronet of fleurt
de lis. In his hands, which were also entire,
were two sceptres of gilt metal ; that in the
right surmounted by a cross fleuri, that in the
left by three clusters of oak leaves, and a dove
on a globe : this soeptre was about five feet

378

BIZARRE.

long. The feet were enveloped in the mantle
and other coverings, but- sound* and the toes
distinct. The whole length of the corpse was
five feet two inches. As it does not appear
that any of the above-mentioned writs were
issued since the reign of Henry IV. the body
must have been preserved above three centu-
ries and an half, in the state in which it was
now found, by virtue of the embalment origi-
nally bestowed on it; and, as every thing
was restored with the strictest care, and the
tomb secured beyond a possibility of ever
being opened again, it may continue, at least,
. as many centunes longer. — Edward I. died at
Burgh upon Sands, in Cumberland, in his
way to Scotland, July 7, 1307, in the 68th
year of his age."

PRECIOUS 8T0NB CHABHS.

Charms were once imputed to certain pre-
cious stones :

** The Diamond was' supposed to possess
virtues against poisons — panic terrors, plague,
wakefulness, prgestigies and enchantments. —
To calm anger, maintain affection between
married persons; and to render the person
who wore it, victorious over his enemies. —
Diamond powder was, however, at the same
time, regarded as one of the most pernicious
poisons, and incapable of being corrected by
any means.

The Carbuncle was supposed to resist ftre,
to stop defluxions of the eyes, and to be an
antidote against the corrupt and pestilential
air.

The Rtiby resisted poisons, preserved from
the plague, banished sorrow, repressed luxu-
ry, and averted ill thoughts.

The Amethyst hindered drukenness, — it di-
verted ill thoughts, and made the mind joyful ;
—as an amulet it was used in the plague ;
it was a preservative against lightning, and
could augment, in its possessors, riches, honor,
prudence, and wisdom.

The Emerald prevented epileptic fits, but if
the disorder was so violent as not to be con-
quered by it, the stone broke ! It powerfully
remedied the bites of venomous animals, and
performed many other cures.

OUR WEEKLY GOSSIP.

— The application of the word Capitol to the
building in which a legislative body sits,
appears to have been a novelty in the year
1796, as we learn from the following paper in
one of Cobbett's political essays.

** I thought I heard the word Capitol men-
tioned during the debate. For tne love of
modesty, I hope the Congress-House is not to
be called a Capitol ! If this be the case, it
will be necessary to go a step further, and
assume the masquerade dress of the French
Romans. How pretty we should look in long

white robes, descending to our toes, a blue
girdle about our waists, a scarlet cloak on our
shoulders, and a red liberty cap on our heads !
* * * The idea of a Capitol seems to Ij
be borrowed from the State of Virginia, the '
Assembly House of which has taken that
mask. For what reason it was there adopted
I know not, unless it be that there are such
members as Caesars and Pompeys in the
neighbourhood, against whose ambitious pro-
jects the grave and virtuous senate are ever
vigilant to preserve the liberty of their coun-
try."

— The Gazette de Trieste says that a great
sensation had been produced at Hong-Kong,
by the arrival of a Russian squadron, compost
of a frigate of fifty-two guns, and two steam-
ers, one of ten and the other of four guns,
stopping to take provisions, and sailing thence
for Japan, to act in concert with the Ameri-
cans. It will be recollected that there exist
certain commercial relations between the
Russian possessions in North America, and
the northern ports of Japan.

— A mail from the Cape of Good Hojpe
announces the death of Lady Sale, the his-
torian of the vicissitudes and sufierings of the
captivity in Afi*ghani6tan. She expired at
Cape Town on the 6th oi July. Since her
return to the East, Lady Sale had resided
chiefly in the hill country, on the pension
granted by the Queen.

— Two Greek inscriptions are said to have
been found in Bulgana, one of which, — in a
locality called in this day Analdolkios—
reveals the site of the ancient Tomes, cele-
brated as the place of exile of the poet Ovid.
The other, found at Varna, establishes the
identity of that town with the ancient Odes-
sus. This last inscription is bi-lingual. The
site of Tomes had hitherto been placed, some-
tiroes at Temeswar, sometimes near the mouth
of the Dneiper. To this latter site also the
ancient Odessus had been transported.

— It is asserted, in a journal of Rome, that
six stones, with paintines representing the
incidents in the voyage of Ulysses, as related
by him to Alcinous, in the Odyssey, were
recently found in the demolition of some
houses in that city ; and that, according to
good authorities, one of them proves that the
city of the Lsestngons, where the hero was so
scurvily treated, and the precise wherealxmts
of which classical geographers have never yet
been able to fix, is no otner than the nK)dem
Terracina, in the Roman States. The pictorial
representation on the stone exactly corres-
ponds, it is alleged, with the main features of
Terracina, as is now to be seen, and with the
description of the bay of La^strigonia in the
Odyssey.

NEW BOOKS.

870

— A foot race against time was run on Monnt
Wa<4hington lately, as we learn from a Port-
land paper. A gentleman bet with one of the

; proprietors of the Summit House that he (the
t proprietor) could not run a mile in etght
j minutes t starting from the very top of Mount
I TVashington. The bet was a gold watch. The
I proprietor is a man weighing 190 lbs., and
' out of practice, but full of courage. He got
well oflr at first start, and the way he leapt
from rock to crag, and from crag to cliff, was
admirable. Some travellers going up. as the
runner was on his last quarter, liken the
. scene, as he opened on them, to a mountain
goat on the full rush. On this quarter he
j broke, making a misstep and coming on his
! knees, but recovering himself in a moment,
' and unharmed, pushed on with lightning
speed to the goal. The result was, that he
reached the judges' stand alive and unhurt,
\ (which was almost miraculous,) in six minutes
I €md fifty-seven seconds. Any one who has
been over the mile run must be satisfied that
it was a most perilous feat — the road being in
some places so rough and precipitous as to be
almost impassable. The travellers ascending,
who saw the flight of the landlord, say it took
them nearly an hour to ascend the same dis-
tance. The editor adds, ** it was a queer race,
and a bold one, and Boniface well deserved
his watch, for he risked his neck for it."

— The London Critic says : — " From the press
Lord JoHK Russell's new edition of the Life
of Lord WiUiam R ussell has fallen, — come corpo
morto cade;'^ and that " * Fathbb Prout ' is
bringing out a sketch of Moore, which need
not be very good to drive his Lordship from
the field. — Thackeray's new serial, to be
entitled The Neivcomes, is on the verge of
publication, and will reconcile tis to the sere
and yellow leaf. Still another aristocratic
contribution to " Wellington literature " —
is my Lord Db Grey's ** Characteristics of the
Duke of Wellington, apart from his military
talents!''

NEW BOOKS.

— W. Tyrone Power — son of the lamented
Irish comedian — ^hasjust given the world his
** Recollections of a l^ree Years' Residence in
China, which is well spoken of, and from which
we extract the following, touching the Chi-
nese ladies.

<* The wife and daughter, of the Chinese
farmer walk about the world with such feet
as it pleased God to give them, and very
pretty feet and ancles they generally are. In
fact, whatever beauty of feature there may
be among the Chinese women, no one can
deny them the credit of remarkably beautiful
feet, ankles, hands and arms. Of t^ rest of
the figure one can judge but indi£ferenHy from

their peculiar thoogh not ungraoeful costumes*
In the country villages the young girls and
matrons may be seen at their doors, or
grouped together beneath the trees, or in the
yard attached to the house, engaged in house-
bold or farm occupation, laughing the while
in merry chorus to their work. I have often,
from the back of my horse, looked over the
low walls at such a group, but the result was
rarely complimentary : for on some coy dam-
sel suddenly catching sight of my Saxon face,
she would scream an alarm to the rest, who
retreated to the house with a general screech.
On reaching the threshold, nowever, they
would generally stop to giggle at the object of
their fears, on finding him not pursuing with
savage intent, or sometimes the respectable
bearded patriarch would take them by the
shoulders ; and, in spite of their affected re-
sistance, push them all out again into the
yard, calling jokingly to me at the same time,
m some incomprehensible gibberish probably,
* to eat them up.' I flatter myself, however,
that I was not sufficiently frightful to alarm
them very much, with a stout wall between,
and the whole village within call ; far diffe-
rent, however, was the case when * the foreign
devil ' happened to come upon one solitary
matron, pursuing her way from one village or
farm to the other. Her fears were really ter-
rible, and she fled as fast as her legs could
cary her: if, however, the unprotected fe-
male happened to be of the small-footed kind,
she staggered off, with the aid ef her bamboo,
till an unlucky trip would usually leave her
sprawling on the path, or not impossibly into
the mud and water of a paddy-field. To rush
to her assistance was the natural impulse, but
the approach of the monster was a signal for
the most tremendous shrieking, and one could
only persevere at the risk of throwing the
matron into hysterics. It was a disagreeable
dilemma, but it invariably ended in my walk-
ing on, and leaving the lady to scramble out
of the mud in her own way. If I had a Chi-
nese attendant with me, I usually sent him on
to conduct any fair one I might meet into a
secure byepatb, or to assure her of the harm-
lessness of my general character and habits."
— Lorenzo Bbnoni. This very interestmg
book, which records real transactions, (mt
under a fictitious garb, as to the names of those
who figure in its pages, has been for some
days on our table. It was written by an
Italian exile, now resident in London ; one,
too, who occupies a high and honorable stand
among those who have bravely struggled for
freedom abroad. He writes with great ease
in our, to him, a foreign tongue ; indeed, there
are force and naturalness in his style
which many of our own writers might study
with profit. Italian despotism is pictured by
this writer in the most striking manner. We
are, by his developments of wrong and outrage

880

BIZARRE.

perpetrated by it led more than ever to detest
the tyrant who exerts so baneful and crush-
ing an influence over so fair a land. Mr. S.
S. Redficld, <^ New York, is the publisher of
of this sorrow-engendering but very admi-
rable work. It ought to have an immense
sale here, where practical freedom is known
and felt ; and where its tales, though full of
painful incidents, will impress us with the
importance of hoiding on to the blessings,
which are vouchsafed by republican institu-
tions.

— Blrak Housb. Messes. Getz and Buck,
ous neighbors, have just published this work
entire, getting it out in advance of every other
publishing house in the country, and in verv
fine style. The publication is uniform with
Messrs. G. A B.'s well known excellent edi-
tion of Dickens' complete works, and will un-
questionably have an immense sale. The
price is fifty cents : cheap enough certainly,
for so capital a story from so capital an au-
thor.

— Sacred Qtotations. — ^We are indebted to
Messrs. Lindsay and Blakiston for a copy of
the "Dictionary of Sacred Quotations,^' by
Rev. H. H. Weld. It is a sterling book ; of
its kindr without a superior : and very justly,
as we learn, enjoys a large sale.

The extracts are made with excellent taste:
and, for reference, will be found to be all that
can be desired.

— We have several new books lying on our
table, which we shall notice hereafter." Among
them are— Collier's small edition of Shake-
spere, Vol. V., published by Redfield, also
Nos. 11 and 12 of the same publisher's ele-
gant octavo edition : — " Notes on the XXV.
Articles," from Applegate & Co., Cincinnati,
— the " Mysterious Parchment, or Satanic
Licence," n-om Jewett & Co., Boston. — We
had prepared a review of ** Hilliard's Six
Months m Italy, but it must lie over until
our next.

— Likgard's History of England. — ^Messrs.
Philips, Sampson & Co., of Boston, have pub-
lished the third volume <^ this substantial
work, which embraces that strikingly interest-
ing period from the accession of King John,
to the death of Edward I. We have alrtady
expressed our opinion of the author, and his
production ; and we see no reason to change
it as the work progresses. Considering his
position and predilections Dr. Lingard has
written a very truthful aoconnt of his coun-
try's rise and progress ; indeed he may be
said to be quite as honest and impartiid as any
who have preceded him. He possessed an-
thorities with which others had not been fav-
ored, and his history will, for this, as many
other causes, be all the noore acceptable to
he readers of hiMory. It is got up in the

exceedingly chaste and substantial style of th^
enterprising Boston house who issue it, and
will be completed, as we learn, in ten volumes.
Dr. Lingard was a Roman Catholic, but never
took any interest in the Ecclesiastical govern-
ment of the Church.

— Woodworth's Ajcbrigan Miscellakt.—
Another volume of this very handsomely
printed and embellished miscellany has just
Seen published by Philips, Sampson & Co., of
Boston. The holidays are approaching, when
such books will be m demand. The author
is skilled in the kind of literature which his
•* Miscellany " embraces. Like the venerable
Peter Parley he has acquired a popularity
therein, under the nommes de$ plumes of **Unc6
Frank." and ** Theodore Thinker," a voucher
of which, we doubt not, could be easily ob-
tained from any of the youthful readers of
our times. All honor, say we, to the " Peter
Parleys," and " Uncle Franks" of the 19th
century. They have unquestionably changed
the' current of many an experience, leading
into good channds those who otherwise might
have been borne on to ill-doing, perhaps
crime.

— Mr. John S. Taylor, of New York, has
just published a little work, entitled ** The
Orphans of the Suicide, or the Rum Plague,"
which is intended to be a narrative for the
admonition and instruction of the young. It
is a translation from the German of Zschokke,
and partakes of his well-known power as a
writer. We are told by the translator that
the narrative was written twenty years ago ;
that although the facts detailed beloq^ to
that remote period, and the scenes descnbed
lay in a foreign land, yet that the principles
they embody and the instructions they im-

i part are in every way applicable to the pre-
j sent age, and to the condition and wants of
our country.

— The Countess op Charnt. — We Jiavc
here a thrilling story of the fall of Louis XVL
from the pen of Dumas, the chief horror-lim-
ner among French authors of the present day.
It is the conclusion of the *• Memoirs of a
Physician," "The Queen's Necklace," and
** Six Years Later, or the Taking of the Baa-
tile." One reads it with nervous interest
Like every thing from Dumas it engrosses
your whole thought, while you are occupied
with it, and you feel relieved when you have
fini^ed the last page, because you have time
to think of something else than tales of blood
and horror, which £ill, while the^ remaitt
unfinished, hold your attention as it were in
a vice.- T. B. Peterson, of our city, is the
publisher of this book. It "goes like hoi
cakes " among the peddlers of course. Just
such books as those of Dumas' and Reynolds'
(forgive us. Monsieur D.) our friend T. B. P.

MUSICAL BIZARRE.

finr the most part publishes, and of just such
hocks people buy most Urgdr Taking a
pecuniary view of the case, T. B. P. knows
on which side of the bread the well churned
cream lieth.

— Thb Mind and the Emotions, considered
in relation to Health, Disease, and Religion,
by W. Cooke, M. D.. M.R.S.C.

Messrs. C. J. Price & Co., No. 7, Hart's
Buildings, some time since favored us with a
12mo volume, bearing the above title, which
commends itself to aU who think that *' the
proper study of mankind is man." It very
clearly and satisfactorily shows the influence
of the diflerent emotions upon the physical
condition of the body, ana the connection
that exists between them. The author, being
a member of the Royal College of Surgeons,
and in extensive practice, is enabled to illus-
trate his arguments verv forcibly by adducing
cases from his extended experience. The
topics introduced, are treated in masterly
style, and all thinking persons may derive
important information from a perusal of the
work.

— Moorb'b Lipb op Shbridan.— Redfield,
of New York, has just published a beautiful
edition of this work, in two 12mo volumes.
It will, of course, be in demand among our
book folks, first for its inward, second for its
outward merit. Redfield never published an
indifferent book ; and what is more, the
merits of the interior is ever well sustained
by a beauty and fitness of exterior peculiar
to him. There are publishers in the country
who get up books which are most distasteful
to the eye ; thus yery much injuring the sale,
at least, so far as first impressions go. There
are those who always impart a charm in ex-
ternals to their publications ; and who, if they
do put forth a poor book, send it out with
such a taking outside, that you must say
some good things of it.

There are those who do not admire Moore's
Sheridan. We are not one of these, however.
To us it is a book of fascinating mterest,and we
have run it over In the handsomly printed
pages of the edition in notice with renewed
xest

MUSICAL BIZARRE.

— Ole Bull, assisted by Adelina Patti, and
Strackosch, gave a concert at the Musical
Fund Hall, on Monday evening, the 19th inst.
The entertainment was well attended, and
gave unequivocal satisfaction. The great Nor-
wegian hmiself was in excellent play ; that
litUe marvel, Patti, sang divindy ; while
Strackosch far surpassed mmself, in his best
previous efforts. The concert was the fiirst of
the musical season, and reaUy was well worthy
the distinction of leading. We have not qpace

to note the items of the entertainment*
Another concert, and the last, was to be given
by these artists on Thursday evening, too late
to admit of our saying anything of it in the
present issue of Bizabrb.

— The Germanians open a series of concerts
on Saturday evening, when they will be
assisted by Camilla IJrso and Jaell. These
admirable performers always have met with
favor in our city, and will do so unquestion-
ably during their present visit. They appear,
of course, at Musical Fund Hall, which has
been very much improved in its orchestral
appointments and arrangements during the
recess. We shall not pause to particularize
these improvements. It must be enoueh for
us to say that they are well worthy of Mr.
Beckett, the excellent superintendent of the
Musical Fund, under whose direction they
were made.

— Ole Bull's arrangement touching the se-
curing of seats for his concerts is an excellent
one, and should be adopted by all the artistes
who hereafter come to the city. It gives to
all the right to secure a seat, without the
payment of a bonus. One has only to be on
the alert, and to purchase one's tickets at an
early moment, to have the choice of one's
seats. The extravagant system of paying a
large sum to enter a concert room, and then
twice that sum to secure a good seat, should
be discountenanced. Two or three dollars for
a concert ticket, — we care not what may be
the attractions, — are too much. One hundred
cents is money enough to hear the best com-
bination that can be presented in our days.
If Madam Sontag, and her noble husband,
and retainers, cannot stand this, they ought
to be permitted to return to Europe, and if
they can, get something more to their mind.
The system of extravagant charges, to hear
the best of singers the world knows, when in
their prime, is bad enough : it is outrageous
when exchanged for worn out, use! up voices,
the renmants of old-times. Again the foreign
artistes, who come here in their dotage, can-
not expect to create the furore they did, at
home, in their youthf^il days ; and if they
were as fresh, elastic, exquisite, in all respects,
aa ever they were, they should not be sus-
tained at the exorbitant prices which they aak
of the public.

— Sanford, with his excellent Ethiopian
troupe, is performing Opera Burlesque, at a
very handsome place in Twelfth Street, below
Chestnut. The nouses he attracts are full and
fashionable, and the pleasure afforded seems
to be of the most decided kind. Ethiopian
entertainments, if carried out as the^ are l^
Mr. Sandford and his company, ment favor ;
for they are. as a general thing, refined, while
they are calculated to devdope new featares

BIZARRE.

of musical genias. The operas of ** Cinde-
rella" and '* Sonnambula" ha^e been well
burlesqued, roach of the original music being
retained and rendered with decided skill,
while, as we go to press, Julien's numstre
concerts are being caricatured in fine style.
Success to Sanford !

— Maretzec has commenced an opera season
at Niblo, in New Nork, which promises to be
a very brilliant one.

— The Philharmonic Society have organized
for the present year, and we learn, will
resume their concerts, probably next month.
This society has been the means of affording
our citizens much entertainment, and we are
happy to learn, acquires vigor with age.

— Gottschalk is in town. He was noticed
the other evening at Ole Bull's concert, and
appeared to be highly delighted with the per-
formances, and especially, we may add, with
that of Straokosch. No one, indeed, applauded
more heartily than did the talented young
Creole. He was the cause of an encore of
Strackosch, as we know by the evidence of
our eyes.

EDITORS' SANSSOUCI.

FOREIGN NO-TABl-BS.

— We translate from the Nouvdliste de
Marseille^ that letters received from the
interior of Asia announce that the Princess of
Belgiojoso, who lives at Tcbakmakoglon, a
village near Safranboli, barely escaped assassi-
nation, at the hands of an individual said to
be an Italian. Her escape was almost a miracle,
as she received seven poinard stabs Her
condition is not supposed to be dangerous.
Her assassin has been sent to Constantinople,
for trial and punishment. This monster, far
from exhibiting any repentance for his crime,
the motives of which are unknown, expresses
his regret at not havmg killed both the Prin-
cess and her daughter, a girl of fifteen.

— The Patrie announces the arrival of the
Prince and Princess Murat at Marseilles, in
these terms :

*• His Highness Prince Murat, who came to
Marseilles on a visit to some old friends,
officers upon the American frigate Cumber-
land, gave a grand dinner on the 29th of
August, to which were invited the American
Commodore, and all the other officers of the
frigate, as well as the U, S. Consul. On mon-
day, their Highnesses visited the Cumberland,,
where a magnificent fete was given in their
honor."

— The Nowvelliste de Verviers states that the
rumour spread that the cashier of Mdme. la
Duchesse de Brabant, upon his arrival at Aix
la ChapeUe had lost 80,000 francs at a gaming
saloon, and had then blown oat his bxminst ii

false. The facts were true, however, of anotfa^
person, a Dutch courier.

PBTRA OAN/IARA AND ALEX, OUIV1A3.

— We translate from a letter of M. Gaillardei
j to the Courier des Etats-Unisy that the Belgian
I journals, in the vivid language of Dumas,
describe a nocturnal fete given by that illus-
trious author, in his retreat at'Brussds, to
to Petra Camara and several other Spanish
dancers. It is Monte Christo resuscitated.
The Theatre' Francois has at the same time
received from his fertile pen a new drama, of
which, " The Youth of Louis XIV " fbrms
the title and the subject.

But apropos of Petra Camara and Dumas :
a biographical sketch of Camara, from his pen,
written to his friend, M. Perrot, relacteur en
chef of the Independance Belf^, containis the
following characteristic passage.

"You ask me, my dear Monseur Perot, for
a few words about the flower of Andalusia,
the butterfly of Granada, the bee of Seville,
the queen of Spanish dance, whom we had the
joy of applauding this evening at the Vande-
ville, Petra Camara. You do well to address
yourself to me : for she is one of my old and
most excellent friends. I have a crowd of M
friends, of twenty-two years old, whom I have
known for a Itistre, as they say at the Academie,
when one is seized with a strange desire to be
adinitted there. She is the most admirable
humming-bird from Ceylon to Cashmir ! She
is the most brilliant bird-of-paradise from
Bombay to Chandernagor ! "

M. Dumas then goes on to relate how that
in 1847 he was at Seville, was at the opera,
and was charmed on beholding Petra for the
first time ; how he walked behind the curtain,
where, " with the exception of the eunuchs,
I was received like a sultan in his harem."
Here he was introduced to Petra, attempted
to kiss her hand, but received a sound box
on the ear for his temerity. Who is this
Frenchman that dares to kiss the hand of a
dancer ? Alexander Dumas ! ** That excused
every thing,^^ The great romancer is permitted
to kiss not only Petra, but also Anita and
Carmen, her sisters in the dance, and their
lovers look on approvingly. A ball is got up
in his honour, at which these three danseuses
are to illustrate the national dances of Spain.
The vitOf the ofc, the fandango, are described
in the warmest and most highlv-coloared
Dumasque style. Here is the fimdango : —

«* Imagine two butterflies, two humming-
birds, two bees, circling and wheeling, round,
and after each other : two undines, who, on a
spring night, on the borders of a lake, play
aoout the tops of the rushes, which their rosy
diaphanous feet do not so much mr bend ;
then^ after a thousand turnings, flights.
retreats, they gradually approach till their
tresses mingle and their Ups meet. That ki«

EDITOR'S SANS-flOUCI.

888

is the calmioation of the dance. And the
danoe vanisheSt like the two undines, sinking
into the hosom of Ihe lake."

Petra is at Paris, dancing at the Yaudeville.
The story would not he perfect without a
dramatic ending for Anita and Oarmen! so
the former dies of consumption, the latter
rons away with un beau jenne homme,

Jules Janin has a linger in the Spanish pie ;
noticing in the papers of Paris the ** hutter-
fly of Granada.'' the *<bee of Seville," with
remarkahle spirit. Other Fueilltonists are in
ecstasies about her. One of them M. Theo-
phile Ghintier says, that, shaking the hoarfrost
from her Perils winssy diamonded bif the north'
em snows, she wiu consent to pve a certain
number of representations !

— We take the liberty of copying the following
compliments which Bizarrs has within a week
or two received : and, in doing so, would also
direct attention to the programme of Vol. 4,
to commence October 8th, which will be
found in our advertising pages : —

— Arthur^s Home Gazette says : — ^'Bizarre,
an • Original Weekly Journal for the Fireside
and the Wayside,' published in this city,
continues to be conducted with marked in-
dustry, taste and ability. There is a dignity
and refinement about this work that is wor-
thy of remark. As to the matter of interest,
that is always well sustained."

— The Ellsworth (Me.) Herald says of our
pAper — "It is something in the style of
Dickens* Household Words, but being an
American work, we think there is no apology
for giving it our preference. It tak^a high
stand in morals, literature, &c., atnlPis un-
questionably the best American work of the
kind now published."

— The Rushville Prairie Tele^aph says : —
** BizARRB.-*This very interestmg miscellany
we have been lately in the regular receipt of.
It is a weekly in pamphlet shape of twenty-
four octavo pages, and will form a volume at
the end of the year of largely over 1000 pages
of well selected, ably edited, instructing and
entertaining matter, well calculated to enliven
the family circle around the winter evening's
hearth."

— The Lincoln (Me.) Democrat fires the fol-
lowing shot: — "Bizarre. — This brilliant
weekly comes to us loaded with bright and
lively things. The Editor's •Sans-Soud' is
well worth the costs of the work."

— Last, but not least, the editor of the Lan-
caster Express says: — " Bizarre. — It is con-
ducted with creditable ability, and is distin-
guished by a high literary and moral tone.
Those who wish to subscribe for a valuable
weekly magazine, at a remarkably low price,

should enclose $1.25 to Church & Co, Phila-
delphia, for which they will receive * Bizarre'
weekly, for one year. The fourth volume
will commence in a few wedcs."

AIM BNIOK^A.

— What do careful women constantly seek,
and yet never hope to find ?

Intuition will probably teadi oar lady
readers the answer, but until next week we
will let it remain a riddle.

BueiNeaa n/iems

— Oakford's " Palace Hat Store," 158, Chest-
nut Street, continues to be one of the lions of
Philadelphia. It is beautifully fitted up cer-
tainly, and we are not surprised that crowds
should surround its windows, particularly in
the evening. Oakford has a variety of styles
oi hats, among which are the latest London
and Paris. His own, for the present Fall,
fills our eye, and, we presume, enjoys as much
popularity as any of the others. Success to
Oakford.

— Mr. William T. Fry, late of 227, Arch
Street, has moved into his new store, nearly
opposite, and will, when all is in order, hold
out greater attractions than ever to the pur-
chasers of the beautifiil goods he gets up.

— Col. Maurice, at 123, Chestnut Street, is
often waited on by customers who declare
they have gone to his store, "just to get a
look at one who makes so much noise in the
business walks of the city." They then
gratify their eye by taking a good long look
at the Colonel, after which, as likely as not,
they are induced to buy a bill of goods from
his stationery stock. The Colonel has no ob-
jection to being talked about in the newspa-
pers, when it pays. He takes the true philo-
sophical view of the case.

— The success of the " Comedy of Errors,"
at the Arch Street Theatre is truly marvel-
lous. Iflb has now been performed for some
twenty'lJonsecutive nights, and there appears
to be as great a desire to witness it as ever.
Messrs. Wheatley and Drew have struck a
Californian mine. They well deserve it,
moreover.

— Owen's Ascent of Mont Blanc is exhibit-
ing at Concert Hall, and, as it deserves, at-
tracts good houses. The painting is said to
be very fine, and Mr. Owen's story accom-
panying it highly entertaining.

— Heller continues at the Lecture Room of
the Chinese Museum, where he is creating the
greatest excitement by his Second Sight and
Mysterious Rapping performances, as well as
by his very admirable feats of legerdemain.
We think Heller is the most skilral wizard
we haye ever seen in the eountry ; it is cer-
tain he has no superior.

400

BIZARRE.

Wills' coffee house :

** Here at Will's Coffee-house it was, that
if he, Dry den, gave a rising young man a
pinch from his snuff-box, the patronised aspi-
rant was deemed to have taken a degree in lit-
erature and wit. Here it was that Southerne
and Congreve spoke to him vrith confidence
and familiarity, while Sir Henry Shere, Moyle,
Motteaux, Walsh and Dennis did honor to
him with a more distant deference. It was
here that Pope, with boyish enthusiasm, gazed
full of reverent admiration on the poet, who
was at once his exemplar and his idol. It
was probably here that Dryden, after he had
read some of the boipibastic and obscure Pin-
daric Odes, which the youthful genius had
sent to hira, told Swift, with great candor,
what Swift never forgave, that he would
never be a poet. His relations to his publish-
er Tonson are worth a brief notice. Some-
times we find Dryden thankine him for his
presents of fruit and wine, and writing to him
about his snuff and sherry as Byron did to
Murray about his tooth-powder. Then again
he is quarrelling with Tonson, writing to him
to accuse him of meanness and rapacity,
abusing Tonson himself, and among others,
one Richard Bentley, who, as Dryden writes
to Tonson, * has cursed our Virgil so heartily,'
and launching anathemas against the whole
tribe of publishers. * Upon trial,' he says,
* I find all your traders are sharpers, and you
not more than others ; therefore, I have not
wholly left you.' There is also the rather
well-known anecdote of our poet begging Lord
Bolingbroke, who was calling on him, to out-
stay Tonson : * I have not completed the sheet
which I promised him,' said Dryden to his
Lordship, ' and if you leave me unprotected,
I shall suffer all the rudeness to which his
resentment can prompt his tongue.' * It was
proba))ly,' says Scott, ' during the course of
these bickerings with hia publisher, that Dry-
den, incensed at some refusal of accommnda-
tion on the part of Tonson, sent him three
well-known coarse and forcible satirical lines,
descriptive of his personal appearance ;

With leoring looks bull fkc«d, and frockled Mr,
With two left legs, and Juda*M»lor'd hair,
And frowzy pons, thai taint the ambient air.

* Tell the dog,' said the poet to the messen-
ger, * that he who wrote these can write more.'
But Tonson perfectly satisfied with this single
triplet, hastened to comply with the author's
request, without requiring any further speci-
men of his poetical powers."

— Singapore journals announce, that the en-
terprising Madame Ida Pfeiffer had arrived at
Batavia. After a short stay in the Dutch
settlement, she quitted that fdace, in an Am-
erican ship, on the 3rd of July, for California.
We shall probably soon have the venturesome
Ida in our country.

oeTiNGuiat- eo dbatms.

— The French P^P^s announce the demise of
GJeneral Charles Tristan, better known by his
title of Count MonthoUm. He was the faith-
ful friend of Napeleon, the sharer of his exile,
and the executor of his will. After the death
of the Emperor, Count Montholon returned to
Europe, where he lived in great obscurity for
many years, until his connection with the Boa*
logne enpedition of Louis Napoleon brought
him once more into notoriety. After the re-
turn of the Bonapartes to France, the veteran
follower of the family shared their councils
and profited by their fortunes.

— A London paper says of the death of Sir
Charles James Napier :

** Sir Charles served in the PeninsuU, in
American war of 1814, in the final campaign
against Bonaparte, and in the East His m^
notable actions were — at Corunna, for .which
he obtained a gold medal— at Meannee, where
he defeated a force eight times the numerical
strength of his own — and at Dubba, near Hy-
derabad, where he completed the reduction of
Scinde. Few men have ever received so many
wounds ; — he was literally scarred and hacked
from head to foot Yet a4l these historic titles
would have given Sir. Charles no claim to a
place in our columns had he not also taken
service with the Muses. It is as Csssar the
commentator, not as Csesar the soldier, that
he comes into our category, — though it must
be said, that in his hands literature lost its
proverbially peaceful character. The pen in
his grasp grew a weapon of offence: — he
charged under cover of his inkstand."

auSIIMBSa N/1SN/I8

— Oakford continues to occupy a large share '
of public attention in our city. His hat
store No. 158 is noted by all who pass up
Chestnut street and is generally considered
to be one of the most magnificent of the kind
in the world.

— Maurice at 123 Chestnut street, advertises
more liberally than any one of our acouain-
tance. In other words, he sows well and
reaps abundantly. His stationer's stock is a
capital one, unsurpassed by that of any other
dealer in the city.

— The entertainments at the Arch Street
Theatre continue to be of a very high order,
attractinij^ nightly the most crowded and at
the same time respectable houses. Messrs.
Wheatley & Drew have raised the establish-
ment up to a very high stand, as a dramatic
temple ; indeed it is now without a superior
either here or elsewhere.

— Pbrham's grand gift enterprise is attract-
ing much attention. We call attention to the
advertisement which will be found in oor pa-

•«^

DEC 5 - mS^'

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